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.

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.

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.

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 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 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!