#bearerofmen

[bearerofmen]

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[bearerofmen]

Stripped #bearerofmen #blog #blogger #bloglife #bloggerstyle #bloggergirl #bloggermom #blogpost #instadaily #instagood #mood #motivationmonday #positivevibesonly #mothers #nojudgment #children #lifeistough #grindtime www.bearerofmen.com

[bearerofmen]

Stripped!

           "Don't you ever judge me by what I do! Ever. I am a stripper, yea, but I am using that money to put my son through private school. I started stripping to take care of him. He doesn't deserve a shabby life all because I was a dumb kid that made bad choices. He deserves the best. So I do what I have to do. I make good money." Some woman screamed from the television set.

          "But he can't look up to that. One day you will have to tell him what you did to make that money. You could do other things. You are going to have to tell him what you did for money, " replied another television personality. The implication that all money isn't good was where the person was headed with the conversation.

          I was watching reality television with my mother, The General. This term of endearment came from our St. Louis days. She was admired around our neighborhood and received compliments on how well behaved her children were whenever we were out in public representing her. We pretty much marched in a straight line even when she wasn't present. That reason among an array of colorful other reasons yielded her the title 'The General.'

          We watched the series and folded clothes together. This type of reality television was new at the time. It was the beginning of the Flavor of Love Era of television. I was about eighteen years old or so. I can't recall which show I was watching at the time but I know that it doesn't come on television anymore. We were plugged in. The scene was emotional and intense.

          "He is a kid and he doesn't know anything. He knows he goes to a nice school. He knows that he has nice stuff. He knows that I am providing a good life for him. And you know what, I'm his damn mom. I don't have to explain shit to him. If he ever finds out, I will deal with it then. If he finds out, I will tell him that I had to do what I had to do so that he could have the best. There is nothing I won't do to put food on my kid's table; nothing I won't do to keep a roof over his head. So you aren't going to sit here in my face and judge me for that. You can get the (bleep) out of my (bleeping) face for real. Don't ever talk to me again. I swear it..." the TV personality continued on for a while. The powerful words in the message started to lose some of its effects after so many f-bomb. She ranted and talked over the man who attempted to slut shame her into feeling like a horrible mother because one day her son would know what she did to be his provider. I don't remember everything about that scene. I remembered that much of it because The General heckled along to it intently.

          "You damn right! You don't have to explain nothing." She turned and looked at me, "He is wrong baby. That woman is a mother and he doesn't know what she has going on. You don't do that. People should mind their own business if it has nothing to do with them. He shouldn't have said that to her. He was wrong for that."

          "I think he is just saying she could get a different job mom." I said trying to make sense of it for her. As if she had missed the message or something.

          "Girl please. Yea maybe she could have.  But she is a mother. A mother will do anything to take care of her children. It's hard out here." The General said as she continued to watch the friction unfold. She even got misty eyed. She shook her head as the man said degrading comments toward the mother of one.

          Being a single mother of four children was hard on my mother, especially since she did all the "right" things in life before having them. She went to college, met her husband, and married before starting her family. Life's tricky toss and turns will always render you helpless. With patience one can learn to bend and not break under extraordinary circumstances. She used to work for an insurance company but after a big move to Louisiana she changed her career path and became a nurse that worked nights. She had four children while going to school to be a nurse and still worked. Life became interesting and different during that transition in our lives.

          Every time I think I may break during my own times of adversity, I remember her and what seemed like an effortless example of doing all that it takes to provide for her family. Eventually, the tension subsides and I bend to the will of the circumstances before me.

          She was a nurse at the time that we watched the show and I could only imagine what she was thinking as this woman cried on television. Dabbing at her eyes she shook her head and went to her room. As I reflect on that moment, I am reminded that my mother is still not a fan of reality television.  Instead, she is a devoted lover of fiction/fantasy novels and television. One of her favorite movies is Imitation of Life.

          I remember being in elementary school, sitting and playing with Barbie, when my mom first introduced the movie to me. She told me to put the dolls down and to come with her to watch that movie. She explained that she had watched it with her mother, and it was my turn to watch it with mine. If you aren't familiar with the movie, there was a woman who worked as a maid her entire life to provide the best possible life she could for her daughter. The daughter was embarrassed by her mother's job and ungrateful. She was genuinely angry for who her mother was. By the end of the movie I was in tears. Even at a young age I realized that having a loving parent was a true gift.

          The daughter lost her mother before she had the opportunity to tell her she was sorry and that she loved her. Her mother died with a broken heart.

          Fast forward. I am a mother now and I get it. I get the tears my mother had and the struggles that go along with being a provider and a role model. I understand the plight of the PARENT in a world full of criticism in a society with very few tangible solutions; especially when you are "playing by the rules." No matter what you can't help the hand you are dealt. I understand the tears that come with studying, instead of cuddling with your children and holding on to their every word; I understand the look a child gives you when they want your undivided attention but you have to start that second job or else you guys aren't gonna make it to the next month. I understand the pain you feel when you get in late from work and you haven't seen the reason you work so damn hard all day because they fell asleep before you got home. I understand how people unintentionally lose themselves in work while trying to be providers and flip out when they get home because of unappreciative smart mouthed comments or ungrateful behavior. I understand how children grow an ache of longing for their parents to be around for everything but if their parent doesn't sleep for their night evening job or second job then the children don't eat. I completely understand how people would think that stripping would be the easy way out for fast cash but I dare you dear readers to ask yourself if having other human beings question your self respect is an easy thing to do or deal with.

          Motherhood is something I understand now. Those moments are some that some women have the privilege of never experiencing. Other mothers  find moments where their backs are against the wall and in quiet desperation they affirm that their is nothing they won't do to make sure their children have a better life. The early morning grind and the late night oil burning; the furnace tempting your God given mold to crack and succumb to the heat of life. Mothers I hope your children grow up to thank you and love you no matter your sacrifices.

          In the meantime, let's not sling mud and soil our own garments in the process of child rearing because essentially it will only lead us all to stripping ourselves bare to face our own naked truths.

[bearerofmen]

The Battlefield

            The gaze of a controlled reaction to my evenings behavior was too much for me to handle. Everyone knows the look. It's a stubborn dead stare into the distance because they don't agree with your current behavior or reaction to a situation. Unless you have a band of yes men that surround you, then you know the look. The silence was insurmountable because my friend and I had past the usual label of mere friends or besties. We had graduated to sisterhood. I have a few women that I refer to as this. So I said something because I needed her opinion. I was devastated and confused. I needed to know if I was thinking clearly.

             "Well," she paced herself, "I just think that you guys really have a good thing going on E. You guys are going to just ruin it. You're going to just mess it all up with this foolishness you guys have going on if you don't fix it."

             There it was I asked for it. Honesty; not really harsh but true. My respect for it was evident because I retreated back into my thoughts. I reviewed more than just our conflict but our true love that I knew and other people also knew to be real.  It was good most of the time.

          There just seemed to always be a dispute between us.

           "Despite everything you guys are going through...I just love you guys. I think you guys are good for each other. Now, I'm not condoning anything he has done. He is an asshole. I'll give you that. But you are also a bitch, Ericka. You are so dirty for sending that text message," another confidant of mine explained.

             We shared a laugh and mine was sheepish. This man hit a nerve and hurt my feelings. Why couldn't I return the favor. A relationship is supposed to be made of reciprocity right?

             "How? He said," I started.

             "I know what he said. But you still didn't have to go there," she vehemently interrupted.

              I had an attitude but she was correct. The Kobe system couldn't apply to relationships could it? Especially not for a woman.

               Still, I found myself in battles over the security of our love.

               "Calm down Ericka," my then new friend, but now best of friends exclaimed.

                I couldn't gain my composure. I felt exposed. I had finally learned to hide so much about a relationship because I wanted to preserve it. The mere notion that someone could see the faults in it and in me made me panic. I was nearly stricken with paralysis. The thought made me queasy and uneasy around her at first. She assured me that she wasn't just any old person. She was my friend. I opened up a bit. Again we battled with love and trying to control parts of our relationship that mattered.

               She told me plainly, "You shouldn't make him do anything. He shouldn't make you do anything. You guys should just do the right things period. He shouldn't do things and you shouldn't do things to hurt each other because it isn't right; because he loves you. Not because you guys are afraid of what the other might find out or think or whatever the case may be. Love doesn't work like that. You guys love each other. Love each other and just let go of the other stuff. Don't do and say things out of respect for that love. You guys are people stop trying to control each other. Don't try and give any ultimatums."

               I had never been made more calm in all my life from such blunt words. She was right. Love is war but it isn't a forced battle between two people. People join it mutually knowing what work it entails.

               I'm not qualified to give advice. I have no answers on honesty, lust, or any other issue that engulfs relationships. No one relationship could ever give someone enough perspective or clarity to understand the insanity that is love.

               Insanity is a characteristic of love. Love is also a battle field. Hear me out: you are insane (a state of psychosis) when you are in love. A person could be at ease one moment and in the next moment they can catch their lover cheating. Rage can literally take over, shut down the senses and make some one behave like they belong in a mental institution. That same person, once calm, will know what they saw with their own two eyes and still be lied to. No matter if that person allows another person to lie to them or not. They eat that lie like it is a top five filet mignon and devour it whole. They may then take that very person back.  Is that not insane? To believe the very opposite of what you rationally know is true or fact, because you love and believe in your lover.

               Yes love is psychotic and if caught off guard will make you a hypocrite. You will find a sour after taste resonating on the tongue from all of the 'I would nevers' you have spoken. Life shows you in time an angel and demon lives within all of us. That is what brings about the battle field.

               Love is a game that should never be played until you realize that there is no choice in playing the game. Arming yourself properly is the only way to survive. There will always be a war. Married, open or shut relationships, or single, it doesn't matter. The labels merely provide a different scenery but the war ensues regardless.

             Battles are fought for large reasons like cheating all the way down to the most minute issues such as washing the damn dishes.  At the beginning of the battle, each partner should consider this, for every battle fought there are two losers. Pieces of the relationship can die forever depending on how gruesome and savage the warriors become.

               I am an alpha woman. In every sense of the word I have embraced the hardness, the coldness, and the savagery I have been groomed with. Being a witty and foul mouthed bitch is something of a talent mostly. My husband knew I had it day one right? So why shouldn't I deliver the same victorious blows during an argument when vicious licks are being thrown my way. I am a fucking winner. I win. However, one day I realized that I was losing. We were losing. Our great foundation crumbed and buckled after every viscous word I thought I was only using to defend myself. I am quite the writer. Poetic and dramatic. Throw a couple of f-bombs in there and I am like a modern day Shakespearian genius.  The hurt my love felt when he would bring it up later after the smoke cleared and the fires were put out  would destroy me.

               Who was I? Why was I that petty. How could I be that cruel. Even if he took it there first did I have to rise to the occasion? You see, it's something they will never admit but women, we are stronger than our men. It was built that way by design. Adam was sad and alone and viola. God gave us to man because we are what he is missing. He needs us to be strong and lift him up. Filling the empty void is exactly our purpose in his life.

            Don't misunderstand what I am saying. The fight is what keeps the relationship alive; without an argument, there is room for doubt, infidelity, anger, and loneliness. The way we handle each battle is how relationships last. If you truly love the person you have chosen to argue with, just like with true friends, spare your lover a death to your relationship. Remember that you are half the heart and they are the other half. We are all just halves of a whole until we meet the person that completes us. Hurting them only hurts you if they complete you. If one half of a human heart is shot or cut to pieces the other half can't survive. Don't turn a temporary battle within the war called love into a dynasty ending finale. 

[bearerofmen]

Selfie Queen

           When I saw the house it was an old relic but the scenery was amazing. After my brain was fried I took a break, I crept quietly to the bridge, tightened the dress between my legs, squatted down (because I was embarrassed and didn't want anyone to see me), and then BAM!! I did it! I did it!! I took the perfect selfie. My hair was perfectly coifed, water swished and swayed behind me and flowers bloomed. I did what was very hard for me to do next. I posted it to the Internet.

              It is always hard for me to post pictures of myself. I have never understood why or where it comes from. I put out a facade that I am confident and in many areas I am. But shadows, contours, and "the wrong light" have led me to hate selfies. With my disdain for selfies came my disdain for the excessive habitual selfie taker. You know the one. It is the person that stops and makes you think...'one more selfie out of this one and the next time I see them in person I promise I'm going to punch them in the suck whole!'

               I will admit I take selfies the same as everyone else. I cover it up by not posting it. I thought it vain, and self involved at first. I mean lets be real. Why do I need over 100 pictures of myself in my phone or on the Internet (side note, I may have more than that). The real thing is that we all take selfies. I have deleted hundreds of them due to bad lighting, not being able to figure out my best picturesque profile, or just completely lacking confidence in the photo. Either way, for whatever reason, I had come to loath the habitually excessive selfie taker. Seriously. I could not stand the person who pretty much takes the same damn photo every day. No matter the type: "before and before pictures", before and after pictures, as well as progression and pretend progression pictures for work outs, pregnancies, and hair. Goodness! You give a person a camera phone and they will show you everything. Why in the world are you profiling today what you looked like yesterday? Why? I am so serious. It bothered me until I had a pretty usual conversation with a friend who happened to be a habitually excessive selfie taker.

             "Yea the make up you do is beautiful!" I complimented her on her endeavors. Truth be told I forgave her for what I thought was vanity because she indeed advertised as a makeup artist. Beauty is her business. So selfies of her work were necessary although I righteously found them boring.

             "Thank you E. I appreciate it." She responded humbly.

             "Girl, I wish I had the energy to do the kind of work you do. Full face and all. I'm always so tired. But if I did I would flaunt it too." I spoke the truth. If I had her gift and knew my "good side" I would probably make love to the camera on the damn regular.

             "Truth be told I don't really wear makeup often. I don't walk around all day beat (the favored term for make up that is flawless)" she confessed.

            I couldn't believe it. Heck I didn't believe it. I mean she was a certified Selfie Queen. I should know, I follow her social media. I knew because I certified her myself (yes I felt like I had the answers and the right to label someone: silly and presumptuous of me). Then she went on.

            "I really just do it to make me happy. Sometimes I wake up depressed from crazy things going on in my life and I beat my face and almost instantly it just lifts my spirits."

            It caught me off guard. Such simple motives for a habit I found annoying. I cringed at my previous thoughts.

            "Damn, maybe I should try it."

            "You should E. You would be surprised at how it really works. One minute you are just in a mood and the next, you feel great because you look great. I share it so that others can feel the positivity you know."

              Almost instantly my perspective changed. You never know what other people are going through. We can never determine that. People will never tell you, I certainly won't. Thanks to social media something therapeutic changes into something other people loath and chastise.  Thanks to social media we look at things that are supposed to be genuinely happy moments and we criticize them to pieces and usually it is due to our own unhappiness. Many may never admit it but I am okay with speaking the truth. I misjudged it and was irritated by it because of my own challenges of not wanting to seem vain. A habit I picked up from reading so much criticism on social media. Social media can control you and misguide your perspective on things if we allow it. I think that it happens when we allow ourselves to be educated by it and not just entertained by it. We forget the social part that comes before the word media. Now I see selfies differently. It brightens my day to see others happy and it seems to be a way for people coping with not being just of the world we live in but active participants in this world and it fulfills a need to leave their stamp on it. After all it isn't enough to exist, we have to live, and if it helps them to reach others and do more than just merely exist then that is a wonderful thing.  God bless them for leaving their mark. No longer do I just like the pictures I see, I love them, may even leave a comment, and hope that it brightens their day.

[bearerofmen]

Weeboobopbam!

                 I had an old computer that broke from my clumsy half assed misfortune. I sat down to do some work. Weeboobopbam!! It was done. Dead within moments. I couldn't even dive to save it.

                  It had viruses that was eating it alive but it was mine. That day I was sour with bitterness. I thought of every time I could have used my time wisely but instead I was too tired so I relaxed my brain and allowed it to be soiled with bad television or great television shows that sucked me into a 72 hour television binge. I would sit and wish I could create stories for shows and movies that were that incredible. My heart had shattered with that computer. Every attempt to be great was stored on it. The memories of college was lost yet a second time because this was the second secondhand computer to fail me. So my mood once again slipped into defeat.

                    "I'm not a writer. You can't call yourself a writer until you have published somethin, you know." I said this matter of factly. Doubt; there is something about how it looms over your head like an ominous cloud.

                   "Awe but you are a writer," my husband responded matching the same matter of fact tone I had used. "Your thesis. That's written and published, is it not?"

                   He knows how to deal with me. He had been here with me before when my natural pessimistic nature would rear her ugly head. He knew how to combat her better than I did. Like a child with a sling shot he aimed at the cloud of doubt and shot a mere muster-seed of positivity at my gloom and let hope rain down on my head. I smiled. He was just like that. A natural optimist that was raised by an even bigger optimist.

                  I thought about a conversation I had with one of my best friends.

                  “It's called provisions bestie. The lord gives them to you so that you can't prevent yourself from walking in your purpose to fulfill your destiny. Don't let anything deter you from your purpose. It doesn't matter what you don't have. Find a way to walk in your purpose."

                   Her words were like magic. She listed all her provisions and how it led her to do things she was supposed to do. Blatantly acknowledging that she is coasting along on faith alone and please believe she is where she always wanted to be. She looks to the future with stars and dreams in her eyes. She knows that she is the example that I need.

                   I wonder how she can do it? How can she tolerate my negativity after all these years and conversations? She openly stated once that she has been working on my pessimism for years. I remember thinking, 'Girl, bye! Get out of here with all that. I don't even know what you’re saying.' Feeling half insulted and jaded. But she has. She has always been great with shaking me up using faith to restore me to reality. I can do this and I have. She has even spoken to me about my purpose in life.

                    "Bestie, you know you’ve got a gift right? You speak life into others. You may not notice it but you do. I can tell you that you have done it for me and I wish that you could do it for yourself. It's prophetic really."

                     Knowing these things I still wonder where the doubt comes from in all of us. I won't blame the devil that's too easy. I will say, however, that it is the easy way out of the hard work it takes to pursue something for fear of hearing the words no; try harder, work harder, or try again.

                     A conversation with my older brother came to mind. I told him about how hard it was for me sometimes to complete things (I was afraid to start blogging for fear that I would stop). Naturally, I love pencil and paper (I'm retro and classic like that). I love a fresh sheet of paper, a new pencil or a really nice pen. However, a lot of my writings are on paper and are tedious to transfer onto a computer. It was lazy but goodness the extra work right? Not only that, I would lose pages of what I wrote often times and lose momentum while I was at it.

                   “Now that's just ridiculous, Ericka." He said this crisp and frank.

                    When speaking with him I always have to prepare myself because often time he didn't play the foolery and could cut straight through your jugular with his words; never meaning any harm all the while. My other siblings and I affectionately call him, 'The Terrible'.

                     “Damn that. You need to cut that mess out. We live in the computer age and you need to get with the times. C'mon son. Paper? You still using paper. You better use the notes in your phone or something. I do it all the time. Whatever it takes just get it done!"

                       So I have been doing just that. I have moped around for a summer sad about all types of crap. The list is endless but I am not going to stop. Luckily technology is too great. I am a writer, not because I am published but because I said I am. The power of the tongue is real, you are what you say and I am a writer because I am the words I speak and the actions I submit to. Even if it doesn't reach a single soul I will continue to write because it is therapeutic for me to share. Even if I don't publish a single word, I will continue to write because I just enjoy making up stories. If you are reading this I hope that it touches you. I don't have a computer but I write. The challenges I have are unlimited as we speak and I won't quit. I hope you don't either. Feel free to share your hopes and dreams with me as well in the comments and we will combat doubt together with positivity. Until next time dreamers.