Domesticated Lady

I've got about 4.5 active friendships. I'm friendly, kind and courteous to far more people, but I wouldn't count them as friends. If I'm totally honest, I used to be friends with some of them, but we outgrew one another. With others, I thought we were friends, until they proved me wrong and the rest were just people I sorta, kinda knew from around the way. Speaking briefly about the friendships I outgrew, I will admit that my younger self did not know such a thing was possible. Realizing I was at the end of a relationship has always stung, but I've learned something valuable from each of them. With regards to the people I cared about more than they cared about me, I learned something there too. Always believe and operate within the boundaries of who a person is, not the potential they have.  You see, grave yards are full of buried potential.  This is why, I cherish each one of my friends. I hurt when they hurt. I get mad for them. I don't let their...

Today is my mom's 48th birthday!!! WooHoo!!! She gave birth to me when she was 16 years old and then gave me two sisters by the time she was 18. This means that she gets to enjoy her empty nest and her grandchildren before reaching menopause.  That is not something that will happen for me, so I think it's pretty darn cool. In celebration of my mom, I will shine a little light on a lesson she worked tirelessly to instill in my sisters and I: Excellence without Excuses. Now, she didn't call it that. Her language was a bit more colorful back in the day. What she called it is irrelevant to what she meant and how it's still relevant. If my mother told us to clean the kitchen, simply washing the dishes wasn't going to cut it. We had to wash dishes, clean the counter, stove, table and floor nightly. Once a week we were required to clean the inside of the refrigerator. Of course, we also had to handle the trash. Anything less meant we had failed to do what we were...

I was embarrassed. I became domesticated under a set of circumstances that I did not choose. I felt like dead weight. I've always worked for what I want. I was afraid of depending solely on my husband's income. I was angry for trusting someone who didn't deserve to be trusted. I was delighted when I got my first client. I felt important again. I was re-filled with a sense of purpose . I could make financial contributions again. I would no longer be a burden . I gained access to BOTH worlds: The Workplace Wilderness AND Destination Domestication!!! I would ONLY mention one of them, because I was still ashamed of being domesticated. Until... My husband and I were having an end of the day chat. He asked me how was staying at home? So I confessed that it was a delight, but that I was also grateful to be able to contribute to the finances. He looked at me pointedly. Deep in thought. Before finally saying, "I thought you said that your m...

This weekend, my husband and I watched season 1 of the Netflix original series, Seven Seconds. This season introduced us to three groups of people. The cops who killed and covered up the crime and their families, the victim's family and the detective and prosecutor duo who worked the case. This season addressed issues such as the lack of trust between officers and the people they police, dirty cops, gang activity and the way different people handle grief and guilt.  So as not to give away too much, I'm going to connect the dots of relevancy between this series and my point. In order to control the behavior of his boys in blue, the head dirty cop kept reminding the others that they were family, and that family sticks together. It doesn't matter if you're a murdering drug dealer. Your family should support, condone and even cover-up your ill-doings just because you're family.  The crazy thing is, I actually have a family member who feels the same way.  This...

I'm back!!! I skipped last week in order to grieve thoroughly, so that I could come back and chat with a clear mind. On Thursday, February 15, 2018 a friend of mine and his toddler son were slain in their own suburban home.  That night, I had trouble getting comfortable enough to fall asleep. It was storming, and my Restless Leg Syndrome was in rare form. I felt as though I were being stabbed, over and over again . Relief finally began to arrive in minuscule doses around 9:30 pm, so that by 10:15 pm, I had finally fallen asleep. Imagine my utter frustration when my husband's phone rang around 10:40 pm with the tragic news of an attack that left me feeling robbed. Disbelief . In its rawest form. I wasn't even sad at first. How can something you don't believe in hurt you? But after having the local news confirm my two original sources, I started to feel the loss only being violated can cause.  I was wounded. Cut deep. Shot. Delivered a blow. I have yet to...

It's the day before Valentine's Day, and my 4:00 am alarm is screaming at me. I swear the nights are getting shorter. I know that I just laid down.  I'm hesitant to submit to the dictation of the intrusive alarm for a variety of reasons: The first being, I'm tired . I mean, it's 4:00 am. Another being, this week is moving too quickly and I'm feeling over-whelmed at the thought of not meeting my own expectations. The main reason is the fact that this alarm is specifically set, so that I can make my husband breakfast, pack him a snack and assist him as needed before he leaves for work. And after having one of those marital spats, I'm not in the mood to serve him. In fact, I want nothing to do with him at the moment, and I believe that I can teach him a lesson by "forgetting" to meet his needs. I want him as upset as I am. I want him to work for my affections, to earn his meal and my help. I want him aware that this is a sacrifice that I mak...

I promised myself that I would sleep in . This is the statement making waves in my brain after I check the time on my phone. It's 5:02 am. And I'm wide awake, on this cold Saturday morning after having promising myself that I would sleep in. But my unwritten to-do list is assaulting the peace I need in order to get some sleep.  Earlier in the week, I washed 6 loads of laundry, went grocery shopping, paid bills, acquired an updated insurance policy, re-signed my lease and made a Sam's Club run all while keeping up with my other day-to-day tasks and chores. Friday night I was exhausted. So much so, that I howled in pure frustration when I realized I there was another 5 loads of laundry that HAD to be cleaned before Sunday. Here I was on Friday afternoon, swollen with pride at how the entire weekend could be taken at a slow pace, thanks to my efforts during the week. Seeing that basket left me feeling winded as if it had sprouted arms and punched me in the gut.  But ...