#TEATIME

Never Say You're Sorry...

11/28/2015

I learned that my sophomore year. "You're not a sorry person," my graduate advisor shared with me. My apologies quickly changed after she put that into perspective for me. "Just apologize," she continued.

I've noticed a lot of my posts here have either begun with, or been grounded by, quotes of those closest to me. They've been lessons shared with me that have undeniably aided in my development. They've been statements, suggestions and commands that still guide me. I've also noticed that though highlighting the quotes, I miss the opportunity of highlighting the individual.

I can't say I've never done this before. It's been a recurring theme in past years. I've neglected love and friendships unintentionally, because I had no idea what it meant to water the grass. I failed to acknowledge their relevance because I was too focused on something else - something I thought was more important than these relationships. I walked out on people for my own hurt feelings, and was too misguided to turn around and walk back. I'd like to think I left these people with something memorable, but I can't be too sure. I know I took from them what I needed and when things fell short, I left. I had no interest in reconciliation and no desire to work to mend what was broken. Truth is, it wasn't until recently that I learned how.

These past few weeks I've been trying to figure out how to rid myself of the tainted elements of my being. I've been trying to tap into the cause of my emotional disruptions and ghastly judgement. I've been trying to fix myself, and realized that in order to do that I have to look at my past. I have to look at the things that I'm still holding onto and the soul ties that are still lingering. So today I'm using a quote from someone whose presence shifted my life, and am apologizing to all those whose presence shouldn't have ended as nastily as it did. 

And, while no, I am not sorry, I truly do apologize.

I apologize for not believing in you, when believing is all you wanted me to do. When outrage and anger filled my heart and the only things I could muster up to say was "you can't do it". I apologize for letting the warm water of hatred deteriorate a mendable friendship. For holding on to the hurt of brokenness for so long that the only way I knew to release it was to put it on you and whoever else fell in the wraths of my pain. I apologize for letting my thoughts eat away at this, at us, when communicating was a viable option that I should've selected. I apologize for my petty. For my messy. 

I apologize for filling my wine glass while leaving yours empty. I apologize for the broken plans and the lame excuses. The missed birthdays and the attitudes when you missed mine. I apologize for making you text me before you called. I apologize for letting subtweets fly across my Twitter timeline. I apologize for not trusting you enough to let our reconnection flourish; for still harboring pain in my heart.

I apologize for speaking death over us, before I knew the power of words. Before I recognized the power of us. Despite our many spats, your friendship is irreplaceable. And I apologize for spending these last couple of years trying to replicate it; trying to find someone that "got" me like you. Trying to find someone that was as equally classy and ratchet as I. I apologize for the way I made you feel, even if what you felt was nothing. I apologize for that nothing. For that blank space I left you with when you needed me most. For being absent and self-absorbed during your darkest moments. During your breakups and terrible apartments. For not being available for your brightest moments. During your graduations and new jobs. I apologize for not using my voice to be constructive. For not using my voice to pour into you anymore. I apologize for not understanding. And most importantly, I apologize for not having been mature enough to do these things, to be this woman, to mend our brokenness.

To those of you who've been cut by my words. To those who've been hurt by my neglect and disregard for your presence. To those of you I may have belittled in order to comfort myself. To those of you I was too damaged by to love. I apologize for everything I may have done to leave a nasty taste in your mouth, or a dark stain on your heart.

Because, no I'm not sorry, but I genuinely do apologize. 

I hope this not only severs my soul ties, but yours as well. 

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Don't Go Crazy

11/19/2015

"Don't let them people drive you crazy," my mother told me every time we wrapped up my vent session. She commanded it, with a "you bet' not" tone. Almost as if she knew I was teetering at the edge. She must've known I was one small nudge from flipping. 

Today, I was the recipient of an unwarranted rude e-mail. The old Zoe would've clapped back as nastily - with exclamation marks and capital letters. I would've responded with an e-mail filled of sarcasm, wit and an extra dash of sass. The old Zoe would've drawn an unmistakeable line between the do's and don'ts of communicating with me. The old Zoe would've made the sender of that rude e-mail, never want to e-mail me again. 

But I am not the old Zoe. 

I had to hold back. I swallowed my words to calm the frog in my throat that was ready to jump onto the page of that reply. The frog was ready to snap. To go off. To lose it. But I couldn't, and my mother told me not to. She commanded me not to. 

So I didn't. I politely responded - with no sarcasm, no wit, and only a little bit of sass. And as challenging as giving up that battle felt like relinquishing my power, I realized shortly after that it was quite the opposite. 

The truth is, people are going to take you there. You're going to want to cuss them out, slap them up, and jump quickly out of your character to address the nastiness they've hit you with. You'll feel like power is in retaliation. You'll think that power is the loudest yell. You'll want to believe that power is heightened through fear; through obedience; through asserting your authority. You'll feel powerful hitting someone in the gut with a punch as strong as they hit you with. 

That's not power, though. 

True power lies in controlling yourself in these nasty situations with these nasty people. True power lies in remaining true to yourself and the person you're hoping to become. True power is not letting them snatch you out of that element of growth and honor. True power is zipping up your coat to ensure your character stays within, and does not jump into that e-mail to 'clapback'. True power is remaining calm, gathered and graceful when everything (and everyone) around you is telling you not to. True power is turning the disrespect into a blog post, a song, a movement or a march. True power is owning your situation enough to put out the fire that someone tried to ignite; it's being powerful enough to cut it before it even begins. 

"Don't let them drive you crazy," my mom commanded. Because erasing all the work you've done, only to step back into your past is crazy. Because risking it all for pride is crazy. Because sitting behind your computer drafting angry e-mails and tweets in response to someone else's unhappiness is crazy. Because opening the door to hate and welcoming yourself in is crazy. Because agreeing to be the company that misery loves is crazy. And going crazy is the act of relinquishing your power to the people that drove you there. 

Do not give up your power. 

"Don't let them drive you crazy," rang in my head like bells today, as I battled between reverting back to the old Zoe, and staying right where I was as current Zoe; joyful Zoe; saved Zoe. Luckily for me - and frankly, for her - I decided to keep my power today.  I refused to let her drive me crazy. 

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Sometimes That's All That Matters

11/15/2015

Last week started with being run off the road, with foggy windows, hitting a cement barrier and catching a flat tire. All before 8:00 a.m.

It ended 23 presentations, a broken nail and a new tire later. It ended with bags under my eyes and not enough hours to get anything else done. It ended with a few tears and a few glasses of wine. My mornings were early and evenings, late. I used every minute of every hour either presenting to people or traveling to present to people. And when I wasn't physically doing that, I was thinking of the next way to present. The next place to present at. The next topic to present on. In and out of the car. In and out of buildings. In and out I put the materials of the box that I carried to the 23 presentations I managed to do in the past two weeks.

The whispers of positivity I used to pry myself from bed at 7:00 am, turned to yells of frustration. My tired hopeful eyes turned hopeless as I trekked out to receive the same bit of disinterest, attitude and rejection. I wasn't at all used to this, and it's not at all what I signed up for. I had no time to eat, breathe or workout. I had no time to do the other 100 daunting tasks filling the whiteboard of my cubicle, nor respond to any of the papers piling on my desk. 

I quit 4 times to 4 different people. I was the recipient of "I'm proud of you" texts messages and "it's almost over" reminders. But none of rinsed my spirit of the defeat it felt by the end of the first week. None of it empowered me to keep pushing for the remaining 12 presentations for the following week. 

It was terrible. It was draining. It was painful. It was grueling. It was everything I prayed against. It was everything I didn't have time for and did not want to do. It was everything that caused my sanity to wither. 

But it is over. I completed the dreadful assignment. I did what I had to do. I woke up early and stayed up late. I did my best. I fought through my desire to give up. I resisted the urge to call it quits. I made it through. And, sometimes that's all that matters. 

As we remember our past and where we've journeyed from, we must stop focusing on the bad experiences, and instead focus on the fact that we've made it through. We must highlight our new found strength and resilience. We must choose to acknowledge our ability to make it through that of which we never thought we could. Because in hindsight, that is truly all that matters. 

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The Next Puzzle Piece

11/11/2015

The next puzzle piece will be the weird one. The one with 4 outputs and only 1 input. It's going to be a piece that doesn't even fit this puzzle. A piece that'll have to be forcefully placed next to the piece that seems to match closest. It'll be the one bright piece. The piece that isn't even shown on the front of the box. 

It'll be the piece that doesn't even make sense. The piece that must've accidentally been put in the box. It'll be a loner piece. An individual piece. It'll be the piece I hold onto closest because it'll indicate another puzzle is somewhere. It'll mean that the gloomy storm puzzle sitting on my table isn't the only one available. It'll mean that there's one with vibrant colors and a sunshine. The next puzzle piece will be the most important one. It'll be the one that starts the next puzzle. The one that'll connect all the other brighter pieces together. It'll be the piece that starts my next chapter. 

Life is made up of infinite pieces. Pieces we avoid picking up. Pieces we'd much rather leave in the box, or leave spread across the table. Pieces we'd prefer to walk by without acknowledging; without finishing. But when you find that one bright piece, that one happy piece, that one piece that offers a ray of light and a sense of hope, you hold onto it. You hold onto that piece until the other ones like it follow. You hold on to that piece and anticipate the other equally bright pieces to come along. Because not all puzzles are dark and gloomy, and not all of its pieces are either. 

I suppose I'll go place this last piece into this gloomy puzzle, clear it from my table and check under the sofa for the next piece. The happy piece. The piece that'll start the next puzzle of prosperity. 

The next puzzle piece is around here somewhere - I just know it. 

--
The above is written in support of All The Many Layers' #30Layers30Days writing challenge. 

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My Gift, Your Gift

11/08/2015

I typed until my fingers hurt. Until page 15 turned to page 45. Until my stomach started growling reminding me that I hadn't eaten in 6 hours. I was in so deep and had no interest in stopping. Not even my blistered fingertips and empty stomach could stop me.

I labeled the table of contents, checked my references for the hundredth time, literally, and saved my document. Satisfied with my work I noticed that research wasn't the only thing I was good at - writing was. While it's always been a hobby of mine, it wasn't until the completion of my 116-page thesis that I realized I was good at it. I realized I was passionate about it. I realized it was a gift. 

My gift, your gift. 

I was always told the best gift is to give, and as I took a wild dive into my purpose at the same time I was writing my thesis, I realized that was for the use of someone else too. My research, my findings were all to help someone else. Someone who's work relied on my conclusions. I learned before fully entering the real world that whatever I'm to do, I should give back. My work should be meaningful to someone other than myself. I should impact someone's life; make it easier somehow. Back then I had no idea how that'd be possible, but now it's more evident than ever. 

My gift, your gift. 

I used writing as that give-back. I used it to provide tips for people to make life easier. I used it to create content and draft newsletters for others. Then I tapped into God's purpose for my life, and began using it to empower. To uplift. To restore. To help. To highlight. To express. To inspire. 

So while my gift is writing, my gift to you are these words. The ones that share some stories and some encouragement. The ones that spew some realness. The ones that give you full access to my life and my truth. The ones that help you tap into your own truth. The ones that serve to explain how you feel when you can't muster up your own [words]. The ones that help express those feelings to someone else. The ones that are inspiring, loving and nurturing. The ones that hopefully force you become a better woman by identifying your true queendom. 

I typed until my fingers hurt. Until post 17 turned to post 95. My thesis is done, but my purpose is just beginning. 

And that is my gift to you. 
---
The above is written in support of All The Many Layers' #30Layers30Days writing challenge. 

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The Closer, The Better

11/02/2015

"You're closer now than you've ever been," my mother repeated to me as I complained about college finals.

At the time those words weren't at all what I wanted to hear, but now those words are perfect. They replay in my head more rhythmic than before. Like a chant. Or a song. Or the soundtrack to my life.

"You're closer now than you've ever been," I repeat to myself as I click clack away at these keys. I say it every time I log into this site, or think of a new idea. I'm closer now that I was in February. There are people, and organizations, and community leaders, and bloggers who now know who I am - who now know what DEAR QUEENS is. I'm closer now than I was with Polished Perceptions, or Z Talks, or my very personal, very uncensored Tumblr account.

"You're closer now than you've ever been," I say aloud as I think back to the mess I used to be a mere three years ago. I think back to my own battles with self-love, identity and worth. I think back to the bad decisions and bad hangovers. I think back to the bad outfits and badder hair days. I think back to the bad mouthing and the bad relationships.

I'm closer to Christ now, than I've ever been. I remind myself of that every time I think of how this purpose was revealed to me. I reference that every time I pray before I react. I inhale those words every time I think of how my decisions and behavior will impact His kingdom and my entry into it. I look to Bible verses to guide me through situations, and look to God to lead me to my next moves. I talk less and listen more. I open my heart to His guidance and His desires, rather than my own. I sing to Him and cry to Him. I speak to Him - not always to ask for things - but to show my gratitude. I worship Him. I shout for Him. I cry for Him. I believe in Him. I'm closer.

I'm closer to me now, than I've ever been. I've identified myself with my own metrics. I've defined myself with my own guidelines. I've sulked in solitude and came out from the dark enlightened. Filled with love. Filled with promise. Filled with an identity that I hadn't had an interest in tapping into before. I've grown into me. I've become a me I'm proud to wake up to. A me with meaning. An unapologetic me. I've tapped into my power. My beautiful womanhood. My beautiful flaws. I'm closer.

I'm closer to love now, than I've ever been. I'm feeling it. I'm wallowing in it. I'm jumping in it's puddles and giggling with each splash. I'm welcoming it into my life and giving it back. I'm sharing it. I'm enjoying it. I'm play wrestling under the covers with it. I'm uncovering it. I'm doing things I've never done and saying things I never thought I'd say to it. I'm happy in it. I no longer neglect it, but realize that to keep it growing it must be watered. It must be nurtured. I'm nurturing it. I'm trusting it. I'm in it, deeply. I'm much closer.

And, this is the best closeness I've ever experienced. The most important proximity I could ever welcome myself to. The best warmth I've ever felt. This closeness is perfect. I know this must've been what my mother meant. That while literally I was closer then, than I'd ever been, this is true closeness. Being closer to resolution. Closer to triumph. Closer to joy and peace and wholeness. Closer to completion. Closer to it all making sense.

I'm closer now than I've ever been - and tomorrow I'll be even closer. The closer, the better. 
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The above is written in support of All The Many Layers' #30Layers30Days writing challenge. 

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