Fairy-Tale……. Swaying in the wind

Life is not a fairy tale. How often have you heard that sentence?  I know I’ve heard it enough to recite it in another language.  French “La vie n’est pas un conte de fees” or “Livet er ikke et eventyr” in Danish.  But if this is true, why do I keep dreaming of the fairy tale?  The prince charming that sweeps me off my feet with his sweetness, his gentlemanly ways, his laugh that touches my soul?  If it doesn’t exist, why do I still want it?  Am I the only one who still dreams?  I’ve had so many fantasies, so many so that I write a story to go with each.  Or rather I think of stories, they don’t always end up on paper or a computer screen.  But they are still in my mind.  Why can’t I purge them from my heart?

If the “fairy tale” doesn’t exist, why does it seem like some people are living it?  The white picket fence, the 2.5 kids, and beautifully manicured dog. I’ve seen it in person.  I think about back when I was in college.  I wanted a relationship true, but I was also enjoying my freedom at the same time.  My last relationship in college was with a young man who was younger than me.  But he was sweet, a gentleman, and he cherished me.  He did beautiful things that may seem small to others, but was very loving to me.  I remember when I broke up with him, I just wanted my freedom.  Me and the girls had been traveling to different colleges meeting all kinds of people.  I felt like that was living!  But I remember telling him that I wanted to be free, that he was a great guy and he was going to find someone that would really love him.  I hurt him because it came from nowhere.  But I told myself that he would be OK, he was young and would get over me.  But now that I look back, sometimes I wish I had rode that relationship to see where it would have taken us.  It’s all in the living though isn’t it?  We learn from our daily movements and decisions.  Or we hope that we do.

But back to my fairy tale……..  I digress…….  There are days that I am completely comfortable with my life and the way it is going.  I work a lot true, but at the same time I get an enjoyment from working and paying bills.  That’s what adults do.  I even purchased a new vehicle as a way to reward me in my hard work.  But then there are days when I’ve watch a YouTube couple that I wonder where is my prince?  Did I lose him the early days only to find that I am not worthy in this life to be gifted another?  Will the universe punish me for my misdeeds with Mr. C or Mr. W?  Am I one of those women that are destined to be alone and be a aunt to everyone’s kids, see others living their fairy tale?  I guess you can say I have refocused my energy on working and taking care of myself.  And I am eternally grateful for my family.  But the question remains if I was supposed to have a family, why hasn’t it happened?  And maybe it is because I’ve crossed over the 40 year mark that am starting the grieving process of living without children.

Whatever the line, I’m still wondering about that fairy tale.  Will I ever get it?  Will I dream up a 6’5 defensive end/line body type and he magically appear to me?  Probably not…. but I know the key to the lock is to just live.  LIVE!  Live everyday and continue with my life as it is and move in which ever direction it takes me.  I am often afraid to move sometimes.  I’m afraid to move my feet and sway with the wind.  But in order to grow and make sure I am in place for my prince to find me, I must find a way to swallow my fear of swaying in the wind and let lead me to my destiny.

08/22/2017 TNB©

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Women,the fairer sex? (Are they really fair?)

So I came to work looking a bit different.  Got my hair braided.  I love it for one, it looks good, but also I don’t have to get up in the morning and do it!!  But a co-worker told me that I looked like “Rainbow Brite”.  Now she was smiling when she said it.  But I didn’t feel like it was a compliment.  To me it sounded like a backhand compliment.  Correspondingly, a backhanded (or left-handed)compliment, or asteism, is an insult that is disguised as, or accompanied by, a compliment, especially in situations where the belittling or condescension is intentional.” (Wikipedia)  I mean because if you like something someone is wearing or if you like their hair, you just say “Hey that’s cute”  or “Hey I like that”  But it was not said in that manner.  So it makes me wonder…. why is it so hard for women to compliment each other without the insult?  I could divide women and say black women, but I think it’s ALL women.  Yes the co-worker is black.  So that makes it even more of an insult.

Woman have insulted or plain hated each other for sometimes no reason.  I’ve seen a female dislike another female on sight.  And she never said a word.  The instant dislike was there.  Why is that?  Are we in constant competition with each other?  I would think not.  There are things that people have that I want nothing to do with.  But some others may feel there an invisible competition.  It may be for most popular at work, for best dressed, for a male’s or even female’s attention! (I’m all for PC on my blog!!)  But whatever the reason is…. women are always in competition with each other.  It hurts to see how we tear each other down constantly.  Most times it means that this woman has a quality that you wished you possessed.  Instead of working on it for yourself, you dislike her.

What would happen if we looked at each other as allies instead of enemies?  How much further would women be in this world?  If we stood together and loved each other.  You don’t even have to know a person to love them.  Not with God’s love…. God’s love is unconditional and lasting.  Just be friendly, just smile, just say hello!  Or perhaps tell that young woman her hair is gorgeous, or that she looks awesome in that dress.  Try complimenting another woman just because.  She will either smile and thank you or look at you strange.  But either way, you’ve express something positive to someone else.   In the grand scheme of things, what could be wrong with that?????

07/18/2017 TNB©

Pretty Girls Don’t Get Less Than A Hundred Likes On Their Selfie

Great read! And so very true!!!!

Scattered Scripturient

I thought I was depressed because of social media.

I posted a picture of myself on Instagram and five minutes later, I deleted it, because nobody liked it. I thought I looked pretty in it. I genuinely loved the picture, but in a span of five minutes, I decided I didn’t like it anymore, because nobody else did.

Two weeks later I posted it again with a stronger filter and increased the brightness, and I got 57 likes, and I felt good again, but then an overwhelming feeling of disappointment washed over me. I liked the first picture better, so why didn’t I keep it up?

It’s because I define my worth by how many likes I get on a picture or a post, and the realization of that fact actually causes my stomach to flop.

We’re the generation of social media. We all have four core social media accounts…

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In This Skin

Wow What a story!!!!

Winnie's Window

June is Vitiligo  Awareness Month.  For the 1% of people who are affected by this disease, June 25th is recognized as World Vitiligo Day.  Vitiligo is a hereditary condition in which you lose the pigment of your skin. Pigment causes skin color and is produced by cells called “melanocytes.” Another word for pigment is “melanin.”  There is no cure.

As I celebrated with others I could not help but reflect on my journey.  I was born with it.  No one knew I had vitiligo except my immediate family.  By the age of 4, my pigment resurfaced in the affected areas.  So throughout my childhood,  I was a beautiful brown skin tone.  Rich in melanin.  By the age of 22 I began to lose pigment in the corners of my eyes as well as my scalp.  Not remembering much about it I began to do research.

I can remember…

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At the crux of it, we all want to find unconditional love.  We want to give unconditional love and know that we are receiving the best in return.  So much so that we open ourselves up to the dangers of dishonesty, unauthentic people, and a hurt so powerful, once it’s gone through your body, you feel numb to anything.  Even a drink of water cannot be felt in your dried soul.

The recent events in my life have shown me one thing.  I talk a good game, but my follow through is still 1998.  I recently met someone that I thought was made just for me.  Although it was short, the time we knew each other, my whole heart was ready for him.  He told me of his life past, present, and what he saw for the future.  He talked to me like he knew me.  Like he was already a part of my present and destined to be my future.  His nature was sweet, he was intelligent, and generous.  His looks were so far away from what I’d imagined, I knew that this had to be the man that God fashioned for me.  ONLY for me.  The more I talked to him, heard his voice, I could hear it when I first woke in the morning, even though it was just a text.  A screen of words, I knew him, I heard him.  A German prince had come to sweep me away.  Away from the job that burns me out, the state that has grown old, away from my own head, which was focused on finding him.

But to learn that it was just a fantasy conjured up from a liar, and manipulator, was too much to bear.  When I found out I had been lied to, was being prepped to be used, it was as though I could not bear the thought of moving past that moment.  I did not know how the next 24 hours would continue to move.  How was the sun going to rise and the world go on and I’m stuck in this bubble of hurt?  The desperate need to be filled with love from him was such a revelation to me.  Here I thought I had moved passed loving liars and eating dishonesty.  I thought I had learned to only eat from the plate of truth.  But in my own way I sold myself a pipe dream.  It wasn’t filled with crack but it was filled with something worse….. expectation!  What I expected and what was were two different things.  But expectation colored my eyes.  The rose colored glasses were purchased and on my face before I even knew I picked them up.

The numbness passed after I let it process.  But what was left in it’s wake is a charred soul.  It will take more than time to rebuild.  Putting your all into expectation can be the death of your soul.  The lesson to myself to kill expectation before it kills me.  Can I do that?  Am I ready for that?  Buying one 2X4 at a time, nailing the shutters up, and re-creating my healed soul will not be easy.  Why should it be? It’s sacred, something I forgot while allowing the expectation to romance me.  This time it’s being built with another block of experience.  A high rise that will take a God-fearing man to climb.   So the lesson here is, don’t allow expectation to kill you or your dream.  Catch it and let it fly away before it can contaminate your being!

06/08/2017 TNB©