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This is a rough topic for me.
I have a very defined idea of what friendship is. I suppose it doesn’t work well for me, because it is filled with expectations, which we know leads to disappointment.
In retrospect, I’d have to say with the exception of just a few people, my high school friends were the best. The tribe I hung with was loving, caring, supportive, and above all else, respectful. We took care of each other in all of life’s trials and tribulations and they are by far some of the sweetest memories I have.
I have only met a few people since then that I can put into that same category. That saddens me. For some reason as we get older, I think the ability to maintain all of the above mentioned qualities in a friendship dissipate. I’m not sure why that is.
What I find now is that friendship is a matter of convenience or something steeped in agenda. I am constantly disappointed by those people that call me friend and tell me how much they love me until it actually comes to fulfilling the role of friend with integrity, honesty, respect, and caring. I don’t need to be friends with someone that feels they can call me when they need me, only to be absent me when I am in need. I don’t need friends that think they can be disrespectful of controlling. I don’t need friends that say one thing and do another. I don’t need friends that play head games. I don’t need friends that are passive/aggressive. I don’t need friends that are manipulative. And, I certainly don’t need friends that try to make me feel bad by saying hurtful things.
I am actually quite content having just a friend or two that give a real damn about me and vice versa. I am tired of pretending I care about people that call me friend and exhibit selfish behavior.
Moving on and letting go is imperative to my transformation at this point in life. It has become easier and easier as I move forward and lay aside my abandonment issues. I’m much more in tune to liberation and the freedom to not carry the weight of narcissistic, self-absorbed people that play head games.
People wear so many masks. I’ve worn so many masks. Do we wear them to protect ourselves from harm, or do we wear them to justify our behaviors? I’m craving an honest, respectful, loving, caring, nurturing, and healthy relationship. Perhaps this process of removing my own masks will draw that to me.
I posted this on my Facebook wall today:
Someone struck up a conversation while in line at a store. “Wow, you are very unique looking. What are you? It’s hard to tell, but I’m gonna guess you are mixed, a halfbreed, right? That’s gotta be rough right now.”
Today I sat in silence. Reflected on that conversation. Cried about a sad story that is indicative of our times. Appealed to my HP for guidance on the subject matter for my CD. Opened myself up to the knowledge that not everyone will accept my words with grace and dignity. Realized it doesn’t really matter as long as I can reach even one person. Embraced the subject not as one of condemnation or combativeness, rather an understanding of how being a ghost in this society has enabled me to live on two sides of the racial fence and see the beautiful and the ugly on both sides. I’m ready. Are you?
I have not let racist comments toward me cause me much emotional harm. For the most part, I have ignored the ignorance of such people. I have turned a blind eye and deaf ear to those that have such thought processes.
Unfortunately, I have had more blatant racist experiences over the past three months than I have had over the past couple of decades. I’ve certainly had the occasional nasty look or nasty comment, but lately it has been over the top. I can’t definitely attribute it to our current POTUS, but I can attribute it to the climate he has created in this country. It seems the closet and under the rock racists are slithering out into the daylight, emboldened in their words and actions. The level of bravery these people exhibit without fear of retaliation, boggles my mind.
There are two sides of this for me:
- I have been called a Nigger, told “my kind” is not wanted, more diligently followed in stores, and it goes on and on.
- I have been scorned by the other part of my heritage in that I’ve been told I’m too light skinned to understand the black American’s struggle.
Hence, I call myself a ghost. Drifting between two races not wholly accepted by either and struggling still, 52 years later, trying to understand where I belong and what I have to do to be embraced as part of a culture.
I’ll be writing about this.
The churning never stops.
I can honestly admit that I will not live long enough to complete every project I’ve started or start every project that pops into my head.
I would say on an average I have 3-5 major project ideas pop into my head on any given day. Whether it be writing a book, working toward getting published, painting, photography, performance, and the list goes on. Until recently, I’ve been unable to actually focus on one idea and run with it.
This constant churning in my brain is absolutely exhausting. i mean, it’s not just hey, there’s an idea, no, it’s full blown plan it out, outline it, cue it up for a start date and completion date.
Bad part is when I don’t follow through I feel awful. I beat myself up, call myself lazy and unmotivated. Truth be told, I just don’t have enough energy to actually follow through with something because my brain is fried by the time I actually get to it.
The time has finally come that I have focused on two projects and all else will get jotted down in a notebook for possible future endeavors. I’m ready to be faithful to my creative self and the projects that have risen above the rest.