Truth

Read this piece while listening to “B.S.” by Jhene Aiko ft. H.E.R.

I was talking to a young man in my campus apartment once. He randomly read a passage from one of my old blogs. I take the upmost pride when people read my work. The sound of my sentences brought a little buzz to my ear. I can’t remember the blog, but he read how I was attempting to find myself. He posed a question that irritated me. I remember I was so upset when he asked me this. I was upset because he questioned me about the truth.

He had read previous blogs and concluded that I often say, “I wish I could find myself.” He asked: “Don’t you think you’ve been looking for yourself for a long time?”

I felt insulted. As if he was saying all my blogs were the same. As if he was saying: “Damn Jess you’ve been writing about the same thing.? Going through the same thing? Haven’t you learned? Haven’t you found yourself yet?” I felt weak. I felt questioned. I felt seen.

I don’t know when I built this wall. When I shut everyone out. When I became content with just being to myself. I was an only child; yes. I was slightly introverted; yes; but I craved companionship. Attention. Comradery. I always hosted sleepovers in grade school. I was on homecoming court twice in high school. I always prided myself on close friendships and being in big friend circles. Multiple club and organization memberships. Being outspoken and truthful. I constantly chased these things until I lost my virginity.

I had sex. The young man ran off into the sunset with his girlfriend. I was left behind. I blogged about it. I was praised for my transparency. I had sex to get over it. I had sex again. The pattern continued. I was hurt. I told myself I was ok. I tucked away any emotion attracted to the situation. I drew no attention to the pain in attempt to not draw attention on campus. I didn’t want the masses to know who it was. I didn’t want majority to know how I felt. Blogging about it was a band-aid that I placed on a wound that I never let heal. I used other men to fix what was broken instead of addressing what really went wrong in 2017.

I maneuvered through life thinking that if I could just get back to the girl I was before I had sex that I would be okay.

I didn’t understand how deeply I should have examined his question when he asked. It could have saved me from a world of heartbreak. A dozen of repeated mistakes. But I praise God for our ability to recognize our growth. 20-year-old me was a girl. I love her. She is a vision of innocence. But that girl is dead. She has been rebirthed into a woman of many mistakes. Many shortcomings. But what I failed to realize is: She is beautiful. Beauty in the strongest form. She is wisdom. She is light. She is strength.

He was right. I was searching for a long time. I held on to an illusion of who I should be, without embracing who I was becoming. I apologize for doing myself a disservice and chasing the past instead of recognizing who I am.

Here’s how I came to find me.

I entertained two young men this summer.

When things were rocky with one, things were great with the other. So, I did this on and off thing with each of them honestly from the summer up until now. Ironically, I think Camillia sustained the biggest headache out of this arrangement. She listened to me every time I proclaimed: I was done with each of them. She rarely snapped on me. She just let me vent and told me when I was really done, I would really be done.

It was hard to accept I was the flip flop friend. I was the one who was never done with the dude. Yikes, not me. But it was good I noticed this pattern.

Both young men were very different. All young men are similar in some ways, so they had their similarities, but for the most part they were different. They both had qualities I was attracted to and admired. They also both had flaws that pissed me off and sent me into wild rages. Both were cussed out several times in my head and both respectively had several paragraph heated conversations.

They both slept with girls when we were supposedly exclusively having sex. Both of those incidences hit severely hard. It was a breach of trust. An abuse of power honestly. You trust someone with your body, your temple, the most intimate thing you have to offer and that’s not good enough for your “partner”? Apparently, someone else is.

That’s shattering. Perhaps I’m dramatic, but I was broken.

I questioned myself. Was I not good enough? Why? Several questions we asked that one should not pose to themselves.

Weirdly, they both fucked up in the same way. If you were there you would think it was a movie. Like how do you both make the same mistake at the same time almost? They were about a month apart.

I had a come to Jesus moment. I prayed and asked for signs. I’m stubborn so I needed these signs to be very specific and very vivid. There were no signs, just silence. Silence.

I really struggle when it comes to speaking with God. Most people talk about how they hear the voice of God. I felt like I never had. A loud voice never boasted in my ear telling me what to do when I asked for guidance. So, I felt lost. Trapped in post grad depression, stuck at a job that I truly hated, confused about a degree I was obtaining and battling if I was good enough to be treated well in relationships.

Amid all this I saw My First one day during my lunch break at work. I felt frozen. I had not seen this man in almost two years. He had been erased. If you’ve ever seen “Doctor Sleep” then you know Danny keeps his demons in boxes with locks inside his head. Great movie by the way, if you enjoy Stephen King. Watch “The Shining” first, “Doctor Sleep” is the sequel.

Anyway, I locked this young man in a box in my head and stayed far away from any thoughts of him. Remember the unhealed wound? I blacked him out. Blocked him on all social media platforms and muted any mutual followers who stayed in constant contact with him. I was so angry at what transpired between us that I used anger to fuel the darkness that engulfed him.

And then one day I saw him. Anger hadn’t prevented him from existing. No matter how badly I wanted it to.

But I still didn’t want to face that. I didn’t want to address how hurt I still was almost 3 years later. I wouldn’t recognize that. Pride was telling me if I still cared that I was weak. So, I

brushed off the sight of him and tried to go on with life.

I love school. Random, but I have a point. I really enjoy math. A fact most don’t know. The only time I don’t enjoy a difficult subject, is only when I can’t understand it. If I know how to solve a math problem, its one of the greatest joys I’ll experience. God talks to us in several ways. I was expecting words, but God talks to me by giving me problems to solve. He knows that I am complex, stubborn, selfish, prideful, and strong willed, so sending me a problem to solve on my own was the way he knew I would get the message he intended for me to receive.

I continued to see this man. In the Arcade, at the shuttle stop, on the corner, in front of the building. I was crumbling. It was torture. I didn’t want to see him. I had this knot in my stomach that got worse each time I saw him.

I figured he worked close by if not in the same building. A friend informed he worked a block over. Have yall seen the Twitter video of the young girl asking, “Should I pull the trigger now or later?” That was me. Shoot me. Right now. Deadass.

A few weeks later, I’m on the shuttle talking to my work husband and who sits right across from me? Him.

HELP ME SOMEBODY!

But this isn’t a problem, I minored in ignoring folks. I continue my conversation because I never progressed past the age of 12. He speaks and at that point I’m forced to speak, but the conversation flows. It wasn’t as awkward as I imagined. We parted ways after the shuttle dropped us off at our cars.

I remember sitting in my car and immediately calling Camillia. I realized that the world did not end after we spoke as I imagined. The conversation made him human. This man who I had villainized in my head for years was human. He had his flaws and struggles just like everyone else. Yes, once upon a time he hurt me, but after the conversation I felt free. I didn’t fight with him, I just talked to him. It was cordial. It was closure. I felt enlightened after the encounter.

Its like instantly the wound started to close.

*Weirdly I haven’t seen My First since that day. God works in mysterious ways.

Ever since I lost my virginity its like I blocked out all the wrong I allowed myself to be put through. I always brushed it off. Stayed quiet about things that bothered me.

After that encounter, I went clean the fuck off on both of those young men. It was refreshing. I cried after, but I felt like I voiced everything that was wrong, and I felt strong enough to be done with both.

Let’s call them “The Banker” and the “The Baller”

The Banker is safe. Reassuring. A cutie. Attentive. The one I go on dates with. The one I take long naps with. The one I take too many shots with. The one who lets me win every argument. He pushes me to be my best in life and my career. He wants me to be the best grown up ever. He’s a good teacher and very nurturing. Super sweet when he wants to be. He taught me to open up more. He teaches me to speak out and speak up for myself. He taught me responsibility and increases my motivation.

The Baller is fun. Full of personality. A true Scorpio. This man always wants to talk. A dancer. My smoker. A headache. Real confusing. Detail oriented. Always says what’s on his mind. Secretive. Passionate. Friendly. (Ugh don’t we hate friendly niggas) Also sweet when he wants to be. But he taught me to enjoy life. Relax a bit. Be more positive and loving. He taught me to live for now and embrace today.

I’m thankful for them both.

After I lost my virginity, I kept repeating the exact relationship that ultimately broke me. I found that exact type of relationship in the two of them. I battled for the longest why it wasn’t working, and it finally clicked. No behavior had changed so the same outcome was inevitable.

My mindset finally changed.

I went to Paris, France for Spring Break. It was my graduation present. Beautiful, breathtaking, awakening. I was learning more about myself before and during the trip. While flying home I think everything finally clicked. Everything finally came together. I found myself again at 36000 feet in the air. That’s where I found the enlightenment to write this piece.

Paris taught me things. Life is precious. Life is temporary. Cherish the good things. Passion. Food. Family. Friends. Fun. You can replace passion with a fun f word to keep up the consistency. I appreciate my family more. I love my cousin harder now. I cherish my friends more.

If you’re in my life, it’s a privilege.

That should be a proverb for everyone to live by. Cherish the fuck out of yourself. You are sacred. I’m so sorry to myself for chasing toxicity and returning to men and friends who blatantly showed no concern if I was in their lives or not. A million sorrys to myself. I owe

so much for disrespecting you more than once. The first time was one-time way too many.

My time has been wasted in the past. Auntie gave us a jewel to live by, “Reclaim your time.” Its reclaimed. We can never go back, but we can move forward anew. Brand new. God grants us a new 24 hours if we’re so fortunate. Why waste them.? You owe it to your old self to build from the foundation they set. You build yourself up every day. Don’t be discouraged. Some bricks are harder to lay than others. But the structure you’re building is oh so beautiful. Some days you’ll marvel at the beauty. Some days you may not recognize it. Some days you’ll encounter someone who you’ll pray will recognize your beauty. They may not. And that’s okay. That’s the hard part. Realizing that some are meant to lay your bricks, and some are meant to marvel.

Take pride in knowing both are needed. Build me up or admire my beauty. Until I find my admirer, I welcome the builders. Lay my bricks. Make me strong. Help me regain admiration for myself.

You were needed. I am thankful.

Because of you, I can finally admire me.

This piece is dedicated to Cam, Red, Will and Nell. Thanks for pushing me when I was stuck. The words meant a lot.