Non-traditional Daddy's Girl

I am not much of a daddy’s girl in the traditional sense. I don’t think my dad is Superman or that he can fix any and everything. I’ve always seen him for what he was first and foremost, a man.

For as long as I can remember, my dad has tried to prove his love to me. I loved my dad, but I hated his flaws. Somewhere along the lines of loving the man and hating his flaws, rejection of his love got tossed into the equation. That left me with a void that I would spend most of my adult life trying to fill.

As an adult woman I have been searching endlessly for love, the love of a man. I just want someone to love me past my hurts and pains and see me, the woman behind the enigma, the scared little girl that fears having her tender heart broken by a man whose life hers revolves around, a man that will protect me even from himself. 

My daddy was the first man to ever break my heart, and it wasn’t because of anything he did to me personally. Initially I did think my dad was Superman and that he could do no wrong. I wanted nothing more than to be in his presence. There was a time he could soothe me better than my mother, and mothers are the ultimate sources of nurturing and comfort. It was his relationship with my mother that shattered the heart of the daddy’s girl and created the mind of an analyst that thinks but doesn’t relay thoughts, feels but doesn’t express emotions.

The man he was with my mother was a different man from the one he was with me. This dichotomy of extremely different temperaments befuddled and scared me. Little girls grow up to be women, so I thought the way he treated my mother he would one day start treating me. In an effort to protect myself, I shut down when it came to him. I rarely ever kiss, hug, or even engage in conversations with my father, but I can clearly see his hurts, pains, weaknesses, strengths, his wonderfulness and huge capacity to heal and create good, and his ability to totally destroy anything good.  

It wasn’t until a few days ago that I realized this is exactly how I go about my love relationships with men. I can see them clearly and love with an all consuming love that, the only way I can describe is via a poem I once wrote entitled Persephone: 

I don’t want companionship. I want to be your owner, your devourer. I have raging passions that see only in shades of red, white, and black. The multifaceted taste of your blood is requested upon my palate. My lungs have need of the air that is your spirit. A need to consume your soul lies in the abyss of my heart. The billowing smokes of Hell have nothing on the need of my love to possess you. I am Queen of a kingdom that's not my own, longing for the spring when I can emerge from the depths of dark love and bring to you my gift of beauty, light, and a love that heals.

The problem with this kind of love is that though it consumes me wholly, the men I love rarely ever truly know they are loved this hard, this darkly, richly, and powerfully because I never really open up to them because I fear they will become monsters that break my heart. It wasn’t until now that I realized just how much my relationship with my father mirrors my relationships with men. They love me and try to prove their love, but they themselves never fully feel loved by me. Though I hail them as Kings in my heart and spirit they never really know it because I treat them as mere men that are flawed possessing the power to hurt me. 

My goal is to work on the healing of my emotional relationship with my daddy. I am at a point in my life that finds me wanting marriage, a family, another baby, and just peace and happiness. You can’t conquer what you won’t confront, so I plan to conquer the false sense of lack of love by embracing and accepting the very thing that has always been readily accessible to me, my daddy’s unconditional love. I am now challenging myself to go on a journey of releasing false perceptions and reconditioning my mind to line up with my heart with regard to love. I always say love shouldn’t be so damn complicated, and truly it isn’t. I was the one making it complicated. Now maybe I can unfasten the lovelorn sign from my forehead as I learn to openly express what is consuming me inside: LOVE!!! Love is truly the very essence of who I am as a person, as a woman. I have so much of it to give.

Peace, love, and light

-Q

Mission to Heal

For the last few months I have been on a journey of awareness and seeking my higher self, higher thoughts, higher vibrations. I believe there is more to life than the simple working to survive and take occasional vacations and stay-cations. I have always been pretty intuitive, but now I am learning to not second guess what I feel in my gut. I vibe off energy.

Since starting on this new journey I have drifted away from some of the people I once held dear to me. Bits of their characters I had once either subconsciously ignored or been oblivious to began to surface, and I realized I had been in the company of people that either really didn’t like me, were jealous, were in secret competition, or all three. I have never been one to ever think anyone was jealous of or threatened by me because I can’t fathom why anyone would feel that way. I’m no angel, but I am also no devil. I reside on the side of just trying to stay in my lane and let other people live their lives however they choose and living my own with sprinkles of love, lust, spirituality, peace, light, and a little bit of mischief to break up the monotony and sate my free spirit. 

Although people began leaving, other people began to filter in. The new people all possessed beautiful souls and spirits. It was as if we all knew each other from different times and spaces, long lost friends from past lives. One of the hardest lessons I have had to learn in this season of my life is how to let go and become a revolving spiritual door. I had a bad habit of harboring hurt feelings and feelings of abandonment and rejection all while trying to rationalize and analyze why some people leave me, hurt me, don’t like me, or just don’t want me. I am learning that some people truly only have a season in your life and are not meant to be held on to. Learn the lesson and bid them adieu when their times have expired with no hard feelings. I also learned that there are others that should be cherished and the relationships nourished. 

Learning to let go and not over analyze has been a bit of a challenge for me because I have a highly analytical mind and am more emotionally sensitive than I let on, but it has been worth the challenge. I finally have clarity as to what my purpose in life is, and how to go about fulfilling that purpose. I feel lighter, more peaceful, and at ease. I can literally feel the stress melting away as I release the negative thoughts, fears, and regrets. My new-found mission in life is simply healing and aiding others in their own healings. It’s not a religious thing, but a spiritual, energy, and vibe thing. 

Peace, love, and light,

Q

Lust

Apparently I look like the poster child for lust and sex appeal. I would be lying to say lust isn’t my vice. I love the feeling of wanting, needing, yearning, craving, and finally being sated. It’s crazy I suppose, a self inflicted torture of sorts that leads to over indulgence only to do it all over again, but it has a way of making me feel alive…punishment then fulfillment.

As for sex appeal, I think it has more to do with attitude, chemistry, and confidence. I believe in both lacy as well as nonexistent unmentionables and sultry perfume with hints of vanilla, jasmine, and musk. Not for the man, but for myself. I do most of what I do for myself. I feel just as sexy donning chucks and goofy T-shirts as I do wearing fitted dresses and high heels. When you feel sexy, I think they (men) sense it, and it heightens their lust. That’s my goal, to always have my man lust for me. I want to be 50 plus and still have him look at me with that fire and hunger in his eyes. I think perhaps, sex appeal also lies in being equal parts girly, minxish, cerebral, and whimsical.

Why are we talking about lust and sex appeal? Because it isn’t a comfortable topic for many women, especially women that are in long term relationships, and I get asked many times by women about these topics. Most find themselves in ruts and feeling down because they feel their men aren’t attracted to them anymore. I just want to take these women by the hands and lead them to the nearest lingerie and dress shops and dare them to sex it up a little. Sex appeal is not something to shun or be ashamed of. Honey, I will be old and (not gray because I will be dyeing these strands) putting my saggy boobs in pretty push up bras and wearing kitten heels being just as sassy and feisty as I want to be. Don’t judge me!

Basically, my unsolicited advice is to just own your sexuality and sex appeal. Lust inside of a relationship can be a beautiful thing. What woman doesn’t want that Song of Solomon chapter seven kind of interconnected lust and love? I certainly do!

(Song of Solomon Chapter 7 for your pleasure - The Message Translation)

Shapely and graceful your sandaled feet,

    and queenly your movement—

Your limbs are lithe and elegant,

    the work of a master artist.

Your body is a chalice,

    wine-filled.

Your skin is silken and tawny

    like a field of wheat touched by the breeze.

Your breasts are like fawns,

    twins of a gazelle.

Your neck is carved ivory, curved and slender.

    Your eyes are wells of light, deep with mystery.

    Quintessentially feminine!

Your profile turns all heads,

    commanding attention.

The feelings I get when I see the high mountain ranges

    —stirrings of desire, longings for the heights—

Remind me of you,

    and I’m spoiled for anyone else!

Your beauty, within and without, is absolute,

    dear lover, close companion.

You are tall and supple, like the palm tree,

    and your full breasts are like sweet clusters of dates.

I say, “I’m going to climb that palm tree!

    I’m going to caress its fruit!”

Oh yes! Your breasts

    will be clusters of sweet fruit to me,

Your breath clean and cool like fresh mint,

    your tongue and lips like the best wine.

The Woman

Yes, and yours are, too—my love’s kisses

    flow from his lips to mine.

I am my lover’s.

    I’m all he wants. I’m all the world to him!

Come, dear lover—

    let’s tramp through the countryside.

Let’s sleep at some wayside inn,

    then rise early and listen to bird-song.

Let’s look for wildflowers in bloom,

    blackberry bushes blossoming white,

Fruit trees festooned

    with cascading flowers.

And there I’ll give myself to you,

    my love to your love!

Love-apples drench us with fragrance,

    fertility surrounds, suffuses us,

Fruits fresh and preserved

    that I’ve kept and saved just for you, my love.

Pity Post

If I am being honest, I don’t know where this post is headed or why I am even writing it. I felt I needed to write in hopes that it will help me out of this place I am in. It’s a place I can’t quite describe or understand. The only word I can think of is stuck. 

My emotions are all over the place. Last night I watched Cheaper by the Dozen 2 with my sons, and I had to force myself to hold back tears at various parts of the movie. It isn’t even a sappy film! In addition to being emotional I keep wondering what happened to my happily ever after. I am at a point in my life now that finds me longing for marriage and even another baby. I was hellbent on not having more children, but now a part of me desires that. I love love with every fiber of my being and want nothing more than to be totally free to give it away, but it seems the word lovelorn had been affixed to my forehead. I’m knocking on Heaven’s door all like, “Um, excuse me. Where is the man from whose rib I was created? I’ve been single since 2006. Can a sistah finally get partnered up? Are those my angels over there playing Russian Roulette with my heart?!”

Then there is my career, or lack thereof. If I had my way I would be writing a column for a women’s magazine and owning clothing, house wares, and fitness boutiques. I don’t want to have to work for anyone else anymore. I want the freedom that comes with entrepreneurship and to be able to travel the world. Corporate America can suck the life out of you. I feel like a robot. Always the same shit just different days. What am I really working for other than to pay bills? 

I keep telling myself to vibrate higher, but sometimes I just don’t want to. I’m giving myself a few days to wallow in this emotional state, and then I will force myself to put on my big girl panties and just deal. At times like this I wish I was a weed smoker.

Share Me With Me

I’ve been cheated on in every relationship I have been in. Admittedly, this has made me a bit apprehensive with regard to relationships. Once bitten twice shy I suppose.

When I was younger I would dwell on the hurts of being cheated on for months. I was trying to figure out why I wasn’t enough or what I could have done differently. After compiling lists upon list of “maybe ifs” I could never come up with answers that would have left me feeling whole.

As I have gotten older I just try to walk away from the hurt having gained more wisdom. I no longer participate in the “maybe if” torture. I apply the question, “Is it working?” very ruthlessly to my life. If the answer is no, then I almost instantly cut the thing or person out of my life with no qualms. I am a bit of a minimalist in all areas, but even more so when it comes to mental clutter and emotional energies. I don’t give people very many opportunities to waste the goodness of me.

I am aware that this makes me come across as an Ice Queen to some, but I feel my love and time are things to be earned and respected. I don’t try to change myself in order to keep a man. If he feels the need to cheat, then his purpose in my life has been fulfilled, and his time in it expired. I know my worth, so I no longer wallow in shoulda, coulda, woulda mental anguishes. I’ve no problem with starting over in this love thing as many times as it takes to get it right. I know that I am a delight and treasure to be cherished because I am a giver of life and a Pandora’s Box of sorts full of much wonderment and amazement, a ceaseless mystery and oxymoron of a woman that carries her own weight and willing to help her man reach his highest potential all while keeping it classy, cool, sensual, and free.

Would I love to share the Queendom that I am building with another? Of course! But I refuse to settle for a man that treats me as anything less than the beautiful, rare, and simultaneously free spirited and logical gem of a woman I am. In the words of Eartha Kitt, “I fall in love with myself, and I want someone to share it with me. I want someone to share me with me.”

This video sums up what I am trying to convey here perfectly.

 

 

The Babysitters

 

More oft than not, they are passionate yet gentle and highly skilled lovers that seem to just know their ways around women’s bodies as if they created women themselves. These men exercise a most precise balance of asserting authority and submitting to their women’s desires. It’s hard to emotionally rid yourself of them once the relationships end because they never really do anything that warrant hatred or bitterness.

While they make women feel like beloved Queens they never fully emotionally commit to relationships. These gentle lovers harbor a simultaneous adoration and deep disdain for women. I imagine this to be a most complicated dichotomy. Loving them present challenges for the romantically involved women that truly want to love and support them. Companionship and genuine love is what these men profess to want almost more than anything else, but they seem to always thwart and sabotage receiving such.

The two things all these men seem to have in common are horny inappropriate ex-babysitters and emotionally negligent mothers. In most cases, these men were “broken in” or molested sexually by young babysitters that had been given charge over them. There is much debate and research surrounding the psychological development of females that have been molested and males that have been molested by other males, but what about the little boys that were molested by females that most times were not much older than them? Do they grow up seeking love via sex? Is this what makes them compliant lovers? I know many men would never complain about having had a babysitter that came on them, just like most men would secretly applaud their sons for having smashed a high school teacher, but what makes this okay?

Then there is the role of the emotionally unavailable mother. Does having such a mother breed emotional insecurity? Does it prevent them from fully opening up? Does the general distrust of women come from the babysitters or is the distrust really feelings of having not been validated in disguise? I don’t have the answers, just all the questions. I do know these kinds of men bring out women’s nurturing maternal instinct because they are so sweet and adorable, but loving them is a bit challenging because you can sense that they never fully allow ingress to the secret places of their emotions.

The Attractive Couple Plight

Do I think I’m pretty? Yes. Do I think I’m beautiful? I believe I have a beauty that isn’t an outward beauty; I think I inhabit a beautiful spirit. Do I need the validation from men to affirm my beauty? No. I don’t need that from every man, but I do want that from my man.

I remember being pregnant, hormonal, and sitting on the carpeted portion of the bathroom floor in the home I shared with my now ex-husband. I had had a really bad day, and I was sitting there crying my eyes out. I cried not because I was just having a bad day. I cried because I knew in my heart of hearts I was married to a man that didn’t want to be with me, a man that didn’t like me.

We had been together since I was 16. Initially there was something about him that I just did not like. I didn’t know what it was. He was incredibly attractive: 6’3, medium brown skin, beautiful dimples that made me melt every time he smiled, and he always made me laugh. Women loved him. Men wanted to be like him. Children adored him. I would say we were equals in that regard. Men loved me. Women wanted to be like me, and I never met a child that didn’t want to either play in my hair or sit in my lap.

 People always commented on how good we looked together and how handsome our oldest son was. His entire family instantly took to me, and he didn’t have one friend that didn’t like me. I think that is what bothered him. I owned whatever room I walked into by simply being myself. I have never lacked confidence because I was raised that way and am genuinely a happy person. I’m not arrogant, but I am sure of myself, and on those rare occasions that I am not I fake it until I make it.

Having been with him for almost 10 years, I knew he harbored a sense of insecurity, but I don’t know where it came from. He was accustomed to women throwing themselves at him and giving him whatever he wanted. I was never that way with him. I challenged him to be a better person, to be real with himself. I am a believer of equality and operating under the law of reciprocity. Looks aren’t enough for me. I always felt as though he was in competition with me, which to this day still baffles me. I was his partner. I wanted him, me, and US to succeed in life. I helped him with his résumé, job evaluations, and anything else he needed.

That night was the first and last time he ever called me pretty. He’s never deemed me beautiful. We sat on that floor and talked for about an hour. His last line to me was, “You’re very pretty. I never pictured myself being with a woman like you, though. I always pictured myself being with a model chick. Not you.” His compliments were always low-key insults and somehow seemed to insinuate that I might be cheating on him because so many men hit on me.

I would be lying if I said those words didn’t make me feel some kind of way at the time as well as shot a blow to my self esteem, especially while I was pregnant. I said all that to say I don’t understand why men go after women that are widely pursued only to be in a secret competition with them when 9 times out of 10 the only compliments that matter to her are the ones that come from her man’s mouth. Of all the compliments I receive in a day, the only ones that make my heart sing are the ones that come from my sons and the man I love. I don’t know. Do extremely attractive men suffer from the lowest self esteem, or are they just spoiled and “rebel” against the women that don’t fall at their feet?

His Ether

He has me feeling like love

Like something otherworldly

The cipher of my body decoded 

Now I need him in my cypher

His love

I did swallow and coat it

No choking

Just yoking

Butterfly stroking and soul soaking

I did

 

I did

I did partake of his Indian Poke

But I didn’t choke

Just call me Koch

Like a Native

I separated the poison from sedative

Created my own anesthetic

From his ether

He’s a keeper

I a leader

So I was gifted

With The Crown