Last week, I got the call that we all dread. The call saying I needed to head to New Orleans because my best friend was found unresponsive and was thought to be in a coma. As I threw my belongings together, thoughts raced through my head. By the way, let someone else pack your bags during stressful times. I ended up with 10 shirts, one pair of pants, a formal dress, heels, no panties, one sock and three of the same converse. As the car moved forward I couldn’t stop thinking, what would I do without her. She has been my rock, literally and figuratively. As I drove in I made a promise to her. I know you are supposed to make promises to the Almighty but I wasn’t wasting any chances and decided to go directly to the source. I promised I would listen to her more. I would not ignore her advice ( sometimes it feels like orders but I know it is out of love).
As she lay in bed with no sign of movement, looking weaker than I had ever seen her, I doubled down. I sent small mental notes to her. “Look, you move your toes and I’ll tell all those bitches off. You blink your eyes and I will get the people sucking out my happiness to move on. You squeeze that doctors hand and I will put me first. If I hear your voice again I will listen to the words that come out of it, I will believe in myself as much as you believe in me. If you flip me off I will know it will all be okay and I have promises to keep.” We sat and we waited, Got a couple of good laughs when the nurse asked who the mother was. Seems we wall need to be studying Gwen's skin routine.
Slowly but surely they figured out it was a diabetic coma caused by side effects from medication. Weird that she lives about 100x healthier than me. She doesn’t smoke, hardly drinks, eats right, and removes stress causes from her life as quick as she can. Whereas I partake of the wine, eat okay, sleep 4-5 hours a night and in no way have figured out how to remove even a droplet of stress. After they got her insulin adjusted she once again she was flipping me off, making fun of my crazy neurotic behaviors and rolling her eyes at my insane comments. No matter what she says I believe I am a pancreas whisperer. If she would just let me whisper chants to her middle it would be healed. She insists it looks creepy and will not grant me permission. No worries, she has to nap sometime, then its just her pancreas and Dr. Meaux Medicine Women.
During the breaks of visitation, I took advantage of this unexpected trip to New Orleans. I decided to go to my old haunts and visit old friends. As I walked around and had laughs and cocktails with so many friends from different times of my life I realized, damnit they are right. I say that because along with Robin there is Jamie, my other fierce supporter. A lady that always believes in me and will not let me down talk myself. Let me tell you together they are a dynamic pair. You know, I have to have a special kind of stubborn for me to take this long to listen to two fierce women who grab the world by its balls and squeeze till they make it their bitch. I am by no means perfect but I have, for too long, let other people decide my worth. Held their opinions of me too close to my heart. Let them tear me down in one way or another. All the while not recognizing the great ones around me. The amazing amount of incredible people I am lucky to know. I believe in a law of averages. I am way above in the number of friends that break the molds.
So as of today, I will try ( look y’all, it is not going to be easy. I have been building this stubborn for 43 years) to believe in myself. To tell my truth. Watch out “friends” that have decided I was the one you needed to punish for your own insecurities. No more just standing in a corner escaping the scene as soon as possible. I am going stand proud in the middle of that room. Inside I will feel horribly awkward and I am sure I will still say stupid shit but I will not retreat. If you have the balls to talk to me well good luck to you. The one trait I have never lacked is confrontation skills and a forked tongue. Just remember, I have thought about what to say for countless nights, you better be just as prepared or back your happy ass up. For those who seemed to bring me down, the jig is up. Now, I write it all down. What are you going to do? Screw me over? Leave me a shell of a person who has to rebuild herself? Why the hell has been so scared to write it down? They have already done their worst. All they can do now is say it is not true. Feel free mother of mine to deny it all, your life alone proves how true it is. Hey, father of my children what would happen if it all came out? Wouldn’t that suck? I don’t have to think of y’alls feelings anymore, you didn’t protect me so why do I protect you?
I have lived a tragically beautiful life. Most parts of this life I have kept to myself. There are dear friends of mine that I have never said a word to about much of my life. I know me having a blog makes that hard to believe. I just assumed no would want to hear that part and I was trained to keep it secret. Keep those funny quips coming and no one will figure out what's going on at home. Protecting those that have no use for me except to take advantage. All of it will come out, the tragic and the beautiful. The days of a child living in a closet while the world crumbled around her and death was on the other side of the door. Then the beautiful days of traveling with stranger friends with $5.00 to my name and having no idea where we were heading. Living with a raging selfish alcoholic, locking my children and I in rooms as he yelled profanities as if we were his enemies. Working behind the bar in what I believe some of the best times in New Orleans. Seeing Goth kids have shots with stuffy lawyers. Old men sitting at the window bar quietly mocking all who walked by. Going from divorce to success, to laying in the same clothes for days wondering why I was even doing any of it. Begging for the pain to stop, the pain of being a failure shooting through every nerve in my body. To a doing shim sham dance around a hospital bed with one of my besties for our bestie, then insisting they smell my fingers to see how bad hospital soap smells. All of it from the pain of my childhood to the joys of my own children. I hope y’all are ready, if not, as always skip straight to the recipe. I can’t see you do it so no feelings hurt. If you don’t agree with what's about to happen well keep that shit to your self, I don’t care. I am done being told what to do with my life, this excludes Jamie and Robin without them who knows what back alley pity hole I would end up in. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. If you continue to read it after complaining about it, that says one thing, You are only here to hate on it or me. Hate away family and foe, I got some bad ass bitches that have a boob fight just waiting to cheer me up.
P.S. - No worries I will only be serious occasionally. This opening up thing is not easy for me so it will be a baby steps process.