Friday, September 2, 2016

The Present | Incandescent

There are days when I wake up and I don't want to do anything. Days like today when I can't do anything. I can't seem to fold the sheets or spread the bed. Days when it's just a hassle to get out of bed. It's no surprise at this point given my condition but unfortunately I cannot give in to the feeling because that would mean the children's teeth wouldn't get brushed, their faces would remain unwashed and their bellies unfed.





I get up with utter reluctance, exhausted, drained and something else that I have been feeling for the past few days or maybe weeks-I forget! I remove Aaron's diaper and he's just as eager to get out of it. I often ask Ayden to put it in the bin in the bathroom for me and he's happy to assist because he knows exactly what mommy is going through. I groan as I hang my feet over the bed-they touch my slippers and occasionally the floor.

I don't want to do this today.

I don't want to face reality let me lay still and just dream.

I go to the bathroom and I sit and I respond to wattsapp messages that were sent to me hours before I decided to face my life. I don't want to get up-I never want to get up but I brush my teeth with baking soda because I realize we're out of toothpaste. It's no big deal, it doesn't shock me, in fact it happens often and you move past it.

This is real life!

I mix some baking soda with hydrogen peroxide and I brush my teeth and when I get to my tongue I start to gag because pregnancy delights in certain comforts and I tell myself to remind the hubster to buy toothpaste today.

I decide against changing my clothes because well I am just not yet ready to live the day as yet. Let me linger a little longer in my nightie or whatever clothes I slept in.

"I know exactly what I need," I say to Ayden "I know what we all need."

I retrieve my Bible and prayer book from the front room and we all sit at the table and things start off slow because I am in no mood for anything but we praise and worship and the boys are having  good time. Soon enough I start to feel alive again. I am restored in prayer and as I read and explain the Word to the boys I feel a bit-just a bit more energized.

Sometimes you have to go to the living water and drink. It's just like your natural bodies need food and iron to supplement it so too your spirit need nutrients that can only come from talking to God and spending time in the Word.

There was a time I was closer to God than I am now and it was a time I was most sinful. I had more problems than I could count and I was an emotional wreck. It was in that time that I learnt that God didn't call perfect people and that no matter where you are God's hand can reach you and heal you.

You've just got to believe for that healing.

People ask me how do they get deliverance, what do they have to do. The answer is simple you believe for it and make a conscious decision not to go back and smell your vomit!

People ask me all the time how do you reach that point of healing.

I think you have to want to be healed, you have to genuinely want the pain to stop. You have to decide you don't want to feel that way anymore and that is where it starts. You have to acknowledge your part in the wounding and the fact that you are hurting then you have to forgive and accept forgiveness.
You have to let it go and letting go is a choice that many people do not realize they have. You let go and you move on. Whether the other person apologizes or not you have the ultimate power over your own life and at some point you have to wake up and realize that the person you're hurting up over is not sitting around thinking about you.

We all have our own lives to live and it's your responsibility to live that one life as best as you can.

No one knows the future but we know that the choices we make may directly impact that future but it still doesn't mean we ought to exist in fear...LIVE!

Kevin was my best kept secret. I didn't tell anyone about him. It was almost as if I feared loosing him should I share him with anyone.

I had met him on the beach. I was in the cusp of my youth and I had a rocking body.

I wasn't disappointed when he asked me for my phone number but I wasn't intrigued either. What was actually unsettling was that he invited me to church. Unsettling in the sense that I thought he liked me. It didn't occur to me that it was his way of getting a chance to see me again.

I blushed at the thought.

I wanted to see him again too.

He called me the same night and we spoke of art and poetry and I was happy.
He had slowly become my best friend but he had also slowly began to love me.

I didn't feel the same.

I had discouraged him from buying me things or spending more time with me than I thought was fitting for our relationship but there was nothing I could say or do that seemed to deter him. I showed him all my bad habits and nasty ways but he still stuck around. Then one day he got up the nerve to ask me out.

"...on a real date." he said.

I mused about it.

It was a fantastical thought.

I wore a blue dress with gold heels and I felt very formal and pretty and he wore a shirt and tie. When he called  a taxi to take us to the venues I knew he was for real. It was a private dinner and we caught a movie after. When he took me home we sat on the veranda and talked for hours. I can't remember what we talked about but it's the truth. I wasn't bored or uncomfortable. I was happy.
I kissed his cheek and sent him home because it was already way too late for him to be out on the road. He sat quiet after the kiss and I asked him what was the matter. I remember laughing out loud to myself wondering where this guy had come from. I thought I would fuel the fire by kissing his lips but I fell off the assoc I was sitting on and I thought God didn't want me playing with his emotions-but I did it anyways!

I crawled towards him on hands on knees trying to recover from the embarrassing fall to the floor. I knelt before him and brought my lips to his. I didn't close my eyes because I wanted to see his reaction. I wanted to see him kiss me back.

It was a simple kiss on his lips and he didn't even kiss me back but somehow I had become ensnared in my own trap.

I felt something.

It was something I had never felt with anyone. It was something so powerful that he touched my knee supposedly because I was staring into space after the fact and I jumped back. It had spread through me like guilty flames and I scratched my shoulder to ward it off or it could have been that I was trying to get rid of the mosquito that had perched there.

Then I began pushing him away.

I was afraid.

We were friends.

Until one night he had to go and mess things up.

That night for me is muddled and the only thing I can remember is him telling me he loved me. I remember getting upset and my exact words were "Well I don't love you." and every time he tried to come close to me I would move away.

I traveled to the United States some time after that for work. He would call me as much as he could and I would be a bitch to him quite often and yet he was all I talked about when I was at home with my room mate or thought about even at work on the grave yard shifts as I sat waiting for Denise to drop me home. I knew I missed him but it didn't occur to me that I loved him.

When I returned home I was eager to see him and I was so happy that he had come along with my mom to retrieve me from the airport. He was at the airport when I left but he seemed different than he was on that day and it seemed we had picked up right where we left off. It was as if nothing had changed.

I remember one night he sat helping me take down the braids I had put in before I left and I started to share the nature of a relationship I shared with a gentleman who I worked with and he tugged hard at my hair because he was jealous and that is when I realized nothing would be the same.

He was in love with me.

We had gone to the movies one night with my mum and a childhood friend of mine and we returned to sit out on the veranda and just when I thought we were old friends again he starts all this talk of love and marriage. "...but I don't want to marry you." I said "I don't love you like that."

It was then that I decided we needed a break. He had often stayed over when it got too late for him to travel on the road but this was not one of those nights. My mom would give him pillow and sheet so he could be comfortable in the couch but this was not one of those nights. I insisted he go home...and he got robbed.

My mom was "up in arms" she couldn't understand why I would make him leave so late. It was then that we decided if it got very late he would stay the night but we would always try to make sure he left in good timing. His visits became less frequent when one early morning as he was out there sleeping on the couch my mother started cursing. In truth it was me that she was cursing because she wanted money because I needed to contribute to the rent and the bills and food especially since Kevin was in my life now-not really she was always like this!

I never asked for or accepted money from Kevin. I wasn't married to him nor were we officially an item so I didn't think it would be right to take his things. In light of this I asked him to never come back to the house and when he left that morning a sadness took over me.

On November 21, 2009 he asked me to marry him with a hand me down 14 karat gold ring and it took me a minute but I said yes. The ring didn't matter because I knew his heart. I had also known he was to be my husband because the Lord told me he was to be my husband.

It was that simple.

It was also my way of escape.

My mother had continued to curse me out for days and weeks to come. I had become so miserable that I had refashioned suicide in my mind again. This time was different unlike the last times when she wanted money from me. This time I had no money of my own. I wasn't going to school, nor was I working. When I was going to school she would want the monies I had saved up and when I was working she would want the monies I was earning but this time she wanted me to get money from Kevin to give her and it wasn't going to happen.

I moved out. Kevin was my ticket out of the misery I lived in.

We married July 21, 2010 and it was an emotional affair. We didn't have sex on our wedding night, nor did we have sex during our honeymoon. We spent most of our time on the beach or in the pool and when we were cooped up in the hotel room it was because I was nursing his jelly fish sting and he was nursing the cuts and scrapes I got coming down the pool slide. I laughed a lot those days especially when we tried to have sex. It ended up being a total joke since neither of us knew what we were doing.

I had soon become weary of the whole novice sexual experience and somewhere in me there lingered an urgency for something more exciting. It soon became a feeling that I did not want to explore because I had fallen pregnant with our first child.

Ayden was conceived only months after we were married and we were given quite a bit of grief about it too.

We were told we should have waited among other things I don't have any desire to regurgitate.

You see no one tells you that you wont be able to please each other in the bedroom when you're just married or that it takes time and practice to become quite the sexual deviant I am now (I'm kidding of course). You have to be patient and willing to learn about each other which also means you have to be selfless and confident. There's nothing sexier than confidence so don't expect him to love your rolls if you don't!
It took us six years and two babies to become the "freaks" we are presently and you have to learn how to rekindle the embers of passion into raging fires when they get put out by whatever responsibilities takes the forefront of your married lives. It's harder to do with one child or two or even three but it has to be done because you see marriage is a forever type deal.

I don't get to get tired of kissing or making love to this man.

I am as much human as he has needs so there are days or months when I just can't (like now when I am just full to capacity with a growing baby). It does become important to foster not just a sexual relationship within your marriage but also an intimate sensual one.
I have learnt over long years how to arouse my husband with words and I am extremely good at it (not to toot my own horn). I know what he likes and while I am a bit harder to please his exploits are beginning to grow on me.

I am not the one to talk to about contraceptives as if I know anything because I am pregnant with my third child.

It's a matter of wanting time for myself again. I cannot spend my whole life pregnant or potty training babies. I wan't to do other things, things I wont be able to do if I always have a baby or small children in tow. Things I won't want to do if I grow old before I get the chance to.

It's a personal choice since children are expensive, they cannot grow up on love alone.

This is my second time getting pregnant while on "the pill",


I cannot have my baby in a private hospital (which I would love to do so my husband could be there and hold my hand while I scream hateful things and make disrespectful gestures at him) because there's no way I can afford to. If I could I still wouldn't because I could easily use that 150-300,000 dollars to ensure that that child has a better opportunities in life.

I have to think about their schooling and everything else they will need as they go through life so sitting down and having a ton of babies does not coincide with my plans for our future.

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