I’m nosey. Yesterday, I was in the grocery store, buying groceries and people watching, when I heard, “Believe me when I tell you, I’m not the storm you want to try and weather.” I stopped, not looking for a fight, but I wanted to hear the response. A clap-back is what they call it today. Sadly, there was no response.
On my ride home, I reminisced about old sayings that made me laugh, over-think and pull out my pen and paper as a child. Here are some of the phrases that I can remember.
“Quiet as it’s kept” was used a lot, but I learned that the statements (so-called secrets) told after that saying was well known to many. “Mama’s baby, Papa’s maybe” is often said today. Who has not heard “A hard head makes a soft behind.”
“The pot shouldn’t call the kettle black” means you need not criticize someone for the faults you also have. And this one made me think because I was too young when I heard it the first time but knew not to ask what it meant, “A wet pussy and dry purse don’t match.” Sounds raunchy, I know, but I learned later it just means you should not be talking about you broke if you are having sexual relations with a man, he should be taking care of you physically and financially.
What family does not have “The Black Sheep of the family?” And who has not heard; I have eyes in the back of my head, fix your face, or I’ll fix it for you; I’m not one of your “Lil friends.” Shut the front door, stop letting out the air, I brought you in this world, and I will take you out, every shut eye ain’t sleep, and blind in one eye and can’t see out of the other had me scratching my head when I was young. Last but not least. “Let go and Let GOD.”
I could go on and on, but I would like to hear what old sayings do you remember.
Am I the only one up? It’s 3:33 AM, and I cannot sleep. So as I lay here deep in thought, the only thing I can do is get up and write to release. My mind runs a never-ending marathon (It’s running fast), and I cannot see where, who, what, why, or how it will go. Conversations that are not with someone standing in front of you or over the phone, zoom, skype, etc., are just as meaningful. I’ve had some deep conversations with myself. Some are motivational, others funny, and many leave me with the WTF expression on my face. Plenty of people tell me that when my mouth doesn’t say what I feel, my facial expression does. Many think that random thoughts, rambling and staring are often associated with instabilities. Not true; with me, it’s; just because I don’t say it does not mean I didn’t see shit. I’m no longer surprised that some people consider silence stupidity (not realizing they are the stupid ones in the equation). If my rambling makes no sense to you, that’s okay. What makes sense to me may not make sense to you. Just me rambling…
I’m an introvert, a silent observer. I only speak when necessary, but mentally I absorb all the bullshit I encounter. I use what I can and store the irrelevant info for possible use later. The conversations with myself are sometimes more engaging than those had with so-called normal people. Abnormal is the new normal. I’m also an empath. I see bullshit and recognize assholes before they are announced or introduced to me. That is one of many things that people love to hate about me. My silence and intuitiveness often lead to people calling me uppity. And since I choose not to engage in their stupidity, I remain silent. My superpower is treating people like they don’t exist. Having someone question their existence in my presence after they have attempted to belittle me is funny as fuck. I remain nonchalant and wait for them to “get the message.” It’s sad, but it usually takes a while.
I wake each morning thankful to be among the living, healthy, and surrounded by family that loves me. And with this prayer: I come to you this morning grateful to be alive, giving praise and asking for strength to make it through yet another day, faith to conquer all quests I encounter, and common sense to keep me sane as I navigate through today’s journey. I ask for these things in Jesus’ name. Amen.
So much has changed in my life, but the day I met Jake was the beginning of it changing for the better.
Care if I join you?” he asked. My response was slow and unexpected, but I’m glad I answered as I did. “Only if you give me your name first and know that I’m just taking a walk.” “My name is Jake. And I’d walk to the end of the earth for and with you.”
Speechless, I smile and start to walk. We walk in silence for a minute or two until Jake asks for my name. I reply, “Rayne,” and noticed that his smile grew bigger, and this causes my heart to melt, and I realize that this weird energy between the two of us is merely attraction. As we walk and talk, we learn that we only live three blocks from each other and have a lot in common. Jake, like myself, was being pressured to stay in Waycross to go to college when he wanted to be far away from his hovering parents. They mean well, but the smothering could drive anyone insane. I explained my parents’ struggle with drug addiction and my molestation as GeeMa’s reason for wanting me close to home. I knew she wanted to keep an eye on me, and I swear I saw his heart sank. I asked if I shared too much too soon, and he assured me that he was pleased that I was comfortable enough to be so honest and said he wanted to be there for me if ever I need to talk. I was only comfortable in my own skin when I was in Jake’s presence. Something about him says I see you and accept you as are, flaws and all.
June 6 I miss you Mommie. Daddy can’t do my hair. And Grandma refuses to even try. Grandpa suggests a beauty salon, but daddy reminds him that you don’t trust them with my hair. They all say I should get a perm. That won’t happen. I am going to wear my hair natural…like yours. June 7 Yesterday I managed to brush my hair into a large curly afro puff. This will be my go-to style until I learn how to do more with my hair. Gram and Gramps are still here. They act as if Dad I are lost without them. I am lost without You. It’s only been two weeks since Christ called you home and I wish Gram and Gramps would go home (back home to Florida that is). June 8 I am glad school is out, and summer is here. Just wish I could spend it with you. June 9 Dad and I have decided to continue your family date night, and in your honor, we dined at In and Out. Dad looks so sad, and I know it’s because he misses you. He manages to smile every now and then, and I’m certain that is when he’s thinking of you. June 10 LUV YOU MOMMIE
Multi-personalities, schizophrenic, Sybil ain’t got shit on me. We all have more than one personality, and if you are unwilling to admit it, you are only lying to yourself. Once you face the truth, stand before it, and see it for what it is, hell, you may finally learn to love yourself, flaws and all. I love me, but I didn’t always like me. Jake unknowingly stopped my first suicide attempt. I thought the demons within that day were calm, but as I walked along State Street, my thoughts shifted to faking a fall in front of a fast-moving semi-truck. I’d walked two blocks battling the demons inside me when I hear Aretha Franklin’s “Bridge Over Troubled Water” playing in a car at the traffic light nearby. I look up, and our eyes are locked. Jake smiled, and something happened that I couldn’t explain, something I have never experienced before. And it was apparent that he, too, was feeling this unfamiliar energy that seemed to introduce and unite us. His friends continued to walk, but he stopped at my side, causing me to turn so that our gaze remained locked, and I managed to smile back at him. My life changed the day I met Jake. Jake is my best friend and savior.
Tell the truth and shame the devil. Look, listen and learn. Know when to laugh it off, live it up, and last but not least, let it go!!! That old saying comes to mind, That which does not kill you can only make you stronger. If that makes any sense to you, then what I have written so far has not been a total loss, and you have yet to understand that you are reading the ramblings of a crazy-ass woman by now. Join me as I release my thoughts to find my truth—journaling to keep my sanity. In search of that which is no longer but once was. I will try to make daily entries; if I miss a day or two, pray for me.
March 25, 2021:
I search the radio for that song to relax me when I hear Paul Thorn’s I Don’t Like Half the Folks I Love. Not the music I would usually relax to, but the title alone seems relevant for the occasion. These children are getting on my damn nerves. What am I to do in the house with three nonfiltered assholes? Ages four, seven, and twelve. Dad (Jake) is deployed and missed by all. Lucky bastard. Jaden is four-years-old, more like 70. I swear he’s been here before. Jordan is seven and the only one in the house with any common sense right now. My twelve-year-old, Jai, is the introvert of the family and looks at silence as a blessing. I, Rayne, wife to Jake and mother to three children, am looking to find and release my truth.
I curse a little (okay, I’m lying, I swear a lot). I am human. I am not perfect. My flaws announce the truths that live within the imperfections that many consider sinful. Do your flaws entertain or disturb others? And why do Christians’ (some not all) act as if they have never sinned? I am a work in progress making no progress (yes, I got issues, don’t we all), and I am willing to stand before the world and shout it from the rooftop. And I won’t end the conversation with, “have a blessed day.” No use fronting like I gives a damn when I don’t. You are the so-called reformed whores, and I’m the no bull-shit realist. We each have our demons that need to be acknowledged then banished. I know the church is for sinners, not saints. Still, I prefer dwelling among the heathens who won’t step foot in a church but know that God is everywhere and loves us all than be in church with those who think just because they attend church and misquote the Bible that’s their passport to heaven and everyone else is bound to burn in hell. The Bible has been rewritten, misquoted, and wrongly translated by heathens and sanctimonious hypocrites since before I was born. “God doesn’t make mistakes,” Chuɹɔh folks are quick to say this. Praising his name and giving glory to all he does. The same people are quick to say, “God loves all his children.” And then they call me an abomination.
Stop preaching positivity then underhandedly belittling people and talking about them behind their backs. Stop saying one thing while doing another; looking down your nose thinking you’re better than people just because you go to church. Stop asking people to come as they are then when they arrive you are judging as if you are Christ. You know like I do that you are lower and dirtier than the sinners you claim to help find Christ. And for the record, Christ is not lost… we are. Quiet as it has been kept, I, too, sometimes ain’t got the sense God gave dirt. I’m four quarters short of a dollar and don’t give a fuck. Nobody is perfect. We are all a work in progress. Many Christians think they are perfect, and everyone else needs a cleansing of their sins. The casinos have more windows than any Church has true Christians. I wake each morning asking for strength and an extra dose of common sense. Why lie about who you are and what you do when your lies pretty much announce your truths? ¿Can I get an Amen?