The past couple of nights have been laced with insomnia. I have been tired, but unable to hush my thoughts. This is the part that I hate, the PTSD-esk phase - when the events and words that were said, keep replaying themselves over and over in my mind. Every time I'd close my eyes they were forced back open by my feelings about what was said and what went down, and by his reaction to me in my entirety and in my vulnerability. I think I'm still in shock. Its not like we haven't been here before, but this time was different. This time set the tone for there not to be a next time. I wasn't ready for that. It was unexpected and unwanted.

And you know what else I hate? Not knowing what to do with left over love. This love hasn't reached its expiration date yet, and now I have to place it back on the shelf, although it has already been assigned, and pretend that it doesn't exist, even though it stares back at me longingly. Pretty pathetic huh?

"I wonder why the obligation to declare one’s purpose exists at all" - T. Allen-Mercado

Upon my lifelong quest to discover who I really am, and in the aftermath of my most recent mental break, I read the Moms of Hue post (which I encourage you all to do) of my blog sister T. Allen-Mercado, and was moved into expression...

Tameka, I didn't know that we were allowed to wonder this or to even question it at all. So much weight is placed on defining one's life's purpose, building a career, living one's destiny. What do those things even mean? Ever since I was accepted to Cal, I have felt pushed and prodded to define my life's purpose, and before I was accepted to Cal, I thought I already had. I had always loved to write, was scolded by my grandmother for "never wanting to do nothin' but write", was exposed to journalism in school, and so that's what I wanted to do with my life back then. I wanted to become a journalist. I wanted to become an investigative reporter, a creator of "new media" before there was New Media - in an effort to show the world what good could be found in the inner city. To create a space for my own voice to yell out from beneath the concrete and be heard.

Now, with those demanding questions that you spoke of being hurled at me - So, what are you doing now that you've graduated? What can you do with a degree in Gender & Women's Studies? So, you wanna do social work? What kind of job are you looking for? You're not going to grad school? Why not? Administrative Assistant? Oh. - And the judgmental statements - $10 an hour is better than $0 an hour/ Did you think you were gonna come right outta college and be the CEO of a fortune 500 company?/ I thought you had drive and determination/ Your minimal salary requirement is too high. It all has shattered my self confidence and my self esteem, and ingrained in me that a life without purpose is a life that isn't worth living.

After revealing my lack of life's purpose and my belief that $10 an hour was not going to pay rent in a safe environment, I was dumped by the person that I thought understood my struggle. Not only dumped, but kicked while I was down... lack of drive and determination, remember? This morning, I found myself on a 24 hr crisis phone line, crying to a man asking me to tell him what was wrong when I had no words, feeling 5150ish.

I guess I say all of this to say that I hate the quest for the American Dream. Like your wondering about purpose itself, I hate the very fact that there is a quest for the American Dream because its just a trope to drive the world towards submission and homogeneity, and those who resist or get lost in the hype, go insane.

You're in a clingy spiral of emotion and start to resent the man in your life because his busy schedule doesn't allow you to cling to him when you need to your partner/lover/spouse doesn't have a schedule that allows them to be there for you in the ways that you need? We're talking, schedule so busy that even the occasional night out has become a rarity. We're also talking, schedule so busy that free-time is equaling he-time and not WE time. Its all kinda leading me down a road of fantasizing about punching him in the throat, so I figured perhaps I should write about it. Not the details of my fantasy of punching him in the throat, but rather how I am feeling at this moment, which includes those feelings of wanting to...

Anyway...

Point blank. I'm lonely. Ok. That is the bottom line. I am in a routine of nothingness right now so its hard to be content with having very little to fill my days with. I want life to be back on a productive track, and I also want to reap the benefits of what it means to be in a relationship, which includes something called Quality Time. It could very well be that because I have more time on my hands than I usually do, and he has the same amount of time on his hands as he usually does, I would feel like I'm not being paid attention to. I get that. When you don't have anything to do and someone else does, you do feel a little left outta the loop. But, isn't it natural for a girlfriend or wife to feel this way if her boyfriend or husband has a career that keeps him away a lot, even if the girlfriend or wife has a million things to fill her day with? It seems that civil servitude (law enforcement, law, medicine, etc) almost always leaves families in its wake. The job must always come first, and the family must accept that. But just because the family accepts it doesn't mean they like it, or that its an easy process, or even that it gets any easier over time.

And still, its a bit more than that. There are still a lot of walls between us, we are still navigating our similarities and our differences, and we are still eager to act as individuals within a team. Wait, is that part of the problem here? Not fully understanding how to be a part of a team? Not fully understanding how not to loose yourself, what uniquely makes you You, when you choose to share your space and time with someone else? Not fully understanding the difference between compromise and change? Possibly.

Like many, I too, have gotten sucked into the drama that is The Real Housewives of Atlanta. This is the only reality show on my guilty pleasures list. As much as the ladies leave me scratching my head most of the time, they also humor me, so I've been hooked since the first season. I was disappointed to learn that DeShawn Snow wouldn't be returning for the second season. Her mellow lifestyle was a breath of fresh air as far as reality tv goes. If only all viewers felt the same way.

Enter: Ms. Kandi Burruss, the newest addition to the bunch. Because of her short tolerance for hot mess, she is the woman that I most admire on the show. I'm just a fan. What's not to love about her? She's an accomplished singer, songwriter, and overall business woman. Not to mention, she has been a single mother for most of her daughter's life. She puts it down in a real way, taking care of business for herself and her family. She's quite the execumama if you ask me.

During this season, she has been trying to "fly above all the haters", while doing what she does best. But where there is perseverance, there will also lie challenges. Kandi has been dealing with her mother's contempt of her fiance, the transitioning into the Housewives pack, the loss of her fiance's nephew, and now she is in the mists of dealing with an even greater challenge. The unexpected and untimely death of her fiance, A.J.

My thoughts and prayers go out to her and her daughter, because this is also a great loss for her, as she will have to face not having a father for a second time. I was shocked and speechless as I first learned of this tragedy on Facebook and read the report. It made me revisit my own fears of introducing someone into my daughter's life, then losing them tragically. As I mentioned in another post, my Kipenzi has a dangerous occupation, which has dangerous consequences for himself and those who love him. As with all who work in law enforcement, he puts his life on the line everytime he reports to work. I used to find myself thinking about this constantly. The worry of him being harmed does not consume my thoughts like it used to, but its still a very clear and present realization.

I do hope that Kandi has a strong network of support at this time, and that this loss does not scar her daughter in a way that can't be repaired.

First of all, if you aren't a House fan, there is something terribly wrong with you. I LOVE this show! I can't recall when I was first won over, but House's sarcasm, brilliance, and the way that he interacts with his team is all priceless. Here's a man whose main concern is which ever questionable illness case file happens to end up on his desk and whose primary focus is to solve puzzles. He has no affection for anyone other than his boss Lisa Cuddy, and bestfriend James Wilson, and even then, its a dysfunctional "House" kind of affection that leaves both Cuddy and Wilson hating that they love him so much. To most of his patients and his co-workers, Dr. Gregory House is a straight asshole, but deep down, he's just a man who spends his days working toward not letting his pain overtake his passion. I know one thing, if I had a mystery diagnosis, I'd want the Vicodin popping, antisocial, self centered doctor on call.

My love for and understanding of how Hugh Laurie's character operates brought about an epiphany concerning my Ex. As time moves forward the term "Ex" may grow to be an inappropriate way of describing him, so I'm gonna refer to him as my Kipenzi (lover/darling) instead. My favorite word in Swahili is "kupenda" which means to love; I love him, so it fits.

Back to the ephiphany...

My Kipenzi and I met back in 2004, and since our first date, our relation to each other has been interesting. We had intelligent and meaningful conversation, many things in common and a genuine attraction to each other that transcended the sexual. He had goals and aspirations, as did I, and he was working toward making his dreams a reality, as was I. We could have made a great team, and I wanted us to, but each time we grew closer he'd pull away for reasons unknown to me.

Things continued this way for years. A triangle of togetherness-love-time apart. We'd come together time after time and for whatever reason just never seem to work out. We spent a lot of time together, but never truly knew each other, not the way that we should have. All due to inaccurate communication and old fashion fear on both our parts of getting too close. Just that simple.

How does House fit into all of this? Well, during our quest to make things work, I was in my own world and he was in his. Our birthdays are 6 days apart, so there are times when we are one in the same, which, as you can imagine, is a problem. I often felt that he was very self-centered and inconsiderate when it came to my feelings. I was emotional and he couldn't relate because he didn't handle his feelings/issues/whatever in the same ways that I did. I felt that I was playing the fool. That deep down, he was just like Miss J's dad in his thinking and interactions with me. Ironically, he felt the same way about me. That I didn't take his feelings into consideration, didn't really respect him and his unique personality. Turns out, that just like Dr. House, we were both fighting day to day to not let our pain overtake us.

He was a gunshot victim at age 15, and as a result, he lives in constant physical pain with a bummed leg, just like the cynical Dr. House. As my Kipenzi and I came back together recently to work on "us", his improved self was a bit of a shock to me. I wanted to know what was really up with this newly sensitive and highly compassionate Kipenzi. According to him, this side of him has always lived within. Really? I have to say, I liked it. As we started to court each other and get to know each other as we should have years ago, the epiphany hit. What if, like Dr. House, my Kipenzi was just a man who'd been shaped by his physical pain? Like House, my Kipenzi has been shot, relies on pain killers to dull his pain, walks with a distinctive limp, and despite how he comes off to people with his attitude and guarded nature, he really is a great guy. I can admit that I have been shaped by my mental pain. I'm still in the beginning stages of this epiphany, so for now, my Kipenzi and I are taking things slow. We know what the fast paced leads to. Perhaps things will evolve differently between us this time around.