GOD, PLEASE HELP ME.

 
FROM A MAN'S HEART.
So I'm working, listening to Michael Jackson baddest album ever:Bad, duh? And I'm thinking, these men never really give themselves to us; never really pur out their hearts. We never know what they're really thinking. Maybe it's because we couldn't deal with just how deep it is when Adam really lets it out to Eve. Not really making sense...
So I started compiling the most emotional (in my opinion) songs a man has written for a woman. Ponder the lyrics to these songs. Could be corny as hell. But when they let go, they really let go.


SEAL-KISS FROM A ROSE
JOE- I WANNA KNOW
BRYAN ADAMS- EVERYTHING I DO
MICHAEL JACKSON-LIBERIAN GIRL
CRAIG DAVID-KEY TO MY HEART
STEVIE WONDER-KNOCKS ME OFF MY FEET
STING- IF I EVER LOSE MY FAITH IN YOU
CHRIS DeBURG- LADY IN RED
JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE-WHAT YOU MEAN TO ME
TEVIN CAMPBELL-ALWAYS IN MY HEART
3 DOORS DOWN-HERE WITHOUT YOU

 
NEW YEAR, NEW DAY, NEW ANGST.
Does it really ever really end?....
Anyway, it's a blatant shame how pitifully I've fallen behind on this blog. Yes, it's been heard before, but in a couple of weeks, I'll not only be able to free my mind on all that happened last year, but also keep this new year's current.

 
8 YEARS, 0 MTHS, 0 DAYS LATER.
AUG 25 1997, I got my first glimpse of my Promised Land. Of course, I was much younger, and still believed Yankey was paradise. This is not about the disillusionment of that ridiculous concept, but to remember the day my deepest innermost dream came true beyond my wildest expectations.
I would like to think that it's the same God who made it all happen that I pray to now. I wanted this blog to be about what He hath done for me and also to remember the day which happened when I thought it never would.
I'd like to say, before I go any deeper, that I've been struggling, really struggling, hold on to God. I give Him this; He's been showing me things that are up to me to interpret. Signs that He's got this, or mere coincidences. It bothers the hell out of me that I've become so jaded that I just can't believe that what I want is mine, or that God is there for me, no matter what.
This is what I've been afraid of. I know I prayed and prayed that it won't happen. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Bullish. I'm living proof that that line is total garbage. The hell I've been through hasn't killed me, no, but what it has done to me, death would be an act of mercy. It didn't kill me, just crippled the hell out of me. I can't trust, can't believe, faith is shot to hell. Fear and Paranoia are my daily companions. Wet pillows, no appetite, no sleep, just a deep dark place. Sure, it didn't kill me, but just how much stronger am I?
I prayed every day that my experiences wouldn't destroy me so much that I would be of no good to anyone, not God, my husband, my family. But it seems God was on vacation when I prayed that prayer, cos it seems I'm headed in that direction, if He doesn't intervene.
I just can't seem to let go of my past, experiences with Mill, especially Ren, and Stan himself, have rendered me totally incapable of looking up to heaven, placing it all in His hands and letting it go.
I really hate it. What does it say for the Christian that I am, to pray day and night to God, but still look over my shoulder?
My summer has been one of the cruellest I've ever had. This shit started out on the Ren level, but it's stretching itself to Mill proportions. I doubt I lost that much weight and cried that much with Ren. I also doubt I did that much crying with Mill. No, the pain at that time was a big old cold lump in my chest.
Anyway, life with Stan has been... Oh God, there's no word for it. I kind of think it's mostly self-inflicted. My reactions to situations are sometimes extreme, but I know it's bcos of the things Stan has said and done. I don't know if they're signs from God to bail or just silly things men say and do.
At the end of it all, it's God I want to see. Things have happened to convince me of His prescence but my heart and mind just can't let go of all my injuries and scars to be able to see. I just wish He would go the extra mile and gently remove my hands from what I'm clutching so tightly and help me see. I know I don't deserve it but ... I really wish He would. Cos I really want me and Stan to work.
Which brings me to why I'm blogging. When I prayed to get to come here, He didn't ( THIS JUST OCCURRED TO ME) give me something other than what I had prayed for, saying that it was best for me. I just realized that. He took me straight to the place I had longed for. Wow. Had a talk with Jennifer last night, her faith and optimism was awesome. Felt like the voice of God. Made me have wierd dreams. Saw my dead uncle singing to my soul, called me by my soul name and telling me it would be okay. Wow.
"Count your blessings and it would surprise you what the Lord hath done".
Wanted to do that with this blog but shit and my hormones (and I suspect my demons as well) took over and I got to venting.
I will keep praying even though I've been told to pray once and let it go. I will keep praying and try to refrain from deceit, and some of my other vices.
Please God, let it be.

 
Stan gets my name for him from way back during my crush days. I used to listen to The Countdown by WALT BABY LOVE on the radio. Whenever I heard him play "Baby Love" by Groove Theory, I would always think of Stan.

 
PREVIOUSLY ON FREE YOUR MIND...
Sudden thoughts about my great big hearthrob, and my great big heartbreak. I go home. I come back, wondering what now. Somehow, my great big hearthrob and I start speaking again. I start having those old feelings again...
BE STILL, MY UNSMART HEART.
Monday evening, I finally got my extemely weak ass to work. I don't know what the hell kind of flu it was but it seemed to be a virus straight from hell. I would have sworn on the Bible in court that I had had malaria, if it weren't for the fact that about three of my co-workers had been in bed for a week with the same virus right before I got back from Gh. And malaria doesn't come with the sniffles and coughing; I damn near coughed up my whole ribcage. And when I did get well, I was so weak, I actually got dizzy standing up. I remember trying to go get Dee, my cousin/nurse, a b'day present and what a task it turned out to be.
Yeah, well, I come home from work Monday evening and Stan calls. We talk. He starts his usual pitch. I'm like "do you ever think of anything else?". We talk. He says" Lemme ask you something. If you were married and you ran into me somewhere, would you sleep with me?" If it had been anyone else, I would have had a totally different reaction, but it was Stan, and I know how his mind works, I knew exactly what he waws trying to find out. "No, Stan," I say. "What the hell kind of question is that?"
"Just answer."
"Well, I take things like that really seriously. If I'm married, it's probably the real thing, so I wouldn't cheat on my husband." Then I ask him the same question. What he tells me makes me ask him to repeat himself. I couldn't believe what he said. Dude very offhandedly and casually tells me " When it comes to you, there isn't anything I wouldn't do."
I say" Oh, Stan."
Oh, yeah, ain't no telling how it made me feel. Too bad I don't think it's so cute now. Hell, it's scaring me. Did that statement apply to just me or what? I'm scared to ask.
So we talk. He asks me if I still have feelings for him. I hem and haw a bit. Not wanting to commit too much and not wanting to miss out. I still hadn't seen what he looked like, mind. I know it's downright superficial of me, but hell...
But all throughout, I swear, I didn't really believe I was actually in danger of experiencing the me and blind date really clicking thing, only to meet and EEEEK!! No, not with Stan. I just couldn't see it happening.
But I'm cautious. I tell him" Hey, I don't really think I really ever stopped liking you, if that's what you want to know." He says he feels the same. So I want to know what now. Exactly does he want from me. Oh Stan, my Baby Love. Dear Stan fumbles, hems and haws. His discomfort takes me back nine years when he first told me how he felt about me. It was the same shy bumbling approach. I thought it was really ironic I had been the one carrying the crush all this time and at the final moment of truth where secrets were being revealed I had more confidence than he did. I'd really like to think that he had been harboring the same crush on me that I had on him, but come on, who are we kidding, I'd had a crush on Stan since I was probably eleven, maybe before that, cos I remember him from kindergarten. Ain't that something?
So now, me and Stan are back at that place where he's trying to divulge his feelings and making a debacle of it. After a lot of "uhm, uh, ahems" he says" Damn it, you know what I mean"
I say" No, I don't. You have to outline everything this time, that way it will never come up and have you say ' I never said that. You took it the wrong way'. " Flash back to Ren. He was the king of that filthy move.
Stan's still hedging and trying to say it but just can't find the right words. I feel sorry for him. So I say" Listen. I think I know where this is going. I'm gonna cut you some slack cos I know you're paralyzed when it comes to expressing your most inner self. Don't let's say anything yet. Let's just make like two people on a blind date who already know each other. Let's keep talking and see how things fall."
MY BIG MOUTH. Five months later, I'm writing this and if I could kick myself I would. I shd have MADE him say it. But at that time, I had no freaking idea how things were going to fall. And I was making the same mistake I had made with Mill and Luis. My overconfidence that oh, yeah, I got this. I'm gon handle it. Ain't no way MY feelings gonna get all twisted up. No, that will be his role.
So we talk. Stan and I. Calls me at work. Calls me at home. Regularly. Perfect schedules in sync. I work 8-5. He works 3-11 GMT. Do the math. He gets home at around midnight. I'm doing the same at 6 pm CT.
Then he tells me how big he's gotten now and I nearly pass out. Stan used to be scrawny. Now he's a whopping 236 lbs? I couldn't get over it. But he wasn't finished. He proceeded to make himself sound as unattractive as possible. I couldn't get it, but looking at that scene now, I think I know why. Stan wanted to see how genuine I was. Anyway he tells me his stomach's gotten quite large and his hairline is receeding. Even though my heart sank with every description ( coupled with flashbacks to the one provided courtesy of Becky) I still just couldn't see him looking so bad to unattract me. So I talk to Belinda and Joe and they confirm what Stan said. Now I'm convinced I've been talking to Shrek. Okay, so now a picture is absolutely crucial before I can go any further. But every day, I looked forward to hearing his voice. Suddenly I didn't care how bad he looked. It was Stan, and that was it for me. Besides, as sexy as he sounded on the phone, I was thinking no one that sounds that good can possibly look that horrible.
I started psyching myself up to see hefty men differently. I practised on a coupla guys at the HD. Guys I figured would be around Stan's weight. It wasn't too hard. After all, it was Stan, my Stan.
One day, we' re talking and in the course of telling me about his adventures in ATL, he also tells me how one of his friends had requested a vibrator back from the US. He says "I just took it to her yesterday and she started using it right in front of me. I would have hopped on her if I had brought some rubbers with me."
I'm shocked silent. I can't even think my usual "what the hell?" . "But nothing happened." he's saying. I'm so quiet he asks me if I'm alright. I say yeah. Try to glide over the shit he just told me and say "Damn, y'all Londoners are some freaks". But I can't let it go. I ask him if he was joking about what he just said. He says no I'm not. I say, dude stop playing. He says I'm for real.
Oh, God! Again, in retrospect, that was what should have made me finish that converse really politely and say goodbye, I wish you all the best. Have a nice life.
The very first crack in the surface. Ignored it cos I was like well, it's not like I'm his girfriend or anything. We're just talking. But it kept occuring to me just how unkosher it was. I don't care how uncommitted you are and how honest you think you shd be, you don't tell a girl you like her, and then run some shit like that by her. It's not kosher.
Anway. So we talk. Then as suddenly as he had appeared, he vamoosed. Didn't hear from him for about five days. Gone from calling everyday to silence. So I call him, I think, and he calls me later that evening. He apologizes for his silence and says the past couple of days have been exhausting for him. Been sleeping really late. I ask "Doing what?" He "Says talking on the phone". I remember thinking, well you weren't on the phone with me so what the hell is that got to do with anything? We talk about nothing for a few minutes, he says "okay, I gotta go now. I'm really tired" I'm thinking Oh, God, just like that, it's over. Tears (the first of about 7 million) slide down my face. I say okay. Goodnight. I hang up and try not to cry.
Oh Stan, my Baby Love.
To be continued.

 
WAITING IT OUT.
Sat night. A little exhausted. A lot amazed. Blogging is a really good tool. I have been seeing a lot of similarities b/n now and when I was dealing with Ren. Almost two years to the dates. I mean, the shit is happening again. And they're bizarrely( a real word) happening damn near the same dates. For example, my first encounter with Ren happened mid June 2003. Bam, Stan was here around the same time. The day I decided to put Ren through the grill and not take any of his phone calls was first weekend after July 4. Guess when I decided I had truly had enought of these creatures. Same time. First wkend after July 4. I was unaware of all this till I started thinking things out. And a whole lot more light has been shed on me and my pysche at the time I was dealing with Ren. Yup, I've been reading the blogs I posted during that ordeal. It's like I wrote the same thoughts I'm having now. Like "how the hell did I get back here, and so fast?".
Somehow, in a twisted way, it's helping me deal with my Stan situation. I see that all this shit has happened before. And I'd really like to pray that, that was the reason why Ren's useless ass came into my life( Lord knows I've pondered that question about fify times). He came to prepare me to deal with Stan. I mean, I've been hearing his voice echo in my head when I feel like complaining about Stanley. Something just holds me back; I hear Ren reminding me how all my complaining and mistrust was pushing him away. Of course, in his case I was right. In Stan's case, well I don't know. The old questions are there, by instinct or by paranoia. I have yet to tell. My trust issues have rendered my guts feelings null and void.
Ren made me question my guts, and I still hold it against him for that, the ass wipe. Now that I can't be bothered with him, he's realized that he still likes me. And he has a girlfriend. So, was I right all along about his trifling ass or what?
Anyway, so Kofi tells me to give Stan a bit more rope. He asked me exactly what had happened to make me think about writing Stan off like that. I couldn't tell him. It's not just one thing. It's a lot, a whole lot of little things. I tell Kofi about the comment Stan made regarding what a man sometimes does when his woman is not around. Kofi thought that was cold. And a couple of other things. He started to tell me to be a bit more cautious. He didn't know it was Stan I was talking about. He changed his freaking tune when I told him. He got all googly eyed, telling me that was sooo cute. Us old flame lovebirds together again. That's why I don't tell him nuthin. Anyway, he says give Stan more rope to hang hisself.
So I'm like whatever. I turn my phone off Sun morn. Stan has gone out of town and I didn't hear from him all weekend. I was pissed. The voices told me he was out there doing God knows what, with God knows who, at God know where. He calls and calls and calls. I ignore him. He keeps calling till I crumble, pick up the phone and his first words are" If you don't want to talk to me...". I cut him off. " And why wouldn't I want to? Do you think you've done something wrong? Huh? Tell me, Stan, do you feel I shouldn't be speaking to you or something?"
Anyways, we're talking and I don't know where it comes from , but suddenly everything spills out, I tell him how I feel and the craziness of it all. My world has spun out of control, way off axis, and I can't balance anything. I'm vunerable as hell, fear and paranoia are driving me directly into a straitjacket.
"You are special as hell to me, Stan, but if this how it's going to be, I don't think I can hang. Gotta go my way and you go yours."
He wants to know where all this is coming from. "Is it because I went out of town?" I say, "It's not that you went out of town so much as telling me on Thurs night, hey gotta go pee, will call you back, and now it's Sunday.
Yeah, I know you have serious sleep problems; I've seen you in action, you're damn near narcoleptic, but, when you know someone, esp me, is waiting for you to call 'em back, ain't no way you shd be able to fall asleep. Hell, you shd be having nightmares which will raise your sleepy ass right back up and make the call.
Unless of course, your trifling behind KNOWS you have to call me back but you decide, man, I'm too tired to make that call. Then, I gotta ask you, exactly how much pull do I have, where you're concerned?"
He says, "oh come on baby..(Don't baby me) If only you knew how special you are to me as well. Listen, I'm not doing anything I'm not supposed to be doing. I'm not messing around or whatever you're scared of. I went to see my old buddy like I said. You can ask Belinda and Joe, we called them, my buddy wanted to speak to them. My dad is as pissed off with me as you are, I didn't call him as well when I got there. Please don't be mad at me, I'm sorry, I really am."
I feel my anger make like butter on hot toast. But I say, "dude, what is the deal with you? You HAVE to learn to keep communication lines flowing. Especially with all the crazy things going on."
Then I bring up the other things I need to get off my chest. I say, "I mean, I really don't know what to think now. You think I'm paranoid? Wouldn't you be if the guy you call yourself involved with tells you some shit(within couple of weeks after he tells you he still has feelings for you) like 'Oh yeah, one of my friends asked me to get her a vibrator and when I delivered it, she tried it out right in front of me, and I'd have hopped on that junt if I had brought rubbers with me.' Tell me Stan, what kind of bullshit is that?"
He says."Oh, God. Listen. Nothing happened." Okay, and what about the killer, " What's a man to do when his woman is not around?"
Stan says" You know all that's just talk. I was just running my mouth." I say "I don't know that. You've got my mind all twisted up. All this roller coaster crap. I have no idea what to do, nor how to do it."
He says" There's nothing you have to do. I'm really sorry for being so stupid. I say a lot of bull, I had no idea the effect it was having on you. Please forgive me."
I say okay, nuff said. We change the subject.
Note well: This conversation was paraphrased. Not all quotes were as quoted, but most of the story is the same.
I go to sleep that night and am woken up by Stan, and like a little b4 midnight. He says he can't sleep. I ask why? He says"cos you're pissed off at me"
My lips stretch till they can stretch no farther. Oh, Baby Love.
But I'm cool, I say, I'm not, Stan, go back to sleep. He says are you sure?
I say yeah. He says "I'll call you later today."
What I really wanna say will run him off faster than a scalded cat. So I simply say. "okay, goodnight Stan."
Whew! I almost told the boy I loved him.

 
finally....
This song by Billy Ocean runs thru my head. "Suddenly". Song what talks about life's sudden new meaning to him. "There's glory up above, and things we never take notice of, you wake up and suddenly, you're in love".
I wonder what the flip side is to that. You wake up and suddenly you're out of love? I guess. I also guess that, above named song, whose ironic side I wanted to use, will not suit my purposes. I'm babbling. Shows my state of mind.
Okay, I've finally hit rock bottom. I've finally given up. Am working on accepting it. But right now, I'm exhausted. From my brain right down to my feet. Sick and tired of being sick and tired. So I guess, this is it. MEN, Patricia. Part ways. Forever.
I guess it's never been meant to be. I mean, all I've been doing is taking a cold hard look at my rap sheet. I don't know if I'm the one picking up all the losers, or I just happen to be a hardcore card carrying member of the losing club. I've drawn a really painful conclusion that there's an elite club of people on earth who really believe in love and spend most of their lives searching for it. Never happen though. See, they're different from the ones who believe and eventually find, and the ones who couldn't give a damn but find it every corner they turn. I guess there are also those who don't care and don't find. All the above named are the winners. Happy endings all around. Even if they did shed a few tears along the way.
But my club: the elite eventual losers, we're the ones who raise stock prices for Kleenex and Prozac. It's hard. Facing that.
It's like I never would get it. You don't get it, do you? Tricia girl? Not everyone was born as part of a couple. It's really sad. I think I should been told that when I was like thirteen. A lot of the heartache that's been most of my life would have been left where heartaches come from.
I can't believe I'm back here again. At the same time, I'm not too surprised. This shit happens over and over and over, and over and over... okay, is there a point where I finally get it?....
...(Continued Sat night- 7/9)
So yeah, I was asking, is there a freaking point where I finally get it? I guess this is it. Woke up this morning begging God, please let it go. Help me let it go. I don't care what you do or how you do it. Let this hell be over. This crap has to stop. Now. There's no earthly reason why I always am the one ending up with the short end of the stick. All the fucking time. Here I am, heart slowly bleeding over my insides while he is out there doing God knows what with God knows who. I'm on the phone with him Thurs night and he says I gotta go use the restroom, will call you back. I'm still waiting for him to call. It's Sat night. It's inconsiderate shit like that that makes me say, you know what, this gotta end.
So here I am. I think I've finally lost faith in the love legend. I guess that's all there is to it. Legend, myth, fable. I mean, I had been thinking that I still believe it's out there. Maybe not meant for me to experience but it was definitely out there, happening for some people. Now I'm not so sure. I done seen men AND women swear by all they hold sacred how they love someone then go out and ... God.
It's happening. The very thing I've been dreading and praying won't happen. I used to pray when I was a teenager not to let my bad experiences mold me into a bitter adult. I might not be bitter now, but I have definitely lost all faith in love and myself; it's starting to edge towarsds my faith in God. And in Sting's words: If I ever lose my faith in you, there is nothing left for me to do. As is true. I'm sitting here pondering the rest of my life and I see nothing but emptiness. A long gray dull mind-numbing emptiness. You'll call me melodramatic. Whatever. Things just ain't too bright from where I'm standing and that's how I'm calling it.
30 years old and not one damn good relationship I can call mine. The only fond one I can even touch on was with Stan himself, and even that's been tainted. What with current events all souring my thinking. Yup, at a certain point, you finally get it. I guess I've gotten there. Finally.
It's a cold hard place to be.

 
HEART REALLY REALLY NOT SMART. AT ALL.
Today, some possibly sexually repressed punk along with a coupla his equally frustrated buddies decided to give Londoners a free first hand show of what the WTC looked like on 9/11.
That also means that I spent most of my day alternately worrying and crying about Stan. I know I'm working on cutting him loose, but coming face to face with the raw fear of even the slightest possibility of danger to the one who has the final say so on all your heartstrings( whew, long ass sentence!), well, it can make all your resolutions fly right outta ya head. In layman's terms, I suddenly realized I'd probably not make it if anything happened to Stan. THAT floored me. I mean, here I am, working my butt off, along with God,praying, praying, praying for strength, and trying to keep my distance. All the while knowing that I still love him, a lot. Whole whole lot. But allowing my pride and my head, to talk to me, for once. So yeah, it's been these two parts of me, along with God's everloving mercy, that have given me any kind of strength where Stan aka my heart, is concerned.
So it's been one day at a time. Pride and Head holding my hands back when he calls so I can watch the phone ring without dashing at breakneck speed to answer. They also hold my hand from calling back. Most of all, Pride is able to whisper me to sleep when I don't hear from him. Head helps me eat. God watches over all this and helps me try to carve out a normal life, one hour at a time.
Then bam!, terrorists hit London. Subway system, also known as my baby Stan's limousine, SUV, taxi, bike. His sole mode of transport. I start calling him. Cellphone communcation is at a standstill. I need to hear his voice. ASAP. Keep calling and calling. Can't get thru. Monitoring MSNBC, CNN, FOXNews. Total carnage. Need to hear his voice. It's not happening. I WANT TO DIE. I call and call and call then, bam!, I get thru to one of his cell phones. Can't believe it. It goes straight to voice mail. Try the other one. Busy, but keep calling till I get thru. Can u believe the durned phone rang and rang without its owner answering? I did it all again. Busy till I get thru, phone rings. No pick up. I start praying- God, let him be okay. I don't care if he is with some hoochie somewhere so he's not picking up. Just don't let him be trapped under some carnage somewhere, unable to get to his phone. Careful, Tricia, about the things you pray for:
I muster courage( I get nervous speaking to his dad on the phone, why, I don't know) and call his house line. Dad answers, is really nice and tells me Stan is fine. Gone out, though. I'm like what the muthafuck??!!! Excuse me, but didn't London just get its ass bombed and have its entire subway system grind to a freaking halt? Isn't the durn city still on alert? What, what, what would make a sane person go back out into that chaos after being home safely with nary a scratch? (He'd been home all day. Didn't go to work.) Shows God is trying to to keep your wanderlusting ass safe. You go back out there, if I were God, I be like you're on your own this time negro, I've got REAL victims and families to attend to.
Anyway, back to my question. WHY oh WHY and WHAT would make a person go out tonight of all nights? Boredom, curiosity, concern 4 ya friends, another woman, what?
Ain't enough ass in this world to make me go out into that chaos. I mean, people are probably stranded or fighting to get home, transportation and communication being as limited as it is.
So, Stan is back on my shitlist. Now I'm pissed off to indifference about him. I mean, you won't call to let folks know you're okay, and when THEY call YOU, you aren't answering, for reasons best known to you and God. Oh wow. I realized I prayed that he was okay, even if he's holed up with some some skank.
I'm hoping that it's not true. This shit being one, no, most of the reason why I'm walking away from him. I don't have trust issues( fuck you, Ren). Stan just can't be trusted. I mean, he's been uncharacteristically affectionate with me this week, and is telling me he's going out of town to visit an old buddy. I haven't believed a single sentence he's told me. Dude is up to something. But I do know his head is screwed on right. I just don't see him going out into that kind of craziness just to get a piece of tail. Can't believe I just said that without totally losing it.
Maybe deep in my heart, I know it's not true. Or maybe, just maybe, my heart really ain't so smart.