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[the-makings-of-mishh]

25 & More Life

Happy New Year! I hope everyone enjoyed their holidays! 

I took a break from writing over the holidays and to prepare myself for this move in a couple weeks and my vacation next week. While boxing up my things and reminiscing about the memories I’ve made in my first apartment,  I was inspired to write today’s blog. 

With the new year comes many thoughts, resolutions, habits, and promises to yourself and those around you. Some want to lose weight, some want to find love, and others may want to find themselves. What're some things that you have set out to do this year? What are your resolutions? Personally, I am not one to make a plethora of resolutions I know I’m not going to keep, but I do like to make promises to myself. Being that I am a writer and a visual person, I love to write out the things that I vow to myself. For me, nothing will motivate me more than a physical list of things to do that I am able to confidently cross things off of. 

Let’s get into it, shall we?

I Promise...

...to keep making my voice heard. I’m black first baby.

Malcolm said it best: “I’m black first—my sympathies are black, my allegiance is black, my whole objectives are black. ...I’m not interested in being American, because America has never been interested in me.” I cannot and will not be silenced by people and their beliefs that seek to keep me and others like me oppressed. Though the world seeks to destroy every part of my blackness, I have to make it my duty to stand firm for the things that I believe in. You’ll see this black skin and watch in awe.  You’ll see this black priviledge and RESPECT IT. You’ll either hear these words and accept them with open arms as they consume you and change your colonized way of thinking OR you’ll swallow them in disdain like a shot of Jack straight at room temperature. 

...to never stop learning

Ben Frank said: “we are all born ignorant, but one must work hard to remain stupid.” I love learning new things. I love taking my view of a situation  and seeing it from a new perspective. Lately, I’ve felt very stagnant in life and felt as though this meant that I wasn’t learning, and I let the moronic monotany of day to day life was in fact make me feel less intelligent. This year, I promise to NEVER STOP LEARNING. It’s my duty to open my eyes and ears to the world; research and study the things that I am interested in. Become well versed in issues and topics that are important and not just idiocy. The transition from being a student in college to a student of the real world has not been easy, but then again, when has life ever been easy? Class is in session. 

...to forgive myself 

This one’s going to be tough. As I’ve said before, I’m my loudest critic and my worst enemy. Even so, I have to remember that I am human and the mistakes I make are merely lessons to be learned (even the ones that seem to happen repeatedly). I have to forgive myself for not being perfect and give myself time. Time to grow, time to learn, and time to figure out what it is that I am here for. I have to silence the myriad of negative thoughts that never stop on the hamster wheel that is my brain. I AM good enough and I am coming for everything that I deserve. 

...to continue to hold others accountable

No days off this year. Just like there are outright wrong people, there are just as many latent racists, rapists and bigots out there. It’s time to call them out and bring them to the front of the congregation and “give them the respect they deserve for being stupid,” as Charlamagne would say. Not only that, but I can’t accept excuses for ignorance. It’s 2018 kids, information is literally at your fingertips. There’s NO excuse for you to keep being a sheep and believing in antiquated ideologies just because your granny said so or because no one else ever told you different. Be respectful, be informed, be accepting and be mindful of what you say. If not? Prepare to hear my mouth. 

...to hold MYSELF accountable

Of course, I cannot go through life and call everyone else out while hiding my own indiscretions. Any negative things that I say and do can be just as damaging as the next person.  I must hold myself accountable for my own actions as well, and ensure that my words are without contradiction and are not perpetuating the beliefs and societal norms that work against me. I would rather die a hero than to live long enough to see myself become the villain. 

...to let go & laugh more

Though I am a free spirit with hipster tendencies, I also have a tendency to be tethered to my fears and anxieties and allow them to keep me from truly soaring like I know I can.  I have to free myself of the people and things that serve no purpose in my life. I am doing myself a disservice by keeping them around. I want to laugh more than I cry this year. Laugh at myself and my mistakes and my bad decisions and not take myself too seriously. I want to make others laugh and bring them joy when they least expect it. I’m mad funny and others should get a taste of that too! Positive vibes only! 

...to LIVE MORE LIFE

This past year, my best friend and I took trips we couldn’t afford, ate food that we loved, and made memories that will last a lifetime. I want to keep that same energy this year! I want to continue to eat, pray, and love my way through 2018. I want to live and not just exist; to experience and not just survive. More love, more laughs, more destinations, and MORE LIFE. 

...to curate and concentrate on my craft

This one is the most important. I can’t be complacent in my art. I promise that this year I will only elevate and enhance my way with words and find better ways to get them out to a larger audience. I want more consistency and more dedication to doing what I love,which is writing. When I was younger I couldn’t put the pen down, but as I’ve gotten older, less things inspire me to write. That is not going to be my excuse ANYMORE. I am a creator, a writer, and an artist. Not only do I need to make the world hear what I have to say, but I have to keep them interested and keep them listening. 

Of course, it’s important to set goals and challenge yourself with every new year, but that is the easy part. Anyone can SAY what they’re going to do, but the hard part comes into play when you have to put in the work. I often find it difficult to put in the work because I am the most critical of myself. Even as I write these blogs every week,  no matter how many people shower me with praises and compliments, I will only hear the negativity. Repeatedly reading and constantly find things that I could have written better. With that being said, I‘ve decided to make these promises to myself; promises that I must keep so that my 2018 will be greater than my 2017. If you read any of these and decide you want to do the same, please feel free to do so! I love knowing that I am making even that smallest of impacts on the lives of others. 

Well, what are you waiting for? Ready, Set, GO!

[the-makings-of-mishh]

25 & Grateful

First and foremost, I want to apologize for my post last week. You all deserve better than that and I am truly sorry. I just really could not get myself together and was really in a low place. Luckily, I crawled out that bitch and we back at it today!

I wanted today’s post to be positive since I typically tend to go off the deep end and let you all in on the dark thoughts in my mind; I figured I’d let you all stay in the light today. You’re welcome. From my posts, it may seem as though I’m unhappy all of the time, but I woke up today in better spirits. Yes, I still want a new job and some other things in my life to change, but ultimately I’m eternally grateful that I’m not where I used to be. Looking back on my life, I thank God that I even made it through some of the situations I’ve been in, and the things that I was exposed to while growing and going through life. That is why I can thoroughly related to Tupac’s “The Rose That Grew From Concrete” because instead of breaking down after all of that, I still came out a fully functioning, independent, and strong black woman. Of course, I get some slack for being the kind of person that “doesn’t need anybody”, and that is something I am trying to work on. However, listen to me: unless you’ve grown up living below the poverty line with 3 siblings and a mother who once worked 3 jobs to support all of us with little to no help from anyone but government “assistance” in a cut-throat, money hungry, capitalist society? Don’t judge me. Throw in the fact that my mother is a BLACK woman raising two BLACK men and two BLACK women in an anti-BLACK America with NO FATHER in the household and you’ve got yourself 5 living, breathing, walking, talking statistics. Of course, we’ve had our share of struggles and there are so many stories I could tell about the things that we’ve been through, but what I want to focus on today is where we are now. 

The things that I’ve been through have helped shaped me into the woman I am today, but I refuse to let them define me and order the next steps I take in my life. Instead, I choose to use these memories and experience as fuel to propel me into my destiny. Nothing like being poor will make you NEVER want to be poor again. TRUST ME. I am grateful for my struggles because even in them I had my mother--who wasn’t strung out on drugs or chasing men and who hadn’t abandoned us for the ways of the world--she was right there in the trenches with us every single day. Most days she made us feel like we had more than we did and taught us to treat everything we had like it was worth something because we could have had NOTHING. She instilled love and faith in us and taught us to always look out for one another no matter what because we are all we have. I am grateful for my mother and the lessons she taught us and the special relationship she had with each of us. It would have been easier to walk away, but she didn’t, and everything I am and all that I will ever be I owe to that woman. She is proof that there is a God and that there are still good people left in this wicked world. I LOVE YOU, COOK!

Of course with my mother working so much, that left me at home with my three siblings...a lot. I’m not going to lie, there were days that I would wish that I was an only child: like almost every day. God knew better than to grant me that wish because I never would have made it through life without them. I am grateful that I have them in my life. Like any group of siblings, we have our very distinct differences, and I often find myself wondering how it is that we all turned out so differently while growing up in the same house, but it happened. I have learned to appreciate our differences and love each of my siblings for who they are to me. Yes, they make me angry and no we don’t always get along, but I know that when the chips are down and everyone disappears, they will be there for me when no one else will. I was blessed to have gone through life with 3 best friends that also share my bloodline and for that, I am forever grateful to have been granted such an opportunity and I am honored to be their sister. Not only that, but I am blessed to be a Mimi to my nephews and niece that they have brought into this world. Oh what an honor for me to get to love those three and watch them learn and live and love and grow into the people that they are meant to be. Thank you, TK, Mike, and Pete for giving them to me because I love them more than life itself. 

Now, since there was an age difference between each of my siblings and myself, only two of us ever went to the same school at the same time. Once junior high rolled around, it was just me in there all alone. I wasn’t the most social child and I was small, so it was easy for me to be in the background and witness other people enjoy their middle school experience. My lack of social skills was often confused for being stuck up, which of course led to its own set of problems while attending a predominately black, underprivileged, and under-funded school.  Even so, it was at this school that I met my soulmate, my person, and the love of my life: my best friend. I know to some people it will sound weird considering my first love was my heterosexual female best friend, but such is life and I’ve never been one to care about the opinion of sheep. With that being said, I am glad that I found her because she is the best companion a girl can have. Though there has been speculation throughout the years, our relationship is strictly platonic, but I consider her the love of my life because she’s stuck with me through thick and thin (quite literally). She was there with me during the scariest times in my life at the time: junior high and high school. You couldn’t pay me to relive my teens. *shudders* I digress... I also love my best friend because she is another rose that grew from concrete, though you would never know just by looking at her. She is 4′11″ and 100 lbs (soaking wet) and can be quiet as a mouse, but she has been through and seen things and still made it out. She has never fallen victim to the cards life dealt her and continues to be my partner in crime. I am grateful that I met her in the seventh grade because God only knows what kind of person I would have been without her. We have been through so much and still have so much to accomplish. Next up is our twenties, and we’re off to a rough start, but I am confident that together, we will make it out alive. I love you Junechi!

Last but not least, I am grateful for all of you that read my posts and cheer me on from the sidelines every Sunday. I know that there are better things you could do with your time, but you still manage to suffer through my babble and bouts of insanity and I love you all for it. Thank you for rooting for me and thank you for reading! Often, posting online can be like shouting into the void, but it means so much to me to know people are listening, even if there are few of you.

 I say all of that to say this:I know some of you that are reading this have been through trials and tribulations that may be far worse than mine and I applaud you all for making it out of an otherwise traumatizing situation. If you’re still in it, I pray that you make it out alive, happy, and I pray that you make it out on top because you are more than a conqueror! Don’t let what you’ve been through define you. Don’t let your past hinder you from what is waiting for you in your future. You’re not tainted, you’re not lesser than, or anymore unworthy than the next person. Let those experiences be lessons learned and be sure to move past them. Of course, some of us will have to learn the same lesson more than once before we finally get it, and that is okay! No one is perfect.  Wear your albatrosses as badges of honor and wear your struggles like dents in your armor. The ugly part of your life are pieces that make up the pieces of you. Know that without your struggles, you wouldn’t know how to survive. We made it without the gold spoon and without the cheat codes. Remember that you deserve all the good in your life because of the bad you’ve experienced. Also remember that as your story continues there will be more adversities and problems that will arise, but because of what you’ve been through, you’ll STILL come out on top. Stand strong in your imperfections and give society the finger for failing at breaking you down and keeping you there. You won! WE won! Even though it sometimes feels as though they have. Love yourself and be grateful for the people in your life that have been with you every step of the way. I know I am. We are the chosen ones. Act as such.

[the-makings-of-mishh]

25 & ....

I’m exhausted. 

This past week has been one filled with realizations and yet has left me more confused than ever before. Lately, I’ve been trying to decide what I’m going to be doing in the next month. Every day I go to sleep thinking and wake up during the witching hour to the nightmare of me making the wrong choice. Not to mention, I still have to go to work every day and deal with the monotony and utter brainlessness that it entails. I feel like a stressed out, anxiety-ridden, half dead zombie in all honesty. It’s gotten so bad that I couldn't even come up with a title for tonight’s post. I wouldn’t even be mad if no one read it this week because it quite literally is my brain splattered on a page. 

All of my life I’ve had to be safe; careful about the decisions that I make and the people that they affect. Living in constant fear that one wrong move could land me back in the position I was in before all of this. This is an ongoing battle that has been ensuing within me since I turned 18: me, my dreams, and my aspirations vs the past and reality. 

.

.

Truth be told, I’m tired. Tired of fighting, tired of losing, tired of being fucking tired. 

I don’t know what to do, what to say, or what to write. So what’s the point? 

I’m sorry everyone, but I’m of no use to any anyone today.

Let’s reconvene next week. 

[the-makings-of-mishh]

25 & Growing Pains

You’re a beautiful kind of madness  a misunderstood truth  O, the things they could learn from the darkness that is hidden behind your eyes So gifted, yet your talents are wasted you gave up chasing dreams Reality hit and you got a taste of failure Cautious now about bearing your soul For if others saw you fully exposed they may not love you like they claim to Time and experience have taught you to trust no one Friends, lovers, and even family have forsaken you You keep the shattered pieces of your heart in a box Stitching, gluing, and staying up all night trying to put it back together Attempting to fill the void that was left Moving from one man to the next It seems no one can satisfy the appetite for affection that you seek Continually picking at old wounds they never heal properly You have no real home, too restless to stay in one place You are reckless, selfish, stubborn, sometimes rude You’ve bottled up the pain of so much that has been done When you’re hurt You close into yourself, shut down You love attention and yet love being by yourself more May God have mercy on your soul For you are truly lost Daily you fight your demons Yet no one knows of that which you endure You bear it alone, never speaking of it You can blame the broken home from which you came Or the environment that you grew up in The people who tore you down so young You can point the finger at those who have whispered behind your back They all have played a role in your development But looking so deep into the past will keep you from moving forward YOU MUST LOVE YOURSELF MORE than these people claim they do Look at where you stand now No one can know the things you have endured like you You’ve never claimed to be perfect Your flaws tell your story There is no need to hide them - “Perfect” by Samantha King

***Completely unrelated note: If I ever met Miss King, I must ask her who told her she could speak to my life like that. Also, if you haven’t already, go out and buy Born to Love, Cursed to Feel. Anyways, let’s get started...

I want to start off by saying that this isn’t a “New Year, New Me” post, mostly because I hate those posts, but also because it’s way too early for that. However, as we step into the last 28 days of 2017, most of us do a lot of reflecting. For some, you may realize how much you have overcome, the goals that you have achieved, and look forward to the great things 2018 will bring. For the rest of us, we are ready to jump off the quaking cliff that this year has been and fall head first into what we hope to be a positive and prosperous new year. Now for those of you that have made 2017 your bitch, I salute you! I wish that I could have done the same. Though such was not the case for all of us, we have learned so much about ourselves. This year may have brought us to our knees, but it didn’t break us and for that, we deserve a standing ovation. 

This was a year of growth and sometimes growing is painful and uncomfortable and leaves us with ugly scars and questions unanswered. If you’re like me, you’ve learned a lot, not only about yourself but also about those around you. Your relationships, both personal and professional, have been tested and some have even ended; burning bridges with people you never would’ve thought to ever walk out of your life: trust me I understand. For me, it was prayer that did it. Even though I’m not the most religious person, I prayed for God to remove the toxic people from my life, and He did. I don’t think I really knew the depth of what I was asking for, nor had I considered that it can be the people that you least expect that are the most venomous human beings in your life. What’s worse is that, even when we get what we ask for, we still may not be ready to accept the gift. I found myself questioning God and the universe and wondering why I was so alone, forgetting that this was precisely what I asked of Him. At one point, I wasn’t even speaking to my best friend, and she is my heart. I had shut everyone out because I didn’t trust anyone at one point. In all honesty, I’m still going through this part of my life right now and it has been both therapeutic and terrifying. 

Let me break it down:

On one hand, you get the chance to be still and learn who you are and see yourself without gazing through the eyes of others or listening to what they think of you. You’ve completely silenced those voices and taken off those lenses and now you’re just out here trying to figure out yourself while maneuvering through the unknown that is the world, every day. 

On the other hand, you’re also lost in this unknown world that is, in an of itself, its own island of misfit toys in the midst of figuring yourself out while also deciphering and discerning who and what’s real. 

Does that make sense? 

Essentially it’s like math, but not simple math, more like complex algebra (which I failed in college...twice). 

Here’s the equation:

a+b=c, right? But if : 

A=The World (Agent Orange as President, Wars/Rumors of Wars, Police Brutatlity, Anti-Black/Gay/Anything Remotely Unique or Authentic, Conservative, etc)

and 

B=Me (Black, Female, Creator, Aunt, Sister, Friend, Employee, Grown Ass Woman, Unapologetic, Untitled & Figuring It The Fuck Out) 

then 

C= What the Fuck?

There is no real solution because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing (I told y’all I’m terrible at math)!

The point I'm trying to make, though failing horribly at doing so, is that it’s hard to get through this shitty world when you are indeed a mess yourself! 

Nevertheless, it is not impossible. 

In the words of Mr. Shakur:

You try to plant somethin in the conrete, y'knowhatImean? If it GROW, and the and the rose petal got all kind of Scratches and marks, you not gon' say, "Damn, look at All the scratches and marks on the rose that grew from concrete" You gon' be like, "Damn! A rose grew from the concrete?!" Same thing with me, y'knahmean? I grew out of all of this Instead of sayin, "Damn, he did this, he did this," Just be like, "DAMN! He grew out of that? He came out of that?" That's what they should say, y'knowhatImean? All the trouble to survive and make good out of the dirty, nasty Y'knowhahatImean unbelievable lifestyle they gave me I'm just tryin to make somethin..

-“The Rose That Grew From Concrete” by Tupac Shakur

Listen it has been a rough road, and it will only get harder as we get older and see more of the world. I know it hurts sometimes and we’re left feeling like we have nothing left to give to anyone for even one more day. I know that wounds left by people and experiences sometimes don’t heal properly and leave ugly scars that only we have to see every day, but we cannot focus on them. We have to view these trials and tribulations the way Tupac did: “I grew out of all of this?”. Look at yourself in the mirror. Talk, pray, cry, all of the above, but when you’re finished? Remember that you are the rose that grew from concrete and you weren’t supposed to make it out of the gutter you came out of this year. Negative people and their negative energy did everything they could to keep you from being anything more than a crack in the pavement, but you're still here! Continue to prove them wrong. 2017 may not have been easy, but that is nothing new for any of us that have been through trauma. Remember: God gives the hardest battles to His strongest soldiers, and though the battle is far from over, we will get our time to shine. For now? Keep going, keep growing and keep your foot on the necks of neigh-sayers and enemies alike. Make mistakes, learn from them, and move on. Most importantly, find and define YOURSELF. Forget who men say you are and be whomever it is that you want to be. Get through each day as best you can and on those tough days, get some sleep and start the next day on a better note. 

It’s raining now, but you’ll get your day in the sun, we all will. I promise. 

[the-makings-of-mishh]

25 & Don’t Fucking Touch Me

           *********TRIGGER WARNING*********

a friend is hard to press charges against if you know him you must have wanted it a misunderstanding you know these things happen are you sure you didnt suggest had you been drinkin a rapist is always to be a stranger to be legitimate someone you never saw a man with obvious problems pin-ups attached to the insides of his lapels ticket stubs from porno flicks in his pocket a little dick or a strong mother or just a brutal virgin but if you’ve been seen in public with him, danced one dance, kissed him good-bye lightly with a closed mouth pressing charges will be as hard as keepin your legs closed while five fools try to run a train on you these men, friends of ours who smile nice stay employed and take us out to dinner lock the door behind you with fist in your face to fuck who make elaborate mediterranean dinners & let the art ensemble carry all ethical burdens while they invite a couple of friends over to have you are suffering from latent rapist bravado & we are left with the scars

being betrayed by men who know us

- Latent Rapists by Ntozake Shange

You want to know what’s been weighing on me heavily lately? The numbers 1, 6, and 25. Not because I especially like those numbers out of the others, but because 1 in 6 women has survived an attempted or completed rape in their lifetime. 1 IN FUCKING 6. Do we see the issue with this? Putting things into perspective ladies, take you and five of your friends, peers, family members, and co-workers, then take away one. That’s 1 in fucking 6. Let that sink in for a moment. This issue doesn’t just affect women; 1 in 25 reported sexual assaults is against a man. Why is it that an individual thinks that it is okay to force oneself upon another person? Who gave them that right? The sad part? Rape culture has become so normalized that most victims aren’t able to recognize it when it happens to them. What’s worse? Most victims, whether they recognize what happened or not, remain silent and choose to keep their trauma to themselves. Walking around with the scars imposed on them by the predators that thought it was okay to forcibly mark their territory on another human being.  As people, if we were to really sit down and have real conversations about the trauma that we’ve experienced from childhood until now, I can bet everything I own that there wouldn’t be a person in the room without a story to tell. This is not to say that everyone has been raped, but this is to say that most of us have had some form of offensive touching or predatory behavior imposed upon us at some point in our lifetime. That, my friends, is a sick reality that no one talks about. When they do, most are problematic as fuck with their constant victim blaming and shaming, adding fuel to the raging fire. 

My favorite excuse for any form of rape/sexual assault/sexual harassment against women is clothing: 

“Maybe if you didn’t dress provocatively, you wouldn’t be bothered” 

“If you covered up more, you wouldn’t be objectified and sexualized” 

“If you didn’t want attention, you shouldn’t have worn that dress” 

“Why would you wear a shirt that shows your nipple rings if you didn’t want someone to see them?”  

“You asked for it.”

That last one is triggering. As a child, I remember my mother and other women in my life telling me to be careful of what I wore around any boys and men, whether friends or family. I’m sorry, say what now? I was just a child, yet one of the first lessons I had to learn, was to be mindful of the possible pedophilic thoughts of grown ass men and have that determine what I wore as I got dressed in the morning. Raise your hand if your moms, aunties, grannies, or sisters of the church delivered you the same warning. As girls, we learn early on the predatory nature of men; That in and of itself is traumatizing. Now that I am a woman, the thought of this sickens me. All I can think about are my nieces and how I would never want them to learn about the world the same way that I did. I would never tell them to cover up for the sake of men and how they may perceive them, but instead change the verbiage and encourage them to be children as long as they can. Of course, I would have conversations about the fact that there are people in this world that want to hurt them and they should always protect themselves, but I would NEVER make them feel as though it is their fault because they wore some shorts to a cookout or a tight dress to a party. 

For males, some don’t recognize the sexual assault against them because it is perceived as “cool”. Most boys view sex with much older women or teenage girls as a goal to be achieved instead of what it truly is: pedophiles taking advantage of them. How many stories have we seen within the last few years with teachers having sex with their students? How many guys you know commented on those stories about how attractive the teachers were and jokingly stated that they would have done the same if their teachers were attractive? I’ve seen numerous facebook posts and tweets with the same narrative and I don’t know if I’m more infuriated by or sympathetic towards those that made these idiotic remarks. Often I wonder how many of my male friends and family have been in traumatizing situations with women that were older than them. Whether they would admit it to me or not, I know that those circumstances scarred them and changed them thereafter. This is a conversation that we don’t have enough and something that often gets overlooked because it’s so normalized it’s cringe-worthy. 

I say all of that to say this: WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT!

We are doing ourselves a disservice in sweeping this topic under the rug as if it will go away. Both male and female victims of sexual assault, we have to talk about what happened to us and make our voices heard. For those of us that may not want to be as loud as others, it is still our duty to help other survivors when we can, as well as protect as many as we can in the next generation from suffering the same fate. No means no and NO ONE should breach the clear boundaries that which each of us uses to guard ourselves. Don’t know where to begin? Stop being problematic by telling women it’s their fucking fault and stop telling men to shut up and enjoy it; most of all, stop teaching children how to be adults before they are fucking ready! Yes, you can buy me a drink or take me out to eat or even invite me over for some Netflix and chill, but none of these equate to a free pass to MY pussy. I know I’m wearing the hell out of this dress but do not confuse my curve-hugging choice in fashion for a sign saying “GROPE ME”. I am not your property. Listen before you speak, think before you do, and ASK BEFORE YOU TOUCH. Make consent sexy again. 

Let’s start there. 

[the-makings-of-mishh]

25 & Back like Cooked Crack

Guess who’s bizzack nigga?!

Sorry for the delay. I know the few readers that I do have, have been waiting for my triumphant return. I haven’t been very motivated to do anything, let alone write blogs and open myself up and be more vulnerable. My last post was a hard one for me to write and it took a lot out of me. It’s interesting though. The last post that I wrote was about me struggling with depression, yet instead of people checking in on me, they just brushed past it. I’m not sure how to feel about it. On one hand, it’s like you can quite literally put the writings on the wall and people will still only look at it and tell you “what a pretty picture”, instead of seeing the pain behind it. On the other hand, maybe I should just be happy that anyone’s seeing my art at all?  Who knows. Either way, I’m back at it. I’m still struggling with my demons but I’m keeping them at bay today. The past few weekends, I’ve been trying to keep myself busy with doing things with other people and not taking my times of solitude as much as I normally do. This weekend was the pause I needed to get back to Mish. Self-care is so important. The funny part is, I haven’t done ANYTHING. Just chores that needed to be done at home, and I’m happier than a pig in shit. Withdrawing from people and not having any face-to-face contact with anyone for a couple days is so invigorating for me. I haven’t quite gotten to the point where I can completely unplug (no cell phone, no social media, etc) from the outside world just yet, but I know I will one day. I fully plan on going on my own eat pray love journey: Mish style (aka frugal as fuck because I’m also fully broke). 

The good thing about the break from writing? I fell in love with music again. Now, this isn’t to say that I ever fell out of love with music, but it is to say that as I’ve gotten older, I haven’t been pulling my weight in the relationship. For the most part, I have only been listening to music that comes on the radio or projects that others have referred to me. There’s something very wrong with that. However, lately, I’ve been listening to music that made me remember why I fell in love in the first place. Music that reminds me of every part of my life: punk albums from high school, old school albums from childhood, reggae songs that remind me of the piece of me that’s missing, R&B albums that give me some soul and of course hip-hop albums that flow through me like blood in my veins. I want to get back into reading as well. My attention span is also getting shorter as I get older. As much as I love my solitude, it’s rarely spent in silence. So, it is difficult for me to sit still and read or write for long periods of time before my mind wanders somewhere else. Even so, I know that is something I need to get back to for my own sanity. 

After this weekend, I’ve also decided that I will be giving up meat...again. As a thirty-day challenge one year, I gave up beef and pork, now here I am four years later, and I haven’t had either since. I know I can do the same with chicken, turkey, and lamb. I’m still deciding if I’m going to be eliminating seafood as well. It’s going to be tough though; I remember having to restart with beef and pork like three times, but once I was on the wagon that last time, I rode that bitch out for the last four years. This will be great being that I’ll be eating better, but it will also be fun and grant me the opportunity to find new ways of eating my favorite foods while substituting meat.  In addition to this, I’m also going to be going back to the gym! I’m most excited about that because I’m a huge gym rat when I want to be. Working out is so therapeutic and it truly helps with my insomnia so I cannot wait to get my body AND my sleep back. Writing my blog helps to relieve my mental stress, but I need physical activity to help me do the same.

Finally, I am going to continue sticking to my weekly blog deadline of Sundays at 8 PM EST. I have to stick to this mostly because I’m trying to work on committing to things. Not to say I’m afraid of all types of commitment, but I do have trouble with believing in myself, so I will often start things that I really like to do and may even be good at, and then give up on it because I don’t feel as though I’m as good as others think. No more! I don’t want kids, so this blog is my baby. I want to raise it, watch it grow and mature into the beautiful creation that I have birthed into the world. Like raising any child, it will be difficult and to be honest I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, but that will not stop me from doing the damn thing. The only thing that I ask you all? To hold me accountable to my commitments. Encourage me to keep going when I feel like I can’t go on, and I will continue to write relatable and taboo posts. I’m ready to talk about what’s real and what’s really uncomfortable. So, get comfortable because your Sundays just got better. 

[the-makings-of-mishh]

25 & The D.

D is for Depression. 

Let’s talk about it.

 For the past couple of years, I’ve been struggling with depression and it’s not something I’ve communicated with anyone other than my best friend. These past few years weren’t the beginning of my battle, but it has been the longest. I don’t like to talk about it, mostly because I prefer to keep it inside; It’s no one else’s business what I’m going through, you know? Not to mention, whenever I do try to express the way I feel with anyone else, it feels as though they are judging me, and will quickly rebuttal with the fact that I have nothing to be depressed about, or somehow make it about themselves: like make snide comments about how my depression is affecting them.  It’s much simpler to stay to myself and deal with it the way I know how: shutting everyone out. Is this the healthiest way to deal with depression? No, but at least I am alone with myself and not having to fall victim to the judgment that spews from the mouths of “friends”. Of course, I have a family to vent to, but I’d rather not burden anyone with the dark thoughts that lurk in the crevices of my mind. Most people will tell me to find a hobby, go outside and get some sun, spend time with people you love, and so on and so forth. Truth be told, I’ve tried all of those things, and though they do help in the moment, every night when I go to sleep, it’s like hearing the same sad song on repeat, and eventually, I have to wake up and face the music. Being a Cancer, I’m naturally an emotional person, but this runs deeper than that. You ever cry every day for a month straight and can’t find the energy to get up each day, or worse; can’t find the reason to see the next day? Welcome to depression! It’s like an infinite darkness that looms in the background of every single moment of every single day, that you just can’t shake. You don’t have to show it. Others may never see it, but it feels as real to you as a fist in the jaw. You can be in a room full of people, and never feel more alone, because nobody understands it, and nobody knows that you’re truly suffering. It’s like being in a sea of people and NOBODY can see you drowning, hear you screaming, or feel you slipping away. This is how it feels to deal with depression. Some days are better than others and for a moment, you have yourself fooled that you’ve overcome and the war is won until you wake up knowing that this day is yet another battle to be fought. It feels as though most of the time you're losing, and on those days when one vice fails you, you swap it out for another to numb the pain, only to find out that you’ve fallen deeper into the rabbit hole. Listen, I’ve been there, got the t-shirt, the keychain, and a fucking season pass. 

Some say turn to God or to religion and then I will find my way, but truth be told, I wasn’t any happier as a Christian, and that’s a fact. I haven’t turned my back on God completely and I still pray every day, but with age comes wisdom, and I just have a LOT of questions for some bible thumpers I grew up with, but I digress. The reason for this post is to let you all see a part of me that not many people get to see: my vulnerability. I’m a tough cookie and nothing grinds my gears more letting my scars show, but I know that this post could be the testimony that someone else needs. People may look at me, or anyone else that seems to have it together, and wish that they could have the same, but I wouldn’t wish this feeling on my worst enemy. Those that follow me on Instagram, Snap Chat and befriend me on Facebook have no clue that I have bouts of depression (some of my twitter followers know wassup). That just goes to show you that people may like what they see, but have no idea what they’re looking at; they can retweet what you say, but they don’t hear you screaming into the void. 

I don’t have the answers. I’m still learning to deal with my depression every moment of every day. What I can say is, as difficult as each day may be, I do know that I am blessed to be able to see another one. I have little ones that look up to me and they are my motivation to keep going and keep striving for my small pieces of peace and happiness in this world, even if just for a moment. If you’re reading this and you’re suffering, please know that you are not alone. This isn’t a stunt or a fake claim to have a mental illness. This is as real as it gets. Know that though it may feel like the end, you do have what it takes to make it through another day. Find something positive that helps to take your mind off what vexes you and release, whether it’s something you do once a week or once a day. Do what makes you happy. Be who makes you happy. Love yourself. Separate yourself from negative energy and toxic environments. 

Always remember:

Though everyone may not be able to relate to this post, I hope that it touches those that need it and that it sheds some light on their otherwise dark situations; even if it's just one person. Like most illnesses, depression takes on various shapes and forms and affects people differently; for some, the signs are loud and in your face, making it easy to determine that a person is going through a tough time. For others, it’s the small signs we often overlook that, with a second look, could save someone’s life. Male or female, it doesn’t matter; we all need to speak up more and address mental illness. For those that are suffering, know that depression is a tough bitch, but you are a tougher one, and you have to take it one day at a time. It’s not going anywhere no matter how much we try to pretend it doesn’t exist, ESPECIALLY in the black community. Depression is REAL and moreover, suicide is REAL. Don’t lose someone you love because you turned a blind eye to their pain.  Though hindsight is 20/20, no one wants to be the one who doesn’t notice a loved one is suffering until after it’s too late.

[the-makings-of-mishh]

25 & Dealing with Incarceration

I have two loved ones that have been in and out of the system for awhile now and it’s something I don’t really talk about. Not because I’m ashamed because I couldn’t care less what anyone has to say, but more so because I’m hurt. For the longest time, I didn’t talk to either of these people, because I was so angry with the decisions they made that landed them in that situation in the first place. How could you so foolishly throw away your life when you know you have people that love and support you, and who will do anything for you as long as it is beneficial to you? Forget that, how could you put your mother through that? YOUR KIDS? Do you think about anyone other than yourselves? I was so angry at them for not thinking about the lives that hang in the balance when they decide to throw their own lives away. The anger I felt consumed me, to the point that I thought I hated them. I didn’t write, didn’t call, and I refused to waste time to even visit. Why? In my mind, I was thinking, why should I care to speak to or see them, when they don’t care enough to not put themselves in those positions in the first place? For one of them, it was a year before I finally broke down and decided to open up the lines of communication. 

How fucking selfish of me. 

These are not just any old niggas off the street that I don’t know. These weren’t complete strangers that had done me wrong; No. They are my family. People that I grew up with and that I deeply care for; they are the closest to my heart. I left them feeling as if I didn’t love them when all the while I should have been there for them, letting them know I would never neglect them. As a family member, I had a right to feel anger, because you always want the best for the ones you love, but as a human being, it was never my place to judge. One day I finally wrote my one of my brothers and told him everything I felt: good, bad, or indifferent. I needed to get that out, but most importantly, he needed to hear it. He needed to know that I was holding him accountable for his wrongdoings, but also know that I still loved him in spite of his flaws. No one is perfect and everyone makes mistakes; some mistakes just have more of an impact than others. I had to learn to not look down on my brothers because they sin differently than I do. They are still my siblings and trust me when I say that I will go to bat for either one of them. 

It’s still very difficult for me when I go visit one of my brothers. The first time I did, I had the most delayed and, in typical Michele fashion, DRAMATIC reaction. When I first laid eyes on him, I was ecstatic; we were back at it like he hadn’t been away for a year and a half. Nothing felt different and we cracked jokes just like we did when we were kids. I got all the way home to drop my mom off, went to the mall, and then it hit me. The tears came crashing down like waves during a hurricane, and they wouldn’t stop. We’re not talking a couple tears coming down and a sniffle or two; I’m talking full-blown face soaked, Roscoe snot nose, sobbing--in broad daylight--in the mall parking lot, on a Saturday. A-fucking-mess. Talk about making a scene.  The sadness that came over me was overwhelming and completely unexpected. I love my siblings so much and would never want any of them to be in that position. How is it that we all grew up together, but life turned out so differently for each of us? At one point, I blamed myself and started questioning whether or not there was something that I could have done differently. Ultimately though, I had to realize that this is the part of life that no one can prepare you for. It’s like watching the news and seeing destruction in other parts of the world and thinking, “that’ll never happen to me”, but it did. All I can do now is continue to pray that they will make better decisions from here forward. I talk to one of my brothers as often as I can, and my mom keeps me updated on the other. 

If someone you love is behind bars and your relationship with them is still intact, make sure that you tell them how much you love them. Don’t just tell them with your words, show them with actions as well. So often I see people posting “FREE _______” but none of them niggas are putting money on their books, calling them, or even writing a letter. Stop pretending to show love when you really don’t care at all. That’s what frustrates me the most, these fake friends that were probably with you while you were out there doing dirt, that scream the loudest on social media, but when you hit rock bottom, they turn into Casper. Be the positive influence that they need and be there for them, especially those that are locked down for a longer bid. Some days will be harder than others, especially birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays, but those hard days will pass. What they need most is support and the promise of rehabilitation when they are released. When that day comes, I’ll be right by my brother’s side so he knows he has me in his corner, no matter what. 

[the-makings-of-mishh]

25 & Grounded.

You never forget where you came from.

Though that may sound simplistic and incredibly cliche, it’s the truth. This weekend I was able to spend time with my tribe, my village, my little piece of Heaven..and sometimes Hell if we’re being honest: my family. It made me think, we’ve been through some tough times with each other; more than I’m particularly ready to share in this post, but it was those times that shaped me into the woman that I am today. Let me explain. I’m frugal as a motherfucker & I got it from my mother. We didn’t have much growing up, but what we lacked in material things, we more than made up for with love and laughter. Don’t get me wrong, Nanette Laverne was no softie, and she certainly had a firm hand on each of her children (sparing the rod was never an issue in my household, so she didn’t have any spoiled children if you know what I’m saying). However, she found ways to make each of us feel special, even though we didn’t have the nicest things. “We’re not ghetto, we’re ghetto FABULOUS,” my mother would say, meaning we didn’t have it like that, but we didn’t need to show it. Of course, we know that no parent is perfect, and being human, my mother made her share of mistakes, but in my eyes, she was still Superwoman. She made sure we had food on the table, a roof over our heads and clothes for church on Sunday. She always made certain that we had everything we needed, even if we didn’t always get what we wanted. I will always cherish her for taking care of my siblings and me all by herself because my childhood taught me the value of a dollar and hard work. 

I inherited my love for music from my uncle. My uncle Eddie was the only true father figure I had in my life and his house was the place to be growing up. My fondest memories are of the times my entire family would come to visit and the house was filled with melanin, ma dear(my grandmother), and music. Old school music to be exact. My favorite song that my uncle ever played for me was As by Stevie Wonder. We were laying on the floor in his living room (that no one was allowed to be in so I was clearly VIP up in that joint), eating potato chips, and having the usual uncle-niece jam session. My uncle made me sit there and listen to that song over and over, and I loved it, but never knew the depth of what Stevie was saying, and my uncle looked right at me as he sang the words:

“Loving you until the day the Earth starts turning right to left,

Still loving you until the Earth just for the sun denies itself,

Still loving you until mother nature says her work is through,

Still loving you until the day that you are me and I am you

...Now ain’t that loving you?

Now that’s really loving somebody!”

I looked at my uncle like he had four heads, three hands, and a peg leg; I didn’t know what the hell he was jabbering about. Now that I’m older, I realize the importance of the song. Now for anyone that doesn’t know this song, it’s 7 minutes of Stevie essentially saying that he will love this person until the impossible becomes possible, since none of the scenarios depicted in the song have even the slightest chance of taking place; Even so, this song was Stevie’s proclamation of loving this person into eternity, and my uncle was telling me that he loved me just the same. Eddie C. is a simple man, but when it comes to music, he is poetic. I mean we would listen to all the late greats from The Temptations to Stealers Wheel, from Stevie Wonder to Cher, and of course, I know every Michael Jackson song in the book. Since then, we’ve traded in our potato chips for Pineapple Paul Masson, and instead of lying on the living room floor, we chill on the sofa, but to this day, I cherish the moments we share, and I attribute my relationship with all genres of music to him. 

My quick wit and superior comedic expertise (wink, wink)? Those I owe to my four siblings--three biological and one that my mother essentially raised from birth--we were some funny ass kids man. I told you we didn’t have much, so we had no choice but to be close. My siblings were my best friends and my worst enemies, but I wouldn’t trade them for the world. I love them to the moon and back because nobody gets it like we do because when no one else was there, we had each other. My brothers' sly mouths forced me to have tough skin and a quick response to any joke they threw at me. Now my sister was the self-proclaimed second mother and boss of the house, so nothing got past her, but somehow, we still got into some shit under her nose, and she would be pissed. We had the best times together. I could tell you some stories, but we’d be here all day, so we’ll save that for another post. All in all, we were all we had and all we needed, and to this day I love each and every one of them for their contributions to my otherwise dull existence. 

I say all of that to say this, though I may be a loner about 80-90 percent of the time, I will always remember my roots. We all should remember where we came from, even if it’s not the prettiest place in the world. Without our roots, we would otherwise be wayward souls floating aimlessly through life with no foundation to help us remember who we are. Your tribe should always remind you of home and the pieces of your life that you won’t forget: the good, the bad, and the ugly. Your family should be your real day one niggas because they have literally been there since the beginning and will be there in the end. I know that not everyone grew up with a family unit, and those are the people I empathize with because I really don’t know where I would be without mine. Even though they can sometimes be an albatross around my neck, I wear it like a badge of honor because the love I have for them is comparable to none. 

If you take nothing else from this post, remember to stay grounded. Spend time with whomever you consider family, whether you’re related or not, because they are your support system. Remember that when life tries to blow you away, you may bend and constantly face the threat of being taken over, but it’s your roots that keep you safely tethered to your truth and who you really are. We don’t have to love the ugly parts of our foundation, but we can use those bricks to build from as we come into our own. Revisit your roots this week. Look at old photos, call your parent(s), or spend time with your siblings. In doing so, you’ll remember why you go so hard and why you are the person that you are, because of where you came from. Life doesn’t get any easier, but with your tribe, you can face the world. 

[the-makings-of-mishh]

25 & Solo

“Being solitary is being alone well: being alone luxuriously immersed in doings of your own choice, aware of the fullness of your own presence rather than of the absence of others.

Because solitude is an achievement.”

-Alice Koller

There’s something to be said about solitude. 

If I had a dollar for every time someone laughed at me when I tell them I’m going to a movie, to a restaurant, or anywhere by myself, I’d be a fucking millionaire. People have literally laughed in my face and told me I’m weird or crazy for doing so because they themselves aren’t able to do the same. This is puzzling to me, considering most of us enter this world alone, and will die alone so why not spend some alone time here on Earth as well? When people tell me they can’t be alone I ask, ‘why?’ and the most common answer is: “I don’t know, it’s just weird. People will look at me like I don’t have any friends.” MAN WHAT???? I’m a strong believer that you cannot be in a relationship with anyone if you do not know how to be alone with yourself. How can you tell someone your likes and dislikes if you don’t even know for yourself? Be it emotional, physical, mental, or sexual, you have to know what you want before you can expect someone else to learn. I will never understand those that are able to weave in and out of relationships, jumping from one lover to another, without any recovery time, any alone time, anytime at all to regroup and allow themselves to heal before moving on. With this being said, listen, I know that being alone isn’t easy for everyone. For some, it's unchartered territory, and there are no voices louder than the demons we try to keep tucked away and nothing hurts more than the scars that others leave; Nothing amplifies all of those things like being alone. Solitude forces us to look within ourselves and deeply examine those things that we would otherwise ignore due to being so caught up in life and other people, places, and things that really don’t matter. Life is a blessing, but filling it with the wrong things can be a distraction. Now, I’m not here to stand on my soap box and look down on you all as if I don’t have a few---okay many---distractions of my own, however, I grew up with a house full of people (3 siblings, whomever else my mother felt compassion for and allowed to come stay with us, and the occasional pet) so I  certainly know the value of some alone time.  Even as a child, I would often lock myself in my room and write, listen to music, play with my dolls, or read a number of books (there was an abundance of Hooked on Phonics books at my house that I had been reading since I was 4, so at some point, I’m pretty sure I was reciting more than reading, but I digress). My mother, being the youngest of 7 children and always having people around growing up, has always been a loving and compassionate woman, and always hated when I would do this for hours at a time. Hell, she still hates it now as I continue to keep a comfortable distance. I’ve even lost friends because they take it personally when I go radio silent for days, sometimes weeks, at a time. Some just aren’t able to understand how you can just not talk to someone or have minimal interaction with friends and family and not be intentionally trying to cut them out of your life. I’m not exactly sure how my awareness of self somehow becomes a personal attack on them, but I always have those “friends” that make it about themselves and ultimately eliminate themselves from my life. My times of solitude doesn’t mean that I love my friends and family any less, for me, it’s a necessity; because in order for me to grow and to evolve and to become whomever it is that I am supposed to be, I have to have these times to myself. Knowing that I have my tribe there for me when I hit rock bottom is a blessing, but there is an element of falling that is divine.  

“Solitude has its very own strange beauty to it.”

-Liv Tyler

Take time for yourself this week. Go somewhere quiet, where no one is invited but you and your thoughts. Check-in with yourself and how you’re feeling. Face those voices and those secrets that you keep locked away because if you don’t, they’ll reveal themselves in other ways that you’re not prepared for. Stay in control. For those of you less tortured than myself, take this time to read a chapter of a book you’ve always wanted to read, learn a dance you really like, or even order food from your favorite restaurant and veg out in front of the TV for a couple of hours. Whatever you do with this time is up to you, but just be sure to do it ALONE. Life comes at you fast but every now and again you have to slow it down, take a pause, take a breath, and then make a move. 

[the-makings-of-mishh]

25 & Stagnant

“Lately, I've become accustomed to the way The ground opens up and envelopes me Each time I go out to walk the dog. Or the broad edged silly music the wind Makes when I run for a bus... Things have come to that.”

-Amari Baraka

If you asked me at 15 what I would be doing right now, I would’ve told you that I would have graduated from the University of the Arts, been living in NYC, and on my way to audition for the newest Missy Elliot video (I wanted to be a dancer, don’t judge). What I’m actually doing? Stuck in Delaware working at a job I loathe, secretly wishing that I get the call that the building has exploded and it no longer exists. Oh yeah, and that dancing dream died a slow painful death, replacing my dancing shoes with an English degree that I only use when I write emails at work. How awesome. Listen, I could be doing a lot worse, and with the way I came up, I’ve experienced much worse. However, I’ve always wanted to experience something different, something that will change me, but also something that is fulfilling and worthwhile; none of which is my current situation right now. The only exciting thing I get to do is decide which bill I want to pay first, and how I’m going to survive off of the pennies that are leftover afterward. What’s frustrating, is that people constantly tell me that I have so much time to figure out where my life is going. Bitch where? Fuck outta here for 200 Alex. Life comes at you fast, and I feel like the last 10 years flew by, so the road to 30 finna be a breeze! I have no idea what I’m doing, and what is more frustrating is that I don’t even know how to express it to other people because no one seems to get it, and it doesn’t help that I really don’t know what I want either. I keep all of my anxieties and neuroses to myself, and the fact that I make it through the day without a Xanax and a straight jacket is nothing short of a miracle. Voices in My Head/Stick to the Plan by Big Sean is LITERALLY softly playing in the background every day of my life. 

“Voices in my head attacking what I'm thinking Bullet to the head might be the way to free it If I leave my body I can free the spirits Swear to God my death of fear just keep on shrinking

...Wondering when I started losing it, the losing grip Feeling like I'm in the middle of the ocean You either drown or canoe through it Voices in my head said I'm used to it Some help me to lose and some help me maneuver through it When I talk to myself I'm confused on who's who it I know in life you either blow it or blew it And at the end of life it's gonna feel like you flew through it I just hope by then I cut the voices in my head”

-Big Sean

Most people would be satisfied with the life I live. I have a full-time job, I’m out of my mom’s house, and a car to get me from point A to point B. I don’t have everything I want, but most of the things I need, and every now and then a bitch might even be able to take a trip somewhere. However, this isn’t me. I’ve never been okay with complacency or staying in something just because it looks good on paper. I’m a writer, a creative, and I HATE being stuck in this place in my life. Initially, I went to college for business, thinking that that would be the better, more economically savvy choice, and had an epiphany in my finance class and high tailed my ass to the English department. I then went on graduated with my passion degree. I didn’t graduate to be doing this, I didn’t stay at school an extra semester for status quo, I don’t owe $40,000 in student loans to sell out. I HAVE to find my way. It’s not a choice, it’s a requirement. If not, I will lose myself, and I already feel myself slipping away...

[the-makings-of-mishh]

25 & Sooooo Anxious

...But not in the way Ginuwine was. 

As of late, my anxiety has been off the charts, through the roof, and into oblivion. I’m not even sure that that even makes sense, but honestly, I don’t even care. My energy has been feeling very off and I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. With the start of each day, I feel the first bud of anxiousness: I hope today will be a good day, how will I get through today if it’s not, damn I wish I could sleep for another day, I do not want to wake up. At the close of each day, I find myself wishing that the next one won’t come. Not in the sense that I want to die, but in the sense that I enjoy my solitude and the small bit of peace I get in my own home. I feel so lost in the world, which let’s be honest, isn’t anything new. But it’s true. I’m a mess. A walking disaster. Behind the mask of confidence and strength that everyone sees, lies an emptiness that cannot be filled, an anger that will not subside, and copious amounts of loneliness and anxiety. My way of dealing with these things is through my blogging, yes, however, outside of that, I pretty much just drink and ignore, which is completely unhealthy. I’m hoping that I will wake up one day and it will all come to me, whether it be a thought or a dream or a small whisper. I just want to know what my purpose is, what am I here for, and if I’m anywhere fucking near it! There’s no way that THIS is it for me. Am I that undeserving of happiness? I’ve been through so much in my life, and I’m sure that I have plenty more to face before my time comes to an end, but I want to know if it will all be worth it. I just want to be happy and successful and financially stable. I’ve literally wanted the same things since I was like 8 years old. Is that too much to ask?

[the-makings-of-mishh]

25 &  Challenging Oneself

Today was my first day interning for another department at my current company. Two words: HOLY SHIT. I am literally back to the fucking drawing board with this one. The worst part about it all is the fact that I feel like I’m a new hire all over again; I fucking hate starting at the bottom. However, on the positive side, I’m not under my old boss and I’m not in customer service...at least not for 6 months. So, Yay! I’m kind of excited to learn something new, but my greatest task will be to not give up on myself. I have a filthy habit of doing that from time to time. I’m a great motivator for others, but I will give myself the boot in a heartbeat. This new “position” will certainly be challenging in and of itself, but I know that I can do it. I just have to push through and not become overwhelmed and frustrated with myself. God will never put more on me than I can bear, and I have to believe he moved me into this new space for a reason. Now it’s my job to make something of myself while I’m here. 

I dare each of you to challenge yourself this week with a task that scares you. For me, it was applying for this internship, and now that I have it, it will be KEEPING this motherfucker. What’s something that you’ve always wanted to try but were utterly terrified to carry out? Is it feasible to try now? Why let the fear of failure hold you back from something that could make you better? Or better yet, why let the fear of falling stop you from possibly propelling into your purpose? This internship may not be the writer’s dream that I was hoping for, but it could definitely help to strengthen some of my skills to get me to the next step, even if they aren’t directly related to what I want to do. Worst case scenario, I don’t use any of the things I learn here but still learn a lot that I wouldn’t have had I never taken a chance on myself. You have to bet on you. No one else will. Submit the one scary thing you’re going to try this week! I’m excited to hear!

[the-makings-of-mishh]

25 & Unapologetic.

How is it that I am constantly made to feel like I’m a bad person, or that I am a problem that needs to be handled? I do not need your help. I do not need you to hold up a funhouse mirror in order for me to see the distorted version of myself that you have created. I am not your fucking project. Like the rest of the world, I am not perfect and have never claimed to be. I have my demons and my skeletons and my secrets l just like everyone else. What do you want from me? You cannot expect me to be someone I’m not, and I refuse to open myself and allow myself to be vulnerable with someone that is always ready and willing to kick me when I fall.  At this point, I can’t even fathom why I even allowed you to get this far with me in the first place. Why do I even keep trying to make this work? I keep having the same conversations, and going through the same things with you, expecting different results; the definition of INSANITY. I am not a dumb girl and I don’t think I’m insane, but for some reason, I break my own set of rules for the sake of the potential that I see with other people. I'M FUCKING STUPID. lol What is the point of that? Falling for potential when the person is EXPLICITLY telling you and showing you EXACTLY who they are, and that they have no plans of changing it. Idiot. The worst part? I find that when I really like someone and when they point out my flaws, I feel like something really is wrong with me and that I need to apologize for being the way that I am. No more. I am unapologetically black, female, and most importantly...me! That’s my declaration to the world. TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT! At the end of the day, I have to look myself in the mirror and love the person that looks back at me. It is my job to recognize my faults and work on them, not because a guy tells me to, but because it will create a better me. I am continually making the conscious effort to develop and grow and be a better version of myself. If you cannot accept me the way I am, then why stay around? To bash me and punish me and attempt to break me until I finally fit the feminine docile mold of the female you see yourself with? Fuck you. I’ve never been a sheep in my life, and I will not start now. 

[the-makings-of-mishh]

25 & Fucked Up

I am so lost. 

I have no fucking clue what I’m doing, what I’m supposed to be doing, or if I should even be here...nothing. I feel like I’m merely floating through life like the skeleton of a dandelion. Ever wonder if a dandelion knows that that’s the way it’s going to end? Either at the hands of some toddler blowing its bits in the wind or at the expense of a young girl wishing for a love she may never find? I’m pretty sure the fucking weed never sees it coming but once it happens, they just go with the flow and into the wind it goes. At least it’s a beautiful death. Anyway, I digress. I just want to know what it is that I am meant to do, who I am meant to be. I feel like I just keep making the same mistakes and falling for the wrong people, and burning bridges like bras in the 60s. 

It’s weird you know? I’m an empath, so I feel everything: physically, mentally, emotionally, and energetically. I’m hypersensitive to those that mean the most to me, and I thrive on love that I know is genuine. However, I could pack my fucking bags today and never look back. I need my tribe, but I’m the ultimate loner. I’m annoying, I know, but fuck it. I bring people in, just to push them away because they don’t get it, and don’t want to, and I’m the first to tell them that they don’t have to. Ugh, I wish I could just be a normal person sometimes... Well, not really. I more so wish that I could just find someone that gets it. All anyone, in terms of my love life, sees is an angry little black girl with baggage and a hand problem (which I’m totally working on). Which yes, that may partially be true, but like, fuck off nigga I don’t need you to tell me shit I already know. Let me work through it the way I know how. Has it been successful thus far? Um, not especially. But am I still a functioning member of society nonetheless? ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY. 

IDK I’m rambling. Fuck it. I’m out.

[the-makings-of-mishh]

Daddy dipped when I was two Can’t even remember his face when he left Just a bald head and some shoes Walkin down the hall Out the door & Out my life Never looking back What type of shit is that ? I just can’t win

Only make 8 dollars an hour But the landlord don’t care Cause today’s the 1st And that check better clear Rents due Lights due Gas due No food But I’m in school Doin what people told me I was supposed to do On my college tip This is a crock of shit The school don’t give a fuck about me They want they money too And Imma have to go hungry tonight But my professor bitchin about a project that’s due ? I just can’t win I gotta brother in the system And one damn near on his way My mother workin herself sick So that’s on my brain I don’t got no kids But I gotta family to maintain And all I’ve known is struggle since the 1st grade So fuck out my face mister teacher wit these dreams yu sellin Cause I ain’t buyin Life’s real outside this classroom So excuse me if Im not feeling too studious today I have other things to worry about than gettin your A I just can’t win

I have a vagina Which makes me a woman I run into my first problem there Imma bastard With a Single mother Grew up on welfare I’m black With a head Full of nappy ass hair But this is America , So I’m free right ? Wrong cause the oppression doesn’t stop there Cause I’m expected to be expecting In the next few years By a nigga that aint shit  and will leave me in tears Now I’m doomed to repeat this fucked up cycle That’s been in place for years I just can’t win .

I’m intelligent and quick witted So that makes me an ass I’m not dtf on the first night Now Imma prude my mouths slick And I will curve a nigga quick Which makes me rude I curse a lot Listen to vulgar hip hop And would rather stay to myself Than to roll wit a bunch of chicks So now I’m just another antisocial heartless angry black bitch ? I just can’t win Did yu hear me say I was 2 when my daddy dipped ? So when I look for a man to love I have no blueprint To follow And I’ve been hurt by men all my life Which made me hardened and hollow And hard to love So after the last guy gave up There was no act to follow And so the hole in my heart The emptiness in my soul Is doomed to stay that way Cause I’m damaged and angry And have even been told that its impossible to love me

I just can’t win

I was born to lose

With this black skin

and no silver spoons

im expected to fall

I’ve been set up to fail

and if I do happen to make it

I’ll still make less than what the white man’s makin

And thats if I’m lucky enough to find a job

In this fucked up job market

Oh and a bacchelors aint worth nothing

so I’ll be in debt to get my master’s

Which means I can graduate from this place

and still not make shit

Well aint that about a bitch

This is some bullshit

I should just give up

and say , man fuck it I just cant win

and just be lost

but thats what they’re waiting for

that’s what they want

They want me to know I cant win

and that I was born to lose

well damn I got the message

But know this

I’m not your stereotype

or your cookie cut black statistic

so you can keep your fake ass pity

and government assistance

fuck you

fuck the cycle

fuck your bullshit opinions

and big fuck you to this corrupted system

I may not have it all figured out

but I’m determined get this

I may have been born to lose

but i was built to win

with my quick wit

nappy hair

and beautiful black skin

Tried to put me in a box

but motherfucker I refuse

so step aside,

move, 

get out my way

you had me fucked up

But yu lost one today

So now who’s winning ?

[the-makings-of-mishh]

Being black It’s like having a disease A deformity Or a disorder these days It’s like having a target on your back for the world to shoot at Stab at Beat down White people think it’s ok to call us niggas Touch our hair And even pretend to be us Meanwhile Due to their lack of...