Intimately Worded with Michelle

Category: Blogging

  • Living in Brokenness

    We all do this. We do not allow ourselves to heal…not all the way. We believe we have had enough, done enough so we wait in hurt. We dream for better in the same routine, the same rut. We fight so hard to get what we want that we fight even harder to keep what damages us so.

    This post is heavy. I have pondered not to write it but alas here’s my heart: Living in brokenness determines so many different avenues that our lives will take. Faith and courage are more than stepping-stones. Faith and courage open doors. So many doors. The last few weeks, relationship woes have found their way to my listening ear. I refuse to give relationship advice. One, I am not in one. Two, No one knows a person’s true ordeal. People tell you what they want you to know and if the advice given does not match up to their true wants and what they want to do…the advice given is deemed wrong. Three, my experiences and my level of want may not match up to another’s level of love. Therefore, I listen.

    Her experience Woman I: “I am in a committed loving relationship. Twenty years, a sinful committed relationship. He still married.”  She laughs, “Now you know I know better.” Beautiful woman, late 50’s, a therapist.  (He is not legally divorced.)

    Her experience Woman II: “Thank you for wishing me happy birthday. My husband has not said one word about my birthday. I have been dealing with this for 20 years and I am not going to remind him.” Its 11:30 pm when I receive her text. This saddens me so. I want to respond, “Tell him.” Yet, I do not. I text, “Hugs. We’ll celebrate when we go out.” I know that did not ease her hurting. Beautiful woman, late 50’s, wonderful heart. She will give her last to a friend not expecting a payback. Beautiful spirit.

    My experience: I hide. I dare not show the deep levels of my heart. As wide and forgiving as it is, my heart hurts quickly and the consequences of that hurt makes me very decisive. It is difficult for any man to penetrate my heart. If I am hurt, I retreat. I do not argue and I do no fix people. My intent is never to hurt anyone. I live my life with those intentions. Yet, I know that I am capable of loving with the best of them. God’s timing is with purpose.

    Living in brokenness becomes factual, routine and monotonous without us being aware. It is a cycle of self-protection and longing. It is very understandable and livable. We all do it. Our coping mechanism, our coping techniques are a greater companion than anticipating change. I truly believe if my first marriage had not ended the way it did I would still be there praying, hoping, hanging on and suffocating simultaneously.

    I believe the ones who have the ability to break our hearts should not have nor be given the credibility to keep us in that place of brokenness. Living in brokenness is a place of growth, not a permanent place of stubbornness and “if-wishing.” God will do so much more with our heart matters when we faithfully move within our trust of Him.

    Peace your heart and love in hope,

    Michelle

  • Heels, Heals, & Concrete

    My Sunday…20160626_150107 (1)

    Teen: “Ms. Michelle you play?” Me: “I can show you better than I can tell you.” I missed my first few shots so I took off my heels and we began to play. He is 15 years old, plays soccer; he has never held a basketball, heavy accent, overdosed once. He is the new kid, the quiet shy kid. My third day on post and I cannot remember his name. He shoots, misses horribly. I begin to teach him the techniques of holding a basketball, of bouncing. He continues to miss. He bounces the ball to me saying, “You try.”

    I get’em all in! Sundress, barefooted, happy, sweating and connecting. During our conversation, I learn that he speaks nothing but negative statements about himself. “I can’t do it.” “I won’t get close to the blackboard.” I learn that his parents are from Honduras and El Salvador. I learn that he is a US citizen and that when others call him, “Mexican” its the only time he corrects anyone. I learn that I cannot pronounce his ethnicity but I continue trying until he laughs. He doesn’t mind repeating, teaching me.

    It is just him and me. All the other teens have gone elsewhere along the park. I see him relax. I see him smile. I see him continue to try. I am learning to be his biggest cheerleader. I clap and yell when he gets a shot in. He then asks about me: “How did you learn how to play?” Me: “I have older children and I like the game of basketball. I watch it. You have to keep trying. Find a spot on the court you feel comfortable with and go from there. Keep practicing. Don’t give up.” Him: “Okay, Ms. Michelle. You got WNBA skills!” We laugh. I did outscore him.

    After our interaction, sitting at the counselor table, Older Guy, smiling: “You have to meet them right where they are.” Me: “It was nice.”

    Our moment healed my “self-tearing” struggle from last week. “Don’t give up.” They tell me I am no more than 32 years old. I dare not correct them. They know I am not a recovering addict and my first day they dismissed me as confidant. Yet today…today was a good day.

     

     

     

     

  • Stay Strong in your Strength

    Whatever your strength may be, remain strong in it. Strength isn’t how much you can hold on to without bending. Strength is the core pull that keeps you.  I know life is difficult, rocky, tumultuous, unwavering, different, exciting, unexpected and yet, wonderful. Life is full of change and it molds us into great individuals. Many times life hits us with a gargantuan why! However, we have to be cautious, observant, for remaining in a hurt does so much injustice to you, to others. Losing pieces of your soul constitutes nothing; it betters nothing.

    There are so many reasons to go forward. Holding in an act of violence is a violation to all that is you. Soul wounds are God’s jurisdiction yet if you do not have strength enough to voice it, see it for what it is how He is able to heal completely? God loves intimately, without reserve. We have to take part in our own healing.

    Your strength is not a mute response. Silence is not a healing mechanism for hurt. Your strength protects you, heals you, and directs you. God is the source of my strength and yes there are times I can forget that He is. But we have to be more than a statistic, be more than what was done to us.

    Refuse to drown yourself in self-doubts, negative feedback, and devastating insults. Stop living within your hurts…caused by others. It is hard to maneuver and to be motivated in broken places. We can mend, hold on and continue to try a self-fix but a broken vase still appears cracked, chipped despite the different methods used to put it back together. The damage is there. Self-fixes include silence of a soul hurt, self-hate, low self-esteem, self-abuse, victimization, and ignoring a cycle of debilitating behavior.

    Stay strong in your strength. You know what your strengths are, don’t let anyone’s action strip them away. My strong strength: Faith. It is a strength no one can see nor are they capable of creating it nor do they have the ability to diminish it or take it from me.

    Any thing you do, whatever keeps you from falling into an emotional abyss of less than is your fallback, your anchor. When the world does not make sense what is your strong strength? I remind myself that I am an awesome Mom, my strong strength. No matter the challenges in life, I have to be better than a hurt, greater than a disappointment. It is my responsibility, my right, a privilege to overcome.

    A fragile heart is a strong strength. Keep it. Being hopeful, having expectations keeps you from settling for less than what you deserve. Do not let your thoughts descend into what ifs and why nots for they only produce negativity and intrude upon your imagination. It requires so much to outdo others and even more to be better than the best. You have all you need to be who you are…its right there inside of you. Take the time to enhance all that you have to offer the world.

    A hurting stuck requires no growth; it doesn’t move the world.  Remain strong and strengthen yourself for far greater than you imagined.

    Always expecting more for you,

    A.Michelle!

  • You are beautiful

     

    I have this intrinsic viewpoint of myself. I believe it to be more humble than critical, an innocent naiveté. I speak and communicate with strangers yet it still blows my mind when others want to be a part of my world. All right, I rip myself apart. You do too. I am friendly enough, very independent and make my own way but not at the expense of others.

    I have been teaching for the last three months. I have prepared myself so that I will not fall in love with these teenagers. My expectation when transitioning to teaching was and is to gain their respect not to be their friend nor to gain love. My big picture is to finish graduate school, pass the exam and achieve licensure as a counselor. I am a year and half away from the complete process.

    I enter the teaching field based on a suggestion, good advice, a solid “to do” until graduate school is completed. My wall is up, my heart guarded and my emotions are in check. I want you to know these children, these teens that are deemed “at-risk”, who are less than respectful, that are mean, they are hurtful and hurting….they come find me now. They seek me out. The ones I have had removed from the classroom. The same ones who call me names, the ones who walk out of the classroom, and the ones who have fought one another in front of me…..they purposely come find me in this huge school. It is a new semester and I have a free fourth block every other day. It is my planning period. I expect them to ask me for something or to do something and I hear, “We don’t want anything. We miss you. You mind if we sit in here with you?” I breathe, we sit, and they talk. My heart melts….I have no clue why they want to be here with me. The children that are expelled….referred over to alternative school they search for little ole me. They come in between classes to speak, to give a hug, to smile and just to let me know they made it to school. It truly amazes me.

    I have teen females telling me their troubles. How being girls in their household leads to violent acts, how they are touched inappropriately and how, “Mom has had three different boyfriends. She is pregnant now.” They tell me how being gay and sexually active at 14 years old is, “what I know. I know how men are. I see what my mom goes through. How she takes his side. How she did not come out her room when he was beating me. She threw me out. I mean I’m back now and he is gone.” Her head down and my response: “Our children should come first.” Her: “We should.” I just hug her because I do not know what else to do. I want to bring her home with me. Not just her, all of them. Oh how my heart aches for they go right back into the same environment.

    As a counselor, as a mother I know how to do this. As a teacher, I am amazed, blindsided, lost, and heartbroken. I have so many questions. This hurt, their hurt is on a grand scale and it is a lot of them. Her story is not new to me and her story has happened to so many of them in this school. I completed an essay and had an open discussion with my professor. I ask, “Why do they share with me? I do not know them. They are students not necessarily mine. I just got there.” Her response: “You are trusting. That is what they see. You’ll figure out what to do.”

    While I am trying to figure out the best way to aid, help, assist who I am does not stop becoming, does not stop progressing. My soul stretches. The gray hair multiplies before my next salon appointment. I tend to wear my glasses more than my contacts. (I think they hide my crying, red eyes better.) I do not see any increased worry lines. I still manage to smile. I have to. I love on my children even the more. I am ever so grateful for my parents, my family and my extended family.

    Wednesday of this week, I am waiting in the line at the grocery store talking with my Brutus, my youngest son. An older woman walks up to me: “I love your hair. I absolutely love it. You know we spend so much money on our hair. I know you not spending $300.00 on this and it is beautiful. Do not change. God has blessed us as a people with so much and we try our best to make it into something else. I have dreads and people do not even do that naturally anymore. We so quick to hop away from us. This is what I love to see. I am not going to stop at your hair. I looked at your skirt, beautiful. Your shoes, beautiful. You are doing it and doing it divinely. I had to come and speak to you. I watched you talk to your son. You, your you is just beautiful. Keep it up. Don’t change!” I thank her tremendously. Yet, I still wonder why she and others open up to me. I tell my daughter the conversation and I ask her, “Women will compliment me quicker than men. This woman compliments me and I turn heads but not one man spoke to me. Why is that?” My Autumn, (she is 12) hunches her shoulders: “She is right. You are attractive Momma. Maybe men see more and are intimidated.” My resolve, she is watching me too.

    We reflect what we want to portray yet it is what others see that is /will be our greatest impact. Continue to believe more of who you are rather than in what you are trying to do. God has this God-way of making it all work for our good. Your efforts will impact, direct lives to overcome, have others stand strong, motivate change and encourage others not to quit.Be beautiful in every way. Let them see you, your beautiful you.

    Light the way,

    A.Michelle!

  • Carved New Horizons, Opened Doors

     

     

    angelou
    Dr. Maya Angelou                                   April 18, 1928-May 28, 2014

     

     

    Cooper
    J. California  Cooper         November 10, 1931- September 20, 2014

     

    Nikki
    Nikki Giovanni               June   7, 1943

     

    Toni M
    Toni   Morrison                                                                                       February 18, 1931

     

    images
    Gwendolyn  Brooks                           June 7, 1917-                 December 3,2000
    octavia-butler-photo
    Octavia Butler                                             June 22,1947 -February 24, 2006

    Black Women Authors expanded, continue to expand my  world.

    The authors shown above are my favorite. Hopefully, if you haven’t read their work you will make time to do so. Wondrous works.

                                            Black Women Authors, Writers….

    They mend our souls over so many obstacles, over so many other things, for so many years. Soul-reachers. Soul-Soothers. Confidence makers. Our next-phase- encouragers. Hope-pushers for the discouraged. Dream creators.

                                     Girl. Teen. Lady. Woman. Queen. Wisdom.

                                                             We are royalty. 

    Our “I am” Warrioresses….we know how to hold on, we know how to let go, how to breathe…with their words. Words grouped into stories, poetry, truth fabricated to educate, enhance, imagine, explore, to start, to stop and to begin again, to finish.

    Soul-reveal reads! They are our forever writers. Ase Ase.

    Celebrate Herstory. We are amazing by choice!

    A. Michelle

     

     

  • Broken Relationships

    Dysfunctional moments have the possibility to lead to decisions that will set us on paths unintended. How we treat each other, love each other is one of the greatest gifts we give. It is priceless. Yet, everyone one of us has someone we will not talk to nor deal with due to personal and private issues.

    Healing begins when we are able to let go. Letting go of the guilt, the anger, the remorse as well as the mindful playbacks of what ifs. Concerns about what could have been are mere distractions that can keep you unfocused on what is ahead. Apologize if the desire is there but prepare yourself—your readiness, your act of kindness has the potential of non- reciprocation.

    Life gives so many challenges. The opportunities of having more are multi in number. Continue doing what is right. When we take the necessary steps often times that is when the unpredictable happens. Our hearts mend with the intent to move forward.

    If we allow it, Life will cater to our pain—to the perceptions we have of others and ourselves. Friendships stale, our versions of love and being love can deteriorate. We bury our emotions; we skip over life lessons and expect resounding forgiveness from those our actions destroy.

    What I love about forgiveness is the two-way of it. Forgiveness removes the fault lines, those consequences of failed hope without a trace of residue. Do not push away, do not shut down on the things that matter the most. Matters of the heart are genuine steps to all you wish for; remain expectant in God’s better. Think of it this way….broken relationships are broken at times for new growth. Brokenness is not an ongoing exit for guilt, shame, arguments and doubt. Move forward.

    Love as our Creator commands. Forgiveness is counterintuitive to love. Forgive because it betters you. Let God do the rest. I worry less when I trust God more. My heart has taken its share of bruises; my soul wounds have been many yet trust God I do. This time of my life, this winter season has been the warmest ever.

     You have what you want in this life; make it work!

    Happy kisses,

    A. Michelle!

     

  • Something New, Teaching.

    Last week I began teaching teenagers in our public school system. I was so scared, still am. At times, I still believe this something new is all going too fast. This something new has affected all facets of my life. My life is changing. Things are different. I am different…softer in my approach or retaliation to others. There is so much training on what not to do that it is easy to lose focus on how we are to be….with children. They are children, little people trying to figure It out too—so many of them without any help.

    Teaching is not a role new to me. It was never a desire of mine to teach. My parents told me I was good at it. As teens, we believe parents tell us what we can do because they love us. However, teaching requires a great sense of responsibility and that I did not want. When the thought of teaching Sunday School became more than just a thought I fought against it with so many belittling reasons. I am not good enough. Who am I? Why me? I am not smart enough. The greatest one, if I teach I truly have to live what I am teaching. Lol! Every night of training, I had to push myself to go into class and each night as I was leaving I cried the whole way home. Three years later, the butterflies are still there but the love I have for learning and being able to influence others toward God’s love quietens the fluttering.

    When I started this job, every morning as I traveled toward school, I prayed for strength and protection. Every afternoon, while leaving I thanked God for strength and protection. Whew, I made it! While driving home I reflected on each day and I smiled. I wanted more. I am still smiling now. They grabbed my heart. Those children, other people’s kids grabbed my heart. They have given me the greatest hope and that is of finding ways to influence their lives. Yes, they are at times loud, sneaky, disrespectful, and cautious and closed off. Yet, for those few, there are more who just want you to listen, encourage, show concern, and hear them.

    Oh these little minions are easy peasy versus warring with God about my personal preferences. Finding my way and living out my life well that is the hard part. Becoming a better person while in a difficult transition requires brutal self-honesty. Learning to love where God has you requires dependency, trust, faith, forgiveness, hope, determination…..and so much more.

    My something new reminds me how God loves on purpose. A former colleague and a great female leader emailed me when she knew I was teaching: “Doing something you have passion for is the true key to success!!!” She is right. Be encouraged.

    Always be ever expecting in God’s better.

    Writer-Mom-Child Advocate-Blogger-Teacher,

    ~A.Michelle

  • Seasons of Change

    ​Our stories are written, predestined. When we believe and begin to live in our story the Universe unveils itself. As we live, we recommit to being the people He purposes us to be. Two thousand fifteen has been exhilarating, excruciating, full of loss and of redemptive hope and perseverance. I have cried more this year due to changes. Major changes within my life and within myself. I have gained clarity and confidence in the bleakest of times. I pride myself on living my life by putting one front in front of the other. I keep moving and I keep pushing. So when it was time to sit, to rest, to heal I had no clue how.

    ​A time to heal: ​The physical things that ma​k​e me feel whole, feel ​feminine​ were surgically removed due to years of pain. ​My hysterectomy was ​something​ that shook my core​, my psyche​. ​I had become so accustomed to the pain that not experiencing it anymore was a difficult adjustment. I have this Michelle habit of being independent to the point it can be quite unhealthy emotionally, physically and spiritual. So my recovery took a little longer than I wanted it to be.

    A time to mourn: ​​A week after returning to work ​I lost my job of fifteen years. ​ Mind-blowing to say the least.  I have worked since I was 15 years old. ​Yet, I was able to be home when my children returned from school. Treasured time! I made new friends within my Church. People prayed for me. I realized that although I believe I’m on my own well I’m not. My family, friends and sisters will not let me be.  I lost my job but I have gained so much. ​God directs me so much better than I do Him. I’m listening without questioning. His leadership qualifications are pretty good. (smiling) ​
    ​A time to dance: I ​will begin a new career  that frightens me yet I am happy. God makes a way. Regardless, of how much we don’t want to and how much we struggle with what we fear the most. He makes a way for us to do what He has purposed us to do. He works it all out for our good.
    ​
    ​​This blogging world— ​this community of writers, who have the ability to write their hearts ​ in black and white​ are ​kindred spirits. Worth​y of ​knowing. ​You guys open my world, thank you. ​This experience causes me  to want to read more, write more. Kudos via this social media world: One,  I am
     learning Hebrew via France!  Two, I have connected with a community of entrepreneur women who want to share their stories, reveal to you their successes! Finally, I’m pretty good at this….this blogging thing. (I am smiling.)
    ​

    ​M​y counseling journey is  ever​ phenomenal​; with each course I am told I will be great at it. ​Yet, the responsibility of this profession is daunting. I have this huge heart and I want to “fix” everyone without medication. Love is free…me the idealist. My work as a guardian ad litem increases my love ​ for humanity, for our children and their families. I am unable to break confidentiality and the weight of being loving within a system that is not can often times be soul-wrenching.  My sister-friend Nikki ​advises​, “​The “problem” with people like you (ha ha)  and I is we see and notice things that others sometimes don’t. Human suffering is so personal – even when it is someone we don’t know well, that we end up carrying heavy burdens.  Some might find it a curse but I consider it a gift.” Another confidant, Teacher, Mrs. PhD congratulates me for, “Standing in the gap…” ​​​

    Our world is so much bigger than our individual circumstances; the tangible and the intangible​.  Greater beginnings. If we truly think about it every lesson learned takes us to a new ending. Take  time to find the clues that will help you begin again. Trust me, they are there.

    Resolve & Resolute,
    A.Michelle!
    ​This season, take time for you. I pray you are loved with the love you ​have ​always wished for. I pray if your heart has been broken that you heal lovingly and with the expectation there is more.  I believe we are all connected to ​one another to ​improve, learn and draw from ​each ​other ​for our better.
    

     

  • Monday’s reflection

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    Happy Monday!

    I had a pretty eventful weekend with family.  Friday night, I shared a wonderful birthday celebration with my cousin, her sisters and longtime family friends. My Autumn went to a late night movie with her friends, (late is 9:15.) I can admit that I am an overprotective mother. To Autumn and Brutus: nope, I am not changing anytime soon. My Brutus was to spend time with his brother Darius at his home.
    I don’t go out much but when I do my wardrobe advisors are vicious in their comments…after I have completed dressing: Autumn: “I don’t like those earrings with that outfit.” She finds more and hands them to me. I put them on. Brutus enters my room: “I don’t like those earrings. What is Autumn thinking? Everything else is fine.” He finds another pair and I put them on. As I am leaving and Darius is entering to pick up Brutus, Darius: “You need to go back in and put on some clothes.”  I ignore him. (All of me is covered up as usual. They not gone worry me. I dress them.) Of course, all this makes me late. At times I think they torture me for fun. I want to believe that they have no clue how many times I change clothes and how indecisive I am about my “Me.”  #mytribe
    My greatest friends are my siblings, my cousins, my family. Oh how we laugh and cut up. Love is contagious. Goodbyes include, “make sure you text us when you get home.” I am a middle child. There was no outlet or organization I attended where I wasn’t surrounded by family. School, Church, work, shopping, anywhere and everywhere somebody always knew me, whose child I was. I think at times we take for granted what we have, what we are accustomed to yet our environment can become the very foundation of our makeup, our journey.
    As I drive towards Charlotte to pick up Bru I think of my journey as a mother. I have been a mother longer than I have been a child, a teen. My oldest is 26, college grad and living in another state. My second born, Darius is 23, on his own and getting ready to be a father. I remember how I didn’t like children, didn’t want children and I laugh. My greatest fear was that I wouldn’t be a good mother.  I was afraid that I would either forget or leave my child somewhere; absent-mindly neglectful. Now, I am to be a grandmother, whew! Still quite unbelievable to me. (I’m smiling)  Of course I get lost trying to find his place….I debate with my GPS because I don’t wanna travel the Interstate. (Don’t try to figure me out.) Yes, I know there is a setting to avoid highways.  At times I have to ask Autumn or Bru how to mute my phone. I pray they don’t send me to a nursing home, which is Damien’s common threat to me.
    I finally find his place 30 minutes later. It should have been a 15 minute drive per my GPS. Darius so protectively watches me walk from my car. He tells me I am back early. I tell him they went out for drinks. Him: “You could have went with them and got some of that swing back. Bru is fine.” Of course, Brutus is not ready to leave, so I nosey around; ask questions about the new place. Me: “You check the crime rate before moving over here? You like it? Yall feel safe? You did good Darius. I noticed on the way in the parking lot is full and it is Friday night so that’s a good thing.” We leave. Darius again watches us. I smile as he braves the cold. Brutus is sleep before I pull up to the stop sign.
    Damien and Darius grew up the way I did surrounded by family, cousins. They know and understand that generational love. My Autumn and Bru know but will not truly experience the full effect of it.
    Summers were fun time. Running through fields, jumping gullies, riding bikes with sheer abandonment. Damien and Darius remember catching frogs and tadpoles; cousins defending them from neighborhood bullies while playing “rough” football. They were tiny. “We can hit him like that, you can’t.” Oh the childhood fights, the protection. Love is contagious.  None of my cousins or sisters went a second go round of having children, LOL! Only me. I’m not sure if I could have done any better as a mother but I know I always did my best for I received the best. They are happy and so am I.
    #roots #TillmanTaylor #Waxhaw
    Nesting is a huge problem for me and I think it will forever be. My wish is to have a home huge enough for every child of mine and their families to co-exist in one place. I told them they each could have their own wing and each night we could meet at the dinner table. I think it is quite doable. Of course they laugh at me. Family matters, reflecting on life is a joy. Sharing life is an unforgettable constitution. I love Saturday mornings and my favorite day of the weekend is Sunday. Make life count for you and for others.
    Soulfully aging,
    A. Michelle!

  • The Roots of Thanksgiving

    roots of thanksgiving
         Since my mother passed three years ago my Thanksgivings are completely different. Our Thanksgivings are so different. I’ve always cooked during this time and I enjoy it. My emotions range from being absolutely grateful yet missing her and my siblings tremendously to wondering what to do. Overwhelming. How do you start new family traditions when the Center, our Nucleus has transitioned?
         Family is everything. ​Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays because I get to see all my Family—well Daddy’s side. My aunties, my cousins, my nieces and nephews, new additions to the Family. My family is huge and I love that. I travel from Charlotte to Waxhaw. My oldest lives in Virginia and his girl is from Virginia as well. In October I asked could we spend Thanksgiving with her family and the answer was yes. I wanted a change of scenery, to do something different. A week before Thanksgiving Damien calls to say, “We are coming there.” Me: “So I have to cook?” Damien, sarcastic as usual: “Well, yeah.”
           The morning of: I am up early cooking. Damien is as well. He doesn’t sleep in anymore. He comes in the kitchen, “What’s ready now? What can I eat now?” Me: “Turkey necks and rice but who eats that as breakfast, this early?” Well, Damien does. Later, I ask him to taste test my gumbo, “That’s good. Damn, that’s good.”
          Damien has to return to Virginia Friday so our time together is rushed. Seamlessly, all falls into place without me having to organize anything. We will stop in Waxhaw, two of his buddies from college will join us. Isn’t that awesome, that his college friends want to be with his side of the family? The crazy, loveable, country, ghetto, thuggin, I-love-God-but-will-cuss-and-or-cut-you, we-all-gone-eat (neighbors and strangers too), most Black family in all the world. I am so proud to be a Tillman.
          We drive the long way into Waxhaw. New developments that we haven’t seen. The town is beautiful with Autumn leaves, the colors are magnificent. The countryside, the woods bring back so many memories.  I greet my cousin “B”, who looks nothing like 61 years of age. She hugs and kisses me, “Look at you short and sexy. Keep it up.” My other cousin Sharon is just beaming with a beautiful joy and has been for the past year or so. She will not tell me her secret. She is absolutely gorgeous. Then there is my cousin Vince Edward and we argue-love as usual. He’s older than 50. He says he isn’t. I say he is. Then there is my Auntie, the matriarch, head full of gray and silver……she fusses. I smile. I listen. I tell her my baby is going to have a baby and she smiles so, she laughs as if this is the greatest thing in all the world. I tear up because I see my Daddy in her smile. I remember how important family was/is to him. No matter what went on in my life I know I was loved…am loved.
          My family….my Damien and Darius have girlfriends, long-term girlfriends. There hasn’t been any others brought around for me to meet except these two, JaNee` and Dominque.  I reflect on how their girlfriends are becoming more like daughters than friends. We have dinner at my place, Damien’s circle and my children. All is well. The laughter, the conversation and their camaraderie made my heart smile. The one from Delaware hasn’t ever had nor heard of turkey necks before and condemns us as country bumpkins before he devours them.
          My family….when Dominique bites into my collard greens, closes her eyes and sighs w/ deliciousness. She says, “This is so nasty.” We laugh. She is womb-ing my first grandchild and again my heart smiles. I remember how I would only eat my Momma’s collard greens. She would give me my very own dish to take home.  Domi has the most peculiar taste buds and I know her pregnancy has warped everything. There is still a great debate about the title of my new role. I’m not ready for the title “Grandma” because my mother was Grandma. (Doesn’t feel right, lol.)
    I like Grammy— like the Grammy awards. My children roll their eyes at this idea.  Everyone else is called Nana, Mimi, Glam-Ma or Me Maw. I don’t like Glam-Ma either.  Decisions, decisions. (huge smile)
          At one point I try to exit the room to escape the heaviness of the season, missing my parents, our time together and JaNee` says: “Next year at this time you will have the pitter patter of little feet, a baby crawling reaching for you. Expect big things next year. Different, new. Big.”  I smile, realizing that she is learning me. She won’t let me wallow, I step back in the room and tell her, “You are right.” We talk some more.
    My roots, my family, my children and now my children’s children.
    My Thanksgiving. My Life!
    Tearfully and amazingly grateful,
     A. Michelle!
     P.S. Dominique returned the next day for more collard greens.

     

  • You, my audience

    My hope is that you will see, my dream reader, within my words is Me.  I love a lot. I can encourage others yet give so little effort in encouraging myself. I am the greatest supporter in whatever your dreams are yet I will push my dreams aside because of fear….I doubt myself more than I doubt others. I will fight for you, protect you and forgive you. I believe that love conquers all. Yet, despite how strong Love is it is the most fragile and greatly misinterpreted concept, misguided method in history—present and future. But I know Love reigns as the greatest champion in all the world.

     A few insiders that make me Michelle…..I read magazines from the back to the front. I will read my favorite book and watch my favorite movie over and over again–and each time get something new out of it. This fact is very seldom due to age, when I eat french fries with a meal I consume all of them first. One has to eat fries while their hot. Cold fries are a waste of time and energy, be respectful.  I am first to reach out, touch and comfort a hurting person but will pull away if a person touches me. Oh, I give great hugs, too! A person told me this, “I love your hugs. They are not half way or soft. They are so real. Needed.”

    I love God. I believe in Jesus yet I’m no one’s chump. I think our population has watered down the characteristics of Jesus. In my opinion, He wasn’t a pushover. My confidence, guarded self-esteem is solely based on knowing God loves me….yet I ain’t no shabby chick. I am no wall flower. I believe I stand out in a crowd because of this huge smile I have. As a teen I always shyly covered my smile with my hand. (It is huge and kids are mean.)

    I am wanting and in wait to meet the love of my life. Yes!…at my age, after divorce, after four children (ages 26, 23, 12 and 9.) I love Love even though we don’t seem to agree, click or meet. (Laugh)

    I have moments of uncourageousness that have led to one profound truth: I hope. I hope a lot. I think settling is a travesty, a comfort so unwelcome to the heart, so unfair to others and to you. I choose not to write from hurt –somehow the beauty of it (writing) is taken away and “they” win.

    What are the things I hide from others? ….hurt feelings–I package them away. As well as the full bluntness of my anger, my tongue is vicious–I’m working on that. My moments of self defeat….well I take that to God. He listens His way and checks off my to do list on His own time. He has a sense of humor.

    So I hope you read my blog, my two cents, my words with an intimate knowledge of unbiased truths of me by Me.

    With hope,

    A. Michelle!

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  • That Publish button…my bloggy blog statement

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    When I write….It all passes through me. I see more in black and white than what’s in my heart. I can fix this…when I write.

    ​ My feelings, emotions are more coherent. They are tangible, loud. Emotions feel, taste, they bite. My tiny voice is loud, substantial, coherent no longer misunderstood…when I write. I’m strong, powerful, vulnerable and so transparent. It scares me, still…when I write. 
    When I write, there aren’t any rules. There are no, “You can’t.”  No incorrect grammar rules (ok, I have to make sense) but I can make up words within my own writing context, “uncourageous”— (what a wonderful word) and you as the reader know exactly what it means!  As a female raised in the South, no rules is a new phenomenon and the release is pure ecstasy.
    (Don’t get too deep with the latest intonation. lol)

    My heart seems to have no rhyme or reason but my words bleed truth, bleed, reveal my  soul. ​ My matters of the heart are not without healing, when I write. The invincible is plausible, the impossible is reasonable. ​​ I can do more, achieve more when I write. I am more than super; I am a wonder, when I write.  I feel normal yet I know this writing is unique, a gift, my very own gift. It is mine….and it frees me….it connects me…it heals me. It is me, all of me.​

    My tears spill over into smiles or a  “Wow. Now I see” ​ confirmation begins to develop new ideas. ​ My joy, the kind no one can take away centers me. God meets me write there…..and quite simply, “There” is an intimacy experienced–no longer an imagination…when I write.

    Vulnerably yours,

    ~A. Michelle!