The Last Blog

No music this time, just listen to me.

I don’t know what the purpose of this blog is anymore.

It began as a natural hair tips and tutorials blog. This was ultimately a fail. I’m not sure if being a hair influencer will ever be my calling.

The blog took off after I published “Let’s Talk About Sex Baby”. Why did I write that blog? I told myself, I told everyone, that I did it to take control of the story. My story.

A young man had humiliated me and instead of giving him the satisfaction of telling anyone a story that belittled me, I took control and put out my version of events.

It was a success.

And from success birthed a pattern of me making the same mistake over and over again.

I lost my virginity to a man who exhibited the same behaviors as the man from the original successful blog. Both used me and humiliated me, all before making grand announcements about their new girlfriends soon thereafter dealing with me. This exact same situation happened in my very last intimate relationship.

I never viewed them as the same scenarios until I examined their complexities. All alike. Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice, two times, even more than three. At some point it becomes shame on me.

What did I do once I lost my virginity? I immediately clung to the man instead of addressing the mistake. I ignored learning intricate details about him. I didn’t care to know the man, learn about the man or love the man, I solely expected him to stay with me. Heal me from the mistake I made. Feel bad for the role he played in ruining my life.

But was my life ever ruined?

He thought for and acted for himself and in that process, he went after the girl he really wanted. The actions were far from chivalrous, but what I know now is: so what? My first was never for me and I was never for him. Losing him was not a loss to me; but losing myself in that situation cost me three years of my life.

Three years I abandoned facing who I had become. Someone unrecognizable. Someone damaged beyond compare, someone drowning. Someone utterly out of it.

While in this state, I pushed out blog after blog essentially about the same thing.

“Your Curlfriend” was never meant to be a platform of: look who did me dirty this month or look who isn’t shit this month. I became a broken record of sympathy. Who was I?

I masqueraded a brave front of pride and strength, but I was never more broken. After graduation I found comfort in the arms of someone exactly like my first. At the time I had no idea. I even forged a friendship with this man.

As crazy as it sounds, not addressing my brokenness made it normal to not forge genuine friendships with men.

I grew attached to his personality, his character, who he actually was. I sincerely liked him. It’s very difficult to not like someone you were with weekly. Someone who you spoke to daily. Someone who painted a picture of actually caring for you.

But in the course of knowing him, something was also telling me to finally come back to God.

I never viewed myself as someone out of touch with God. You’re born. You grow up a Christian and you think that’s enough. I remember I used to say, “God never talks to me”. I never had a personal relationship with God. The motions were enough for me. And that speaks volumes about my character at the time.

During the cycle of feeling the tug of God, me and the young man experienced so much turmoil. A toxic environment was being created. There were so many arguments. We could never agree on anything, I mean anything. I could say the sky is blue, and of course he would say “it’s definitely green.” I felt insecure about everything involved in his life. His friends, his family, anything related to him, I felt subpar. Immediate red flags, but of course I ignored them. My mistake.

Despite it taking me so long to find God, God never left me. He sent me sign after sign to leave this man alone. I attempted to on several occasions. We went through numerous periods of silence. I always came back. Again, my mistake. But after those periods of silence, he always seemed to express care or the will to do things that would make me more comfortable within our friendship. Like a hook, I always felt like he was reeling me back in. I was outraged that he would never just let me go, fully shut me out, but he always let me come back and that was my mistake in doing so.

Eventually my faith built to a foundational level. I felt connected with God. I finally had relationship with him. I made drastic changes for my own personal growth. Something finally told me to leave.

A year after I stopped having sex with this young man, we were still involved in a toxic, gaslighting friendship. He offered closure, but I knew I wouldn’t receive any. He had a very bad habit of gaslighting any of my concerns. Another bad habit of not taking responsibility for his actions. Another bad habit of always trying to save face and an even worse bad habit of not being forthcoming without being prompted. I knew it would be our last conversation. I cut off all access. I walked away. I listened to the words instead of the actions when he said he didn’t want me.

A month later he made his grand Twitter announcement that he was in a relationship.

The exact same situation. Exactly three years apart. I want to say even down to the exact same day.

I didn’t cry. I looked at the post and I froze. In a haze for a minute. And I wondered “Why God?” At this point, I had created a relationship with God. I understood my purpose in life. I was preparing to go to law school. I had networked like never before. I had studied like never before. I had worked like never before. Prayed like never before.

I worked on my relationship with my parents. I knew them like never before. I made enormous efforts to be a good friend. A good person. Why did I deserve the exact same pain that broke me three years ago in the midst of me finally rebuilding myself in the correct way?

Ironically, I started a new job months before this happened. A close coworker happened to be the roommate of my first. He would casually bring him up in conversation. I didn’t pay it much mind, until one day.

We were out on lunch break and he mentions a fight between my first and his girlfriend. The same girlfriend from three years ago. He said he overheard a fight they were having. Apparently, he was messing with a girl shortly before they became an item, which upset her. Very on trend for my version of events. What astounded me was my reaction. Why was he telling me this story? Was this a messy interrogation? My stomach dropped. A reaction I hadn’t felt in three years.

Why was something from three years ago being broadcasted right in front of me? And a few days later, why was the last man suddenly doing this to me all over again?

That’s the issue: “to me”. What a bold statement to make. To think that them choosing their girl friends had anything to do with me. Whether it did or didn’t, I dodged a bullet of pain from both by not being their “one”. Who was I to them? Who are they to me?

God welcomes you with open arms. God loves you. God teaches you and God helps you.

God loves me so much. He knows me so well. So well that he gave me my closure. He gave me my “why?”. The “why?” I could never get out of this man.

Three years ago, I clung to the wrong person after I made a terrible mistake. I ran to a man instead of God and he hurt me. After he hurt me instead of running to God then, I kept running. I kept seeking comfort in all the wrong places until I had an ounce of wisdom to realize, I was repeatedly running to the exact same thing.

Revelation isn’t always comforting. Revelation isn’t always good the moment it happens. Sometimes revelation is hard. It’s in your face. On your social feeds. Reposted on everyone’s story. In everyone’s group messages. It’s there, and instead of running you have to deal with it. You can’t always fix your life by yourself. If you could the world would be a much different place. There would be no sorrow, no hate, no jealously. It would be Heaven 24/7.

I never healed. I never lashed out, but I never dealt with what was going on with me. Who I had become. What I stood for. What I would accept. My standards became that of nonexistent for both myself and men.

When God spoke my purpose over my life, it extended beyond a career path, my entire life had to be shattered to be rebuilt. Cliché, but like a Phoenix from the ashes. I had to burn and dismantle everything that had held me up until this point. The things that got me through those three years could no longer suffice for the woman that I am destined to be.

For the longest, I would say I didn’t wish any harm to the people who hurt me, but that’s a lie. I wanted them to feel just as low as I felt like they made me feel. God doesn’t like that, and karma has no expiration dates. So of course, my pain never subsided, and their happiness seemed never ending.

The point of the story is: I got hurt. I was done dirty, but sadly so what? Who hasn’t been hurt, who hasn’t been done dirty. I harbored ill feelings for so long. I had a victim complex for so long, but no more.

I’m no longer a victim. I take full responsibility for not addressing my issues. I take full responsibility for not nurturing my pain. I take full responsibility for not healing and for hurting others during this process. I apologize.

I’m not perfect. Man isn’t perfect. I abandoned God at my weakest moment and I’m so thankful he never left me. I struggled with understanding why he would hurt me like this again, but I realized that all lessons must be retaught until they are truly grown from.

Its time to move on. God knew that I let this chapter of my life stay open too long. It came to a point where I even let it define me. I remember I told the last who my first was as if it were known and I was so shocked when he said he had no idea. For the longest I let this portion of my life become who I was, but I am not this sob story. God knew it was time for me to close this chapter.

The pandemic, though a nightmare for so many was my biggest blessing to date. It allowed me to see myself truly for the first time. To do the groundwork needed to lead me into my purpose. My purpose is simple, I am passionate about Black people and women. I am an advocate for equality, decency and change. I will go to law school, I will pass the bar, and I will become an attorney. One who enacts policy change, impacts Black lives and continues the fight for our people.

But how can I fight for others, if I can’t even fight my own battles. I ran for so long. I avoided fixing the damage that was done. I didn’t want to fight through the pain, the hurt and the depression. I thought it was too hard. I didn’t have God.

It isn’t hard anymore. It’s necessary. Heal, grow, forgive, for you. Its necessary. Do the work.

I needed God when I was weak. But I also need God even when I feel that the battle is done and won. I need God at my peak and in my valleys. I cannot and I will not deny his power anymore. He gave me wisdom and he gave me revelation. Now that I know better, the burden is on me to do better. I now know the endless consequences that will follow if I do not.

To anyone I’ve had in the past who is now in relationship bliss, once upon a time I couldn’t wish you well, but now more than anything that is truly what I want for you and yours, because in this messed up life full of trials and tribulations that’s the least we all deserve.

I wish you well and I wish me better, because I deserve better than what I’ve been through.

I let failed romantic relationships, sisterhoods, and friendships define me for so long, but its tired; I’m putting it to rest.

My life is defined by no one else but me.

A relationship may not be for me right now, or tomorrow, or next year or even five years from now, and I am content. Because I know that my calling is bigger than me.

The fight for justice is bigger than me.

I think the true testament of a person is what they’ll sacrifice for others. If I have to set my happiness aside for the betterment of helping my people, I will.

Nevertheless, I will always have God, and so will you.

I’m thankful for those who have shared their love for this blog. For those who have resonated with it and found comfort here. That wasn’t my beginning mission, but it was such a blessing that this is what she became.

As a storyteller, it’s hard for me not to share my side of the story. However, you should be comfortable with not sharing your side of the story. God saw it all, trust him to handle it. I’m forever thankful for my linesister Isis, for telling me this.

Your Curlfriend became my silent cry for understanding. Understand how he hurt me, understand how I felt. But I no longer need the validation. I never did. Writing is also my passion, but not juicy tell-alls that heal no one.

No more victim antics, no more silent cries. We’ll move on stronger and wiser and one day we’ll read these pieces with laughter knowing that they were necessary for the moment. Necessary for the growth. A collection of snapshots that detail me losing myself and finding myself again. A true life cycle.

The end of that life cycle is now. I’m thankful for everyone who ever read any piece, who reposted any piece, who subscribed, who ever dm’ed me or texted me something personal or words of praise.

This is the last blog.

This is the last blog about that type of scenario happening to me. This is the last blog about me identifying with that situation. I take dominion over it and I won’t let it happen again.

Your Curlfriend will forever be my therapy. How I narrate life lessons and how I choose to share my creative side with the world.

But I’ll never end her because someone made me sad, or because someone made me doubt myself. Now is not the time for self-punishment. Too many people have shared loved for the blog for me to ever be embarrassed by my failed relationships and the things I publish.

Lizzo said it best: “I have boy problems, that’s the human in me.”

Who doesn’t have boy or/and girl problems? This has been our space to vent and now it’s our space to grow.

To be better and wiser and stronger.

I saw a post of LinkedIn that outlined “The Seven Skills of Resilience”. For the past three years, I never accepted or acknowledged my resilience and the healing that I actually had done.

1.) Cultivate a belief in your ability to cope.

2.) Stay connected to your sources of support.

3.) Talk about what you’re going through.

4.) Be helpful to others.

5.) Activate positive emotions.

6.) Cultivate an attitude of survivorship.

7.) Seek meaning.

I have completed everything on this list. I am still healing, but even in the midst of healing, never sell yourself short. Acknowledge your growth in all stages and always give yourself credit first. Please don't be hard on yourself for the mistakes you make in this life. Give yourself grace for your ability to overcome them. To navigate beyond them, and most importantly for learning from them.

This is the end of an era of being the victim. This is me taking my life back.

Sincerely,

Your Curlfriend