Father . . . Time

I tried to call you but the phone can’t pick up my voice because I have a freaking head cold. I’m about to lay it down so I’ll give you a call in the morning. Love you and sweet dreams my love.

I am so sorry you are sick love. I wish I was there to rub Vic’s on you. I am not writing anything dirty today. Lol!!! Not because I don’t want to but because you’re sick and I woke up to “my little friend”. You ever use Vic’s though? The kids hate it because I go over board but it really works. Sometimes it seems like I know so little about my husband but other times I feel like I know everything I need to know to love you the way I do. I really hope you feel better today. I worry at the beginning of each new chapter. I can’t see the finish line yet King but I know you coming South means the New Jersey chapter and everything in it has ended. I also hope visitation can be confirmed today. Three months of chasing love seems like madness. I am truly saddened by this. My shortness of breath and elevated heart rate is harder to contain, as I watch hope and possibility pass us in this race of time. We can never get this time back but I guess this is our time and it is what it is. It’s like being heartbroken over and over again but knowing you are here; you are here in the universe. We are looking at the same stars. I just can’t get to you. I can’t reach you. We are going through our sixth season together. It’s fall and like last year you have a cold. As time extends its arms, it’s pace seems to linger. My dreams with you seem motionless in this wave of stagnation. Every moment missed since this covenant was established feels like acid pouring on my soul. You may say I take life too seriously yet I profess that my love for you is enraged by your absence and I truly don’t know what toll this is taking out on us. I’ve learned to master my emotions better but like a slave she still wants her freedom. I just want to cry all the time. I want to scream this condition away. Yet she is consoled by your words to, “speak softly and breath through your nose”. I really don’t cry anymore because I don’t want to mock what God has called us to do and an awesome charge it is. You are where you are because it’s time to take the mantle and walk in your call. There’s no future in frontin’ Hun and I will be remise to not say that I am totally out of my comfort zone doing what He has laid out for me. At any rate it is 5am. Time for prayer. How excellent God is. I read an article about an astronaut that is spending a year in space. He has a twin like you who is also an astronaut that stayed behind. They are comparing the affects of space and earth on the human body. They should do that with you and your brother; locked up and out. I regress though, they say the twin in space sees a sunset and sunrise every 45 minutes. That’s about 15 sunrises and sunsets a day. Do we need to go to space to reclaim our time loss? I long to watch the sunrise and set with you. Did you ask about glasses yet? How can you read the word? Football is not an expectable substitute. Thank you for not rubbin’ your “cowgirl” win to my Eagles loss in my face. You are awesome. I won’t be writing much today because I have to study but know I love you more than my heart intended.

Empty Cage

Loneliness is a fierce adversary to sensibility. She is very precise in her attacks, fighting only with a whisper in your ear but leaving you feeling desperate for attention. So, I find myself drowning in an abyss of constant conflict with others. It’s like poisoning myself to forget my state. There are many taking up space in my life but none are here for me. I can honestly say that I speak to very few people but I see many. When I do, I assume the Hulk takes over me because I end up lying in a pool of regret and despair; faces of the devoured looking at me in contempt. I think I am hypersensitive about our choice to love but I know it was the right choice. I see myself with no other person. So, I wait. If you say something I don’t like, I may explode. Angry consumes me because of the early resistance from others. I think I wear an emotional veil that if removed would sink me in a black hole of murky tears. I haven’t felt like this since I was lost the fight to divorce. I am unable to relate or communicate with people as easily as I once could. I feel judged, trivialized, mocked and often played. I sense the chill of gossip when I do speak to certain people and my recent relationship with paranoia maybe getting a little out of control because we spend too much time together. I am almost done having it out with every individual that I deem to be important to me, so I guess I can now call myself an island. I don’t recognize myself. I am often embarrassed which is  emotionally unfamiliar to me.  I know this battle is all in my mind because the cage in my reflection is empty.

Call me Prince . . .

Relationship status: complicatedly married. Vitals: numb. Emotional State: Heavy.

It has been two months, three days and eight hours since I have seen him. Two months, three days and eight hours since our wedding day. Two months, three days and eight hours since I’ve touched his hand or been in his presence. Two months, three days and eight hours since I’ve signed a covenant to not only be his wife but to bear the grief of his sentence and so forth and so on.

“That’s a mighty long time but I’m here to tell you there’s something else; the afterworld. A world of never ending happiness. You can always see the sun, day or night. So when you call up that shrink in Beverly Hills; you know the one – Dr. Everything’ll Be Alright. Instead of asking him how much of your time is left, ask him how much of your mind baby”

I swear that Prince is a poet. “Call me man. I got some material for you.”

I knew what I signed up for when we married but I never imagined how it would ravage my heart going through this escapade of anticipation of what’s to come. This season brings forth very little conversation from me. Social media is not my friend. It is a cruel source of entertainment for the cold and callous. Finding a listening ear is like discovering a needle in a haystack or a speck of salt in a jar of sugar. It’s just lonely here in my cage. And as I attempt to reinvent the person I once was I battle this mind of mine which is determined to kill my sanity. No worries though, this is just today. Tomorrow will bring other distractions that will make our distance seem bearable. I pray for this suffering to end because being without him feels like being short on oxygen but here is the foolishness, I’ve never been with him at all. When he comes home, how much of my mind will be left Dr. Everything’ll Be Alright?

I knew, I do . . .

I struggled with standing on my truth, creating a prison of conflict for myself. I was “wishie washy” as hell. Years had passed and I fought this internal war that I was losing. My bondage was fear. Fear of myself. Fear of standing on what I wanted. As we know, fear is false, evidence, appearing, real and this was my oppressor. By this time everyone that I deemed to be important knew I was in love with a convicted felon. Yet, my sell was clumsy; similar to Obama trying to pass healthcare. Not realizing that no one had to buy my speal, I continued to campaign for us for many months but our poll numbers were down. And it was not until that day and that moment when I visited the prison that I knew he was all I wanted. I did what he said and I breathed through my nose. And on that day I jumped out of the race. I stopped looking for validation. I didn’t need anyone to clean him up or wrap a bow around him. And I didn’t need advice or assistance with what we were about to do.

The moment I came to know that I was going to marry this man was when I decided to give it to God. I pleaded with the Holy Ghost, to take over my flesh and allow me to walk in the spirit because I was weak. And just like that, things began to happen. I arrived home and although he had asked me to do so weeks ago, I wrote out my vows to him. This had to be turned into his case worker if we were going to marry in the next couple of weeks. Marriage ceremonies only occur once a year at this particular facility. I spent hours writing a paragraph on why I wanted to marry this man. I talked about clouds and rainbows. I even rambled on about when we were children. But the only reason why I was marrying this man was because God revealed he was mine. In that prison, he was mine. Behind those bars he was mine. In his grave clothes, lined with brokenness, he was mine. Like Eve being revealed to Adam, I saw my husband and I accepted him “naked and unashamed”. And no more convincing was necessary.

Mailing information to the prison is hit or miss. My first set of vows got lost in the mail. He became so frustrated. “Bae that’s why I asked you weeks ago to do this.” I paid that no attention because my faith assured me this was going to happen. Witnesses backed out and conflict attempted to escalate at an all time high. Yes the devil was busy but I was sure it was going to happen. I had told my mother and sister this was what I was going to do but I gave no one dates. I brought a black and white dress, some silver flip flops and I was ready. I spoke to my mother and told her that he said it cost $28 to marry me now. He said, “It will probably cost $28,000.00 to marry her when he get out. I have my $28 now.” She chuckled and never said anything else about it.

The night before we were to “jump the broom” I heard nothing from this dude. I stayed at a cheap hotel that fit my budget and I cried to a sister friend because I was nervous and I thought he changed his mind. He ended up calling but explained that his unit was suspended from communication for something that I can’t remember. We married on a Tuesday. One of my best friends stepped out of her apprehension and was my witness. Another inmate stood in for him. The prison was closed to visitors. The day was so beautiful. I really don’t remember the wire fences and multiple security checks. The guards took a softer tone and I carried our rings on a chain around my neck. When I meet him in our usual meeting area he had a grin from ear to ear. My girlfriend said we both looked nervous but I felt so happy. The mayor of the small town the prison was in married us. He joked with us about kissing before told. “I Do” sounded angelic. It was just really special. We had an hour to spend holding hands and giggling like children before I would have to leave. Then it was over.

That day, I moved about 700 miles away from my new husband. I moved in with my mother. We agreed, I had to do some damage control. His case worker was looking into a transfer for him but there were no guarantees; somewhere that was only a couple of hours away. I was ok though because as unconventional as this was, I knew we were embarking on something big. Thank you Holy Ghost. I couldn’t have done it with so much joy without you. Thank you Holy Ghost.

Dim Light

Someone made an anonymous comment today about my writing not being self reflecting. They said I wasn’t being real with myself. They said the admiration that they once had for me was gone. In their words, “my light had dimmed” and the God they once saw in me was not evident. Wow!! That’s difficult to even repeat. As an author and I proclaim that for myself, I get criticised and critiqued daily. People inbox me about my marriage to someone that is currently incarcerated and how I need to think about my kids. People write that I must be desperate or my husband must still have affiliations with the drug game. And I have learned to keep writing despite it all. But this particular post suck with me. First they made it public (wow) and secondly they said some things that I had to consider.

I meet my husband 30 plus years ago and before that time God ordained him to be my husband. Now, neither one of us knew this. Our concentration was so much on the flesh for so many years that we didn’t even recognize one another. I have been saved for a while now and it is truly my belief that I hear from God in my quiet moments. God spoke to me about this man. As clear as you can read these words God said years before you will marry a preacher of the gospel. God said you will evangelize to many and you will go through trials before you do this. I was confused yet in an effort to be obediant I applied to seminary. Almost instantly my husband re-emerged. It was completely supernatural and we both speak of it often.

Now my husband is a fine man and many were confused about our motivation. My husband got baby mamas (yes that’s plural) and I am a baby mama myself. My husbands original sentence was 21 years. I’m a divorcee. That’s crazy. Yet we knew what we knew and everyone acted in accordance with what God said. I’ve been called names, lied on and cast out by my own family. I’ve lost friends and associates but is this really because of a dim light?

Now I will self reflect. I fell in love with the right person but I hid it for months because I was ashamed. I was not strong enough to be transparent originally because I wanted to keep everyone in my life.  I was crushed when people talked about me and I moved with public opinion for a longtime. I became submissive to friends and family that wanted to see me one way, when I was actually something else. I dimmed my own light. I lost my power. It was not healthy for my daughter, family or my marriage. Now that, that is said, “what have you done to perpetuate the discrimination of this type my type of union?” I represent hundreds of women, eloquently that have husbands that are incarcerated. I serve in this ministry to show that these people are not dead. I don’t want your sympathy. It just is what it is. My light is bright now. Don’t listen to what you hear.

Breathe through your nose . . .

God will break your heart in order to blow your mind. I died a slow, agonizing death this year and I can’t say it was from the horrors of cleaving to someone incarcerated. In the course of a year, I lost my job, my house, my car, some family, some friends but not my mind. And I fought the valiant fight to keep it all. I rationalized with my former allies and negotiated with my surmounting debt to no avail. Yet my mind, which I believe has been my greatest deceiver stuck by me to make functional decisions and rational Facebook post. But I was dead; a walking corpse displaced from my grave. Everything else that I revered as being important was either taken away or on the cusp of removal. My ex husband had filed for custody of the children. A man who I once loved wanted to take me off of life support and if that doesn’t seem bad enough, when I say every source of income went dry, every source of income went dry. I counted pennies in my sisters basement to feed my children. I slept in my car a couple of times when my ex had the kids to avoid asking for help. I skipped multiple meals for myself and survived off of my mothers gracious support until I was just too ashamed to ask. OMG, I was homeless. I’m not going to call this a storm because it actually was a tsunami that encapsulated and destroyed my former life. A former life that was filled with disillusion and denial anyway. It opened up what I believed was happiness and reared the foul order of self-hatred. It exposed fake relationships and placed a transparency over me. I hated it. How could I let this happen? I mustered up all I could to seek guidance from this man who could do nothing to help me. I sat in the prison visitors area holding back tears, worried about how I would pay the tolls to go home and embarrassed that I looked so bad sitting before him. He listened to me ramble for hours, 6 to be exact. He listen to the disappointment, anger and rage that I had for this world and everything in it. He listened. I didn’t come up for air until the guard announced that visiting hours were over. My guy stood up and straighten his creased khakis and said, “do you believe God can do this?” I quickly responded, “yes.” He then held me passionately and kissed me like he never did before and said, “then breathe through your nose.”