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.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Friday, April 23, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
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.
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
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
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?
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?
Sunday, April 4, 2010
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.
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.
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