SistaTV Daily Podcast #8. There is a difference…


A gazillion years ago, I was a poet. I wrote, read and performed poetry everywhere. I loved books and revered words and devoured them nonstop. For the bulk of my life, words have been my only constant.

But one day what I thought was love knocked on my door and love told me that me and my words were “just kinda okay”.

This lover told me that If I just let them edit my words, change them, and mold them it to what they thought they should be they would be better. They (and I) would be good enough for the world and worthy of its time. Worthy of his love.

All I ever wanted was to be worthy of love’s love.

I wanted love to choose me and to think that I was special and worth it and the one.

So I let love edit my words and it was excruciating. I remember looking at the page, red with marks and dripping with edits of me and interjections of him and for one split second, I knew it was wrong.

But then I looked at what I thought was love gleaming in love’s face and I wanted it so desperately to be right.  I wanted love to love me… So.

I stopped writing.

I.

stopped.

writing.

Hell, I stopped reading…and I didn’t even get it. I didn’t  stop to think why was it that I stopped.

Before I fell into this confusion, we called “love” if you’d asked me what I was I would say… “. I am a writer, a poet, a student, a succulent, wild woman, a force to be reckoned with, a magnificent magic, a bright, beautiful masterpiece in the making, a Senam.”

But after this “love” if you’d asked me what I was I would have just said, “his.”

I didn’t stop writing the words out of spite or some defiant will to show “them” that if you were going to say my words aren’t good enough…. then I wouldn’t write them at all.

NO.

I stopped writing because I couldn’t.

I could not write.

I didn’t choose to stop writing… I just couldn’t. The words stopped coming to me. And I didn’t even ask them why they’d gone.

Maybe they knew that this love would twist and turn words into something they shouldn’t be. A weapon. Something I didn’t need them to be. Something that would not allow me to be.

So my words stopped coming and they didn’t come back way until the day I stopped listening to this loves’s words and started believing my own… I started looking at this love’s actions and saw what a grave mistake I had made.

He hadn’t really chosen me. I just happened to be there. And he just needed somebody to be there. He would ALWAYS need somebody to be there. Somebody willing to be engulfed in the flames of the selfishness he called love.

This was someone who always, always needed SOMEONE. Not necessarily me or the numerous hers, I was stupidly surprised to find he’d kept on the side… He just needed someone and their attention.

There is no matter to who the person is. Just as long as there is someone willing to be there so he wouldn’t have to deal with who he actually is or what he actually does to those who are foolish enough to fall.

He can not and will not be alone.

He is not strong enough.

So, I just happened to be there, young, full of love, promise and strength. And I was willing to be chose. I was too blind to see that he did not see me, my special, or my love as magic. Because I didn’t see the magic in me either. I was needing and wanting and felt indebted to him because “he loved me” and even I didn’t do that.

He saw someone who he wanted to have and who wanted to be had so he told me he needed someone and that I needed him and I said yes. I gave him all of me because he said he needed someone. I need someone…Not I need you.

Screenshots_2014-08-11-21-12-43
milk and honey by Rupi Kaur

 

Years later… Something happened within me and suddenly I understood there was a difference.

And then….

I was different.

I am shiny and bright and one day I decided to let my light be too loud for the darkness…

And my bright shone brighter than ever before. Soon everything that was done in his dark and twisty world came to light. It was brutal and it was beautiful and it was exactly what I needed.

To get me.

To get free.

I chose me and he chose them and I am free. Now, time has passed and we both can clearly see that maybe I actually am special and worthy because I AM the one.

For that old “love”, I will be the one that will never come back.

And for my new love, ME… I will be the one that will never leave again.

That love was not good enough and my words always were. That love was not good enough and I am even better…

So the words and I are back and now we finally know and believe in the real difference…

All of me is mine… And I love her.

Amen and Awoman.


SistaTV loves you, good words, and the difference between me and you.

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7 Comments

  • sistatv
    January 8, 2015 at 10:37 AM

    Test 2

  • DeAna McEwen
    January 8, 2015 at 1:10 PM

    I.FEEL.THIS.

  • DaVonne Evans
    January 8, 2015 at 2:39 PM

    You are indeed a writer. I love this! BRAVO dear, BRAVO!

  • Bk
    January 9, 2015 at 8:36 AM

    This is awesome!! What a marvelous gift freedom is! To be in your own safe space, with people who love you just the way you are. Whats even more amazing is that you can’t fully appreciate free, until you’ve been in captivity. So glad you’re free sistah!

  • Cheryl J. Moses
    January 9, 2015 at 9:57 AM

    Very nice writing. This makes me want to write more and more. Freely…to be exact 🙂

  • doreeweller
    January 9, 2015 at 10:19 AM

    WOW. Be that light in the darkness. Your words shine. I’m glad you finally started listening to your voice again, and that you’ve realized that any voice that tries to silence you does not come out of love. This is why I love the UBC; I find amazing people like you.

  • Anita Ojeda
    January 9, 2015 at 10:29 AM

    This is beautiful–I’m so glad you realized that your words count. They are beautiful. Just. the. way. you. write. them. Because you are YOU!

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