Dear Santa...A Poem

Dear Santa

By Ebony Farashuu
12-25-10

I found two lumps of coal in my stocking
I used them to fuel my passion
The fashion in which I choose to live
Would rather ask you to forgive
Than for permission
Submission is no longer my strong point.

See, I am now conditioned to
Recognize the bullshit and
Use it
To
Fertilize my garden.

Three years later I’m still breathing
So I guess it didn’t kill me…
I have every right to be a hater
But Peace be still with me…

On a journey into myself
I discovered the true beauty of a butterfly
And I will continue to flutter and float high above those
Who sought to trap me within gossamer nets of self-doubt.

U should have never messed over a writer…
What used to hurt her now delights her…
Brings characters to life as your ignorance lives on in her pages…

There are many stages of healing
And I’m no longer concealing
The part of me that tears at my chest
Seeking to escape that mess of emotions
Hidden behind my breasts
Like an alien resurrected…

Just call me Ripley
Cuz my experiences have impregnated my soul
With a cold dose of reality
And in return I’ve given birth to a monster.

And
Her
Name
Is

Ebony
Muthafuckin’
Farashuu

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

WOW. I am completely and utterly overwhelmed at the HUNDREDS of Birthday Wishes I have received over the past two days. I hate to sound cliché but words can’t express how thankful and truly blessed I feel right now.

My Birthday dinner with my closest friends was awesome and my actual birthday was filled with the calm I’ve been craving for a very long time. It was, after 38 years, finally MY time to actually just be…ME. Who I really am and not what everyone else expects or desires me to be.

There was a time when I truly thought I would never see 38. There was a time when I actually thought about taking myself from a world that, for me, was filled with what I thought was just way too much to handle. I’m so thankful for the presence of God, Family, and True Friends. I can’t stop crying because I truly believe that year 38 is going to shape and define me into the woman that I’m meant to be and I can’t wait to see what life has in store!

I’ve been through a lot. I’ve lost a lot. I’ve hurt a lot. But each experience that may have felt like at set-back at that time…only served to teach me a lesson, make me stronger, and show me how to pick myself up, dust myself off, and just keep being the best person I can be.

In being my best, I have gained friends that really and truly love me and I love them back with the same passion. I have removed those people from my life that poisoned my spirit and replaced them with people who really know what it means to give and receive love. A wise person once said that “If you can’t change the people around you…CHANGE the people around you!”

I hereby designate year 38 as my season of change and I can’t wait to finally start living MY life.

Love and Tears

I cried this morning. It wasn’t a “boo hoo” type of cry or a snot inducing choke on your words type of cry. It was the type of cry that causes you to just stop and quietly reflect on your life as silent tears gather in your eyes but somehow, refuse to fall.

On Friday, September 10, 1993, I lost one of the best friends and brothers a person could ever pray for. Leonard Dale Hancock, Jr. died from a gunshot wound, a victim of the senseless violence that plagues our community today. The summer of 1993 was an especially painful summer as murder after murder took over the front pages and airways in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Most of those murders, including the murder of my brother, remain unsolved.

It’s an eerie feeling to wake up and realize you haven’t heard a loved ones voice in seventeen years. I can still vividly recall the last time I saw him. How I’d visited him at his grandmother’s house and sprawled across his bed as we talked and laughed about the things that were going on in our lives. Five days after that visit…he was gone.

My brother and I had, only a few months earlier, reconciled after a falling out over, of all things, a gold chain. That dispute lasted several months until one day, I walked outside and he was standing on the front lawn. Without prompting word we just walked into each other’s arms and said “I love you”. From that day forward we were tight again as if our pitiful little falling out had never happened.

I often thank God that we were able to open our hearts and allow our love for one another to overcome what would have been a horrible reason to lose one another. He left this Earth knowing that I loved him and I’ll leave this Earth knowing that he truly loved me.

I encourage anyone reading this to allow their hearts to lead them as they deal with friends and loved ones. If you love someone…TELL THEM. It doesn’t matter who says it first. It doesn’t matter if they say it back. What matters is that YOU were true to your heart when you dealt with that person. Don’t allow the sun to set on your life without telling someone how you felt about them.

I can tell you that there is nothing worse than NOT knowing where you stand with a loved one. Each interaction you have with a person could very well be your last. What will be the last thing you ever said to your child, your husband, your wife, you siblings, your significant other, your friend?

I often feel guilty when I chastise my kids and then let them leave the house without telling them what they mean to me. It scares me to think that “a good what for” could possibly be my final interaction with my children so I try to be extremely mindful of what I say before they leave my sight.

The word LOVE is so easy to say and yet withheld from too many vocabularies. It’s also a word that is overused in other vocabularies when the actions of the speaker scream otherwise. Love should never be taken for granted.

If you truly love someone...Say it, and show it before the opportunity passes you by.

BEAUTIFUL QUOTE

Every now and then you run across a quote that describes your feelings in one word, one line, one sentence, or paragraph! This is such a quote! On Facebook, there is an application called "Message From God" Every day my message is ON POINT! Today was no exception!

"God wants you to know that the way you know you have found the right one is the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with the person. Having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them...keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away. - a quote by Dinah CraikSee More"

Melancholy and Tired of The Violence

Today my mood is somber as I reflect on the many murders and attempted homicides the North Tulsa community has seen over the past few months.

Wrong place wrong time
Somebody dropped a dime
And retaliation
Caused aggravation to mentalities that weren’t right to begin with.
Someone made a conscious decision to pull a trigger
Maybe they figure the gun will never point in their direction?

The circle of violence must end!



Untitled
By Ebony Farashuu
08/05/10


They want us to kill ourselves
Fill those cells
Run and tell that
Ratta tat tat
Curiosity killed the cat
While a list of so-called rats
Spreads like poison through the community.

Do you see what I see?

Another Hearse
Another bible verse
Spoken over one man
Killed by another man
While the other man
Smiles and says
“Well done, son.”

Run, Nigga, run

The threads of our fabric are becoming undone

Unraveled
as somebody’s somebody lays face down on the gravel

While a Judge’s gavel echoes through the hood…

Transparent: The Naked Truth About Kendal S.Turner

Transparent: The Naked Truth About Kendal S.Turner

EMOTIONAL WASTELAND? This too shall pass...

Every now and then thoughts spill onto paper so fast that poetry has no rhyme, reason, or specific pattern. Poetry, like emotions can be running all over the place and yet be standing still at the same time. Whenever I have thoughts that can't be verbalized, I write them down, exactly as I feel them at that particular time. Sometimes it appears to makes sense to only me...but that is the beautiful thing about poetry...when you write from the heart...anyone in the same frame of mind will understand.

Sometimes you have to step back, evaluate every relationship you've ever been in, and then put into yourself everything that you put into another person. There is nothing wrong with expecting someone to love you the RIGHT way. If you truly LOVE yourself...and if someone can't love you with the same fervor in which you love yourself...The same fervor with which you love THEM? Why bother? Let them go and hold out for a love that deserves YOU.



Wasteland
By Ebony Farashuu
07/07/10

My body feels empty
Tears echo as they fall
Drip
Drip
Drip
Tiny droplets causing ripples that will forever change the ocean of my life.
The strife that dwells within me is constantly struggling with the logic of my mind
My heart is blind to the truth
Uncouth in its wicked deception
There is no contraception
That protects from unwanted despondency
My soul has been impregnated.
Damn I hate it when
My tough girl has fallen and I can’t pick her up.

My stagnant thoughts long to make my shell tougher
Exercise my ventricular muscles so my heart will be buffer
Pull myself out of this emotional mud when I’m stuck…
Fool myself into believing I just don’t give a fuck.

Men claim they want me
But I can’t trust a try
Cuz there’s still no one here to hold me when I cry…
And I
Just
Want the world to stop.

Pause for a moment
Let me catch the breath that keeps escaping
I’m scratching and scraping at my throat
Struggling for air
I’m choking on love that was never even there...

He said, he said, he said
They said
They lied
Sentiments were implied
I tried to separate fact from fiction
But mind fucking friction
Caused their words to converge upon my mind
Forming a topiary garden of pretty little lies

I could have handled the truth.

UNFORGIVING

The Unforgiving Heart

Miriam Webster defines Mercy as compassion or forbearance shown especially to an offender or to one subject to one's power. Forgiveness is defined as the ACT of forgiving; to cease to feel resentment against an offender.
In my life, I’ve become so good at mercy that I totally suck at forgiveness. I’ve shown so much compassion, understanding, and leniency towards those who have hurt me…by the time I reach my limit, forgiveness is almost an unreachable goal. I’m working on it.

My normal process in dealing with people who have hurt me too many times is to completely delete them from my life. I delete your number from my cell phone. I break all online community ties and as a result, you cease to exist in my world. It’s not that I’m purposely trying to be mean, but once I’ve a decided a person has no purpose or meaning in my life…I see no point in allowing them to remain in my mental presence.

It’s not that I purposely ignore the people I have cut out of my life. I just can’t see them. They are no longer on my radar and if I happen to walk past someone without speaking it’s really not because I’m being a bitch…I truly can’t see someone once they cease to exist to me. Seeing that person is equivalent to seeing a stranger in the street and I either, nod my head and keep moving, or I just don’t speak at all.

I mean really…if we have no children together, don’t run a business together, or work together…why should I have any contact with you? That would just be ME allowing mercy to sneak up and bite me in the ass again right?

To date, there have only been a few people able to make it back into my good graces and it was because THEY pursued it…not me. It’s funny, because even the role those few individuals play in my life is a far lesser role than they held before they hurt me.

Self Preservation Rule #1: Never allow the same person to hurt you again.

I’ve learned that it is impossible for me to go into a relationship with an open heart and all defenses down. The last time I did that I was hurt so badly that my walls needed walls to keep the offender away.

This is a sad state of mind and I’m truly working on it…but until I can get a handle on it….my heart and my trust are on permanent lockdown.

I was once told that I should be able to just forgive and let it go instantly because that is what God has done for me. My honest answer is that I’m HUMAN, not God and things like that are a tad bit harder for me to achieve. Thank goodness my God also forgives me for this character flaw because without his mercy, I would have long ago ceased to exist in HIS eyes.

Have I just taught myself a lesson? Yes. I hear it. I understand it. Yet find it hard to receive…. Maybe tomorrow.

Where in the World Is D'Angelo?

Where in the world is D’Angelo?

No, really. I want to know. After watching the “Untitled (How Does It Feel) video for the seventeenth time in a row, I think its only fitting that I find out what happened to the man who caused me to lose my composure on multiple occasions by simply standing there…naked…with sweat dripping all over his body…

I’m sorry, what was I saying?

My pinky finger still smarts where I accidentally bit down on it as D’Angelo licked his lips for the fourth time. My eyes are watery because, for fear of missing something, I didn’t blink for the entire four minutes and twenty-eight seconds he was on the screen.

All kidding aside…actually, I’m not kidding, but I feel I should probably move on to the meat of my story before I get too distracted by the side dishes…

What happened to good music? What happened to FEELING a song instead of just singing it? What happened to songs that make you close your eyes and reminisce each and every time you hear them. Songs that, years later, you are amazed because you still know all of the lyrics?

Lyrics. What happened to lyrics that made you shiver while still leaving something to the imagination? Now, singers are licking you and sticking you, and making sure the neighbors know their name without even attempting to romance you out of your panties. Nothing is sacred. Instead of making love to your ears, they are just screaming about SEX. Excuse me, but when did SEX become a romantic word? Okay, unless you are talking about ‘Sex Therapy’ and in that instance, my man Robin Thicke gets a pass. Hell, he gets five passes and get out of jail free card, but I digress.

I don’t think I’m asking too much by requesting REAL MUSIC make a comeback. I don’t think I’m out of line by requesting lyrics be the forefront of a love song instead of just a banging beat and a hip-hop collaboration at the bridge.

D’Angelo… I humbly request your presence. You once asked your audience, “How does it feel?” Well, I’m here to tell you that, musically, things aren’t feeling too swift right now.

My name is Ebony Farashuu and these have been the random thoughts of a black butterfly.

FULL CIRCLE

FULL CIRCLE

In their minds, I have failed them. Taken them from the only stable home they have ever known and thrust them into an environment where they feel alienated from the world as they know it. I excluded them from the process of moving, instead, sending them to their father as I dealt with all of the emotions and self loathing associated with emptying out the home I made for my family. I didn’t want them to see the furniture being carried out piece by piece. I didn’t want them to have to stand in the middle of their empty bedrooms and cry the way I cried when I realized that my children would never set foot in them again. I didn’t want them to see that the bench we loved to sit on was now gone from the front porch, the hummingbird feeder hanging as a sad reminder that we would no longer be able to attempt to sit completely still as our little friends fed right before our eyes before disappearing in a flurried flash.

I wanted to spare them. I should have prepared them.

I should have allowed them an opportunity to say goodbye to their home. I should have given them a chance to cry. I shouldn’t have opened the door to that apartment and prayed that they wouldn’t hate it, which they did, by the way.
Who can blame them? They have never had to worry about anything and yet I expect them to understand my struggle? I expect them to just accept the fact that they are leaving a 2,000 sq ft home for an 1100 sq ft apartment in a completely different school district? I can barely accept that and I’m thirty-seven years old!

I can’t bring myself to put the key to the apartment on my key chain yet. I can’t even wrap my head around calling it home. Last night, as I was leaving work, I made a wrong turn…heading towards the house instead of the apartment on the other side of town.

It doesn’t help that my laptop was stolen as I was moving things into the apartment on the FIRST DAY! My children feel like I’ve moved them into a ghetto. They aren’t used to having to lock the door between each trip to the car as you bring in groceries. I realize the world I raised them in wasn’t the real world according to their current reality. It is indeed, a culture shock.

They don’t remember the crappy apartment we lived in when they were babies. Even then, I made it a place that felt great to come home to. They only, truly remember the two houses they were raised in, the last being the place I thought I’d grow old in. I thought I’d sit on my bench, on the porch and read Shel Silverstein poetry to my grandchildren the same way I’d done with my son and daughter.

It’s a period of adjustment for all of us. However, I want my children to understand how fortunate they are. Yes, mama lost the house, but we aren’t living with family, we aren’t living in a shelter, we aren’t going without food, shelter, or love. We’re just going without the things WE considered necessities. Things like, internet access, cable, cabinet space, and room to get away from the family that we need to be clinging to right now.

Now is the time for us to truly become a family unit that spends more quality time together as opposed to all being in separate rooms doing separate things and watching separate televisions. Now is the time to say, ‘HEY, no televisions in the bedrooms, not even mine. No eating in the living room. Lets all eat at the table together while music plays instead of NBC, ABC, and CBS being our mealtime entertainment. Let’s just be…together…making lemonade out of the lemons being pelted at us right now.’ Let’s be happy and continue to praise GOD through it all. We can handle this. As long as we believe, when we look back on this time, we will see one set of footprints in the sand instead of four…He carries us, even when we feel abandoned.

This morning, as I drove to work, I thought about the irony of my situation. At the age of nineteen, I moved into the very apartment complex that I have now left my house for. This was my first venture out on my own and as a nineteen year old, I saw that my entire life was spread in front of me just waiting to happen. God has brought me back to the beginning. He has brought me full circle. He is giving me a do-over and this time, I get to show my children how to receive the blessings that are waiting for them if they just smile and see the joy our situation.

My name is Ebony Farashuu and these have been the Random Thoughts of a Black Butterfly…

I DON'T WANT ANY MORE!

There are a wide range of emotions that one goes through when dealing with a break up. The hows and whys come into play. Despair, Anger, Hopelessness, are all feelings that take over sometimes before you can find peace. During the past week I have gone through so many emotions that today...I just feel like I have to share. No matter what we go through, there is someone out there who needs to know they are not alone. I know that I will NEVER go backwards because all i have to do is remember the words he said to me and the way he looked at me the last time we were together. My mind knows that I deserve much better, I'm just waiting on my heart to get with the program. I wear my heart on my pen and when I feel my emotions taking over, I write them down, get them out, and pray that my experiences will help someone else...surely I don't go through this without some ultimate purpose in the end. Below you will find the poetry i have written over the past week as i deal with my emotions...




The Broken Circle: Reflection, Recollection, Recognition
5/31/10

Broken #1
Lock my mind

Make the past fade to black…

Fate snacks on my heart and eats my soul for dinner
Drinks of my love and bathes in a river of my tears
My fears are but an appetizer for the one who terrorizes feeds upon my anguish
As I languish in a bed of salt...

Burning my wounds…
Cauterizing them with self-doubt…
What is it about me that caused this?

I wish I could rewind my life and pause this
Scene that keeps replaying in my head…

I’ve looked at it from every angle
There’s no clarity
Instead…

I see one who controls and one who refuses to be controlled
No longer able to deny the truth
My heart cannot be consoled


Broken #2

My body is a temple
I allowed him to worship
The courtship was fast
The emotions ran deep
His standards were too steep
And yet I climbed until my fingers were bloodied

Put band-aids on my boo boos and ignored the pain
Because the incidents were few and far between
Verbally cut, my ears ooze from the infection
The inflection in his voice let me know that I was nothing unless I pleased him…

The affection he caressed me with let me know it was alright to tease him…
But the moment I voiced an opinion or thought that didn’t appease him
Led to the verbal bullets that eventually caused me to release him…


Broken #3

Peace, be still
The truth is a bitter pill
Best swallowed with wine
Today I dine alone with my sorrow
Knowing tomorrow brings a new day with new possibilities.

An epiphany as I write off the top of my head
Instead of curling up in my bed
And placing myself in a fetal position…

The God in me won’t make the admission that my life is over
For each death, be it physically, mentally, or spiritually
Only makes room for the Birth of a new me…

The tomb of my heart will one day open
And my love will be resurrected…
Directed towards one who can handle what I have to give
Without verbal crucifixion
That affliction has nothing to do with me…



Still Can’t Sleep
6/1/10

Sleep escapes me
My mind debates the
Reasons…
All things have a season
And my spring became winter too soon after the fall.


UNTAMED6/3/10

Untamed
I can’t be blamed
For the words that are coming outta my mouth…
Love life went South
Broken hearted
Dearly departed
Never finished what we started
For a reason…

He marinated my love in his juices
Seasoned my mind with his special blend
Until the bitter taste caused an end
To the tumultuous dish called “we”

Tip-toed around it
My high was grounded
Buzz killed
Instead filled
My papers
With that spiritual “ooh wee”
Took a toke and said
“I’m just gon do me”

Cuz my tongue can’t be tamed
And I can’t be blamed
For the words that are comin’ outta my mouth…


Love Is…
6/4/10


Love is a vacuum that sucks your soul
Takes something whole
And shatters it with a sledge hammer.

Love breaks your heart.

Love fills your mind
With the illusion of forever
And yet the final conclusion is that
Love makes you believe in love
And then convinces you that love doesn’t exist.

Love tears you apart.

I need a midol
Cuz love is cramping my style

Walked into it with the giddiness of a child
But ran out of it like a war ravaged vet
With
Post traumatic stress
My mind is under duress
I’m tired…

Love is exhausting
Haunting you in your dreams
And taunting you in your awakened state.
Love takes everything and gives nothing in return
I’ve grown so weary of the burn…

Love cremates your trust
places it in an urn
and asks you to snort the dust.

love is cocaine…
and I’m checking into rehab…

Love is unapologetic
It’s a genetic defect
That infects us when our immunity is low
And our tolerance for pain is high

I
Don’t
Want
No
More.

Love is something I’ve grown to hate.

Poetry as seen through the eye of a storm

Poetry as seen through the eye of a storm

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Day 44...Deep in The Jungle of Life

I feel like Faye Raye, waiting alone in the jungle, tied between two pillars, waiting for the indefinite future that has fallen upon her. She doesn’t know what’s coming…but she knows that she should be afraid…and she’s terrified. When King Kong bursts through the trees and in one violent sweep, grabs her, squeezing her tiny body inside of his large hand…she’s basically helpless as he runs through the jungle, carrying her deeper into the unknown.

For me, depression is kinda like that. It snatches me up and carries me to foreign places within my own mind.

After my suicide attempt in 2009, I was successful at medicating it away to the point that I almost had no emotion at all. There were times when I felt like I should be sad…but couldn’t cry. I could only shrug my shoulders and say, “Well, it is what it is.”

There were only three people in my world; myself, my daughter, and my son.
Unless it directly affected us, there was no point in me getting emotional over it.

There were times when I felt as if I should be overjoyed but my mood was calm to the point of indifference.

There were times that I was so angry, that not even the antidepressant could even out my mood. These were the only times that I allowed myself to cry. Anger was the only emotion that could trigger those hot tears that unwittingly cascaded down my cheeks when I was so upset that I couldn’t control myself.

And then, there were the times when I felt like I couldn’t go the grocery store without my heels on. This was the time when I decided it was all about me and I didn’t give a damn if someone got their feelings hurt. It was then that I reverted into my alter ego, Ebony Farashuu. The beautiful one….the untouchable one…the bitch.

It’s funny how much more attention and respect I was able to get as a pure bitch, than I was ever able to get as the nice girl that my mama raised me to be.

One day, a few months ago, I found myself watching “A Baby Story.” If you’re not familiar with this show…it follows a woman from pregnancy, to the delivery room, to the first few months of having her baby in her life.

This is a show that I used to boo-hoo cry over every single time I watched it. I’m a very emotional person. I used to cry watching touching commercials on TV. There wasn’t a single episode of “Cold Case” that hadn’t made me cry so when I realized I had actually sat through an entire episode of “A Baby Story” without shedding one tear….I knew in my heart that there was something profoundly wrong with me.

That is when I stopped my antidepressant. Things were good for a while. I cried a little. I broke up with a boyfriend who didn’t deserve me. I cried a little more, and just when I felt that the depression might be coming back…I fell in love.

Love cures everything, right?

At first it was all laughter and kisses, but when reality set in, and the devil started working on us…there were tears, and sleepless nights, and frustrations…and I didn’t have that little pill to fall back on. What I had were the horrible side effects of stopping the pills so abruptly coupled with the strains of a relationship where two people are trying to do right together when what they really need to do is separate and do right alone for a minute.

We got out of the relationship and got into our bibles. It was the best decision we could have made because once we realized what our main focus should be, we were able to handle being a couple again with realistic goals and restrictions according to God.

When God comes into your life, the devil works much harder to break you down. It’s a game to him and we are just the pawns that he likes to move around this chess board we call life.

I’m losing my home. I’m short on money. My health has been failing me. My blood pressure, at times, has been at STROKE levels. My children aren’t listening to me. They would rather be with their father where it’s always fun and there is plenty of money for activities. I’m just the mean one who never has any money, yet spends what she doesn’t have to try and keep them happy.

I sound like a victim, don’t I?

I feel like one too.

My entire world is falling on top of me and I feel like there is nothing I can do to dig myself out of the rubble.

I’m tired.

Sometimes I just want to give up, give my children to their father, and run away.

God told me that wasn’t an option so I keep doing what I’ve been doing. Working, tithing, loving my kids, giving to others, paying what bills I can pay, trying to ignore the ones I just can’t, avoiding calls from not only MY bill collectors, but those of my Ex-husband who hold me responsible for his debt.

That’s when I find myself saying, “It’s not fair”. That’s when I find myself asking, “Why ME?”

And then God asks me, “If not YOU, then WHOM? Whom would you have all of this pain and suffering given to? Whom would you choose to take your place?”

And the answer is, I wouldn’t wish this on anyone else…but when we look up at the sky and say “Why Me, Lord?” That is exactly what we are doing…wishing our problems on someone else.

It’s odd how we come to realizations about things happening in our lives. I recently received a call from my friend, Hope. Ironic that a woman named Hope would call me out of the blue to discuss my life with me but she did. Hope told me that I needed to let my house go and make a fresh start, to stop letting my pride get in the way. She told me that sometimes, when God feels like we have too much of a burden on us, he pushes the things that block our spiritual blessings out of the way. As Hope was speaking to me, and encouraging me to find a new beginning, a strange man walked onto my porch and handed me a stack of papers. I disconnected my call with Hope and looked at this strange man telling that I was being served and it wasn’t B2K style.

He was serving me with foreclosure papers. And as he watched me trying to wrap my head around losing my home, he asked me if I knew the Lord. I told him yes.

He looked at me then and asked, “Do you know ABOUT the Lord, or do you KNOW him?”

I said, “I know him. I know that things will be okay, but this is a sad situation for me.”

He then asked if he could pray for me. The man serving me with papers that my home was being taken away, wanted to pray for me. He held my hands in his and prayed intently and I could feel tears just running down my face. Afterwards, I hugged him, genuinely for he had prayed for me genuinely and I knew that this man and Hope were God’s messengers. Does it make what I’m going through any easier? No, but it does give me hope that things will one day work out in my favor without the pain of loss being involved.

I have to start over. I have no choice and I think it’s harder to deal with when the CHOICE has been taken away from you. I went and found an apartment and I’ve tried to paint a wonderful picture for my children, and I’ve tried to keep up a happy front, but all of the effort I’m putting into being happy is ultimately causing me to break down into spontaneous tears that flow whenever they want to.

And so today, I’m standing between two pillars and my hands are tied. I feel helpless, and I’m afraid of the known as well as the unknowns.

Depression is coming to get me and I can’t allow myself to be folded up in its hands like Faye Raye.

But I refuse to be medicated. I refuse to believe that I’m going through this for nothing and I refuse to keep being afraid.

The Lord is my light and my salvation. Whom shall I fear? (Psalm 27:1)

Whom or what shall I fear?

Day 30...Untitled

My heart Is breaking
Like a wine glass falling from the table
I was unable to catch It In time.

I guess I moved too slow.

How could I know
That the words of love he whispered In my ear as I slept...
Words that subliminally crept
Into my psyche
Were only going to psych me
When he walked away?

I should have seen It coming...
shouldn't I?

Surely I could feel the earth crumbling beneath my feet as he kissed me...
couldn't I?

I guess I mistook It for the tumbling one feels deep Inside when love Is real...
didn't I?

This Is It
and I....

Still feel the pain of reverse psychology.

He loved me but...

I wasn't good enough.
I wasn't holy enough.
I hadn't evolved enough.
Causing his walk to become unsteady.

When the truth of the matter Is...
He just wasn't ready.

Day 28...What's My Name? Take 2

I was raped.

I don't remember most of it but I do remember saying "No".
No means No, right? I mean, it's supposed to meant stop, cease, get away from me, leave me alone. Maybe it means something different when you've been drinking.

I was eighteen and I was so drunk and sick that there is probably still a vomit stain on my friend's carpet. I was so sick that night. It's hard to look attractive or be remotely flirty when you're lying in a pool of vomit. I'm not joking. I was literally lying in a pool of vomit with more vomit oozing out of my mouth as I lay there.

I'm sorry if my words aren't as pretty as they usually are but there are some things that just can't be said poetically. He walked into the room, took one look at an eighteen year old girl with vomit on her face and made a conscious decision to have sex with her that night. He made a decision to have sex with me. And because I was drunk, no meant yes.

Who was going to believe me? My parents were sympathetic but didn't know what to do. I'd already been hung up on by a call rape counselor who had probably spoken to so many rape victims that she forgot the most common courtesies afforded to most women in peril. She spoke to me on a speaker phone and the sounds in the background told me that the call had been forwarded to her home. There were sounds of children running and playing in the background as she walked around her kitchen banging dishes and running water. In between her household activities, she told me what would happen if I reported the 'incident'.

She explained the rape kit and that I would have to turn in the clothing I was wearing and how I would be heavily questioned and probably unable to answer any of the questions because I didn't remember anything about the 'incident' but the fact that I'd said no. How forceful was the no? Did i say it repeatedly? Did I fight? Is there a possibility that I eventually said yes?

I was silent for a while, crying on the phone. The call rape counselor, discouraged by my lack of words, hung up her speakerphone. I, discouraged by her many words, decided that maybe I wasn't really raped. Maybe the 'incident' was my fault.

I stopped talking about it and on the advice of people close to me, I decided to just chalk it up to one of those things that happened when I was drunk and be more careful next time. In other words, there was nothing anyone could do about it so the best thing to do was just forget it ever happened.

It's been almost twenty years and I still take three showers per day. Sometimes, I can still hear his voice and I have to squeeze my eyes a little tighter and scrub a little harder.

I'm not afraid of men, but I can definitely see how Ebony Nash, and then Ebony Taylor, allowed men to make her feel as is she didn't deserve to be treated as well as she treated them. I can see how foreceful and carefree and borderline mean I became when I allowed my alter ego, Ebony Farashuu, to take over.

I'm Ebony "MF'n" Farashuu. No one takes anything from me. I can replace any man who hurts my feelings or makes me mad...most of the time, within minutes. All it takes is a phone call.

For a little while,Ebony Farashuu ruled my world. She took no prisoners and she used what she had to get what she wanted and she usually got it. No one could TAKE from her and she gave only when she felt like it.

Ebony Farashuu is fun. She's flirty, she's pretty, she's talented, she's the one that the men chase because there is something about her that makes them wonder... what would it be like?
What would it be like to kiss her? What would it be like to touch her? What would it feel like to have her whisper poetry in your ear?

No one wonders about Ebony Nash. No one gives her a second glance because she's too busy taking three showers a day and hiding behind Ebony Farashuu.

And then I had to remember that there WAS someone who loved Ebony Nash. There was someone who never judged her or expected more from her than she was willing to give. I had to remember that on those cold nights when I took off my Farashuu and snuggled alone with my Nash, there was ALWAYS someone there with me as I cried myself to sleep at night.

God loved me no matter who I tried to be. And on another lonely, stress filled night, as I was about to let Ebony Farashuu express her frustrations....God intervened.

He sent an angel in human form and the first time my lips touched his, I knew that I was not only spiritually loved, I was physically loved. I could reach out and touch this love,I could see it in his eyes, I could see it in his actions, I could hear it in his words. He loved me. Not for who I pretended to be, but merely for who I was.

And suddenly...there are days when I only take one shower.

I'm Ebony Nash.

Day 18...Letting My Pen Cry

Soul Ties

by

Ebony Farashuu

Consumed by
Thoughts of
What could have been
Should have been
Would
Have
Been…

Sure would feel good to sin
With you right now.

I’m being honest
To lie serves no purpose
God knows my heart
And in knowing
The truth is abundantly clear…

I let him go with no fear
But each tear
Reminds me that I’m physically alone.

And as strong as I wanna be
I can’t pretend to condone the breaking of my heart.

He was a part of me…

I feel his pain
Like

A phantom appendage
Long ago amputated.

My bravado has mutated
Into momentary weakness.

I keep telling myself that I’m human

That
It’s okay to cry…

That
As time goes by
This will get easier…

I trust God to see me through
So why do I still want to boo hoo
When he crosses my mind?

Why is it so hard to be strong
One hundred percent of the time?

Why is this one percent
So much stronger than the other ninety-nine?

Sometimes I wish he would harden my heart
And loosen this constrictive twine

That ties our souls…

copyright 4/8/10

Ebony Farashuu

Day 17...DIVA INTERRUPTED

I slid out of my car and instead of replacing my driving shoes with my high heels; I decided to just walk up to the security door with my flip flops on. Yall should have seen me… I had my strut in full affect…well, as much as you CAN possibly strut in flats. As I walked, I was singing one of my favorite Bill Withers’ tunes, Lovely Day.
I guess the fact that I had even attempted my diva walk in pink and black Adidas flip-flops should have been my first clue that I was about to have a “Diva-Interrupted” moment.

SIGH

I flashed my badge in front of the door, and it opened as usual.

Before I go any further…let me explain how security works at my job. You swipe your badge and then a door slides open, allowing you to step into a circular security area. We call it a circle lock because for a few seconds, you are literally locked inside of this area while the floor beneath your feet weighs you and decides if you are who you say you are. Basically, the security system takes your weight form the past ten or so days and averages it out. If you weigh too much or to little, you are not allowed inside of the building without the assistance of a security guard.

Can you see where I’m going with this?

THE DAMN SCREEN SAID INVALID WEIGHT and then rejected me!

For a moment I tried to pretend like it didn’t happen, but after the third try, I figured I might want to ask for assistance before I caused any further embarrassment to myself.

DIVA-INTERRUPTED!

I attempted to tell myself that it was just my emotional and spiritual weight weighing me down….but deep down; I have to live with the fact that I’ve gained a wee bit of physical weight.

Yeah. It’s one of those DAMMIT moments.

Well Lord, you’re just NOT gonna melt the pounds off for me, huh? Guess I gotta actually stick to my diet and quit playing around.

I have to remind myself that the Lord answers even the SILLIEST of prayers. Like my prayer to magically get skinnier. He answered by putting “invalid weight” in that security door, reminding me that he doesn’t really help those who won’t help themselves. Good one, God. Ha ha.

Because of my recent high blood pressure scare (185/105) I have been told that strenuous exercise is a no-no for a little while. I no longer have the excuse of eating something and then working out. I’ve got to eat right at all times and walk at a slow pace until I’m cleared to go back to the gym.

Guess this means I won’t be getting that Burrito for lunch after all.

Day 16...Losing "Weight"

Recently I shed some of my spiritual weight and in doing so; I gained a feeling of stability that I’ve never before experienced.

I Samuel 15:22 states:

“Has the LORD as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the LORD? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, And to heed than the fat of rams.”

So although the LORD does delight in our “sacrifices”, be it in the form of time spent sitting in a church pew, time spent in the community, tithes, etc… what he really wants is our OBEDIENCE.

If you read my previous Blog, you know that I had to let go of a relationship that meant the world to me. I am sad, of course, and I miss him, but I don’t feel the normal devastation that I usually experience after a break-up. Instead, I feel as if I’ve finally released some of my spiritual weight.

You see, I’ve never had a problem obeying the Lord as long as what he required of me fit into MY game plan.

The Lord said Love Andru, and I did. The Lord said, cherish Andru, and I did. The Lord said, help Andru, and I did. The Lord said, do not fornicate with Andru, and I said, “Beg your pardon?”

I realize now that I spent a lot of time picking and choosing which commandments to obey. When my children disobey me I punish them. It doesn’t mean that I don’t love them, it doesn’t mean that I don’t care, but I am the LAW in my house and my kids can either get with the program, or they can lose what they cherish most.

If it is so easy for us to lay down the law in our own homes…why is it so hard for us to OBEY the law that the ultimate Daddy has set before us?

Pastor Kimberly told me that the hardest relationship to be in is a Christian relationship. Why? Because the world will always be there to tempt us to do things that are reserved for married couples.

We agreed to remain celibate until marriage. That didn’t last long, but we still felt convicted enough to feel guilty about it and try again to resist temptation. Eventually, the convition and guilt fade away as we become comfortable in our sins. God didn't want that to happen to me.

Funny thing about God. Like any good parent, He loves us through our disobedience, but he’s not going to reward rebellious behavior. I wish my daughter WOULD blatantly disobey me and then turn around and ask me for five dollars.

Guess what. We play God like this every single day.

We sin against him and then expect him to bless us because we paid our tithes or because we haven’t missed a Sunday service in five years…guess what? You can go to Church every single Sunday and tithe 100% of your paycheck and God will look at you and ask, “What is this? A down payment on your sin? Do you think that you can do whatever you want as long as you give me a little time and some money?”

Almost sounds like we’re trying to PIMP God.

I tried to play God. I tried to pretend that as long as I asked for forgiveness everything was fine.

I can remember asking my ex-husband once, “Aren’t you sick of telling me that you’re sorry? Why can’t you just do right by me?”

Ironic isn’t it? We ask mere humans to give us the same level of respect that God expects of us…and yet we refuse to give it to him.

GOD loves me but I could only ignore him so many times before he decided to take away what I cherished. I’m not mad at him. I would have done the same thing to my own child. In fact, I have.

I cried off and on for two days but God has other plans for me. He told me that I can’t have a relationship with ANYONE until I establish a relationship with HIM.

Yesterday I woke up and went to Andru's Facebook page so that I could just look at his picture …only to find that his page was gone. After crying all night, I started crying all over again. Instinctively, I clicked on a Facebook application called “Message From God.”

The message said: “On this day God wants you to know that all is well. All is going according to plan. Trust that there is a bigger picture. Trust that life is unfolding as it should.”

So, I dried my tears and asked myself this question: "What good is obeying God if I don’t trust him enough to take care of me?" God knows what is best for me and it’s time for me to follow HIS lead.

I’m choosing obedience. What are you choosing?

Day 14...I'd Do It All Again

I'd do it all again. Knowing the pain I feel I feel at this moment, understanding the lonely nights that await me, feeling the salty tears of my sorrow cascading down my cheeks and landing in a pool at my feet, I'd do it all again.

I thank God for him.

I thank God for allowing me to experience a love that, until now, I'd only read about in books. I thank God for reminding me that each moment should be cherished as if it were the last moment. I thank God for whispering that each last moment is actually the first moment of the rest of my life.

This is one such moment. The moment of clarity through blurry vision. As I wipe away the first of many tears I will shed within the next few days, I can't help smiling as his face appears in my mind.

I love him. I mean, I LOVE him. I sometimes sit and try thinking of different adjectives to describe my feelings for him because surely LOVE is not an adequate definition of the emotion I feel whenever he walks into a room...whenever he looks at me...whenever he smiles at me...whenever he touches me...

And he loves me the same. He loves me hard and with no apologies. He loves ME.
So why am I crying? Because sometimes love is simply the art of knowing when to let go. Love isn't selfish or possessive. Love isn't a shackle that connects a man and woman together for eternity with the heaviness of a ball and chain.

The bible says that love is patient. Love is kind. Love is forever transforming as we grow into the men and women that God meant us to be.

Love is a journey that sometimes, must be taken alone with no one but the Lord to keep you company.

Love is God. God is Love.

Andru was my love, presented to me by God, wrapped in the goodness of his heart and placed in my hands for safekeeping. But sometimes we can hold on too tight. We can surround a person so completely that they can't see past the wall of contentment they feel when in your presence.
Sometimes love is an obstacle.

I don't want to be an obstacle for him and he doesn’t want to be an obstacle to me but we keep holding on because our hearts can’t bear a moment without each other. We want to be bigger than this. We want to be better than this. But maybe our love IS selfish.

Today, as I sat in Church, listening to testimonies, God spoke to me. It wasn’t subtle and it was much louder than the usual whisper. God told me that if I didn’t remove myself from Andru’s life, he was going to do it for me. See, God had been telling us to let go for weeks and yet, I kept holding on...telling myself that I couldn’t really hear the whispers...so he yelled at me.

Let go!

It wasn’t easy, but we did.

How do you explain to friends and family that you broke up because you loved one another enough to let go and let God? Not many people will understand why we chose this direction and I’ve decided that it doesn’t matter. God knows. And if it was truly meant to be, he will give us back to one another one day. But for now...we both have a path that we need to follow and we need to focus our full attention on God.

Day 10...What's My Motivation?

I have high blood pressure. When I don’t take my medication, my blood pressure shoots sky high! Yesterday, my readings were about 164/105. Not good, considering I am only 37 years old. I say this to point out the fact that I’ve been lax with my medication and with my workout the past few days. I see now that, although I SHOULD be able to do this alone, I need to be honest with myself and admit that I just can’t. Not right now.

It’s a big step, admitting that I need help. I spent so many years dependent on someone else that I wanted to prove to myself and others that I don’t need anyone…but I do. Sometimes we just have to stop and ask for help.

Unlike most men I know, if I’m lost on the highway, I’m going to pull over and ask for directions. Why not have those same philosophies in life? Too many of us are lost in our lives and are too stubborn or proud to ask for directions.

My bible has been my road map, but lately, I have not been carrying it everywhere I go like I’ve been doing the past few weeks. Today, I realized that I have not brought my bible to work with me in over a week. I’m lost. I need to have my Bible with me at all times because when I feel like I need direction, I can always open my bible and find just the right motivation.

Philippians 4:13 is my favorite scripture. It says, “I can do ALL things through CHRIST who strengthens me.”

I’ve been relying too much on myself lately and not letting God take over the things I can’t handle. He IS the light and as much as he seems to be working through me lately, he also wants me to recognize when he places help in my path.

Like, the money I had set aside for that weave…

(sigh)

Yesterday I went to Body Fulfillment on 51st and Memorial for a free consultation with a personal trainer. Honestly, I just wanted to get my free consultation, find out my measurements, and go on my merry, broke, little way.

That all changed the moment Tara McGowan walked through the door. She was so nice to me and she was genuinely supportive as she took me through the many tests and measurements as she assessed my physical fitness. There was absolutely NO pressure and I felt so comfortable with her leading me that I took that weave money and decided to go with six personal training sessions instead.

Yes, I’ve been going to the gym, but besides crunches, treadmill, and elliptical, I honestly had no idea what else to do. I was building muscle without really losing any fat and I was NOT losing weight. I wasn’t really eating right either.

That’s where my next blessing comes into play. My boyfriend’s sister, Charone, is a fabulous woman who has a destiny waiting to be fulfilled. She is a wonderful cook who has the knowledge I need to survive this diet without starving. After a couple of conversations with her, I felt motivated and refreshed. She is giving me awesome food advice and helping me to understand that I can still eat good food as long as it is prepared properly and I DO have the strength to stay away from foods that are harmful to my goals. I don’t have to deny myself; however, since I’ve been talking to her, I’ve been checking food labels and asking myself if those calories are worth it. Are the calories contained in that slice of Dulce De Leche cheesecake from The Cheesecake Factory worth blowing my entire allotment of calories for the day and going without meals? Suddenly it’s not. I hope that I can one day be as motivating to her as she is for me!

I’m going to be posting a BEFORE picture next week and I’m going to be honest and not suck anything in. While Tara, the personal trainer was taking my measurements, I said “I guess I can’t suck my gut in while you do this, huh?”
She laughed, but I could tell that she totally understood where I was coming from.

I must say, when she read me my measurements, I wanted to take a steak knife and a Vacuum cleaner and give MYSELF lipo!

Before my first child, I was 36-24-36.
After my second child, I was 36-26-36

(sigh)

Yesterday…..

I

Was

39.5-32.5-39.5

I may as well say 40-33-40

WTFF?

I’m not going to lie…I like the boobs.

I had a personal trainer a few years ago…when I was weighing in at 150 pounds. I told him that I wanted to get down to 135. I then had a sudden thought. I was a 36B bra size before gaining weight. At 150 pounds I was a D cup. What was going to happen when I lost weight?

I looked my trainer in the eye and said, “If I lose fifteen pounds, will I lose my boobs?”

“Did you have those boobs before you gained weight?” He responded with a question.

“Nope.” I answered simply.

“Well,” he said slowly, “You probably won’t be able to keep those.”

I bit my lower lip and looked down at my new best friends. I loved them. I couldn’t bear to see them leave me. My personal trainer could tell.

“What if we just tone up at 150 and forget about losing weight?” I asked him.

See, that’s how serious I was about my girlfriends. Now, at 163, I wear a Double D.

LOVE THEM.

But I gotta let that extra “D” go. It’s time to be the best ME I can be!

By the way…My sister’s scale was wrong. I thought I had GAINED 4 pounds. I have actually LOST 1! YAAAYYYYY ME!

Keep reading my Blog and keep holding me accountable! I love you all!

Day 9...Sigh

My son fell asleep holding my hand yesterday morning. The circumstances were not ideal but the action brought tears to my eyes. My child has asthma, and at 12 years old, he still hugs and kisses me, but only when the mood strikes him. Yesterday morning, when he called, wheezing and crying, I dropped everything to get to my baby. 4 puffs of his inhaler did nothing because by the time I got to him, he had begun hyperventilating. My first impulse was to take him to the Emergency room, but a voice inside of me told me to stay calm. I grabbed his breathing machine and gave him a round of albuterol. When that did not calm him, I gave him a round of pulmacort, which is an inhaled steroid. As he lay in bed with an oxygen mask on his face, inhaling his medication, I climbed into next to him and held him tightly. He grabbed my hand and as the steroid began to interact with the albuterol, his body relaxed and he sank into a deep sleep. I couldn’t let go of his hand. I couldn’t let go of him. So I stayed there, holding him close to me until I was asleep too.

My son was a preemie. It was a difficult pregnancy that threatened both our lives. I was always afraid of losing him during pregnancy…that did not change when he was born.

When I was pregnant with him, I found the perfect crib set at Burlington Coat Factory. It was a denim Winnie the Pooh comforter set that I knew was perfect for my baby. I couldn’t wait to save up enough money to buy it. On the day I ventured to the store, cash in hand, ex-husband struggling to keep up with me, I got to the baby section and found that all of the comforter sets were gone.

The sales clerk proceeded to tell me that the set had been discontinued and that there was no way to order more.

I remember sitting down in a glider rocker they had on display….and crying my heart out. I cried until my ex-husband couldn’t take it anymore. He asked them what they were doing with the comforter set on display if it had been discontinued. The sales clerk took one look at my tears and then saw the look of desperation on the husband’s face….without a word, she stripped the display of everything associated with that Winnie the Pooh set and sold it to us at a discount.

That baby never even NAPPED on that comforter set. As a matter of fact…he NEVER slept in his baby bed at all. He slept on my chest, every night for the next 2 years.

He’ll be leaving me to go and live with his father this summer. It’s breaking my heart. I don’t want him to go and yet, I know that he’ll be no good if he stays with me. I spoil him and hug and kiss him, and keep him a baby when he needs to learn how to be a young man.

But yesterday morning, when he snuggled into me and held my hand as he slept…I knew that he would always be my baby.

It’s the small things that make me smile.

Oh yeah, I’ve gained 4 pounds! WTH?

Day 5...Psalm 27

I really don’t feel like Blogging today and yet, here I am, typing away as if my life depends on it. Honestly, it does depend on it. Blogging is a commitment I’ve made to myself and I know that if I can push myself to maintain my normal routine on a day when I’m feeling under the weather, just imagine what I can achieve when I’m at 100 percent?

Too often I’ve used sickness or exhaustion as an excuse not to live up to my potential. I’ve lived with a victim mentality for far too long. I’ve allowed myself to dwell on the things that have happened TO me, instead of concentrating on making things happen FOR me.

I am sick as hell today. I have a horrible headache and I’ve been literally dealing with terrible nausea, vomiting, and other stomach problems ALL MORNING. All I wanna do is leave work and go back to bed, but if I allow myself to allow being sick to stop me from achieving my goals today…I’ve allowed sickness to happen TO me. Today, I am going to use my illness as motivation instead of a tool of procrastination. Today I’m going to look sickness in the eye and tell it to hit me as hard as it can…I’m a child of God and there is nothing an army of germs can do to keep me from my destiny. No weapon formed against me shall proper. I’m wearing God’s gas mask so just keep playing, devil. Your germ warfare ain’t got nothing on my God’s Grace.

Psalm 27:3, New Living Bible Translation:

Though a mighty army surrounds me, my heart will not be afraid. Even if I am attacked, I will remain confident.

Traditionally, this is how it happens. I start going to the Gym each day. I miss one day, and I get sick. If you read Day Three of my Blog, you will understand what I mean by that.

I pushed through Day three of my workout; however I skipped day four, not because I was being lazy, but because I had a very important task to complete.

My brother-in-law is marrying a wonderful woman and I love, love, love her. When she sent me a text asking for my help in making wedding invitations, I skipped my workout to make that happen.

This morning, I woke up sick. See…the devil sometimes uses sickness as a way to keep me from being at my best. For once, my first impulse was NOT to call in sick to work and climb back into bed. Instead, I brushed my teeth a few more times and drove to work. When my symptoms hit me again as I was sitting at my desk…I took a short break, did what I needed to do, and went back to work. I’m not leaving. I’m not running a fever, I’m not contagious.

When I felt that familiar “woe is me” mentality creeping into my thoughts…I went to Pandora.com and started playing my gospel radio station. When I surround myself with the WORD, nothing can approach that force field without being rebuked.

God has my back. I’m not ailing because He doesn’t love me. I’m ailing because He DOES love me and there is a valuable lesson that I need to learn right now.

I need to learn to keep praising Him through it all…and NOT give up.

Now, I’m no dummy. I understand that at some point during this day, I’m going to have to lie down and take care of myself. I know that I can’t go to the gym today. I know that I won’t be working in my garden this evening. But I’m not going to let that keep me from my goals. I can’t work on my physical today, but I can keep thinking positive thoughts and work on my MENTAL. I can pick up my Bible and work on my SPIRITUAL.

For some reason I keep being led to read Psalm 27. It’s as if God is constantly reminding me that I have nothing to fear. He’s carrying me through the lows and lifting my head above the clouds so that I can see the sunshine despite the rain.

Keep your umbrella. I’m covered by God.

Day 4...Breaking Down the FAT

I was recently asked if I thought the title of my Blog would offend overweight people. It’s a legitimate question, but I responded with a heartfelt, “I don’t care.”

I really don’t. I think that our society has become so politically correct that people tend to be offended by the wrong things.

My Blog is called Diary of a Mad Fat Woman. First of all, “DIARY” is a word that denotes the recording of private thoughts. “OF A” refers to an individual. “MAD” refers to the state of mind of the “FAT WOMAN” recording her private thoughts.

This is MY diary. I’m MAD, I’m FAT, and I’m a WOMAN.

In other words…this diary is about ME…not you, not your mom, not your auntie, not your cousin, not your best friend. It’s all about Ebony Farashuu and I make no apologies.

Let’s talk about the word FAT.

I know that it’s ridiculous to some when they see a woman standing at 5 feet six inches tall and weighing in at 164 pounds call herself fat. Technically, I know that I’m not FAT in the traditional sense of the word, but I AM overweight and it is more than just a physical thing.

Strategically, I look good in my clothes. I say “strategically” because sometimes I wear spanx when it’s too hard to suck in my belly. Sometimes I will place a cute belt in places that bring more attention to my boobs than my gut. I wear heels to augment my strut and bring attention to the length of my legs, and I try not to wear tight fitting shirts that have the potential to enhance my baby rolls. I love skinny jeans because they compliment my thickness without cutting off my circulation and creating the dreaded “muffin top.”

When friends tell me that I’m perfectly built, I sometimes jokingly say, “You haven’t seen me naked.”

There is no strategy when you take your clothes off. When it’s just me and my mirror, I see what only God and my sweetheart see. Yes, they see perfection in my proportions, but they are blinded by their love for me. I love me too, but in a way that allows me to really SEE myself in a way that helps me see the improvements I want to make physically. I say “want” instead of “need” because I don’t need to change my physical appearance to BE pretty. But I DO need to change my physical appearance in order to FEEL pretty.

I need to lose weight because it will directly affect my physical health. It will lower my blood pressure, and it will boost my metabolism as well as my resistance to sickness. Becoming physically fit will allow me to stop “pretending” to let my neighbor’s little girl catch me when she chases me up the sidewalk. She’s 7! I should be able to outrun her little legs without getting winded after passing the second house!

Physically, my definition of FAT means overweight. I’m MAD at myself for taking my health for granted. I’ve only got one life and I want to live it FULLY. I’m just mad enough to stop talking about what I want to do and actually DO something about it!

I am MENTALLY fat.

I have allowed the actions and opinions of others to directly affect my mentality and I need to shed the excess weight that I have allowed to accumulate on my mind! The heaviness of my psyche almost took my life. I once became so used to being a victim that when I realized that I was no longer going to let a man hurt me, I overcompensated by becoming mean and heartless instead. Guess what! I was still a victim. I had allowed the overwhelming need to take control of my life change my heart.

This wasn’t completely a bad thing. During that mental transition I learned that if a man couldn’t at LEAST love me as much as I loved myself, he needed to keep stepping. I have AGAPE love for myself. I love myself the way that GOD loves me and any man that can’t do that does not belong in my life. That’s a fact.

I spoiled myself. I learned to do things for myself. I learned that I HAD to take care of myself before I could take care of anyone else. I learned that not every sacrifice was a necessary sacrifice and I needed to stop sacrificing MY standards and MY priorities to please someone else.

At the same time, I learned to live with a certain NO TOLERANCE mentality that pretty much shaped the past year of my life.

“I don’t get mad. I just delete you.”

And I did. Any man who hurt my feelings was immediately deleted from my phone book, my Facebook, and my email, with no possibility of a second chance. My reasoning was, if he could hurt me once, he would hurt me again, so why set myself up for drama? I had learned to anticipate the worst in people in order to keep myself from falling in love or being disappointed.

Eventually I would let that man back into my life, but NEVER as anything more than a casual friend to be kept at a distance. My heart was closed.

It’s not healthy to live that way…always anticipating the worst, getting rid of a person before they have a chance to do emotional harm, building an unbreakable wall around yourself, and constantly afraid of being hurt. Sometimes you have to take a chance.

This past summer I actually took a chance on a man and found myself compromising my happiness to conform into his version of the perfect Ebony.

Of course, when I realized what was happening and left him alone… the “new” me became even “newer” and, pardon my French, but I got even harder, gaining a “fuck them before they can fuck you” mentality. Once again, it was all about me and I didn’t care how my attitude affected anyone else.

A good guy friend of mine told me that I acted like a man with breasts. I had all the benefits of being a woman with the mind of a man.

I now realize that a major part of my lack of “girly” emotions was directly related to my addiction to the anti-depressant, Zoloft. I no longer have that medication as an emotional crutch. Now I have to deal with the side effects of withdrawal which, at time, consist of nausea, exhaustion, confusion, and sudden mood swings. I can be happy one minute and then crying the next.

All I can do is pray about it and stand my ground as I resist the temptation to take the pills to keep from feeling these emotions. I’m human. I’ve got to deal with it and I know that one day this weight will be lifted and I will no longer be MENTALLY FAT.

I am SPIRITUALLY fat.

I’m not new to church but I’m new to establishing a close relationship with God and trusting Him to fulfill all of my needs. Those who know me understand that although my ex-husband and I officially divorced in 2004, we reconciled and became a couple again in 2005. We stayed together for four more years but did NOT re-marry.

During the time of our separation I prayed and prayed for God to give me my husband back. I went to church. I tithed faithfully. I lived as righteously as I ‘could’. Then when My ex cried and begged his way back into my life I said, “Thanks God. Good Lookin’ out for a sistah.” And I never spoke to Him again….Until I needed Him.

Be careful what you hope for. Not every answered prayer is a blessing. Sometimes it is a lesson.

When I look back on that relationship, I realize that it was doomed from the start. I allowed myself to be used as a convenience and I bought into the false idea of happily ever after without having an official blessing from God.

When my ex-husband left me the second and final time, I was broken. I was hurt. I was depressed. I was shocked when I shouldn’t have been. Honestly, how could anything that was NOT of God be successful? How could anything built on a lie stand firmly through any storm? The foundation was all screwed up and I was too blind to acknowledge the tremors beneath my feet.

How can I gain a closer relationship with God if I don’t fully trust that EVERYTHING happens for a reason? How can I gain the relationship with Him that I want if I’m still holding onto the worldly things that are weighing my spirit down. It’s a process but I know that there are things that I need to STOP doing. It all boils down to a choice and while I feel better than I ever have spiritually, I know that there are still some weights on my ankles that need to come off before I can truly walk comfortably beside Him. Right now He’s still carrying me and I thank Him for that, but at some point, I need too be able to stand on my own. When I fully shed the weight of my sins, I will cease to be SPIRITUALLY FAT.

So, does the Diary of a Mad Fat Woman make more sense to you now? Keep taking this journey with me, keep praying for and with me, and keep holding me accountable to the goals I’m striving to achieve.

I love and appreciate you.

Fat woman out!

Day 3... "Do or Die"

I’ve misplaced my strut. Yeah, I know. Yesterday I was Ebony ‘Muthafuckin’ Farashuu and this morning I feel more like Ebony ‘DAMMIT’ Farashuu… LOL. Yesterday’s workout was great. I had so much energy that I went home and pulled all of the weeds out of my flowerbeds. I cooked a fabulous dinner, went to bed, and woke up sore as hell.

*Side note* Why do we say things like ‘sore as hell’, ‘hot as hell’, ‘cold as hell’…?
I mean, I can understand HOT as hell, but COLD as hell? Sore as hell? Silly as hell? What the hell?

Anyway, I need each and every one of my readers to join virtual hands and pray for me. Today is what I like to refer to as ‘Do or Die Day’. Today marks the dreaded third day of my workout. Historically, on days one and two, I am so gung-ho to work out that I am a bundle of energy and my pep levels are off the charts. On day three the soreness, stiffness, and discontent sets in.

Typically, I will feel so sore and tired that I will fool myself into believing that I can skip a day at the gym to give my muscles time to rest. One day normally turns into two and before you know it, I’ve either gotten sick, started my period, or become distracted by something else. To put it plainly, I become complacent. I just say ‘to hell with the gym, I’ll start up again another day’.

I need exercise in my life. As a sufferer of clinical depression, complicated migraines, and high blood pressure, exercise is critical to my mental and physical health. When I exercise I feel so much better. When I stop exercising, it’s easier for me to become sick or depressed. That’s just a fact of my life that I have to live with and I can no longer allow laziness to be my excuse. I want to live a normal, healthy life.

Recently I stopped taking the anti-depressant, Zoloft. The effects of Zoloft withdrawal can, at times, be devastating. When I began this medication over a year ago, I had no idea how highly addictive it would be.

I’m an open book and I don’t hide the fact that I had a failed suicide attempt in January of 2009. This is the reason I was placed on Zoloft. My mother was so upset with me for sharing that story in EKG Literary Magazine, but I had to let her know that God didn’t spare my life for me to keep quiet about it. He wants me to tell people how the knife that should have killed me wouldn’t cut, but only scratch. He wants me to let people know that he wasn’t ready for me yet and that he’d heard my cries for help.

I shared the story with a group of women I know and I was very insulted when one of them looked me in the eye and dismissed me by saying,

“Oh girl, you weren’t really cutting. If you really wanted to kill yourself you’d be dead.”

And then she went on with the conversation as if I hadn’t just told them that I had tried to slit my wrists. For a brief moment I regretting sharing my story with her and felt inclined to justify myself but, I heard a small voice in the back of my mind telling me that, although some people ‘claim’ to believe in divine intervention, they rarely acknowledge it unless they have a personal experience of their own. The people who need to hear my message will hear it and that is all that truly matters.

I haven’t picked up my bible in days. I haven’t had intimate conversation with God in days. I’ve spent so much time wrapped up in my own issues that I haven’t taken time to thank God for handling those issues in HIS time and not in MINE.

“Father, saying that you know my heart is NOT enough. I need to verbalize my heart to you and praise you through it all. I understand that anything worth having takes hard work and dedication, and unfortunately, sometimes there is pain involved, be it mental, emotional, or physical. As I sit here typing this prayer to you, I realize that a smile has just formed on my face. You’ve been so good to me and I’ve repaid your kindness with the complaining spirit of a spoiled child. How can I chastise my own children for not appreciating the sacrifices I make for them, when I sometimes forget the ULTIMATE sacrifice you made for me?”

WOW, looks like I’ll DEFINITELY be going to the gym today and pushing through any resistance that comes my way. My strut may be a little slower for the next few days, but it will definitely be back in full effect before I know it!

If GOD can sacrifice his SON to give us LIFE, how dare I refuse to sacrifice a few sore muscles in order to sustain that life?

He didn’t save my life with the intention of watching me waste it. God has a plan for me.

Well, Lord. I’m ready.

Day 2... What's My Name?

I’m Ebony ‘Muthafuckin’ Farashuu! Yeah, I said it and I mean it from the bottom of my heart. Sometimes you just have to look in the mirror and remind yourself of whom you really are. Wake up! You are a fabulous person and if anyone dares to think differently they obviously don’t belong in your life!

It’s a process, and nothing happens overnight, but the moment you can legitimately look at yourself in the mirror, flaws and all, and truly understand what a wonderful person God created the day you were conceived….life suddenly takes a dramatic turn into the land of happiness. Stars shine brighter, sugar tastes sweeter, and the things that used to hurt your feelings only add fuel to your fire, making you a stronger person.

My self appreciating epiphany came to me one morning after I realized I’d spend the past few days crying over a man who did not love, cherish, or deserve me. He thought that he could say or do whatever he wanted, keep me crying, and then walk back into my life at his own convenience. I admit that I was a little punk and cried for the first two days, but on day three I woke up, looked in the mirror and said…

“Wait a minute. I’m Ebony Muthafuckin’ Farashuu!”

With that said, I dried my eyes, put on my heels, and readjusted my strut. When you remember who you are, no one can keep you in a place of discontent. When you know who you are, you realize that you can’t control someone else’s actions, but you can damn sure control how you allow someone to treat you and how you respond to another person’s ignorance.

No man wants to be bothered with a woman while she’s crying and snotting over him. He has her where he wants her and as long as she’s crying, he can talk all the shit he wants and then come back later when he feels like dealing with her.

The moment a woman realizes who she is and truly believes it…she becomes attractive, not only to herself, but to the man who chose to keep her under his heel when she deserved to be at his side.

A few weeks later, when I saw his phone number pop up on my caller ID…I re-stated that I was Ebony Muthafuckin’ Farashuu and sent that bastard’s call directly to voice mail. When you realize who you truly are…you also realize that you have no room in your life for those who would choose to put you down rather than uplift you.

Ebony Farashuu is a Queen.

I woke up happy this morning. After a long day that seemed to drag on and on, I carried myself to the gym yesterday evening and spent a little time getting re-acquainted with all of the joints and muscles I’d forgotten about while I was eating all of those sweets or serving up that third helping of pasta.

The twenty minutes I spent on the treadmill was a piece of cake. I even did inclines at a speed of 3.5 miles per hour. It wasn’t until I hopped off the treadmill and plopped myself down on that ab machine did I have to humble myself and give into the pain that comes with crunches.

Yeah, I had planned on doing 100 quick crunches but ended up barely making it through 50. I had to laugh at myself as I realized that the 20 pound weights I was pulling with my arms as I attempted to lift my head with nothing but the force of my non-existent abs could quite possibly give me a heart attack. I didn’t really understand that I had muscles in my boobs until I pulled one. That hurt.

So, after my earth shattering 50 crunches, I hit my favorite piece of equipment in the gym…The Elliptical.

It was as if the red sea parted and a sunbeam broke through the ceiling and shined down on that machine. I could almost hear angels singing, “ahhhhhhhh”.

So I hopped my out of shape ass on the Elliptical and decided that I was going to actually explore the different settings available. Wow! There is a setting on the elliptical called “personal trainer”.
After lying about my weight and setting the machine for 20 minutes, I was ready to go. I was doing well until that damn machine started trying to tell me how fast to go. “Push with your arms, now, pull with your arms, now use only your legs.” I was cool, huffing and puffing, trying to keep pace and look as if I wasn’t having problems.

“Prepare to stop and change directions,” Flashed across the LED screen.

“WTF?” went through my mind.

I changed directions and realized that going backwards was a lot harder than going forward but I didn’t want to look like a punk so I kept going until the machine mercifully told me to change direction again.

It’s funny, cuz right before I got on the elliptical, I updated my Facebook status. The message was simple.

“I’m on an elliptical.”

When I got off of that machine, I almost had to update my status again.

“I’m on the floor.” (Thanks JJ.)

I was sore, and I was sweaty, but I was happy. That workout had given me a much needed boost of energy and I felt alive. I felt as if I could actually achieve my goals. My mind felt unworried, my mood had brightened, and although my muscles were stiff, I had enough pep in my step to strut to my car.

When I got to work this morning, I stepped off of the elevator, and as the rhythm of my theme song, “badmammajamma” ran through my head… I adjusted my purse on my shoulders and proceeded to walk that special walk that is guaranteed to turn heads and make people wonder how I could possibly have so much energy at 6am.

Out of shape, but still out of sight. Feeling good is the FIRST step to looking good and, I feel damn good today!

Yep, Ebony Muthafuckin Farashuu has her strut back.

Day 1...

Okay. Let me start out by letting you know that although I’m not fat by a normal American’s standards, if I were to walk up to Tyra Banks and tell her that I was America’s next top model, she would look at me as if I’ve lost my damn mind. I used to be “model skinny”. At age 25, six months after having my son, I was wearing size 2 jeans out of the junior section of any given department store. Look at that skinny girl to the left! That is ME at age 25 and 12o pounds!

At age 37, the junior section is a thing of the past and my fourteen year old daughter is now wearing all of the things I wish I could still fit.

By age 35, I was still wearing a size two but this time, the size two was from the ladies section and not from the same section that my daughter shops in. Womanly curves had replaced the sharp angles of my stick figure and for the first time in my life, I felt fat. I don’t have an eating disorder but going from weighing 120 pounds post baby, to weighing 150 pounds was a huge transition for me. I got used to those curves and learned to LOVE the new womanly me but it was a process. The picture to the right is ME loving the hell out of some curvaceous ME at age 35 and 150 pounds!

I got no sympathy because, in the eyes of many, I was just another skinny bitch looking for attention. It was beyond their comprehension to understand my mental anguish.

Let me explain something to you…I weighed 150 pounds when I was nine months pregnant. Pardon me for being horrified at the thought of actually weighing in at 150 pounds without the excuse of pregnancy. It wasn’t normal for me and the fact that people were blowing off my concerns as simple attention seeking really pissed me off.

Today, at age 37, I stand in the mirror in my bra and panties and see a woman who, at 164 pounds, could definitely stand to lose a few. I will NOT be posting that pic, but WILL possibly show you some pics later! LOL. I don’t like what I see. If I keep trying to suck this gut in, I’m going to pass out and I’m sick of seeing my daughter prance around in all of the jeans and t-shirts that I was prancing around in just this past summer.

She’s like a vulture…biding her time, waiting on me to pull up my pants halfway and then toss them on the floor in disgust when I realize they don’t fit. She’s always right there, ready to pick them up, shake them out, and hang them in her closet.

The last straw broke this camel’s back a few days ago. I had just gotten out of the shower and oiled myself down. I went to put on my favorite pair of jeans and after five or six tugs it was obvious that even if I DID manage to pull those jeans over my hips, I was not going not be able to breathe in them.

I peeled the jeans off of my thighs and walked in the living room where my daughter was lounging on the couch talking on the phone.

Without a word, I tossed the jeans to her and walked out of the room.

“Yesssss,” I heard her say. “It was only a matter of time.”

It was only a matter of time. My own daughter was sitting around waiting on me to get fatter so that she could have my favorite pair of jeans. Pardon my French, but Ain’t that some shit?

My son stares at me with pity in his eyes when he happens to see me in any state of undress.

“Mama, I’m not trying not be mean but…when are you going back to the gym?”

His favorite past time is poking me in the stomach. I wonder if he think’s I’ll eventually say “woo hooo” like the damn ‘Pillsbury Dough Boy’.

My boyfriend, bless his heart. He loves me no matter what. He tells me that I’m beautiful every single day and that I don’t have to change for him. He means this with all of his heart, but I’ve allowed myself to become too comfortable in the perfection he sees when he looks at me.

I’ve gained that happy weight that has me looking in the mirror like “what the hell happened?”

I used to be a badmammajamma…now I just feel like I look bad in my clothes.

I used to STRUT everywhere I went. This morning, when I got off of the elevator, I simply walked slowly to my desk. I’ve lost my strut. I can’t do it anymore. I want ME back. I want my strut back, I want my confidence back. I want to once again, look in the mirror and say to myself, “You go girl!”

I know that I will. This Blog is the first step. It’s not just about looking good. It’s about FEELING good. I have high blood pressure, migraine headaches, and I am currently suffering with the side effects of Zoloft withdrawal.

Losing weight and working out, and prayer are the first steps I am taking to restore my physical and mental health. This Blog will chronicle that journey and you’ll get to see me mentally naked…the good, the bad, and the ugly. God is still working on me so I’m not going to censor this blog. I’m going to say exactly what is on my mind. You have been forewarned. Hopefully, not only will you see my progress physically and mentally as the days go by, but spiritually as well.

I want my life back, and this is day 1.