The Fourth ‘A’ Word
The fourth ‘A’ word we’re going to talk about is Alignment. This is the part of the game that I really had messed up for a long time. I was reading the books, well, starting them at least.. .. . Let’s just say when it comes to my treasured, hard cover books, I’ve started more than I’ve finished. Thanks to audiobooks, I have began to actually finish the books I’ve started, via listening. It’s one of my favorite and most used learning tools. Just throwing that out there.
But back to the topic of alignment…
I was one of many people who got put up on The Secret back when it came out. I was introduced to it by the guy I was wasting my time with in late 2006. Even though he only added to the mental complexes began by my parents and the institution called patriarchy; I did learn quite a bit because of him. I was gonna say church but the word patriarchy is more encompassing. What I did appreciate about him was not his open mind, because it wasn’t, but his consideration for a different way of thinking, and viewing the force many call “God”. I was almost disappointed to see that he chose to go into ministry, after all that shit he was talking about slavery and the people-owners using Christianity as a form of control… yada, yada, yada. And to the asshole who just said “bitch that sound like an open mind to me”, let me tell you why that wasn’t the case. He expressed himself in such a way that the only point of the conversation was to understand his point. That used to piss me OFF! Yeah, I knew that relationship wasn’t gonna last forever. Everything was an argument. Now you can blame it on my Sun in Pisces, but I’m generally a very adaptable person. I assess my situation, and I develop a plan that would make me comfortable in that situation, then I ride it out. And I rode that relationship out until the tie rods snapped! And not just that one.
I’ve found this to be a sure shot path to disappointment. Just riding it out. It’s hard to explain why I stayed in those relationships so long, there’s really no justification. At some point I was clearly unhappy, that unhappiness became chronic unhappiness. It’s interesting that the very video that jumpstarted me taking back the reigns to my life came from the first person I really needed to just cut off. My ex husband used to recite the quote “people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.” And being the natural, COMPLETE ass hole that he is, he would add “you were just a season.” You mutha fucker! But he was right. And us being together for only a season, was the second best thing to us never meeting in the first place.
Before the tie was for real severed between time waster #2, we sorta went through a brief tug-of-war, where he wanted to stay, I wanted to leave, I wanted to stay, he wanted to leave. Hella toxic. Two people who didn’t know enough about themselves to just skip the madness and pursue what they wanted in the first place. I’ll tell you this, I was not interested in his ass and I only ‘went’ with him because I was weak minded and allowed him to persuade me simply through persistence. Not once did I consider the fact the I knew he wasn’t the type of man I really wanted, you can include looks to if you want, but with or without the looks, he’d drive any woman to jump off a bridge - no chute.
I know that’s harsh but the extent that he went to for what I now see as control; all I can say is, I’m not sure that was normal behavior. I forgive myself, but I can never do that again. I always felt an innate longing for something spiritually deeper than the experience I was having. I really need to connect in my relationships. This guy was one of very few people who I could at least have conversations about the universe with, even though he was a complete know-it-all and it was a challenge to get a word in. Oh, and I developed a horrible habit from that too. See I’m addressing all this. No bad behavior left behind.
I started to talk over people. It seemed like it was the only way I would be heard. And he (and his father) encouraged it. Telling me, “Ya gotta speak up! Ain’t no body gonna listen to you otherwise". So I adapted this behavior, thinking that it would help me gain respect and get my opinion heard. Nope, I ended up becoming just as annoying to my friends as he was to me. I’m lucky I still have friends. Their version of speaking up, referring to the aforementioned ex, was mostly loud and pertinacious. I’ve decided that I just need a healthy balance between my preferred soft spoken nature, and knowing when and how to respectfully interject.
I admit, was attracted to his mind and the fact that he was a thinker and hard worker. But just like I was telling my homegirl the other morning while I was insta-carting, “yeah these dudes may have good qualities, but these qualities that we are speaking of are basic, foundational things one needs to do to sustain themselves as an adult with or without a partner. And like the gentleman K.S. over on YouTube has expressed numerous times, “that shit ain’t special”. K.S. was obviously applying that to women who feel as though their domestic skills should be good enough for a HVM to commit their all to her; for those who like to be clear on context. But I apply that same concept to men, and women who operate in the masculine and are looking for that special wife - we’re all inclusive here. Time waster #2 definitely had what it takes to self-preserve, he understood basic adulting. But he stressed me the HECK out! I remember throwing an oatmeal cream-pie cookie at him, still in the plastic wrapper. I just couldn’t take it any more. Now I don’t condone throwing cookies when you’re overwhelmed or angry. But, I let him take me there. Not proud.
“Did you just throw a cookie at me?”
“Yes.”
My point is, there are things that are basic and non-negotiable when it comes to entering a relationship as an adult. Some things should be automatic. Do they keep a clean home? Automatic, even though I have had my own struggles with this. Are they respectful? These sorts of things simply show that they’ve had some home training from somewhere and lo, you may appear with them in public without much worry in regards to undesirable, ghetto behavior; like always sending their food back because the cook added one of the thirteen things you rudely told the waiter to leave off.
“Yeah take that off cause I don’t eat that shit.”
“Hoe we in a five star restaurant! Do you know offensive that is!” is the mental response I imagine the partner having in their mind, while anxiously waiting for the experience to be over.
I can understand things like no tomato, or no mayo but some of you do need to just stay home and cook your own food, for real. [Loose grammar warning] Listen, I don’t want to see no hood behavior unless we’re in a situation that requires one or both of us to tap in, said behavior.
Outside of that, It’s always my goal that we both have a great time, bonding and getting to know each other on a deeper level. I’ve learned that doesn’t happen with everyone regardless of how sweet you are. DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT try to change that man. It’s not your fault, maybe not even his. But that doesn’t mean we have to accept it if it’s not really what we want. His ride or die is out there, you don’t have to fill-in, he’ll find her. You just focus on finding you.
At what point do we decide that we want more than just the basic stuff. What are we even supposed to consider when accepting a romantic offer? I know for many of you this is definitely TEEN 101 but remember this is a late bloomer writing. It’s probably easy for some to see that I’ve spent a lot of time in relationships that should have never even began. From Time waster #2, to my ex-husband who I briefly mentioned above, and maybe two others. The one positive is that because I wasted so much time in these relationships, by body count is still fairly low for a woman my age. Maybe the right question to ask is “why have I been giving it all for minimal exchange”? I’ve come to a few conclusions on this matter when it comes to myself and women who’ve been in or are in similar situations.
We don’t know what we want. Not really.
I read one of the truest statements out there in a book written by G.L. Lambert. I can’t tell you which book because I’ve read several. But he, and a few other writers and lectures I like have all said in some form, “How can you be in alignment to ‘manifest’ the life that you want, relationship included, if you don’t even know what tf that is?!” I don’t know who needs to hear this but being in alignment takes effort, and not the kind you’re probably thinking of. Argh! Whyyy did it take so long for this to ‘click’ with me?
When I think about all of the things that I’ve ever wished for, prayed for even, and I compare those experiences to what I actually got, I can’t HELP but to refer back to the ‘A’ word Accountability. One of two things I had a habit of neglecting to do for a long time was accepting full accountability, not half, for the results of my choices. I had the owning up to my actions part somewhat down pat, with one MAJOR exception that caused me to surprise myself. It was the actual changing part where I got caught up in the web usually. See, I knew how to conform, I’ve had many years of experience conforming starting with my cult-like upbringing.
Writing about this is bringing up a lot of strong feelings of embarrassment. But, if I’m real with myself, I learned that my chameleon skills kicked in out of a desperate desire to feel accepted and liked. I vividly remember not understanding why anyone, kids, teachers and even my own parents didn’t like me. At least that’s how I felt. And I know I’m not the only one. I really wish I would’ve been able to snap out of this a long time ago. I hate that these things stuck with me for so long. But that’s because I never fully processed those issues.
Probably how it started
As a child I quickly and easily made friends. There was no one I didn’t want to be friends with. My childhood was spread across the 80’s and 90’s and like many families back then, I had many cousins around my age to play with. We all liked each other and that was my first social experience. I loved school at that age, pretty much up until middle school. I even called day care ‘school’, although I knew it wasn’t the same. My grandad thought that was hilarious. Telling him I go to school, him asking “What’s your school’s name?” and me responding with the name of my day care off Seven Mile and Evergreen. I begged my mom a lot “to go to school”, which was good English for a three year old.
“Mommy can I please go to school?”
“Not yet JJ.”
Then FINALLY! Kindergarten round-up! First day of class, my teacher shows me to my name card, which I noticed had many letters compared to the cards of my classmates. One side was my name spelled out in dot-to-dots, the other written out with solid lines. The first order of business was to trace both sides of the card on a piece of paper. It didn’t take me long to finish because my mother had already taught me how to do all that stuff, in her words, “back when I could hold a crayon”. So naturally, once I was done, I would strike up a friendly conversation with whoever was sitting next to me. This became a problem for my teacher, and then for me, because eventually, I started getting kicked out of class. Yes, at the tender age of five, your girl was forced to go to a second grade class and sit next to their teacher, right up front. I somewhat remember her face. The problem is, this was scary for me, and I sometimes was dragged down the hall because of my resistance. In tears I would sit in front of this second grade class… .. LEARNING.
The teacher would give me worksheets to keep me busy, and you would think that two adults could’ve put two and two together seeing the pattern between me finishing my work early and then disturbing the class, and then going into a second grade class and keeping up, “Hmm, maybe this little bitch is just ahead of her time?” No, I wasn’t punished directly for being smart, but what I was punished for was definitely related to it. That’s when I began to shrink myself, at the same age where I was just getting started. I finally get to go to school to learn and “do science”, like the kids I watched on PBS, and what I got was the onset of mild case of social anxiety, not wanting to be seen, but wishing I fit in so I could be comfortable being seen. I just didn’t understand what the problem was. Why was these bitches so mean?
Wanting to fit in but can’t.
I didn’t tell my parents about that treatment until I was older and the anger on my mom’s face when she said “You should’ve told us so we coulda’ went up there!”. Now my mother may not have spoken up for herself much, but she didn’t play about her kids and that’s true today. I couldn’t quite articulate how I was feeling at school because these were new emotions, emotions that I didn’t like and had never been taught to process. I mean, I knew the kindness side, and have always been prone to understanding the other persons disposition, but as far as actually feeling “worried”. How do you teach a kid about the concept of worry, and even then how do you teach them to process it in a healthy way?
I’m sure my kindergarten teacher, along with her counterpart thought I was another bad-ass-kid and had probably spread that bullshit assessment about me around the school. But the disservice they caused by how they responded to my natural impulse to socialize, was deep, and long-lasting. I didn’t stop talking in class, and became even more disruptive down the line actually. But looking back, I am willing to testify on the importance of tuning in with kids, asking the right questions, so that we cultivate emotionally healthy human adults.
Fast forward, we move out the hood about a year and half later. I’m now in first grade, I love my teacher and I know she loves me because she was like the science lady on PBS, that was my logic back then. She was a young, single Jewish woman, very common as the majority of the community we moved to identified as Jewish, many orthodox. It was great growing up in such a diverse city. It was a time when interracially mixed families were becoming a norm, so we didn’t get as many stares as we got south of Eight Mile and other areas. At my new school, rather than one or two of us finishing our work early, it was more like a race between the top ten performers in the class. When my teacher would give an assignment, she would follow-up with “…and when you’re done with that, you can pull our your library books from our field trip.” So, rather than me being disruptive, I was being productive. And most of all, quiet, lol.
This is an also an example of how being aware of what you want and taking practical steps that cause little if any resistance at all puts you in alignment with whatever that is for you. In this example, both teachers obviously desired a quiet and controlled classroom. Both teachers took actions that gave them the same result, not dealing with the talkative one. The difference is, my first grade teacher wasn’t stressed out, yelling, or dragging kids down the hall. She encouraged my love for learning by understanding what was natural for a kid my age who was slightly ahead of the game. Maybe she had a chat with her colleague across the hall, “I got this new kid in my class, cute as a button but she won’t shut the fuck up!” Maybe her colleague responded “Girl just give her something to do”. This is why I always have activities, such as art kits around when friends say “Can I bring the kids?”.
Miss First Grade didn’t traumatize me in efforts to get me to comply. She paid attention. And I had many positive experiences that were huge confidence builders during those formative years because of her, and my parents being in alignment with my education. She was also significantly less stressed out than my DPS teacher who clearly lacked the wherewithal to manage a class - not all her fault, but still.
I will give her credit for one thing, she taught me how to fully color-in an image. “Naw you ain’t done I still see white spots.”
Now, I want to go back to the part about ‘shrinking’. The more I started to have experiences that made me feel like I didn’t fit in, like being kicked out of kindergarten and not understand what the problem was at that time, the more I began to feel the need to change. Again, I’m no stranger to adapting, it comes a little too natural. I adapt seamlessly to shit I don’t even like so there you go. And this is the very part that I hate because I was changing for the wrong reasons! I was changing to fit in, opposed to finding the tribe who was waiting for me that whole time. Rather than using this time to learn who I was, and develop as an individual, I made my likes “their” likes. And if I couldn’t fit in with what I had, I lied about what I had, as if my Nikes being “at home” mattered.
So I’m a kid, I feel out of place, and now I’m a liar; not just any kind of liar, a manipulative liar. Maybe I was in a predisposition to lie because my mother always talked about how “your biological father lied so much he believed his own lies.” which is very fucked up. No one should have that many stories going on that they can’t even keep track of reality.
The bottom line is this, worse than me lying to my fake friends, I was lying to myself. You know why that’s the real problem? Because in doing so, I became in alignment with the damn lie! Time to fix that!
We’ll talk about how this transferred into my adult life in the next one.
At Least I’m trying.
