I will still love you

There is nothing you can do to make me stop loving you.

We grew up in a very conditional home.  Negative criticisms upon us for what we did and what we did not do.  We witnessed the destruction of our parents, we experienced the loss of our childhood, we both had to grow up at a young age.

When they fought, we heard it.  When they would hurt each other, we felt it.  When people would judge our family, we stood up for it.  It was ours, we owned it, we lived and breathed it, it was our home.

Now we are older than they were when we were learning to survive.

After a long day, working a job, making dinner, watching TV – we always look into the mirror before we go to sleep.  Every time we do not like what we see.  Each day we tell ourselves that tomorrow will be different – we will learn to love ourselves, tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes, but we still do not like who we see.  Maybe because when we look at ourselves, we see our parents.  Maybe because when we look at ourselves, we remember where we come from.  Maybe because when we look at ourselves, just for one second, we believe all the horrible things anyone has ever said to us and about us.

We find ourselves in the footsteps of our parents.  We find ourselves fighting, creating bruises on the flesh of those we love.  We find ourselves diving into chemical escapes.  We find ourselves striving for an eternity of rest.

We make mistakes.  Hopefully one day we can forgive ourselves.  One day, we can look into the mirror and like what we see.  Just know, that even though I struggle to love myself, even though I struggle with who I see in that reflective glass, that no matter what you do, what life you have lived and who you want to become, I will still love you.

mellifluous quietus

The darkness never ceases to remind me
Of what waits in the shadows of my weak mind
The fallacy of happiness winking its soulless eye
I will never escape the lingering of my demons

The blackness calls to me
Assuring an end to my torment
Convincing me the black canvas
Is more enviable than my painted existence

All efforts emaciated
My struggle for ordinariness proves futile
As must the day ascend
The night will always ensue

Infinitely unsound from the eminent
The sweet whispers of escape tickling my ear

This will be the last time, I promise.

it will become cold if you let it

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Organ of empty blue and cold. Once was breathing steady heat. Thought of the journey from then to now, brings confusion of how we got here.

Ocean fresh with healthy waves has transformed to the storm with no calm center. We can no longer see ahead and cannot define location. Blame on weather has taken its place when inside it is known that it has been caused by the strike of our own heavy wings.

Earth broken of crevice and covered stone. It was once known as soft fresh soil fertile of soul awe nirvana. We remember we sleep on this electric current surface of concrete but cannot recall the reason. Tips of our fingers only touch is foreign. Familiarity no longer exists.

An effort to surpass this. An attempt to recollect. Memories of vivacious continual change proceeding death. All that can be witnessed is one-dimensional photos of this aesthetic occurrence that leaves an impression has now become life.

J.O.B.

I still open my eyes around 6am due to habit, not the alarm clock, then I close them again because there’s absolutely no point to wake up so early.  My doggies start to get restless around 8am – their morning routine scattered and no longer do they get that 20 minute morning walk.  Instead I let them outside to handle their business, then we go back to bed for another couple of hours.

Sometimes, BUT very rarely, I wake up early and start my daily chores: let the dogs outside, clean up their mess, pick up the bedroom, wash the dishes, dry the dishes, sweep the house, mop the house, look at the time and it’s only 9am.  Damn, what else to do… take a shower, get dressed, just to lounge around the house and do nothing, because there’s no money to spend.  Sometimes, I get a bit wild and take the dogs to the park or go to my grandparents house.  My Papa and Grandma’s house seems to be the meeting hub for the family, since they’re retired and 52% of my family are suffering from this unemployment crisis.

I guess the best thing about the situation is all the unlimited sleep time that’s available.  It’s not like it used to be, where you have to plan a day off from activities and work and friends, just to relax.  Now it’s readily available at any time you want it!  Next best thing is all the time you have nothing to do.  You can hike whenever you want, go to the beach, help friends move and even spend quality time with your cousins… that is until the gas in your tank heads to empty.  Then you’re stuck at home – and again, you can have the best attribute to unemployment – sleep.

No matter what I seem to do, I’m a bum.  I can be through with all my household duties in less than two hours, and have another 14 hours to do nothing.

I reminisce of the days that I used to abhor waking at 7am, rush to get ready, take the dogs for a speedy walk, feed the dogs, feed myself, sit in traffic for an hour to get to work, slave at a computer and running all over the place in heels for 9 hours, sit in traffic for another hour to get home, take the dogs on another speedy walk, get changed into lounging clothes, make dinner, feed the dogs, take the dogs on a nightly relaxing walk, read a book and go to bed – just to wake up the next day to do it all over again.

I recall of the days where I had to make plans two weeks out because I was THAT busy, when I made sure every Friday was “alone time,” when I would do lunch with friends and colleagues, when going to L.A. for the weekend was a vacation, when routine had a meaning and purpose, when time management was key and when I spent money and time with Charles David, Jeffrey Campbell, Michael Kors, Steve Madden, Carlos Santana, Robert Mondavi, Kendall Jackson, Laetitia and Chateau Ste. Michelle, all the while still making time for 24 Hour Fitness and Mount Cowles.

I thought I had stress then… there’s no stress like the stress that comes from having too much time to do nothing.  I take my stress dilemma and focus this energy by transforming it into addictions: Housewives!  I cannot get enough of The Real Housewives of Orange County, New Jersey, Atlanta and New York – and now there’s going to be a DC series, how exciting!  I have also made to sure to DVR the entire series of Millionaire Matchmaker, Bethenney’s Getting Married?, Say Yes to the Dress – all reality shows, so somehow I can live vicariously through those that have not only lots of time on their hands but money in their pockets.  I do watch the occasional downer – Intervention.  How constructive I am – my sedation and enjoyment with the escape of life aren’t substance-based, so I’m doing something right, right?

Oh and there’s the weight-gain dilemma I’m faced with as well.  No longer can I peruse the aisles of the organic section and stick to my “pescatarian” diet, or make my Monday visits to Whole Foods and Trader Joes.  Now I frequent the more affordable option: dollar menus.  I have found that four quarters and a dime, three times a day, is very feasible.

Coming to this day, to this routine, to this eating habit, is not all self-inflicted, mind you.  I have applied to approximately 196 job openings, in which I have been given an interview opportunity with only 9 of them, with only three of them in my career field.  So in other words, I have only had a 4.95% success rate at landing an interview, and only a 1.5% success rate at landing an interview in my field of expertise – and they say that we’re still at least three more years out hitting rock bottom with the residential real estate crisis – knowing that commercial real estate always lags about two to three years behind residential, I’m looking at the commercial real estate to hit hard in another six years?!  That means by then my success rate will be at a -15.42%.  My chances of employment are looking like the stock/market trade percentages I see on CNN – negative and in the red.

The addiction and depression become a fixated part of life, especially after receiving the notice that unemployment extensions are denied after May 30, 2010.  Living off of a $0 income for the past two months has made me the opposite of who I am – there is nothing independent about me anymore.  I cannot understand how it’s expected for people to live in times like today.  Going from making more than 70K per annum to a hard ZERO, means homelessness, a negative credit score, no form of transportation and no food.  If I didn’t have loved ones and family, I seriously would be that person dressed in semi-decent clothes, off the Plaza Blvd exit in National City, holding a sign saying, “WILL EAT FOR FOOD.”

My success is no longer measured by my experience, my income, my car, my clothes, where I live, my career title, or my education.  Now it’s determined by my happiness and loving what I have.  It’s not about the zeros backing up that number in the savings account, or having my feet caressed by BCBG.  I have found that before it was easier being a good person, because I was able to occupy myself with so many good things that I could surround myself with, you know, like bi-weekly massages at the knotstop and those weekly visits to the grocery store for therapy sessions.  There wasn’t much time to spend by myself, with the people that meant most to me, and have absolutely nothing to do.  I have found that this particular situation brings out who we truly are, and in return I have worked 10 times harder and put in 500% more effort in staying that “good person.”  I have also become that much more crazier, not being able to afford my relaxing outlets.

But yes, through this unfortunate part of my life, pristine fortune has presented itself.  Not only do I get to experience the actual effort of being a good person, I have realized those in my life that are true and deserve my love and friendship.  Believe it or not, I no longer contemplate who my real friends are and I have nurtured and created relationships that are priceless.  I have found that when life gets rough, those who stick around are priceless themselves.  There are also those that were meant to be only in a part of my life… sort of staging me with the thought that emanates my progression.

You know the saying, “There’s a reason for everything,” there truly is.  But it’s not a reason that can be given to you, it’s a reason that you find yourself, something that your life was missing before and now is present and only you can determine what that is.

For me, with this god-forsaken, unemployment, going-crazy, dependent, happiness-filled, no-income, how-can-one-possibly-survive part of my life, I have come to realize my reason.  This is not only a test of survival, but a test of character.

suffocation

I am tied – my hands, my ankles and my lips.  I am tied with an invisible piece of unbreakable material.  A material that has happiness at the core and wrapped around are the threads of affliction, clandestineness, consternation – all to protect the penetralia of longevity and bliss.  To support these threads are hidden wires of adamantine elements of chagrin, and covetousness.

I am unable to move – forward, backward and side-to-side.  I am unable to share the thought that emanates from my mind.  I cannot touch or fidget due to sensitivity and wounding matters.  My eyes continue to stay open, and yet I wish they were tied as well.  I witness happiness, cruelty, joy, suffering, laughter, pain… and my lips continue to stay sealed.  My hands continue to stay unstirred.  My feet remain in a locked position for dismay of falling.

I become an onlooker of aversions, of fruitlessness, of emptiness, of loss – and I am still binded.  Confused with no clarity in reach, I cannot make sense of thought and feeling.  The line which separates the right thing to do becomes blurred.  The defined person with millions of visible intricacies becomes obscurred.

Silence and separation overcome me.

To stop breathing, because you create a material so unbreakable that to destroy it, you must destroy your own happiness.

chelle floyd who?

Years ago, I studied self-identity in a philosophy class and became so perplexed by the subject that I chose to write my final on this particular issue.  Most may think that there isn’t much to write about, because this seems pretty easy, but when you think the way I think, nothing is easy.  Nothing is just “it is what it is.”  To say “it is what it is” is to give up on thought and pontification, and the search for something deeper in the cause and effect.  When I choose to say “it is what it is,” I am choosing to stop all thought, and quit the debate of what could be, just to end with the understanding of what is known is known to those that know, and let be.  This could not be the case with such a profound subject: who am I?

The argument in class was this: for your self to be identified, there must be a constant – what is this constant that keeps you entirely defined and identified as what you have been titled?  For example, I have been named Michelle Floyd by my parents, but to be called Michelle Floyd does not identify my self, or who I am.  It is just a title I have been given and go by in order to be referred to or called by.  Memories come and go, and get distorted with time and even erased due to head trauma or disease – so how can I be Michelle Floyd if someone who knew me once no longer does?  What if I forget my own identity – am I still “Michelle?”  We say that we still look the same, and that may be the continuum in our life to identify our self – but I look nothing as I did when I was born, and if you look at every school picture ranging from K through 12, I look familiar to each, but not exactly the same.  My skin changes, my eyes change, my hair, my height, my body structure… and it continues to change even though I am 30 years old.  Scientifically, our cells constantly are dying and reproducing, leaving no old cells for us to identify with… Within time, our body is filled with new cells at so many points of our life.  To be defined as to what role we have in our life is also false.  Today I may be Daughter, Wife, Girlfriend, Sister, Aunt, Niece – but tomorrow, I may not.

What then, makes me who I am?

Today, I have taken a look back on my life, and I see the shifts of my personality.  I see the changes in my reactions to others and I see a never-ending change in myself.  I see the steps I have taken to become a good person, because this was so important to me.  Then I see how I continue to attempt to be a good person, but so many events in life happen that begin to make me bitter and unattached.  Then I see how love conquers my life and brought inspiration, but such flagrantly opposite personalities aren’t always easily churned into butter.  Then I see reflection and the strive for everything better with the definitions I have given myself due to the struggle of living and obstacles faced with, but the lack of understanding and compromise hinders all.  I see so much when I look back, and at each moment I would be able to define who I was at that time, but when I try to use the same definition in my life today, it doesn’t stick.  I am not the same as I was in the past.  I remembered a short time ago, I was compassionate and attentive.  I remember being articulate and poised.  What happens to all the attributes we once possessed?  Do they just go away entirely, or is it still there – somewhere?

To ask myself, “Who am I?”  Is to answer, I am constant evolution.  I evolve in not one gradual, escalating line, but in tangents across a three-dimensional platform of something that is undefinable.

god, deity, supernatural creator, universe… whoever you are

I’ve believed in many forms of you…

I grew up calling you God.  I accepted You as the Father, Jesus as your son, the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary.  Since I learned how to talk, I’ve been praying to you, singing songs of Tafanlisayo, O Maria Namonagof, Mother Dearest, Here I am Lord, and the list continues.  I was taught to believe in your path for me at such a young age.  There were so many things I doubted about you and the way I learned about you, but my fate, my destiny, was not one of them until recently.

Through so many trials and tribulations, I had faith there were lessons to be learned so that I may fit into the role you created for me.  Belief in this helped me see the good in everything.  I did this so well, one of my positive attributes that all noticed was that I was always able to appreciate unfortunate circumstances or negative outcomes of matters of the heart or unexpected repercussions for actions that came from the kindness of the soul.

For so long I believed there was a reason for absolutely everything…

My parents had me at such a young age, they were children struggling to raise children – this gave me a passionate perspective of how I want to be as a parent.  Involuntarily, I was no longer a child at seven years old – the structure of responsibility as a parent and giving tools to children to help them make the right decisions is something I value intensely.  My father was in the military and we were constantly shifting our home for the first ten years of my life, I was unable to gain any sense of stability or see the need for it – as an adult, I can adapt to any environment or situation, I know how to observe people and their surroundings and be able to morph into it.  Dexter died at only seven and a half years old due to cardiac arrest – he came into my life and gave me hope and faith in all things beautiful, he taught me how to be a better human being and left me when he knew his job was done – he was an angel.  There are so many aspects of life that could have been considered damaging, but through you, I created positivity, because I believed there is a role I must play and this role is involved with something so much bigger in life.  I felt it – I felt that I have meaning and I must be involved with a destiny in which was ordained.

Life continues to happen, along with pain, suffering and happiness.  I began to analyze the argument for your existence and too many questions were unanswered.

Why should I learn from suffering?  What’s there to learn from another’s suffering?  What makes me so special that I am living and my cousin, Danielle, is not?  What is there to gain from exercising tough love and doing my best to not be an enabler with my sister?  Why must she suffer with addictions and self-infliction?  What am I supposed to learn from her?  Why should my brother break down when he is alone and without his daughter?  Why would an All-Loving God full of goodness and all things right let my brother suffer and doubt his absolute love of a father for his own daughter?  For a lesson to be learned?  Who is supposed to learn this lesson?  Why must I feel this pain? Why is that I am healthy and have a roof over my head and innocent, precious children are born into extreme living conditions and must fight for life?  What am I supposed to learn from that?  What am I supposed  to gather from kidnapping, murder, rape, alcoholism, abuse and neglect?  Death from freak accidents, drunk driving, cancer, diabetes, respiratory and heart failure?  What is the lesson with all this and how can I see the good in that?

So much pain and sorrow exists in all of our lives, and I question it at last…

I don’t need severe suffering and pain to learn.  If our purpose for existence is to learn the difference of good and evil, and we strive for the path of enlightenment and greatness, then why must you continue to inflict these unfortunate events onto us, especially if we are made in your image?  Why is suffering necessary to reach reason?  Blessed are those who believe – but I accepted you as true for 29 years, and when will I be blessed?  Will it finally happen after I leave my human body which I value intensely and treat as my temple?  Will it occur when the ultimate sacrifice is made and I let my body stop living in order to save another’s?  Is it all these acts of selflessness that so many of us do our utmost to attain, so that we may live in your kingdom?  What have you given me to make me believe you have a kingdom?  Why is it we condition ourselves to believe stories that have been edited throughout the years?

Whomever you are, if you made me in your image, why don’t you trust me?  Isn’t reciprocity something to be valued?  If I trusted in you and your existence for 29 years, why would you not do the same for me?  It is so morally wrong to continue to test people for your ego… if we say we believe in you and our actions show for it, then why don’t you take it for what it is?  Why must you create obstacles and life-changing events that would make any human created in your image, doubt you…  You have created a self-fulfilling prophecy, and for whose gain?  Without followers you do not subsist and without God we do not flourish.  Why do you relentlessly give us reason to make you non-existent?

I am being faced with such a heartbreaking revelation – I want to pray, but who do I pray to?  For 29 years, prayer has brought me so close to you and has become a meditation to bring lucidity and conviction to my life.  I allowed it to bring clarity into my mind, my soul and my being.  Now that you have at last won your argument and have made me doubt your existence, I am left without prayer.  You have finally inflicted your absolute pain unto me, the reality that you do not exist and I don’t have you.  So now I ask, why have you forsaken me?  Why have you deceived me?  Why would you allow so many to follow you and trust in your greatness when you are unable to provide.  The pain and sense of being lost with no precision in mind is worse than any wound a human could ever wreak unto to me.

For so many years, I have relied on you as support.  I now realize that I must believe in this reality created for us on Earth, and I must rely on only myself for guidance.  I will trust myself, and know that I will live with all things good in mind.  I will become for myself what you pretended to be.

You are the ultimate deception.