First off I want to say Happy Mothers Day to everyone!
Unfortunately I'll be spending my Mother's Day in a huge corporate office alone because the "father" of my oldest daughter continues to drag me to court. In order for me to make my hearing tomorrow and not use PTO I will have to make up my hours on Mothers Day instead.
What I wanted to focus on in this post though is this need by both men and women to degrade and shame women on a day that's meant to acknowledge their hard work and sacrifice.
I want to preface this post by saying that I'm not without fault because I used to do this too. I used to dedicate about 4 or 5 posts as well as invite myself onto other people's post to debate them. Out of order and out of line. I'm sure if you were to go back far enough on my facebook profile you'll find those very posts.
Being forced to realize things for what they are due to my current situation has taught me that I did not know what the fuck I was talking about.
I have no right to tell a woman how she should identify herself and what she should call herself because I for damn sure know that a mother does not one day wake up and say, "I think I'm going to boot my child's father out of her life and start calling myself her father instead."
That's not how this works. That's not how any of this works!
This belief by those who are adamant about telling women who they are and aren't is usually followed up by, "You knew who he was when you decided to have a baby. You chose him! Deal with it!"
This hurts me and in turn I hurt for all who have been abused, whose children's lives have been in danger, those who are being manipulated in ways by the father that makes it difficult to give their children what they need. At this point it doesn't matter who chose who. We will NOT make the mother the reason for a deadbeat being a deadbeat.
In my instance my child's father chose me. What do I mean by that? I mean he preyed on me. When I became of age he raped me. My daughter is a result of this. My entire story is explained here: http://sbmmemoirs.blogspot.com/2016/04/i-was-raped-by-my-daughters-father.html
Furthermore I get minimal help on his behalf and am being tormented with multiple court hearings in an effort for him not to care for his daughter. I have earned every right to call myself both mother and father whenever I feel like it.
Some of you need to get the fuck out of your self righteous feelings and realize that your crusade to shame women for something that you didn't have to go through is problematic as fuck.
Saturday, May 7, 2016
Thursday, April 28, 2016
I Was Raped By My Daughter's Father
First I want to label this entry with a *TRIGGER WARNING* as it will be touching on the subject of rape....
This is really difficult to tell because I am just now coming to terms with the severity of the situation that is having a really negative effect on my life. Especially now. But I feel it's really important to tell because my experience (as with many women and girls) is not what people typically define as rape. Yet it is rape nonetheless.
My story:
I was 16 when I met a guy on a social media website. This was long before the days of Facebook, Tinder, and things of the likes. These were the Myspace, Cincy Peeps, and Blackplanet days. I met this particular guy on Blackplanet. Clearly he was only looking for a sexual encounter as I was too. A few messages later we met up and did what we came to do.
I learned before even meeting him that he was in his early 20's. I didn't care though. He was well aware that I was in high school and disturbingly he did not care either.
We were sexually involved with each other from the age of 16 up until I was 20.
This guy had a friend that he always referred to as DJ. DJ was about the same age as he was. Per usual I decided to sneak out of the house to meet the guy from the website. He asked me if I had a friend for DJ. I told him that I did and I gave her a call. My friend said yes she'd link up with us and we all rode to her house to get her.
These older men were all over us girls who were at the time 17 years old. Our nite ended quickly because I was caught outside of the house by my aunt when I wasn't supposed to be.
Afterward I found myself a little jealous. I found DJ attractive and I wanted him. I didn't tell her this though. The next day at school I asked how she liked DJ. She said that he was kind of cute, but she wasn't really feeling him. I was so excited to know this because I knew that I could try him without her getting upset.
Another year goes by and I'm still heavily involved with the guy that I met online.
I finally turned 18 and graduated from high school. That was my chance to be free. I didn't owe anybody an explanation for what I wanted to do because I was "grown." I was legally an adult.
The summer following my high school graduation I immediately began attending the city's local university through a high school enrichment program that allowed it's senior participants to take college classes as well as live on campus.
Well, during that stay I got an unexpected call from DJ. It was really odd because I hadn't seen, heard from, or spoken to him since the time my friend and I met up with him when we were 17. I answered and he asked if we could chill. I said yes.
He picked me up from my dorm and we drove around the city just engaging in small talk. He was drinking liquor and asked if I wanted some. I told him no.
I was a little nervous hoping that he wouldn't cause an accident. Worst case scenario I didn't want to end up dying!
We made it to our destination safely, but the destination wasn't what I expected at all. I thought we were going to chill as in go somewhere and do something in a public setting. Not a local motel.
I began feeling weird, but I followed his lead.
When we got inside he had more to drink and asked again, "You sure you don't want none?" I told him no.
He went to sit on the bed and told me to come here. I walked over hesitantly and he leaned over and kissed me. I could smell and taste the apple pucker on his breath. I did not enjoy the kiss at all, but I did it because I felt obligated somehow.
He began undressing me and undressing himself.
I just wasn't feeling it anymore, but I figured I'd go ahead and let him fuck and afterward he'd take me home that evening and I'd never have to see him again. So I played along.
He took his boxers off and attempted to penetrate me, but I was so turned off that I couldn't even fake it. I don't know what his deal was either because he was clearly soft no matter how excited he appeared to be.
He told me to give him head because, "I know that's what you do." And he forcefully pushed my head down. I did what I was told because at this point I didn't know what he was capable of. He was smaller in stature than most guys that I dealt with, but he was still a guy and much stronger than I was.
I was really disgusted and tried to hurry and get it over, but he was still soft. I decided that I didn't want to do it anymore so I stopped.
He then told me to lay down and he tried to penetrate me again. I guess he was aroused just enough to actually get it in. Meanwhile I was praying that this would quickly end.
With each pump I began regretting even being there. Regretting accepting the invitation. Regretting accepting his phone call.
My leg began to hurt so I told DJ to let me get up for a minute. He ignored me. So I waited and then said again, "Let me get up. I need to get up."
DJ said, "No not til I'm done."
This is when I really got scared. I wasn't well versed on consent at the time, but I knew that no meant no.... No matter what. I told him no and he would not stop!
I tried to force myself from up under him and he put me in a hold where his arm wrapped around the back of my neck up to the front of my neck. I couldn't move. I couldn't go anywhere. I just laid there. I was so scared. There wasn't anybody that I could call. There was simply nothing that I could do, but take it.
When he was done he got up and went to the bathroom.
I contemplated quickly getting dressed and running out of the room. I contemplated taking his wallet and using whatever cash he had to get back to campus.
Unfortunately my cell phone was dead so I couldn't use it to call a cab. I wasn't familiar with the part of town I was in and it was dark. I was just too scared. I also thought that he could potentially go searching for me and doing something worse. So I instead just sat in the bed.
I didn't say much of anything to him afterward. I just wanted to go home.
He fell asleep. I on the other hand stayed up most of the nite trying to make sense of what happened. I was so confused. I felt violated. I felt hurt. I felt stuck.
After losing my fight with sleep I dozed for a couple of hours. I woke up before he did and tried to get up figuring that this would be my chance to now leave, but he had his arm cradling my body in a way that I could not get up.
I wanted to cry.
I tried to suck it up and play nice while attempting to wake him up.
We finally made it out of the motel and he drove me back to campus.
I was completely silent. I didn't say a word.
When he dropped me off he gave me a hug and drove off.
When I got back to my dorm I couldn't even muster up the energy to speak with my roommates. I walked directly to the shower and tried my hardest to process what happened in that room. My roommates knew that something was up, but I just couldn't tell them. I got dressed for bed and went to sleep.
I went about the remainder of my summer term as if nothing happened.
I finally got the courage to tell my close friend (which was actually the one that was supposed to hook up with DJ when we were 17). I candidly told her what happened then ended with, "He raped me." The look on her face when I concluded my story was one that didn't seem convinced. She didn't tell me that I was lying, but I could tell what she was thinking so I refused to tell anyone else.
5 months after my summer term ended I found out that I was pregnant. And when I say pregnant I mean VERY pregnant. Yes, 5 months pregnant. Since I found out so late I couldn't really pinpoint at the time who the father was.
I was devastated because I was looking forward to attending college in Louisiana at Grambling State University to pursue a degree in music composition in hopes to ultimately become a band director.
By that time I was back together with a long term on again/off again boyfriend (who would later become the father to my other 2 daughters). I revealed to him that I was raped and he shamed and beat me for it.
That was it!
I convinced myself that it wasn't rape. How could someone rape me if I willingly accepted his invitation? I can't cry rape. I pushed the notion completely out of my mind.
Years later after doing some serious searching and some calculation from the date I tracked DJ down and submitted his information so that he could be tested.
It came back that he was the dad.
At the time I was simply happy to find my daughter's bio dad. Especially after finding out that she had inherited sickle cell trait. It was important to know the history of such. Furthermore it was my opportunity to get more help on behalf of our now daughter.
I met him for the first time since our last encounter. I was actually not upset, sad, or anything else. Maybe that was because I had totally erased what happened from my mind.
We had a hearing for child support where he lied about working. He said that he didn't work at all. The hearing officer caught him in the lie and said that they had all of his work information as well as wages earned. She asked why did he lie. His response was to beg and plead with the hearing officer that he takes good care of his kids and he didn't want to be made to look like he doesn't. This didn't make sense to me. The hearing officer then gave me the option to forgo the financial support and only require medical support. A decision that I had to make on the spot.
I was reminded of the weak argument that financial obligation to a child causes fathers to be absent from their children's lives. I didn't want to be seen as the person who kept a father away from his child so I agreed to medical support. I wish I had more support on that behalf otherwise I would not have agreed to medical support only.
The hearing officer assured me that if at any time I felt that he wasn't properly financially supporting her then I could make a call to have it reinstated.
At the beginning DJ did what I felt he needed to do for her. He bought her clothes and shoes. He picked her up on the weekends. I figured that this was great parenting. It at least sufficed during her preschool years up until early elementary.
Once I started being vocal about what she needs from him and how he could be of more assistance he began pushing back and basically faulting me for what was going on.
His financial support was not consistent and I began getting tired of having to remind him to cover her recurring expenses.
I finally had enough and decided to reinstate the financial support order as it's not my responsibility to remind a grown man to consistently support his child.
Around that time I joined a black feminist Facebook group. They had a specific thread touching on the topic of consent when it comes to sex. In short it stated that if a person does not stop after you've revoked your consent then it is rape. He doesn't have to fight you. He doesn't have to chase you down. It is still rape.
That notion turned my entire world upside down and caused me to cry as I responded to the thread. I'd been in denial for so long. And that I was initially right. I was raped by my daughter's father.
Through eyes blurred with tears I recounted what happened. They confirmed that this was indeed rape. I was angry. I was upset. I was sad. I felt helpless.
I wanted to press charges, but I knew that the system would not be on my side given the circumstances and the fact that it's been 12 years since it's happened.
About a month later (a few days before my birthday) I received a summons to court. My daughter's dad was filing for sole custody citing complete lies. This is all over the fact that I reinstated child support.
I felt my chest tighten. Not only did he have the ability to violate me sexually and get away with it he now has the ability to legally torment me.
I was told often by many people not to worry about it. "He won't be able to get custody of her." But at this point it's not about him getting custody which I'm sure he wont get no matter how long he draws things out.
I am more concerned with my emotional well being. This man raped me. I revoked my consent and he did not stop. I in so many words forgave him and attempted to co-parent with him. When I decided to put my foot down for what my daughter needed he became really nasty towards me and degraded me.
He told me that I'm incapable of properly raising her. That I'm incapable of giving her the tools to properly succeed in life. To hear this from someone who fucking raped me? To know that my daughter has created a bond with the guy who fucking raped me!
These days I really want to give up. It's really depressing. I cry a lot out of frustration, out of anger, out of hate for him. I often think maybe I should just allow him to get her so that it would all be over, but I can't bear to know that he could have even more leverage over me if I allow for that to happen.
Because of all of this I am forced to not display my emotions. When my daughter pushes back and capes for her dad I have to keep my mouth sealed shut because any information that she may volunteer to her dad can and will be used against me. What hurts most is that she loves my abuser.
I got a new job to better support my children, but I risk not keeping it each time I am dragged to hearings. This is unfair and there's nothing that I can do about it. I can't afford a lawyer.
I am left to pretend to be emotionally put together when I feel dead inside. I'm left to scramble to continuously provide for her while her dad shells out thousands of dollars to an attorney in an effort to evade paying child support that he hasn't paid in 11 years. And if I do anything the least bit questionable I am scrutinized. I'm so tired.
This is my story and I'm no longer going to suffer my pain in silence.
This is really difficult to tell because I am just now coming to terms with the severity of the situation that is having a really negative effect on my life. Especially now. But I feel it's really important to tell because my experience (as with many women and girls) is not what people typically define as rape. Yet it is rape nonetheless.
My story:
I was 16 when I met a guy on a social media website. This was long before the days of Facebook, Tinder, and things of the likes. These were the Myspace, Cincy Peeps, and Blackplanet days. I met this particular guy on Blackplanet. Clearly he was only looking for a sexual encounter as I was too. A few messages later we met up and did what we came to do.
I learned before even meeting him that he was in his early 20's. I didn't care though. He was well aware that I was in high school and disturbingly he did not care either.
We were sexually involved with each other from the age of 16 up until I was 20.
This guy had a friend that he always referred to as DJ. DJ was about the same age as he was. Per usual I decided to sneak out of the house to meet the guy from the website. He asked me if I had a friend for DJ. I told him that I did and I gave her a call. My friend said yes she'd link up with us and we all rode to her house to get her.
These older men were all over us girls who were at the time 17 years old. Our nite ended quickly because I was caught outside of the house by my aunt when I wasn't supposed to be.
Afterward I found myself a little jealous. I found DJ attractive and I wanted him. I didn't tell her this though. The next day at school I asked how she liked DJ. She said that he was kind of cute, but she wasn't really feeling him. I was so excited to know this because I knew that I could try him without her getting upset.
Another year goes by and I'm still heavily involved with the guy that I met online.
I finally turned 18 and graduated from high school. That was my chance to be free. I didn't owe anybody an explanation for what I wanted to do because I was "grown." I was legally an adult.
The summer following my high school graduation I immediately began attending the city's local university through a high school enrichment program that allowed it's senior participants to take college classes as well as live on campus.
Well, during that stay I got an unexpected call from DJ. It was really odd because I hadn't seen, heard from, or spoken to him since the time my friend and I met up with him when we were 17. I answered and he asked if we could chill. I said yes.
He picked me up from my dorm and we drove around the city just engaging in small talk. He was drinking liquor and asked if I wanted some. I told him no.
I was a little nervous hoping that he wouldn't cause an accident. Worst case scenario I didn't want to end up dying!
We made it to our destination safely, but the destination wasn't what I expected at all. I thought we were going to chill as in go somewhere and do something in a public setting. Not a local motel.
I began feeling weird, but I followed his lead.
When we got inside he had more to drink and asked again, "You sure you don't want none?" I told him no.
He went to sit on the bed and told me to come here. I walked over hesitantly and he leaned over and kissed me. I could smell and taste the apple pucker on his breath. I did not enjoy the kiss at all, but I did it because I felt obligated somehow.
He began undressing me and undressing himself.
I just wasn't feeling it anymore, but I figured I'd go ahead and let him fuck and afterward he'd take me home that evening and I'd never have to see him again. So I played along.
He took his boxers off and attempted to penetrate me, but I was so turned off that I couldn't even fake it. I don't know what his deal was either because he was clearly soft no matter how excited he appeared to be.
He told me to give him head because, "I know that's what you do." And he forcefully pushed my head down. I did what I was told because at this point I didn't know what he was capable of. He was smaller in stature than most guys that I dealt with, but he was still a guy and much stronger than I was.
I was really disgusted and tried to hurry and get it over, but he was still soft. I decided that I didn't want to do it anymore so I stopped.
He then told me to lay down and he tried to penetrate me again. I guess he was aroused just enough to actually get it in. Meanwhile I was praying that this would quickly end.
With each pump I began regretting even being there. Regretting accepting the invitation. Regretting accepting his phone call.
My leg began to hurt so I told DJ to let me get up for a minute. He ignored me. So I waited and then said again, "Let me get up. I need to get up."
DJ said, "No not til I'm done."
This is when I really got scared. I wasn't well versed on consent at the time, but I knew that no meant no.... No matter what. I told him no and he would not stop!
I tried to force myself from up under him and he put me in a hold where his arm wrapped around the back of my neck up to the front of my neck. I couldn't move. I couldn't go anywhere. I just laid there. I was so scared. There wasn't anybody that I could call. There was simply nothing that I could do, but take it.
When he was done he got up and went to the bathroom.
I contemplated quickly getting dressed and running out of the room. I contemplated taking his wallet and using whatever cash he had to get back to campus.
Unfortunately my cell phone was dead so I couldn't use it to call a cab. I wasn't familiar with the part of town I was in and it was dark. I was just too scared. I also thought that he could potentially go searching for me and doing something worse. So I instead just sat in the bed.
I didn't say much of anything to him afterward. I just wanted to go home.
He fell asleep. I on the other hand stayed up most of the nite trying to make sense of what happened. I was so confused. I felt violated. I felt hurt. I felt stuck.
After losing my fight with sleep I dozed for a couple of hours. I woke up before he did and tried to get up figuring that this would be my chance to now leave, but he had his arm cradling my body in a way that I could not get up.
I wanted to cry.
I tried to suck it up and play nice while attempting to wake him up.
We finally made it out of the motel and he drove me back to campus.
I was completely silent. I didn't say a word.
When he dropped me off he gave me a hug and drove off.
When I got back to my dorm I couldn't even muster up the energy to speak with my roommates. I walked directly to the shower and tried my hardest to process what happened in that room. My roommates knew that something was up, but I just couldn't tell them. I got dressed for bed and went to sleep.
I went about the remainder of my summer term as if nothing happened.
I finally got the courage to tell my close friend (which was actually the one that was supposed to hook up with DJ when we were 17). I candidly told her what happened then ended with, "He raped me." The look on her face when I concluded my story was one that didn't seem convinced. She didn't tell me that I was lying, but I could tell what she was thinking so I refused to tell anyone else.
5 months after my summer term ended I found out that I was pregnant. And when I say pregnant I mean VERY pregnant. Yes, 5 months pregnant. Since I found out so late I couldn't really pinpoint at the time who the father was.
I was devastated because I was looking forward to attending college in Louisiana at Grambling State University to pursue a degree in music composition in hopes to ultimately become a band director.
By that time I was back together with a long term on again/off again boyfriend (who would later become the father to my other 2 daughters). I revealed to him that I was raped and he shamed and beat me for it.
That was it!
I convinced myself that it wasn't rape. How could someone rape me if I willingly accepted his invitation? I can't cry rape. I pushed the notion completely out of my mind.
Years later after doing some serious searching and some calculation from the date I tracked DJ down and submitted his information so that he could be tested.
It came back that he was the dad.
At the time I was simply happy to find my daughter's bio dad. Especially after finding out that she had inherited sickle cell trait. It was important to know the history of such. Furthermore it was my opportunity to get more help on behalf of our now daughter.
I met him for the first time since our last encounter. I was actually not upset, sad, or anything else. Maybe that was because I had totally erased what happened from my mind.
We had a hearing for child support where he lied about working. He said that he didn't work at all. The hearing officer caught him in the lie and said that they had all of his work information as well as wages earned. She asked why did he lie. His response was to beg and plead with the hearing officer that he takes good care of his kids and he didn't want to be made to look like he doesn't. This didn't make sense to me. The hearing officer then gave me the option to forgo the financial support and only require medical support. A decision that I had to make on the spot.
I was reminded of the weak argument that financial obligation to a child causes fathers to be absent from their children's lives. I didn't want to be seen as the person who kept a father away from his child so I agreed to medical support. I wish I had more support on that behalf otherwise I would not have agreed to medical support only.
The hearing officer assured me that if at any time I felt that he wasn't properly financially supporting her then I could make a call to have it reinstated.
At the beginning DJ did what I felt he needed to do for her. He bought her clothes and shoes. He picked her up on the weekends. I figured that this was great parenting. It at least sufficed during her preschool years up until early elementary.
Once I started being vocal about what she needs from him and how he could be of more assistance he began pushing back and basically faulting me for what was going on.
His financial support was not consistent and I began getting tired of having to remind him to cover her recurring expenses.
I finally had enough and decided to reinstate the financial support order as it's not my responsibility to remind a grown man to consistently support his child.
Around that time I joined a black feminist Facebook group. They had a specific thread touching on the topic of consent when it comes to sex. In short it stated that if a person does not stop after you've revoked your consent then it is rape. He doesn't have to fight you. He doesn't have to chase you down. It is still rape.
That notion turned my entire world upside down and caused me to cry as I responded to the thread. I'd been in denial for so long. And that I was initially right. I was raped by my daughter's father.
Through eyes blurred with tears I recounted what happened. They confirmed that this was indeed rape. I was angry. I was upset. I was sad. I felt helpless.
I wanted to press charges, but I knew that the system would not be on my side given the circumstances and the fact that it's been 12 years since it's happened.
About a month later (a few days before my birthday) I received a summons to court. My daughter's dad was filing for sole custody citing complete lies. This is all over the fact that I reinstated child support.
I felt my chest tighten. Not only did he have the ability to violate me sexually and get away with it he now has the ability to legally torment me.
I was told often by many people not to worry about it. "He won't be able to get custody of her." But at this point it's not about him getting custody which I'm sure he wont get no matter how long he draws things out.
I am more concerned with my emotional well being. This man raped me. I revoked my consent and he did not stop. I in so many words forgave him and attempted to co-parent with him. When I decided to put my foot down for what my daughter needed he became really nasty towards me and degraded me.
He told me that I'm incapable of properly raising her. That I'm incapable of giving her the tools to properly succeed in life. To hear this from someone who fucking raped me? To know that my daughter has created a bond with the guy who fucking raped me!
These days I really want to give up. It's really depressing. I cry a lot out of frustration, out of anger, out of hate for him. I often think maybe I should just allow him to get her so that it would all be over, but I can't bear to know that he could have even more leverage over me if I allow for that to happen.
Because of all of this I am forced to not display my emotions. When my daughter pushes back and capes for her dad I have to keep my mouth sealed shut because any information that she may volunteer to her dad can and will be used against me. What hurts most is that she loves my abuser.
I got a new job to better support my children, but I risk not keeping it each time I am dragged to hearings. This is unfair and there's nothing that I can do about it. I can't afford a lawyer.
I am left to pretend to be emotionally put together when I feel dead inside. I'm left to scramble to continuously provide for her while her dad shells out thousands of dollars to an attorney in an effort to evade paying child support that he hasn't paid in 11 years. And if I do anything the least bit questionable I am scrutinized. I'm so tired.
This is my story and I'm no longer going to suffer my pain in silence.
Saturday, April 23, 2016
I Just Wanna Give Up!
I have a friend on Facebook who is also a single mother of color. She is very open and honest about her struggles with being a single mother and I adore her for being brave enough to post what I'm afraid to say as it relates to motherhood/single parenthood.
Amid her bravery it really hurt me to see the struggle she has to endure. It really hit me hard last nite to see that she was having a very difficult time trying to stay afloat financially and mentally. I could identify with her frustration and pain so much and in return felt horrible that I couldn't assist.
It also made me reflect on what I'm going through.... The whole being forced to care for my daughter alone and then punished and retaliated against when I decide to put my foot down and demand from my daughter's father what she needs. How he routinely gaslights me and puts me down (as he did last nite as well). Knowing that he can legally involve my daughter in a matter that can and has emotionally traumatized her in order to get out of providing for her as he should.
I've dealt with abuse, rape, shame, and so much more from childhood up until now. The most of my advice is to "not focus on the negative," "there are people who have it worse than you," "you're overreacting" "be happy that you're simply alive" How can I be happy to be alive when I feel as though I'm dying inside? I am tired and just want to give up.
But you know what I'm going to do? Keep going. Not because I'm not tired.... Not because I'm happy.... It's because a mother (especially a single mother of color) being open about her struggles are so demonized that if I show any sign of distress that I'll be punished for saying so.
What a fucked up world we live in.
Amid her bravery it really hurt me to see the struggle she has to endure. It really hit me hard last nite to see that she was having a very difficult time trying to stay afloat financially and mentally. I could identify with her frustration and pain so much and in return felt horrible that I couldn't assist.
It also made me reflect on what I'm going through.... The whole being forced to care for my daughter alone and then punished and retaliated against when I decide to put my foot down and demand from my daughter's father what she needs. How he routinely gaslights me and puts me down (as he did last nite as well). Knowing that he can legally involve my daughter in a matter that can and has emotionally traumatized her in order to get out of providing for her as he should.
I've dealt with abuse, rape, shame, and so much more from childhood up until now. The most of my advice is to "not focus on the negative," "there are people who have it worse than you," "you're overreacting" "be happy that you're simply alive" How can I be happy to be alive when I feel as though I'm dying inside? I am tired and just want to give up.
But you know what I'm going to do? Keep going. Not because I'm not tired.... Not because I'm happy.... It's because a mother (especially a single mother of color) being open about her struggles are so demonized that if I show any sign of distress that I'll be punished for saying so.
What a fucked up world we live in.
Sunday, February 28, 2016
UPDATE... Where have I been? What's been going on?:
So these past few weeks. Month really... I've been dealing with a looming custody case set for mid April. It's been the cause of me not being very active and was (still is) the source of my anger and frustration that I've been experiencing as of late.
While preparing for my court date I began to realize that mothers (which there are many) who are in the position of being manipulated in this way by their children's fathers are really without many physical resources. I learned this quickly when reaching out to different orgs. They only deal with cases where children are in immediate danger.
While I received a lot of reassurance that I have nothing to worry about in terms of losing sole custody it's no lie that it can be really scary for a mother with absolutely no experience in this area and who knows she's done no wrong....
A few great things happened to me in these past couple weeks. I am able to go back to school and I just accepted a great new job.
This motivated me to channel my frustration and anger surrounding this custody case into something positive.
I want to ultimately set up a community based resource center for mothers who are subjected to this type of manipulation. I want to empower women to be vocal and unapologetic about demanding what's needed for their children. And have the necessary tools to stand firm in this decision and to legally take on any retaliation initiated by the other party.
I'm still trying to figure what needs to be done to accomplish this goal, but I'm so dedicated to making this happen!
While preparing for my court date I began to realize that mothers (which there are many) who are in the position of being manipulated in this way by their children's fathers are really without many physical resources. I learned this quickly when reaching out to different orgs. They only deal with cases where children are in immediate danger.
While I received a lot of reassurance that I have nothing to worry about in terms of losing sole custody it's no lie that it can be really scary for a mother with absolutely no experience in this area and who knows she's done no wrong....
A few great things happened to me in these past couple weeks. I am able to go back to school and I just accepted a great new job.
This motivated me to channel my frustration and anger surrounding this custody case into something positive.
I want to ultimately set up a community based resource center for mothers who are subjected to this type of manipulation. I want to empower women to be vocal and unapologetic about demanding what's needed for their children. And have the necessary tools to stand firm in this decision and to legally take on any retaliation initiated by the other party.
I'm still trying to figure what needs to be done to accomplish this goal, but I'm so dedicated to making this happen!
Thursday, January 21, 2016
Self Care No Longer Taking A Back Seat
As single mothers. Especially black single mothers we are often always expected to always love our job as being mothers. That's not to say that we don't love our children, but I'm talking about the job of being a mother and being forced to parent alone. It is hard work. And we are expected to love every minute of it.
We are expected to never regret. We are expected to be strong. We are expected to roll with the punches and never complain about the "life we chose."
I am here to say it's okay NOT to be strong. At least by society's standards. While we are mothers and often have to carry the entire load on our own, we are allowed to feel frustration. We are allowed to feel defeat. We are allowed to cry. We are allowed to question why. We are allowed to take time set boundaries, protect our energy, and create safe places to vent those frustrations. We are allowed to take time to care for ourselves physically and mentally. And in that safe place come up with workable solutions that will make mothering a bit easier to navigate through.
I decided to take my own advice and began going to see a therapist.
It was a HUGE and very difficult decision for me to make. Even after reaching out to the therapist I still debated up until my ride out to her office whether I wanted to actually go through with it. And with all of the stigmas attached to doing things like this especially in the black community as well as the mindset that single black mothers are expected to be invincible. You can see why it was such a hard decision.
I want to share with you all the moment in which I realized "I need to take care of me."
It was a few hours before my shift started.
I just dropped the kids off at school. I made myself some breakfast, ate, and cleaned up a bit.
After I cleaned up the house I decided to light an incense and sat in my room to take a quick breather because around that time I was working from 2pm until 8pm. Then would work again that evening from 10pm until 2am every weekday. Unfortunately in the other room I didn't realize that part of my incense somehow began burning through some paper that I had nearby. I didn't know this until I decided to get up (a little refreshed from finally being able to sit down and rest) and walked into the living room. I was surprised to see that my living room was full of thick white smoke yet no actual fire. I quickly put out my incense and opened my balcony window to let the smoke out.
All the while I was really confused as to how the papers began burning with the incense sitting in the holder and why I couldn't smell the smoke at all being that my bedroom is the closest room to the living room. Surely with that much smoke it would have hit my bedroom first. Secondly my smoke detector did not go off at all. So if there was indeed a real fire consuming my living room I would not have even known.
Those thoughts sent me into a panic and I began really working myself up into a crying fit over the fact that I really truly don't have help in all of this when it comes to raising children. I actually said to myself in that moment "I can't. I can't do this by myself anymore. Something needs to change. I need help."
Why? Because I am clearly overwhelmed and I put my needs and self care on the back burner. And this manifests itself in many harmful ways. I needed something that would help me safely advocate for my self care. Because if I'm not right then my babies aren't.
So I contacted my therapist that same day. And she quickly responded.
This was the best decision I could have ever made for myself. It is sooo important to have that safe place for you to vent and come up with workable solutions. It is so important.
I know it can be difficult when you're dealing with all types of barriers and stigmas, but I really do recommend looking into having one. You don't have to have "problems" to seek one out. They can give you a different perspective which may aid in you doing things that you otherwise thought you couldn't.
Even if therapy isn't the route. It's just always important to make time for you. Create that safe space and tend to your needs.
We are expected to never regret. We are expected to be strong. We are expected to roll with the punches and never complain about the "life we chose."
I am here to say it's okay NOT to be strong. At least by society's standards. While we are mothers and often have to carry the entire load on our own, we are allowed to feel frustration. We are allowed to feel defeat. We are allowed to cry. We are allowed to question why. We are allowed to take time set boundaries, protect our energy, and create safe places to vent those frustrations. We are allowed to take time to care for ourselves physically and mentally. And in that safe place come up with workable solutions that will make mothering a bit easier to navigate through.
I decided to take my own advice and began going to see a therapist.
It was a HUGE and very difficult decision for me to make. Even after reaching out to the therapist I still debated up until my ride out to her office whether I wanted to actually go through with it. And with all of the stigmas attached to doing things like this especially in the black community as well as the mindset that single black mothers are expected to be invincible. You can see why it was such a hard decision.
I want to share with you all the moment in which I realized "I need to take care of me."
It was a few hours before my shift started.
I just dropped the kids off at school. I made myself some breakfast, ate, and cleaned up a bit.
After I cleaned up the house I decided to light an incense and sat in my room to take a quick breather because around that time I was working from 2pm until 8pm. Then would work again that evening from 10pm until 2am every weekday. Unfortunately in the other room I didn't realize that part of my incense somehow began burning through some paper that I had nearby. I didn't know this until I decided to get up (a little refreshed from finally being able to sit down and rest) and walked into the living room. I was surprised to see that my living room was full of thick white smoke yet no actual fire. I quickly put out my incense and opened my balcony window to let the smoke out.
All the while I was really confused as to how the papers began burning with the incense sitting in the holder and why I couldn't smell the smoke at all being that my bedroom is the closest room to the living room. Surely with that much smoke it would have hit my bedroom first. Secondly my smoke detector did not go off at all. So if there was indeed a real fire consuming my living room I would not have even known.
Those thoughts sent me into a panic and I began really working myself up into a crying fit over the fact that I really truly don't have help in all of this when it comes to raising children. I actually said to myself in that moment "I can't. I can't do this by myself anymore. Something needs to change. I need help."
Why? Because I am clearly overwhelmed and I put my needs and self care on the back burner. And this manifests itself in many harmful ways. I needed something that would help me safely advocate for my self care. Because if I'm not right then my babies aren't.
So I contacted my therapist that same day. And she quickly responded.
This was the best decision I could have ever made for myself. It is sooo important to have that safe place for you to vent and come up with workable solutions. It is so important.
I know it can be difficult when you're dealing with all types of barriers and stigmas, but I really do recommend looking into having one. You don't have to have "problems" to seek one out. They can give you a different perspective which may aid in you doing things that you otherwise thought you couldn't.
Even if therapy isn't the route. It's just always important to make time for you. Create that safe space and tend to your needs.
Sunday, January 10, 2016
Keep Space by Ms. Wrights Way (link below)
Ah.... One of the hardest things about parenting alone... Its like you have to block out everything to keep sane, but in the process you constantly (most times unknowingly in the moment) reject your kids love... When in fact their love is really the only thing that matters... To me at least. My kids are all I have and there are no conditions to their love for me despite my blocking everything out (sometimes including them).
This video was really special to me and reminded in the midst if all that I'm dealing with right now that I can't shut my babies out. I cried as I watched and I'm crying as I type this because I know. I know all too well. This is a tough thing to balance all on your own. But it's imperative that we be attentive. Especially to the little ones that need us and love us no matter what.
Keep Space by Ms. Wrights Way
This video was really special to me and reminded in the midst if all that I'm dealing with right now that I can't shut my babies out. I cried as I watched and I'm crying as I type this because I know. I know all too well. This is a tough thing to balance all on your own. But it's imperative that we be attentive. Especially to the little ones that need us and love us no matter what.
Keep Space by Ms. Wrights Way
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