Love Letter to Self

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Beautiful.

What’s not to love about YOU?

SO…

Let me count the motherf*ckin ways.

…

Let’s start with your eyes and how their big shape swallows the light of the sun; reflecting every shade of brown from deep golden copper to milky chocolate. There’s little you have not been able to express through the beauty of those eyes that God so eloquently painted on your face. Behind them lies one of your most breathtaking features, your mind. The way it ebs and flows like the ocean one minute and rages frantically like a summer storm the next. Your ability to solve problems while you sleep, have a movie like imagination, and string the most minor details along until you formulate a completely new idea is amazing. Your creativity is a beautiful frenzy that makes it’s home in your thoughts, thrives in your imagination, and dances in your dreams. Your mind is so beautiful that sometimes after we have accomplished another task, executed another creation, or thought up something unique; I think of it in awe.

I love your brilliant, creative mind.

You write this at midnight because you once again procrastinated, not because you’re lazy but because sometimes you overthink even the simplest of tasks. But there’s still beauty in your flaw and your dedication always ensures you complete whatever you put your mind to. I have watched as you’ve learned how to be free in loving yourself this past year. You have unabashedly decided to celebrate all the things you were conditioned not to; and to proudly do so. You have always been brave in that way; being yourself when being you wasn’t popular or before Kantoinette was a persona. No matter what name you wear, you own it and make it yours in the truest, purest way you can.

I love the way there’s no one like you.

Now let’s talk about those legs and how they reach like skyscrapers above the necks of any who would choose to hate but even that is a foreign concept because your warmth and kindness draws even the strangest of strangers into your glow. The heart that pumps in your chest beats for the big and the small; simply put…you care and you care deeply. Not like a fake look at me care either. Not a “I’m like really nice” troupe but you actually care. You pray every time you see an ambulance for the person it may be for and the family that may be effected. You cry when you see tears of others, You lay up wondering if that plastic bag you used will end up choking some random fish, you still think about the babies in cages and those evicted during a pandemic. You think of random ways to make your loved ones feel special and when someone, anyone is having a hard time with esteem you are never in short supply of empowering words that would make anyone feel like they could conquer the world. You give your all. You’ve learned how to do that for yourself too.

I love the way you love. I love the way you self love.

Your childlike wonder at things always means you’ll find the whimsical side of life even in the darkest moments. You think of gentle breezes as hugs from God and you chase butterflies like a toddler because you’re fascinated by creation. You show God gratitude in the gift of life he has given to the world and for the world itself. Your relationship with nature is inspiring. You swear you can understand the way trees whisper to each other and in nature’s silence you find peace. I love how peaceful you are; how you can be fulfilled by a simple walk outside, a bike ride, a starry night of slow jams in the car.

I love your wonder. I love your gentleness.

Did we talk about that smile yet?! My God, what a wonder that is to see. You’ve struggled to find the beauty there because it is not perfection but that doesn’t make it any less infectious for all who see it. It was hard to celebrate a body you were being told to hate but you stole away love and admiration for what you knew was still worthy. Your struggles with your imperfections has made your self love resilient. And they make you uniquely gorgeous.

I love your imperfections.

Your spirit is like a universe, vast and beautiful. you hold so much there and yet still journey to discover more. Those who are lucky enough to feel you are left changed. You are EVERYTHING. YOU ARE ENOUGH and trust me when I say that’s more than most can handle. Those who dare enter your orbit must first know themselves or they are inadvertently thrust into a season of growth. You are like water. You nurture. You cleanse. Many around you drink and thrive; while some drown. In your tides you learn and grow. Your biggest storms only revealed your greatest strengths. You are POWERFUL. Thanking God for the hard seasons because you crave growth. Wanting to see yourself clearly and in your reflection is proof that God so loved the world.

How beautiful must God be if you are made in his image?

{The Best Love is Selfie Love -Kantoinette}

Why We NEED Lawrence on HBO’s Insecure

The dislike many of you feel for Lawrence stems for the real duality of his character.

This idea that many men ruin women who want to believe in their potential by pure laziness.

These character types usually go on and do better in the same fundamentals of a relationship that you begged for in a new relationship or life chapter. Leaving many women feeling disheartened. Plainly, Lawrence’s character is a mirror to many realities that women have been facing for decades.

Cause let’s face it, Lawrence went from Bum to Yum in the matter of one season.

So, why is his character so divisive amongst the sexes?

On one hand you have the #LawrenceHive which is all about praising and uplifting this character until the very end.

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Men see Lawrence as a mirror to their own downfalls and triumphs. They connect to the fact that Lawrence was lost and uninspired. A feeling many of us as millennials have dealt with.

As black men with a passion, they understood Lawrence’s need to pour his all into the project “Whoot Whoot”…they even understood him getting so lost in his own mess that he forgot to be the man Issa needed. Lawrence’s storyline holds true to what many men experience,  from his lack of initiative in his own life to finally realizing he needed to step up.

Being meant by Issa’s betrayal in the midst of getting his shit together or “trying” set fires in the egos of male viewers…and the hive was born.

Fast forward to later seasons when he decided that fuckin hoes and taking numbers (and STD tests) was the way to go instead of dealing with the raw emotions left for Issa (and her cheating); this was the perfect reflection of how men often deal with painful breakups.

The internet exploded over whether or not Lawrence was actually a f*ckboy or not due to his situationship with Tasha; the answer is yes fellas. He was knee deep in f*ckboy season as a “good guy” in response to broken trust with his ex.

He went on emotional lockdown while still trying to figure out how to have sex without the attachment. From Tasha, to ole girl he dated at the office, to his various sexapades. Our boy had what seemed to be his first “hoe phase;” accept that and move on.

This character is you, you is this character.

Because If Issa is a mirror for millennial females then Lawrence is that for our male counterparts.

Then there’s the majority of the female population who feel that this character is a waste of  a perfectly good black and white button up…

Insecure Season 4

 

But come on girls…he looked GOODT!

This fictional character is showcasing the hard pill that many-a-woman has had to swallow.

 

Issa: “I don’t know. I got the nigga with potential. You know, I got the work-in-progress. And it took a lot of support and patience. I just feel like she is reaping all the benefits of his time with me.”


Shit! Been there girl and it is not a pleasant feeling.

Lawrence is so convincing that it leaves many women feeling that they know him a little too well. He is their reminder of the guy who sat in his potential on their couches, forgot their birthdays, drained them emotionally/mentally/spiritually.

Then left to only improve on the shit they needed for years. Lawrence is their Tyrone, Brandon, Shawn, Tim, Sam, Anthony.

He is too clear a mirror.

The very character traits that helps male viewers connect with him is the very reason women can’t stand him.
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While men think that women should take the good with the bad in this character (and them); women are pushing back tired of the expectation that they should hold down a man barely trying. The fight over who was wrong and who is right is never- ending. Women are tired of “growing men for someone else.” Men want understanding in their struggle phases while women scream that they don’t get the same in return.

Personally, I love to see it. The dynamics that this character brings forces us to confront our old ghosts in a new light; and if we let it, ourselves.

This recent season brings things full circle. With only 4 episodes left in season 4; Lawrence has finally realized that he is possibly still emotionally connected to Issa and the only reason he left is because she cheated at a time when he wasn’t his best self. 
It is painfully clear to most of us that men tend to process breakups well after women have made peace with it. The beginning stages offer many distractions like Tasha was for Lawrence. But the road to moving on must first bypass the person he has yet to let go of…Issa. It’s a familiar, sometimes tough story because it is often an experience we’ve had in some way.

 

The beauty of his character isn’t surrounded by the question of if he will get back with Issa but whether or not he can become the man he’s wanted to be since season 1 and the man someone like Issa deserved.

We see his insecurities surface on how he views himself through his interactions with Condola as he tries to distance himself from who he use to be with romantic trips, lunch dates, and moonlighting as a sauve party guest. Lawrence is every man, just trying to convince hisself that he can be everything his potential will allow.

The missing piece is the understanding that breakups can spark growth.

This is clear in Lawrence’s character as he got fit, got a job, started shaving, and began to care for himself better. Sometimes breakups change a person. This too is a hard pill to swallow for those grown hoarse due to emotionally screaming for that same change.

Maybe his character will grow out of the show; I honestly think that he has much to offer to male and female viewers alike and would love to see continued character development.

The truth of his character is that the reflection feels too real. It’s raw. It’s honest. And that is why it is needed.

Let LBF hear your thoughts on the topic! Comment below and let’s build a conversation.

 

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I Took a Vow of Silence for a day & it wasn’t as Easy as I Thought…

 

 

 

The thought came in the shower; the birthplace of all great ideas.

One of my bucket list dreams is to take a vow of silence for at least three months during my lifetime.

I know that this is something that will have to happen in my future as my job is ALL about talking. Still, the small voice in my head encouraged me to take advantage of the current pandemic and social distancing by trying it out for a day.

Now, I must admit that I’m not a talkative person. Most people would tell you that I am an introvert as well. As an introvert talking can sometimes feel draining.  These realities of my nature made me a little cocky when it came to taking a vow of silence for 24 hours.

But here’s what I learned…

I talk a LOT…

To myself. The few times I slipped up came from talking to myself. I already knew that the best conversations I have are solo ones but DAMN sis, I didn’t know I was this much of a Chatty Kathy until I couldn’t use words.

There’s a smooth transition between my solo thoughts and words so at least twice throughout the day I found myself accidentally talking to myself. Words escaped before I…

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I did notice an increase in my creative mental space.

Whether it be ideas or  in depth conversations, my inner voice was louder.

 

Music is dangerous

Music was also a challenge. It was easy to get lost in the vibes and wanting to sing along. I didn’t slip up though, I simply turned the music down or off.

 

Pets are also Challenging

My cat Spirit doesn’t need to talk to show what she wants or how she feels yet I still found myself wanting to talk her little ear off. I thought about how I use words to communicate with her often, asking if she’s hungry or if she wants to go outside. Even doing baby talk “I love yous.”

In this case, I needed to learn how to be more like her and convey my emotions without words.

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She’s saying she missed me here…

Made me aware that we are reactive to words

How many times have you found yourself speaking to someone in passing without even thinking about your words? When people approached me and extended words I had to stop myself from shooting back the “heys” and “how ya doings.” I tried to have my cards on hand but in formal interactions like grocery stores it was a little awkward having the clerk read my flashcard. To say the least they were not impressed…

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it still was better than having them talk to me while I stood there silent.

Also, simple interactions weren’t something I thought about. Men holding the door open and not being able to say “thank you.” I hated thinking that he must’ve thought I was another uptight, bougie ***** but I had a hand full of groceries and no note card that simply said Thank you. I also had to consider neighbors in passing shooting off their greetings and me instinctively almost giving one back.

The Experience Overall

The entire experience helped me to zone in on my thoughts and emotions. I didn’t do it perfectly but it was good training for my eventual bucket list dream of not talking for three months. I did still allow myself to talk with friends via texting and Instagram but I sent messages to let them know my mouth was on lockdown for the day.

I wanna place myself in more challenging situations and interactions because I think this is a great way to build up my weak willpower. I plan to try it out again in the near future…maybe two days this time. Stay tuned.

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My Complicated Love Affair with Clothes

Some people dress to impress.

I dress to reflect my energy; sometimes quite literally wearing my heart on my sleeve. Using clothes as an expression of myself is nothing new to me. I remember the days as a teen when I wore bright colors and rocker tees to highlight the unique contradictions of my personality.

Then there was the lost phase in college when I wore the closest thing I owned to fit into whatever trend was hot at the moment. A representation of me trying to fit into popular culture. The metaphor for that phase is trying to squeeze cup size double Ds into an XS tube top; it wasn’t a fit.

Now I find myself here.

Crop tops, lace, high waisted jeans, lingerie, comfy shoes, and clutches. I wear beautiful simplistic clothing as a reflection of myself. This self portrait is one that defies others definition of who I am and how I should be. To say the least I’m not your traditional definition of modest in my dressing. I embrace my sensuality and celebrate features of my body once ridiculed. Small waist. Long legs. Zero hips.

Redefining the way I dress helps me to let go of  the kind woman the world thinks I should be. 

 

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I use to dress for others people’s reflection of me. I’d tone down my outfits to save an argument or create comfort. Until I understood that people like men already have enough say over what women wear.

That spills into our subconscious and presents itself as “morals & values” when I’m quietly told not to show THAT much skin or post too many pictures in THAT kind of outfit. I would often ask myself how another would feel if I wore what I wanted; I now only ask myself how I would feel.

Would I feel powerful? Would I feel honest? What about sexy? Free? These words have become a routine for me. Only placing against my skin what represents or brings out those emotions.

Sometimes I have my own photo shoots. Especially now when staying home is no longer just an option but a mandate. I pair my confusing emotions with articles of clothing. Sweet and sensual. Tomboyish and sexy. Carefree and simple.

Clothing is so much more than what we wear. It can represent what we feel. My Complicated love affair began as a teenager and has continued into my womanhood.

This affair will last until I’m old and the world tries to tell me what’s “appropriate” for a woman my age. Even then my clothes will help me rebel. Help me hide or confront. Because they help me be…me.

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Hey Builders! Tell me about your relationship with clothing: COMMENT, LIKE, SHARE & LETS BUILD

You don’t like me & I’m OK with that

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I started thinking about how jarring it is to discover that you’re disliked by someone.

These days people don’t come out and say

”I don’t like you.”

Well…that’s actually never been the case.

Think about the southern charm insults exchanged over tea or mouse-like whisperers spreading gossip through gloved hands. People don’t SAY they don’t like you; they show you.

When that happens a lot of us feel personally accountable for others people’s opinions about who we are or what we lack. Our feelings get hurt when we hear so & so aren’t feeling our natural vibe and many times we go on the defense. We try to explain why we’re ok with being disliked without ever really buying into our own words. There’s power in dislike and here’s why we should believe that being disliked is ok:

 

I’d rather be a B.I.T.C.H

The truth is sometimes we simply don’t want people to dislike us because we’re people pleasers that have a need to feel validated in our roles. That can begin to box you in; causing you to act as a Chamaeleon. You constantly change yourself to fit into to any role, void, position that other people need. This ensures that you’ll always be accepted, it also ensures you’ll never be your true self.

For me, if there’s a choice between fitting in or standing out. I’d rather be the bitch that doesn’t fit in because at least I’ll recognize myself. We killed the “good girl” long ago for that very reason.

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Caught in a Moment

Being disliked by someone is sometimes reflective of a bad experience or moment they had with you. They caught you in a moment when you weren’t your best self.

When I reflect back on situations in which I wasn’t my best self I try to be kind. Understanding back story and internal struggle  allows for me to do that. If someone was on the receiving end of that moment and decided then and there that I was not their cup of tea then I can’t fault them. I’m still guilty of steering clear of some people for that thing they said or action that rubbed me the wrong way.

That’s basic human nature in being cautious.
It is not my job to force a change of opinion but to understand their reason while remembering that I am so much more than that moment. They may never know that and that’s ok too.

 

I wasn’t placed here to be well liked by everyone.

Explore the “Why”

You do have a responsibility to reflect and improve on character flaws that get called out on the regular. While being disliked is a natural part of life, being okay with deep rooted character flaws that negatively impact others shouldn’t be. If there’s truth in someone’s disdain for you then explore how you can improve; not for them but for you to be best version of yourself. It’s not always then…sometimes it IS you. Sometimes you may be disliked for legitimate reasons.

Other times it could be based on those insecurities others struggle with in themselves. Maybe that person doesn’t like a trait in you because it reminds them of what they lack. Often this is the go to answer when we find out we aren’t someone’s cup of tea; it’s an actual thing that should be remembered once we feel the distance off another person.

One other reason why we are disliked is simply because we don’t fit into any role or need for that persons life. We all have that funny friend, the sweet friend, the flaky friend…based on our personalities we mesh with some people and we benefit in some way from their presence in our lives.

If you aren’t immediately beneficial then usually you’re not needed; to me dislike would be a strong word to use for it but I often discovered in my own life that people who dislike me usually don’t understand me. I don’t present myself as one clear-cut role player and therefore I’m not easily placed as useful in their lives. This quality intrigues many people and for others it keeps them at arms distance; unsure on whether to dislike me so they just disregard me instead.

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Let go of opinionated Extras

Adversity from those who dislike me has crafted my resilience while strengthening the trust I place on my decision making and personal opinions. Being disliked by a few is a part of my journey to becoming the trailblazer I need to be.

The fact of whether someone likes you as a person or not is really just a matter or their opinion. Usually that person or persons are not even essential players in your life; they’re extras. If those opinions don’t directly affect your money or relationships then just allow it to be what it is.

A while ago, many a night had past when I scraped over that wrong thing I said or the way my anxiety affected my behavior. In those moments I didn’t remember myself accurately; what was vivid in my mind however were the faces of the people who decided at some unfortunate moment that they didn’t like me. Maybe they decided I was lame or fake.

They’d made up in their minds that I was unimpressive and dull.

Many a night I stayed up wondering how I could be disliked simply by being my honest self even in my not-so-great moments…until one night I just accepted that I’m not for everyone and everyone is not for me and went TF to sleep. Because you don’t like me and I’m ok with that.

…
Hey Builders! How do you handle being disliked? I’d love to talk with you! Leave a comment, like & share!

 

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The ONE That Got Away Pt. 2

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For a while I found myself locked in a daydreamy memory of how the kisses felt when I was 16. How intoxicating lovemaking was when I was 19; and how intense being inlove had been with the past love of my life. Some strange affliction had befallen me and caused me to magically forget all the days I spent chasing, the nights I spent crying, and the crippling pain of betrayal. 

“The one that got away” means so many things for each of us but a fantasy of past love is how best I describe this idea of missing a person you once had. What is it that keeps us going back to late adolescent memories that seem to brighten in the distance?

We replay exactly the moments that fill current voids in our lives and relationships making us believe that it’s all still possible. Sweet nostalgia.

NOSTALGIA : a wistful or excessively sentimental yearning for return to or of some past period or irrecoverable condition

Fixation on the idea of someone you once romantically connected with will have you questioning the reality of the connections you’re currently in. Plainly, “the one that got away” is the tape you measure every romantic love by; ensuring that you’re never truly satisfied with what’s in front of you.

BUCKO you’re so stuck in the past. We’ve all done it. Romanticized this idea of someone and what we think could’ve been had the stars aligned or the character flaws within us behaved.

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RESPONSE FROM A MALE BUILDER

The problem with holding someone in your past on a pedestal is that people change including them and you. Who you were is now fashioned from different life experiences including the shared one you had. It’s interesting to me that so many men seem to hold on to the idea of a woman who they wronged in their youth.

Does it not occur to them that she has forever been changed by the pain she endured? The girl you once knew is not the woman you think you know. This truth goes both ways; stop romanticizing strangers.

As people, we change and with it our interests, attractions and needs; what would satisfy 16 year old me is a far cry from what 29 year old me demands. It’s safe to say that the men in my past no longer know this version of me because I’ve grown.

The “shape” of me has been altered. In talks about this topic I listened intently as glossed over eyes spoke nostalgically of 1st loves and “good girls” or “almost mine-men”…they remembered the best but also recounted the worse. All circled around to the knowledge that “the one that got away” is just a memory, the people in it are no longer who they were and it’s not guarantee another go at a relationship would taste as sweet.

Still it’s a nice thought; to have known love intimately even when blinded by our childish haze.

“The ONE that got away” is a two-edged sword; depending on the nature of the person the connection can act as a reminder of what you deserve or what you don’t. We can appreciate what we shared in a lovely way without letting ourselves long for something that may be nonexistent.

Usually sayings have some truths; “If it’s meant to be it’ll come back around.”

but don’t base your life around that possibility and ruin the realities of love and connections that are current.

-LBF

 

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Closed Doors Don’t Get Fed: a talk of closure and the one that got away pt. 1

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Lack of closure feels like you’re standing at a door waiting for the other person to open it. This leds us to think that real closure is a myth; I’ve come to believe that’s not entirely true.

Real closure is a little messy…it’s not always going to feel complete.

Closure isn’t always a conversation sometimes it’s an action.

Closure can be sudden or gradual

and it actually doesn’t require two people…

Closure is personal.

I’ve learned this over the past year. “He” gave me closure but my heart couldn’t recognize it. In short, I didn’t accept it as closure because it wasn’t what I wanted to hear or thought him capable of doing.

His closure was painful for me but necessary to him

There is no “myth” of closure, sometimes we get it; it just takes a while to process. In my case it has taken exactly a year for me to understand that no matter how unreasonable the words felt, they’re his truths. I spent the last year starving for closure in the way I understood it; an hours long conversation followed by a declaration of love and regret.

I mean isn’t that how it was supposed to go?

That’s what I was so used to; men returning into my life with the realization that they made a mistake losing me. But this time I eventually had to stand face-to-face with the possibility that maybe he didn’t feel he made a mistake. The shear thought of this mentally equated to a glass figurine being knocked off a high shelf. The question followed; could I really be special if someone chose to walk away? After months of preaching to others of not putting me on a pedestal I finally saw that I had done so to myself. Once I tumbled, I could replay the painful last scenes of my haunting relationship; remembering the words that sounded like a foreign language…

“I think I made the right choice.”

Who was I if I wasn’t “the one that got away?” My whole broken romantic identity was wrapped and twisted around this idea of being something so precious it’s easily mishandled and so rare it’s instantly missed. Was I still special and worthy? I suspect the answer is a hard yes but I’m currently doing the work to remind myself daily.

Closure is not always a collective thing.

Often it is the peace and strength a person finds in closing a life chapter. This personal journey has little to do with the other person and though they deserve an explanation they may not always understand…I didn’t. Still, closure happened.

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His closure was painful for me but necessary to him; as I let go of that pain I’m finding my closure is a gradual process. Uncovering more of myself moves me further away from the idea of who I was on that shelf. I move closer to ending a season of my life where romantic love influenced my self worth and toward the understanding that closure isn’t always going to feel complete.

Who was I if I wasn’t “the one that got away?”

You can stand at the door waiting for someone to open it and give you the conversation you feel you need or you can be strong enough to realize that there’s no one there on the other side. Give closure to yourself and find the peace you need to move on.

Part 1.

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NOBODY’S F*CKIN MAYBE

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The first maybe I allowed in my life was at 15. I let an ex use a maybe like a semi-colon. Pausing our relationship but not our love. He was convinced that in that moment in time he couldn’t give me what I needed, wanted, or deserved. Maybe we could be friends. Maybe when the dust settled we could find our way back to each other. Maybe once he was sure he had what he needed in life we could continue our relationship. Maybe this wasn’t the end, it was a semicolon. I held onto maybe for nights after that. Held it close like a security blanket. I needed to not feel completely discarded and alone. It was hope. The last maybe I accepted in my life was exactly the same in every way. He was convinced he couldn’t give what I needed at the time. I couldn’t let go. So we pressed pause. Maybe was like a promise. A future but not a present. I clung to it as the last shread of my emotional heartache gave way. I needed something to anchor me.

Then something CLICKED.
Late one night as I held myself and felt the tightness of grief, heartbreak, and anxiety swell. I finally realized maybe did absolutely nothing for me. It didn’t dig me out of my dark places to tell me about the light.

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What their maybes didn’t do was wipe my tears when my heart flooded inside. It didn’t calm me down during 2 am panic attacks. Maybe didn’t speak life into me or make sure I got to talk about my day. Maybe didn’t even choose me. It just put me on pause. Frozen and keep me tucked away for a rainy day. Maybe didn’t see me. Understand me. Fulfill me.
So, I took that semi colon and turned it into a period. I made an unsure thing sure. I gave a finish to an unresolved. I declared “I’m nobody’s fuckin maybe!” 
This is a rallying call, a declaration, a battle cry, a period. For men and women who choose not be paused.

You don’t have to accept half love from half people. You don’t have to be a future option for someone’s lineup. You deserve a full person with a full desire to have you and love you FULLY. Someone who shows you extensively and one who chooses you as if you were the only choice. Forget that maybe in the background the keeps you on a dusty shelf. We no longer believe in “what Ifs” anymore. You have a choice. You can choose whether to accept maybes into your life.

I’ve gotten to a place where I’m full. I have room for no more maybes. I only want certainty in my love and confirmation in my relationships. I’ve taken myself off that dusty shelf and closed the  glass door. I’ve even set the bridge on fire. I let too many maybes convince me that that’s all there was to love.

What did maybes do for me?

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Maybes keep me in a situationships where I tried to convince the guy I was enough.

Maybes were there when another I was dating kept dropping me for his ex.

I let maybes ring in my ear like sweet nothings because I was sure I couldn’t do better. This isn’t bitterness. I’m nobody’s fuckin maybe is freedom. Freedom from the idea that you have to wait for one person to love you right. Freedom from allowing yourself to believe you have to wait. Freedom in seeing who you are and trusting what you deserve. Freedom in knowing that love doesn’t pause but neither do people. I’ve opened up the door of glass case of the shelf that so many maybes have placed me on. I move now. I live and dance. I am not a collectible. I am a living breathing thing who does not wait for love but one who gives it to herself every.single.day. I am a definite. I am no ones one day. Possibly. Collectible. Good girl. And I’m damn sure nobody’s fuckin maybe.

I am EVERYTHING.

To someone. To the right one. To myself.

I choose me. In this moment and every moment. Period.

Builders! DECLARE YOUR WORTH! Tell me what you’re not by using “NOBODY’S F*CKIN —————-!” Comment below and Share!

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Kill the Messenger and the Message

Somebody, please go gather Unc Snoop and his bonnet to get him together because this ain’t it. Excuse my ebonics while I dive into this post.

 

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…

*Stares in black girl annoyance*

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Fuck that, I’m offended.

I’m offended on behalf of my mother who loved a man in a way that was never rightfully reciprocated for over half her life.

If this is the only romantic love of a man she’ll know before she leaves this world then she will have lived a life never getting the support, encouragement, spiritual, mental, and emotional fulfillment she deserves.

I’m offended.

That this is the way my sisters and I were taught to love. Hard. Unconditional. Loving past the flaws no matter how deep. This is the way my mother learned and her mother. This is the way society teaches us that is perpetuated in our homes as the norm. The standard.

I’m offended.

On behalf of an ex who used the mindset that “she’ll stay” to test the waters of our great love only to spend the rest of his life regretting it.

I’m offended.

That we teach young black girls to become the mules of the world and their men before their breast even develop. I’m offended. That we teach young black boys to give the least in their love but expect the best.

I’m offended.

That brokenness in love is more celebrated than healing and maturity.

I’m offended.

Women aren’t allowed to be broken in the same way. Because who waits for us while we get our shit together?

Who uplifts us and speaks life into our broken parts while we emotionally abuse, disrespect, and offend all in the name of “I’ve been through some shit.” Tell me who?

Our beautiful black men are sometimes the first to leave dust in their tracks at the first sign of any “one” indiscretion; so who “rides” for us when we’re lost?

I’m offended that the only way love is understood is through the lens of pain.

Why should I bleed myself for you to know my blood is red?

If this is the test women are expected to take to gain your love in equal then keep it. I’m offended that in me choosing not to drag myself through hell just to prove my love and loyalty, you see me as unworthy. unfit.

But I know my worth and I’m offended you would even offer such a mess of a thing. Because I’d rather walk than to ride with a man whose only job is to drive but he keeps taking us in the wrong direction. Let me out. Kill this standard. Kill the Messengers that uphold it and kill the Mother******** Message!

 

**END RANT**

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Note from LBF:

I was triggered, bothered, disturbed by this post in a way that didn’t seem natural to my otherwise breezy spirit. I found myself plunging headfirst into the comments sections where I became enthralled in the opinions, viewpoints, and comments of others. What I found didn’t shock me in the least.
Most women rightfully condemned the notion that this is what it takes to become someone’s priority, partner, and wife; while many others praised the standard or and I quote “That’s their story, she stayed and yall mad and single.”

I needed to speak to a part of my womanhood that is often under attack. I needed to speak for the hearts of women who’ve been broken because we were conditioned to think this was the way and for those who know that you don’t have to accept this.

Ode to Self Care

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100 percent.

Everyone wants 100 percent of you.

Your job demands 100 percent, your bae, your kids, your friend that keeps calling and crying about the same guy she said she was gonna leave three calls ago.

They want your undivided attention, your time, your unconditional love. And you oblige. You slice yourself up like a pie and divide yourself into equal portions until there’s nothing left.

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Now you’re hungry. 

Now you’re drained and burnt out left wondering whose gonna help replenish you.

You take days off in the name of self-care but still end the day restless, anxious and unfulfilled. But here’s a secret I’ll let you in on…

Self-care is more than bubble baths and mimosas. Self-care is an attitude. It’s knowing that giving 100 percent to everyone and thing else, 24/7, 365 is not only impossible but a destructive goal. It’s having the courage to tell your boss no to coming in for overtime because you know your personal time is more important. It’s setting boundaries even with the people you love. Self-care is what you tell yourself when no one’s listening; the words that you use to mentally talk to yourself. It’s the ultimate relationship you have with who should be the most important person in your life…YOU.

 

True Love

It’s what you value and celebrate about yourself even when no one around you does. Self-care is self-love. How you care for yourself is a direct reflection of what you think you deserve. It is a parallel between how you allow others to treat you. At this point in my life, I treat myself well enough to accept nothing less than adoration from others hoping to engage with me on a personal level.

mimosas

 

Self Awareness

Self-care is self-review in caring enough about who you are to fix the flaws that promote your self-hate. Doing what you need in the emotional and mental areas to feel your best. To BE your best.

Self-care is about surrounding yourself with people who share your values, celebrate your wins and encourage you in your losses. It’s allowing only those in your space whose intentions align with yours and knowing when to let go when they don’t.

 

The Little Moments

Self-care is the pep talk you give yourself before entering work. It’s the time you give yourself to cry when you’re feeling overwhelmed as a single mother. It’s the moments that you decide not to delay your gratification this time to buy the purse you’ve been eyeing. 

It’s choosing yourself every day, 24/7, 365.

Giving 100 percent of your love, time and attention to yourself too.

As we embark on this self-care week let us understand that it’s more than an Instagram post; Self-care is a way of life, a constant goal to strive for.

Hey Builders! Tell me how you self care, like, share and Let’s Build up Ourselves.

 

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