Side Effects of You: Kill Bill

*Author's Note: 4-17-2014. This was intended to be the culmination of a five part series that lead to the Good Friday blog, however after a few Blue Moons, I think creatively, it might be best to start here posting this one first, and place it after the Good Friday Blog. Emotionally, I probably need to dump the emotions tied to the final entry as this has had the most profound impact on me. I've started this entry no less that 20 times and I think tonight in between beers sips and tears I can finish it. Let the weekend of dying and ultimately healing continue. I will return to write the author parts at a later date.
Soli Deo Gloria
TLT

"But what a fool believes he sees
No wise man has the power to reason away
What seems to be
Is always better than nothing

And nothing at all keeps sending him..."

~What a Fool Believes (The Dooby Brothers)

I debated on whether to include this final entry in this series as writing about this topic ALWAYS brings about more complications than being silent. But then I asked myself who is it more complicated for: me or the others in my space whom this topic is uncomfortable. However, the first rule in coming out of retirement was no censorship so I might as well be completely honest and write about this person that has left a side effect on me. I'm not sure side effects are even the most appropriate term. Side effects don't last a long time, unless they are residual. This is more than that. This is a gaping wound.

I thought long and hard about how to frame this situation. I kept asking myself what pop culture reference could I use that conveys the entire scope of our seven years together. Ike and Tina? Nah that's too cliched and intellectually dishonest? Batman and Talia? Close, but their dynamic was often complicated by proxy via Ra's Al Gaul. Then I remembered very simply a conversation she and I had some years ago about our dynamic and I realized I had the perfect example staring me in my face. Who we were, who we are can simply be found in the timeless love story (and yes it was a love story): Kill Bill.

For those of you who have been in a coma or living under a rock, Kill Bill is story about two dysfunctional arse people who took heartbreak and disappointment to the next level. I won't offer a full synopsis in the blog but you can either read it here or go check in out somewhere on the internet. I'll wait while you do that.

You finished? Good...now I can get started.. If you have been following this blog you know I've written about her quiet a few times as she has overlapped a number of seasons. She has been through a number of struggles. Yeah she was a major fixture in my life. Of course I'm talking about none other than Wei Yan. You can read about her here, here, and in a number of other posts. I'm sure if you goggled Wei Yan/Blackthought39 you'd get all the blogs mentioning her.   

So what makes this different. Whelp, to quote a line from the Kill Bill, I've never been able to tell the truth to her and what she meant to me. Honestly, I never told her the truth about anything regarding us to all but three people. Conversely, even now I believe she won't tell the truth about me yet that is all immaterial now. The difference is this there is nothing to be lost or gained because of one painful truth: Wei Yan got married. But more on that in a minute. Let's get started:

In our time together she was THE greatest:

• Student

• Lover

• Friend

• Ally

• Step Mother

• Confidant

• Weapon

• Source of Joy

• Source of Pain

• and ultimately enemy. 

As stated, I've written about our dynamic extensively in this space, perhaps as a way to try to make sense of how two people who loved each other so hard, so deeply could ultimately do so much harm to each other. I've put so much thought into US that this last entry in the series was actually written first. Somehow it just seemed proper and true to work on the side effect that had (and has) the greatest impact on me today. While the others do still run through my mind and spirit every one in a while,  more often and not this one keeps me awake at night. This one makes it impossible to ever listen to John Legend or even watch Kill Bill with the same lens. I've read our emails hundreds of times only last month stop reading that love letter she wrote me after my father died in 2006. Yeah. I read the same letter at least twice a month for the past 8 years.

Perhaps what makes this the so hard to process is that now with the hindsight of maturity and honesty, I can admit to myself that I truly loved her deeply. I loved her more than any other woman. Yeah I thought I loved others, thought others really were the truth and maybe a couple of them were that cold (after I this is a five part series) but Wei Yan was IT. I loved and cared for her. I just didn't know how nor want to know how to care for her by her needs. She become my "thing" and I stopped hearing her as a woman and a person. She used to accuse me of quitting whenever it got hard or whenever she didn't acquiesce to one of my demands to find something easier or as she put it an illusion of better. She often accused me of treating her as a tool or as some kind of pawn in a larger cheese game.

And you know what? She was f'n right. The interesting thing is that no matter how many times I thought I found better, the truth is none was better. None lasted. None out shined her when it counted. In all the attempts to break and replace her only one even came remotely close and ironically she's NOT one of the five. The truth is snarky mofo reading this is that I made a choice to get rid of one of the few people on this planet who loved me unconditionally (even if it was dysfunctional) and now I utterly regret it. This decision haunts my sleep and wrecks my spirit. It's par the course with me in matters of the heart. I get pissed, make an irrational decision and then I'm forced to clean up the mess. But this time there is no clean up. There is nothing. Not ever her children I claimed as my own. Nothing. I am deeply sorry for this.

Don't get me wrong I've FINALLY come to peace with the fact she's married. In the back of my mind and spirit I'm rejoicing that she found someone who could do what I wouldn't do. She found someone to love her and be all that I should have been but I was either to afraid or too stupid to be. I pray her marriage be blessed and long. I'm many things. I am not a hater and I don't wish for the worst. I want this to work.

Yet I'd be lying if I didn't say that I wish this was an alternative universe. In an alternate universe, Wei Yan would walk through the doors of this Starbucks, sit at my table and I'd simply say I forgive you and yes. I'd eat the backlash. I'd eat the losses. I'd eat it all because you know what I'd be where I wanted to be. I'd do everything from giving up Facebook to dueling multiple samurai's to make sure this time would be different.

And I wouldn't give two damns to what anybody thought about it. I'd actually hope and pray she forgave me.

But there are no alternate universes at least that I know of. There is the here and now and the promise of a better tomorrow.

Recently, I ran across a picture of her and her husband on twitter. She looked happy. Genuinely happy. My immediate reaction: I got totally sick. Pucking sick. I haven't been that type of sick in years. I threw up right there on the Red line and 35th. I couldn't even cry. I just puked. Then I went home and killed a six pack of beer. Nothing happened. All was left was me and my grief. 

Grief. Brother MB from school says I gotta get this up offa me. I need to write my Lamentations and leave it at the cross. (It's bad that folks know about her in Seminary. I've discussed her in Pastoral Care, with some students in Old Testament, and with some of the Black Seminarians.) He told me to cry and let it out and tonight I'm going to do that. I've already had a healing come to Jesus moment with another dear friend and now I need to have a moment with the Lord for me. I have no other option if I'm going to close this hole in my spirit and move on with my life. This has to die on Good Friday. It has to go in the tomb. I need to mourn and accept the truth. Castles made of Sand right....boy did I make this on sand.

Wei Yan once told me that the time for honoring myself would soon be over. She wasn't lying.  If I'm using the Kill bill analogy Kiddo got her revenge. She got her justice and Bill...got what he deserved....

Giving Honor to My Creator, Who is Forever Praised Amen
In Truth and Transparency,
TLT
4/19/2014
12:15am
*Originally started 1-31-2014, edited on 3-10-2014, and 3-27-2014. Completed on 4-19-2014

The Duel of Fates: Egos and Super Egos

"A House Divided Against itself can not stand"~President Abraham Lincoln

I was eating alone in the bar the other night when I noticed two brothers sitting behind me one eating coffee and the other drinking vodka. They seemed to be engaged in a most heated conversation I had a chance to overhear...

"You don't look well. What's wrong"

"I'm just frustrated that's all. This shit got me sad, angry and annoyed all at once."

"I understand. But what's done is done. We cant chance the past"

"No but we can be granted a chance at redemption."

"Redemption isn't a right, as the old adage goes, it's a privilege."

"That's bullshit and you know it. Everybody has a right to redeem themselves!"

"Redemption comes from within. Outside acknowledgment isn't a prerequisite."

"So why then do we seek it from Jehovah?"

"I would hardly call the the creator of worlds an outside acknowledgment. I mean God is in you is he not?"

"You and that intellectual coyness. I hate that shit."

"But I am right."

The twin drinking vodka drinks it down in one gulp. He motions to the waitress. She comes over.

"Bring me another, and this time I'd like vodka with my cranberry juice please"

"Don't you think you've had enough?"

"Nope. There is never enough."

"Isn't that the attitude that got us here?"

"Nope it's that over analytical mind. Had you just spoke up in the beginning"

"It wasn't time."

"Man go on with that mess"

The waitress brings over the vodka...which has a pink hue and some more coffee. The mellow brother thanks her and continues on....

"For the record, it was your emotional outburst that got us here, and for the record it was the old outburst of old that was used as a character reference."

"And it was that insane moral code of yours that told you to reactivate that nut which killed the rest of the credibility."

"A moral code you SHARE by the way. But I'll eat that. Sometimes I do shit when that is morally praise worthy but not morally obligatory"

"Heh. You mean you do extra shit to feel good about yourself at night."

The vodka drinker takes a drink and then lowers his head......

"What is to be done brother?"

"Nothing."

"Don't tell me knowing. You're the smartest guy I know"

"Which is why I said nothing. I've crunched the numbers and ran the plots. We've got to accept this fate"

The the vodka drinker looks up with tears in his eyes and on his face....

"Rule 99"

The other brother shakes his head

"Stay on her mind. If it was only that simple now....I'm mean I'm sure..."

"Why cant it be that simple sir?"

"Let me finish. I'm sure we stay on her mind. She's lying if she says otherwise and you're delusional if we believe that lie. The issue is not on us per se, but on her to look from a different lens."

"Man you talk to much. Seriously. Does she think on it or not."

"I do believe I answered it."

The brother again takes his vodka to the head and suddenly jumps up....

"Fuck this. I'm going to go call her, go over there something..."

The other brother stands up to intercept him. He puts his hand on his chest

"I can not allow you to do this. It was ill advised action like this that put the whole series of events into motion. You do this..."

"Get your hands offa me...."

"You do this and it gets worse. Please. Listen."

The angry brother pushes the calmer one's hand away and sits down...

"You're full of shit"

"No you're drunk and emotional. I need for you to listen. Look we've been fighting each other for almost 6 months. Countries can't withstand a 6 month civil war. Do you think we can? A house divided can not stand. Seriously. It's not a matter of you being right or me being right. It's a matter of what's right. Brother, what's right is for us to accept this. Together we can do what we want. That is what got us to the dance. That perfect blend. But we started fighting over methodology, intellect vs emotion, smooth vs cool. All the shit that didn't matter. We both are the best and we both should have worked together. The minute we started fighting we got depressed and both of us made mistakes. Now it's not our time. I need your skills in other areas. I know it hurts. I'm lonely too. I'm sad too. I feel the injustice too. But I fight through that shit. Right now though, I want to stop fighting with my other half okay?"

The other brother nods in agreement. The rational words seem to have soothed his anger and sadness...

"You're right. It's not fair. There is no justice. I am angry. I am lonely. But I can't force my way it...that would make me like "her." So OK I'll chill...So what's next for us?"

The other brother smiles, beginnings to speak but his words are inaudible. I can't hear him. Wiping their tears away the brothers embrace, pay for the check and leave...

"Sir are you ready to order?"

I look up and the waitress is staring at me.

"I think so."

She chuckles kinda nervously. "I thought you were one of those drunk guys that come in here and fall asleep. I ready to call the police."

I look at my phone and I had been at the table almost 25 minutes with just the coffee and bread on my table. Embarrassed I immediately apologize.

"I am so sorry. I am ready to order. I just got lost in my thoughts".

The waitress smiles. "You looked like you were lost in your thoughts. Whatever it is, I hope you work it out."

"If only it were that simple."

"It is that simple. Do you pray?"

"Sometimes and other times I try"

"Then you need to try harder. Whatever it is that's eating you is killing you. And that pisses the lord off. I ain't gonna preach, but I'll pray for you. Now what you gone eat...."

I smile and order....and remember to pray when my food arrives.

This Duel of Fates has reached its climax....and soon the end.

Straight, No Chaser

TLT

9-6-2009

11:30pm

On Black Men, Depression and Life Pt 4: Things Fall Apart and the Rebuilding of Self

"These walls have a sobering effect" ~TLT

I knew it was going to happen. I was warned that if I continued to fight this war and push myself my engine would finally conk out. I was told to accept the changes and get over it; to accept that she wasn't coming back and to pray until I healed. I was advised to monitor my associations, not to make deals with devils and to take some time off.

I didn't listen and finally the Battle Weary Solider fell. My engine gave out. I was broken.

Almost 2 months past the time when I should have I finally took the mental health break I needed and had to and checked into a "facility", nothing high tech or overly locked down, but someplace where I could restore my mind, cry and heal...in peace.

It is now time to truly begin the long (perhaps) and much needed (indeed) process of healing. The Love Supreme Crisis and all of its contents and variations almost killed me; rather I almost allowed it to kill me.

S0 what finally pushed me to the point, that point where I was about to do something I would regret, do something that would leave a legacy I could never erase?

I simply read something and it hurt. To keep with my Star Trek motif: I took a shot to my hull that basically wrecked my ship, the thought of "him" in that place drives me crazy...rather it did. I just couldn't accept it. I couldn't believe that after all the assurances to the contrary, the ultimate mind fuck had happened, that she went back. In essence I felt devastated, I assumed the worst case scenario had happened and I just lost it. I was hurt beyond repair and I just couldn't function. You add this news to of my new "responsibility" to my life, the mounting debt and my already depressed mental state and you have a fall. But you know what: I needed that fall, I needed to finally give out and I needed to go. My emotions were rolling and I was making myself sick and tired.

So I begin to put my machinations in order, called two friends and just left. For six days I didn't have any contact with the outside world, no Blackberry, no Facebook, no blog. It was just me, Jehovah, therapy and some real good cries.

It was a well needed respite, a moment to begin to heal in earnest; to reevaluate old and develop new coping skills. The last point is important as sometimes our lives and coping skills become like our shampoo; use them long enough and they no longer get the job done like they should. I was able to re-set some buttons. While I was uh...immobilized I took a personal inventory. I was able to assets my strengths and weaknesses; to truly find out who I am and how I can to be. I learned that my emotions are one my strengths, a source of incredible power, second only to my logic. I learned that I am a natural leader. And I learned that when most people scream "to blessed to be stressed" that usually means to scared to care.

But I also learned that my greatest weakness is my arrogance, that I am too bound by rules and traditions and there are times were the needs of the many don't outweigh the needs of the one. I can and should say no; and while I have been hurt by people carrying flagging the "individualism" banner, not everybody who does so will hurt me, nor is it a reason to abandon my individuality. I have accepted that being broke sucks, yet it doesn't make me less of man, that new responsibilities aren't bad and that despite what the Black Community and Church says depression is real.

I also learned that is OK, perfectly OK to mourn (the) Queen, her loss has reverberated through my life. It is OK to take my time to heal. It is OK to cry and not go to fast. In fact I learned if I didn't do these things then my emotions probably wasn't real to begin with.

Take my time and mourn. I've never done that, hell I barely mourn. But I think I'm going to head that in earnest. I am just come out of the eye of the storm; "The Love Supreme Crisis" was the darkest time in my life to this point, worst than "The Long Night", more frustrating than the "Second Renaissance", and even sadder than "A Death in the Family". It touched my soul, broke me and redefined me all at once. As painful as it is/was, I am and will be a better man for it.

But even in those tears, there is a path to self healing. On June 20th 2009, I finally sat down...to tired to continue and today, almost 7 days later, I come out of a place of healing, my eyes returned to normal, my smile returning and for the first time in a long while consistent clarity.

Its a nice day and I've so dearly missed my children. I do think I am going to stop here prepare to visit them...in a moment.

I'll post my final thoughts on the 90 day anniversary...on July 4th

But right NOW I will have some toast and tea, sit in the Sun, talk to Jehovah, pray for my friends, pray for (the) Queen, my children..and have one last cry...before as Brian McKnight once said "I leave it all behind ".

See you in a few days blogspot...
;-)

It is good to be home.

Straight, No Chaser
TLT
06-26-2009
2:31pm

On Black Men, Depression and Life Pt 2: A Critical Analysis of The Love Supreme Crisis

"I miss you" ~Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes

It has been 76 days, 15 hrs and umpteen minutes since the Love Supreme Crisis began and while I am still in the midst of this I now have some understanding as to what happened, even if I was powerless to stop it. I now understand there was no malice involved, just a series of mis-communication and complications. It was as Murphy's Law states: "Anything that can go wrong will"; a series of unfortunate events if you will.

Put another way it was (a) the perfect storm. Consider the following:

• Two people with the same agenda but with extremely different methods of achieving the goals.
• Two people with certain mental and emotional quirks, IE she was drained from her previous dynamic and I lack patience to wait a while.
• The conflicting beliefs on the role of individualism in relationships
• My depression and all that it comes with it.

Each of these elements alone would probably have little or no impact, the notable exceptions are 3 and 4 respectively. But combined each one greatly enhanced the other until it reached a boiling point.

If you're new to this blog you're probably asking what is the "Love Supreme Crisis". I will attempt to answer this before I go any further.

My time and dynamic with (the) Queen was given the code name of "A Love Supreme" (inspired by the John Coltrane album of the same name) by me because our journey to be one took place over four parts similar to the album. These parts were Pursuance, Acknowledgement, Psalm and Resolution (the album's format is different). Each of these parts spoke to our journey over the initial two years we tried to make something happen. Pursuance, for example spoke of how we always seem to find each other and to try, no matter what. Acknowledgement speaks to when we finally admitted how we felt and how we believed each other to be our soul mate. It also speaks to us recognizing the truth that we both resurrected each other after some trying times; indeed she single handedly brought by my confidence back. Psalm represents the powerful words we spoke during some trying times in the beginning to re-affirm our faith, and lastly Resolution was our decision to go at it full steam.

So as you can see with one of the greatest Jazz albums as our guide, we had the makings and were supposed to be "A Love Supreme". Without recounting a lot of history, I will say that even though it was a bit problematic at times, this was the happiest time of my life; a moment of peace and bliss...even when I cried. Understanding that "Blessed are those who struggle", we affirmed we would over come the greatest of distances and the longest of years. Everybody who was in our presence appreciated and knew we were the baddest Black couple this side of Barack and Michelle. We were going to be on the cover of Ebony for their Black Couple issue. We were gonna be a power Black couple, we were gonna change peoples definition of love. We were gonna shut the fucking party down do you here me? So naturally when we had a (the) Love Lockdown weekend on April 4th, it because a crisis; my ship had gone and sailed away and with it her voice.

In retrospect, even had I been able to totally eliminate the first 3 problems and problematics, #4 still would have posed a challenge. In fact the seeds for this was planted that night in Borders when I tried to explain depression to her and how it made me feel. As I looked into her eyes and saw them dance with both love and concern, I knew I was possibly planting an ugly seed that would spring forth at the most inopportune time. I looked at the concern on her face and my worries were confirmed when she asked me the universal depression question "You're not gonna jap out or hurt anybody? You ain't never been locked up have you?" Although I smiled and gently answered the question in the negative, I realized in horror that the first time we had a major falling out or I lost my temper in earnest I would be seen as a monster. Future events would prove me correct.

So of course it begs the question of why tell her in the first place. Well I told her because I felt she had a right to know, she was talking about seriously marrying me and I believed she should know about my strengths and my weaknesses. My depression and its realities is apart of that. I had anticipated a depression coming for the holidays, as I was born and raised a Jehovah's Witness I really feel isolated during that time of the year. So basically it was my way of saying "Hey love look, I'm not crazy and I know its a lot the first few months, but its gonna be a bit hectic over the next few weeks." However, in my intellectual honesty I didn't consider a number of things: did she understand clinical depression, if not did she want to understand clinical depression and in a worst case scenario would she be able to endure the storm? I basically just laid it all out without critical assessment. In this moment, I didn't articulate it well enough and I know I planted the wrong seeds.

The second miscue came while I was helping her pack to move and we started discussing old relationships. In conversation she mentioned she left her previous boyfriend because he had gotten depressed and unbearable. I admit I don't remember her exact words as I was too busy staring at her ass, but I didn't speak up and open a dialog. I didn't tell her about the darkness in my soul that rears in ugly head sometimes. Instead I shut up in fear of losing her.

The holidays came and went and while their were bumps in the road I do believe it wasn't a full blown episode. I think there were moments that was depression related, I also believe most of that was two stubborn people trying to force their will on the other, in short we were being hella mean to each other. After the holiday bumps things were good with us, it was indeed a Love Supreme. Or so I thought.

I realized that something was wrong when I started drinking heavily again. That was the first sign. I was trying to dull the pain. I was doing it so hard and heavy (the) Queen commented that "I was drinking irresponsibly". The second sign was that unless I was in the presence of her and our collective sons I generally was not happy. I needed to be with my heirs or her and her sun, preferably both to have a sense of peace. The final sign was my irritability has returned, the minor of things sent me over the edge.

Looking back, I realized that I had not taken my mental health seriously and for a moment I actually forgotten to take care of my illness. This allowed the stress of a dead end job, the difficulty of fixing my credit, the possibility of having a third child by a woman I neither liked nor wanted, an old ex actively trying to disrupt my relationship and the cadre of naysayers to slowly ebb away at the protective hedge I had around me and before I knew it I was depressed although I wouldn't use that word.

I used phrases like "stressed" "tired" and "working to better our relationship". I knew something was wrong and often looked within self to see if I could ascertain the problem. However, my arrogance wouldn't allow me to entertain the notion that I had fallen into a depression, (not now and not with her) brought on by reckless drinking, fucking around with Yohimbe in rude amounts (which I learned brings on panic attacks and anxiety), let me also pause that it was a drug I didn't need and of course stress. I was afraid to try to stress this to my Queen because she is always preaching positivity and happiness and I was honestly afraid that by admitting I was falling into a depression she would leave, like I believed she had done her ex. I am NOT saying she did that or that is what happened, I am merely saying that conversation left me too afraid to probe. So I as humanly possible (and in retrospect not quietly as I thought) I opted to suffer in silence and pray it would pass.

For the most part that plan worked, except when I had said "panic attacks" (see above) and pushed for her to marry me daily we were OK. I had the best Valentine's Day in my life and we were fucking great. Finally, a wedding was in sight and with the woman I had tried for two years to connect with. Problematics aside, Jehovah was blessing my efforts.

However, three things would bring on my depression full swing. First was a request made of me during our first family game night. Again had I been at peak efficiency mentally I assure you I would have shaken the request off, laughed or left. Probably left but there would have been no way I would have allowed it to severely compromise my hull (inner self and shell). The second was learning my zeal was seen by a lot of members in her camp as aggressive, overbearing, and arrogant. For the first time I begin to question my place and role in her life. Again, all normal problems that without the other factors could have been fixed. The final straw, while not brought on by her but I felt it effected her was losing my shitty job. I finally was working and stupid call center shenanigans with hours and such lead to them cutting me. I was hurt because I was trying to fix my credit and move; I needed this lil gig until I took my teachers exam (which I have since passed, yay me), get a teaching gig and further build for my lil family. I also believed a man should help his woman/wife and when I sat at her table unable to help her with her phone bill as I PROMISED, I just melted away. It was hard feeling like a King when I couldn't help; my paranoia from the Nicole era lead me to believe if you don't take care of your woman somebody else will and I just couldn't have that.

But I didn't have the coping mechanisms in place, I had neglected my mental health in a public lie, trying to be brave and act like I didn't have this pack of Black hounds nipping at my heels. I didn't go to my friends for help and again out of some misguided fear I didn't tell (the) Queen. With each day the combination of these factors lead me down a dark path until finally she asked me if I was happy and should we take a break. I knew she was right. I needed to re-center but since I wasn't thinking clearly, since I was now mentally burnt out I thought I was being dumped so she could pursue a happy man and move on. Truth be told, by the time April 4th hit I was an emotional mess. I should have agreed with her assessment and I should have taken my ass to a hospital to heal. But I didn't. I felt going was "weak", nobody would understand and I would lose her for good.

Fucking Ironic right?

Needless to say and if you read some of the links and the Love Supreme series from April and May, you will see that we had a series of further complicated events including one shitty email, several uncomfortable conversations and finally she believing I am a threat to her and some kind of nut. I believe she drew those conclusions because of earlier conversations when I botched talking about my illness and when I refused to be honest even when I was falling fast.

I was afraid to admit to my future(?) wife I was depressed. I needed help. Indeed depression, as John Head wrote in his book on depression and Black men "complications relationships." What would have happened had I been completely honest? Would she had stayed? Would we be healing now together? Would I be up all night lonely, crying and missing both my woman, lover and friend? I don't know.

For the longest time I thought the break up brought on the depression but now I see that it was there already, it had come back. Losing her just removed the barriers and locks I had to keep it in check. I now see it was the final gust of wind to a fragile deck of cards.

So now, I struggle with the lost of a loved one, openly grieving trying to find a place of healing to get over this, but considering that neither of us had all the details, all of the truth and definitely didn't treat each other so unfairly I cant move forward because I believe we ended prematurely.

I don't know if as K Jon sung "if this world is really round then hopefully my ship will come around". I don't know if she even thinks about me, I would like to assume I am on her mind as much as she is on mine. What I do know is in spite of it all I want her to be happy and smile. I do.

I'm pontificating to much and if I keep writing I'll mess up my final entry. I do know today, missing her is a cause of major sadness and I'll never be able to tell her (at least right now) what really happened and how sorry I am for not taking care of myself, if not for her but for the boys. I simply just fell down.

Indeed depression can if let unchecked overcome Black love. Perhaps we'll all learn from this and emerge stronger.

I hope.

But tonight I'm going to listen to some old R&B and remember how I had true Black Love and how my depression cost me that love...

and I will cry freely.

Until the next entry

Straight, No Chaser
TLT
6-18-2009
4:04am

On Black Men, Depression and Life Pt.1: An Introduction

There are many factors to consider when discussing depression in the Black Community:

• First, because of the racism in psychology and non profit there is not a lot of work done on the Black mind, as it relates to mental health, society and our stations
• Second, how the concept of mental health is treated against cultural norms, IE the church and how one address problems
• Third, the stigma of admitting one has mental health issues and how it impacts the best and worst of us in the Black Community.

Before I start this discussion let me first be open and honest: I suffer from clinical depression. So not only is this an academic piece, it is a personal one, written by a man who is currently in the middle of a major depression and struggling with answers. I understand that by opening saying that to the general public in particular and the Black Community in specific I am going to be subject to extreme judgments, ridicule, fear, banishment and anything else we can think of.

So why then openly talk about it? Well I honestly have learned during the Love Supreme Crisis that the Black Community does not understand depression. This was evident how my network responded: at best I was told to pray it away, at worst clowned. It was even more evident in how (the) queen looked(s) at me; she really believes me to be some kind of monster hell bent on making her unhappy and hell bent on spreading sadness. Neither of these paradigms are true. To be concise, a majority of our people depression honestly believe that depression is caused by one of three things: A lack of FAITH, low self-esteem and/or a lack of toughness. Depression as seen in the Black community is nothing more than the blues, part of our lot in life, side effects of our racial oppression and really needs to be taken in stride and with that one "has to keep their head up."

I understand that. Again, in my own personal context, depression has been oft times dismissed as a quirk, something to set me up for jokes later, and really nothing more than "T" being weak. Even now at a time where I truly need spiritual and emotional uplifting I am surrounded, like Job, by a series of "troublesome comforters"; men and women who offer their opinion regardless of the facts laid out before them. In their eyes all of this "depression" is over a woman, I need to move on and suck it up. I'll admit this was the final straw in a series of unfortunate events, the knockout blow to a wobbly boxer. I also think it is the focus because it is the most public of my trials; matters of the heart always garners attention.

However do not be mislead; losing (the) Queen was a major painful event, but by no means it is the only event. That is one of the reasons I am undertaking this task. I want people to understand this isn't some love sick moment. This shit was coming on before April 4th. I want people to see that depression isn't something you wish away, pray away or ignore. It is serious like cancer or heart disease and must be tackled openly. It is my hope that my that talking about it from the in the moment perspective will change some ideas on depression in Black men and help you all help us and not turn away.

There is one other reason, and perhaps the most important reason I am writing this series: I want it to be my living testament, my account of the Love Supreme removed from the emotions of the earlier blogs, but no less honest and candid. I did not properly document my journey before, during and after "The Long Night". I regret that. But now, this current crisis which I am putting under the "Love Supreme" banner has surpassed that in sadness and despair. Even as I write this I feel alone, empty and very sad. There are days I want to put a gun in my mouth and do it, and there are days I want to keep fighting. There are days when I think about my life and get so sad, I weep bitterly and there are days when I try to find the good things, like my sons about my life.

My sons are the ultimate reason behind this series, because should I fall I know that I will be vilified and branded. I want something written in real time by me to show that I was neither weak nor selfish; I was just a man who lost a lot of friends, a loved one and in the process died emotionally. I want them to know that I fought until the final bell and that I would never ever have quit on them unless there was no more fight. So this is, should the worse happen, my written testament to CJ and Debo. Of course, I'm not aspiring for the worst.

Let me reiterate: I also write because I hope my words can touch someone else in need. I know about this isolation, I know about this darkness. We are apart of a rich culture, being African Americans yet in that culture is a lot of ignorance. Mental Health challenges often are scorned as I said before and even admitting to them violates two major Black Tenets: Keep praying and suffer in silence.

There isn't a lot of help for us, but yet the signs are all in our community. To the "happy" people in our community, we're just low self esteem having, non positive, evil weirdos who deserve to be locked in a corner. Depression is the antithesis of Black Manhood and Blackness, we're not supposed to be phased.

But we are phased deeply. We're not monsters or killers. We ain't gonna hurt nobody (if I had a dime for every time I've heard that in regards to my depression or any other man's depression I'd buy a sports team) in fact is scientifically proven we're more likely to harm ourselves than anybody else. We are simple men who just stay sad longer, hurt longer and work harder navigating the mine field of life.

I sound like an after school special. I just know that clinical depression is real and I think for those of you who are open minded will appreciate this journey and come away with something rich and helpful....

I am also aware that there are those who continue to see me as a villain, a crazed weak man. I cant worry about that audience.

One final thought: This blog has been in the works for some time, and each time I've tried as much as I could to remove more and more self serving emotions. This IS NOT an attempt to sway or convince anybody, it is not about her. I am not trying to cast blame or make people feel sorry for me. I am only trying to educate.

Enjoy the next few blogs. There are my stories. This is my confession, walk with me on this journey.

Straight, No Chaser

TLT

6-17-2009

11:30am

Disavowed

"Should you be caught or killed the Secretary WILL
Disavow of all knowledge of you" ~Mission Impossible

I am a man without a country.


It hurts to almost write this, but that's the truth. I am a man without a country.


When I look think back just two months ago, I was the PM ascending the throne, my crew was getting back together, I had love. My suns where happy and shit was positive.


Then in an instant or rather a slow fall it is all gone. It's totally screwed up to enter into a crisis and realize that you have nothing or no one.


My family, BFL, my crew has left me. This shit is funny to them. They don't understand my pain, they don't care about my pain. I guess I can understand. I don't think any of them truly ever had their heart broken or lost someone they wanted to spend the rest of their life with. Its a joke to them. Sometimes I feel like I've always been a joke to them. When I'm laughing and smiling then I am THE MAN, when I get sad then oh well. I'm a proud man, I don't ask for help unless I need it and honestly I don't think they want to help me through this. Or don't care. I guess it bothers me so much because when both Chris AND MAX from BFL Ver.1 lost their queens and their wives, I stood on the front lines with them and worked until it couldn't be worked any more. I didn't tell them to get over it, I didn't find their pain amusing, I didn't judge. Those dudes where hurt and as their brother and friend I fought with them and when they couldn't fight I DID, because well Diamonds are forever. Will yall fight the good fight since I no longer can?


I am saddened that I'm being ignored. I'm saddened that it seems while I had to pull over on the side of the road and reflect, my copilot has moved. To be treated like you don't exists both hurts and is kinda disrespectful. Why do sistas do that? Why do you ignore the ones who love you so? Am I such a bad person that I can't be talked to? Do I cause that much pain and suffering? How can something so beautiful be so forgotten? Silence is rarely golden. Silence is an indication of indifference. It is an indication of non concern and with one real convo out of 30 days, with no more "I love yous" or no more smiles it truly truly hurts. I havent felt this kind of pain since...it makes you question yourself.


Then there is an old enemy/friend/whatever, who goes out of her way to mock my failures, who takes joy in my pain by sending condecending messages. "I knew this was going to happen" "I told you that bitch didn't hang the moon" that kind of shit. I mean what kind of sick person revels in the sadness of others? Even I, at my vilest, never laughed at anothers pain. This makes you "the better woman"? Spiting in my face? This proves your point? If you were the better woman then you'd help, not laugh. You wouldn't compound this frustration with nonsense. This goes for all of my annoymous posters laughing. This proves nothing other than despite this current problematics I made the right choice. You didnt care for me. I was something to possess.


I wont even talk about my relationship wid Blue, they have long abandoned me, as I have left them.


As I read for today's meeting again I am embrassed that I am crawling back to Jehovah, asking him to heal me. I am asking him to stop the feelings of failure, inadequecy, and abandonment. I ask him to allow me to be important to him. It is both liberating and humaliting to go crawling back to your father.


I don't think I am asking to much of my loved ones (BFL and Queen) and even of my detractors. I am reminded by a quote from "The Watchmen" were Dr. Manhatan told Silk Spectre "You have always asked ME to see the world from your point of view. YET, you never allow me to show you how I see the world." This afternoon, this is how I feel. Nobody is seeing the world, without time, like me.


And that makes it difficult to bond and help.
That makes me lonely and isolated
Diamonds are forever, but damn.....in what why?


Straight, No Chaser
TLT
5-3-2009
1:15pm

A Love Supreme Pt. 2: Voices

"I hear voices in my head, they come to me, they understand...they talk to me" ~Randy Orton

"The lonely loner seems to free his mind at night"~Kid Cudi

"Sometimes It feels like Everything Is passin' me by... My ship has gone and sailed away" ~K Jon

I am not sure if I was sleep or awake. It all seemed so real. I believe the term is lucid (thanks Dre). I was washing dishes, singing to myself and I heard a familiar voice, one that I have come to love and adore asking me "Are you OK Mr. Thomas?" I turn around and see her standing there..locs back and smiling. I hear the boys in the room playing. I move to touch her and nothing happens.

Phone beeps. An email. I hear the young sun say my name. I respond.

Nothing. Phone buzzes. I pick it hoping for the best. Unknown Caller.

Not quite a nightmare. A lucid dream. A few steps from a nightmare.

Night 6. I've eaten, I'm out of vodka and like that Lenny Williams song where he "Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh" for about 6 minutes I'm tired of my video games and books. I cant stand the radio, because it seems all they banter about is that dumb ass Steve Harvey book or remedial concepts on love.

God I'd kill for some vodka.

I got up out of my bed and walked to the bathroom. My mother was on the computer doing her bible study when she asked "another nightmare". I told her no, that the nightmares haven't returned and she said nodded in approval. She asked me to come listen to a talk by one of the Brothers at the Hall on relationships. It is a good talk. I'll use some of it in a later blog.

I realize at this point I am not "heartbroken". I am not "crushed" but rather sad and disappointed. I am sad and disappointed that it wouldn't click or rather we lacked discernment to make it click. I'm disappointed that I still struggle with arrogance and intellectual coyness.

I AM worried and nervous; worried that I am already forgotten and nervous that I will never get that chance again. I know in my heart this is what I want but honestly the days of uber depression are gone, well gone when it comes to matters of the heart. Yeah I may sleep a few days to clear my head, maybe mope but nobody else will send me to the hospital. This revelation makes me smile.

Yet, I hear voices...I kept hearing "Mr. Thomas" and it does make me long. It does make me want to hug her and look at her. I miss our banter, our convo. I realize its just been a week or so, but when you have someone like that...their divine presence is easily missed. I keep hearing the laughter of children.

I also hear voices..telling me that this was too hard and the simple solution, the easiest solution is to forget about the past six months and return to a place of comfort. A seductive offer, but while it may be the quicker path, it is not the best path.

I keep hearing voices that tell me that not to worry. Every great dynamic had its bumps. Even Michelle had to call Barack to the fire; its arrogant to think I would be different.

Voices...They come to me...they understand...

I am lonely right now and I believe that is complicating matters. Well I have chosen isolation because I hate platitudes. I hate the other fish in the sea speech. I hate the it will get better speech. I hate keep your head up etc all from people hugged up and giddy.

In a sense I lost my best friend or rather am distanced from it and it hurts ya know. I was able to think..well about everything except us. Things were clear...except with us...friggin irony and well...I miss playing in her locs.

In a way I thank Jah for the other challenges: my suns school situation, me trying to build the resources to move, AUSL, all that. It keeps me focused. But in the moments between moments I realize that I am missing that piece.

Yeah K Jon I am out there on the ocean....and I cant swim. Ain't that a bitch.

Who gets up at three am and thinks of shit like this. A Lonely loner.

Its funny those songs would play first on my computer. They describe it too a "T".

I pull up the poem by Langston Hughes "A Dream Deferred":



What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?
Good question, Langston good question.

Or does it really matter. Bane would argue "Dreams are lies we tell ourselves when we sleep"

Stevie says "Dreams do come true."


Iono. All this thinking got my head hurting and I gotta drive two snarky kids to school in the am.

I'm try to sleep now...but still...I hear voices...trying to free my mind at night...out there on the ocean.

Heh. God I'm good with a lyrical blade.

That makes me smile.
Still...

I miss her and little sun. I do.

Rest easy blogspot.

Straight, No Chaser
TLT
4-09-2009
3:36AM (written)
(posted 10:07am damn wow cable.)