Defining Moments

AN AWAKENING
There comes a point in your life when you face a moment of reality, an ephimeny and awakening. You stare into that singular event horizon, head on. You know that your life has changed. It’s a point of no return. No matter what happens, your life has been impacted by this one event. This is the catalyst of change. The moment of clarity that arises is not a moment of “Aha I got it.” It’s an ephimeny, a moment of self realization that becomes so crystal clear to the point of intoxication. I knew that I had begun to let go of Danielle in my heart. There are still parts of me that are sore and wounded. I am healing slowly. My realization was setting in that my relationship with Danielle was over. I began to accept it. I had been so absorbed into this relationship that I never thought about me. Slowly I have began to realize that I had utilized the relationship to validate my own existence. I thought that by having Danielle at my side that I was worthy of love.

I was still that little girl being raped and abused seeking any way to please someone. I did want to be thrown away or abused. In many ways, I had lost a sense of my own identity. Did I really have an identity? The answer was no! I had conformed my identity to what others had wanted and expected. This type of conformity is called a people pleaser. The real question was directed at my very core. Who am I? The time for me to find out was now.

I was ready for the first time in my life to explore who I was. Iam willing to do the work. I knew the road ahead was going to be emotional. The road to the authentic self is always challenging because you are looking into yourself and owning it. You make the change. I knew what I wanted to be. I just did not understand all the workings of how to become that woman. I had based everything in my life on my old negative mind tapes and previous experiences. It was time for a change. It was time for new tapes to be played. It was time to embrace my destiny as a woman and spiritual soul.

My writing began to give me revelations as an artist and a woman. The moment that I read my poetry at Black Women Unite brought peace to my soul. I felt like I had come home. The ability to bring my passion to the stage, and to an open MIC revitalized my soul. It was a turning point for me connecting to the audience with the words that I wrote and spoke. Black Women Unite gave me an opportunity to begin the healing process. I realized in that moment of clarity how my writing needed to continue. The writing of my past showed me the journey to come.

In the past I wrote two best selling kindle books. Firesides was my first book. Fireseeds was actually part of a series called Black Panther Rising. It was meant to be a series of mini novellas. I had based the love relationship of the two main, archetype female characters on Danielle and I. When Danielle left I lost inspiration to finish the series. I did write the third installment to the series called On Hallowed Ground however never released that book or any other installments thereafter. I could not continue to Waller in the mire of the sadness that had overcome my heart. Black Panther Rising became my art, my fire to the ideology of true love. I became an international bestselling author. The book became an instant must read.

My second kindle book, Tabula Rasa Mee Nah: Extraordinary Measures, really embraced all my poetry over the years. Tabula Rasa awakened the inner voice to my soul in a public arena. The preface of the book was dedicated to Danielle by calling it extraordinary measures. I thought at the time that dedicating a book of my deepest passion in poetry would show Danielle how much I loved her. I wanted to give her something so extraordinary as she had done with her loving me. It is a sacred when a writer dedicates a book to someone. This very act was actually a people pleasing measure.

I always utilized my personal life experiences as a source of inspiration for my writing. There have always been challenges. When I was in middle school, during the 19080’s, I wrote a story called The Reign of Terror. The Reign of Terror was written for my English class. It was a fantasy story where I used the characters to tell my story of abuse. In the book it was about a child that was chained to a closet and abused by her mother. The child discovered that she had special gifts and would rise to become the leader of the Sil’nce clan to overcome the brutal dictators of the land. I was suspended for a day by my middle school instructor Ms. Outz. She took the only copy that I had of the book and shredded it.

“You cannot write about such evils child” Ms. Outz said.

I remember my response very clearly as I couldn’t understand why I was getting trouble for writing about something that I knew existed. In many ways, it was my plea for help that someone would rescue me.

“I wrote about what has happened to me. I just used the Characters to tell it” I said.

I remember my face stinging. Ms. Outz fiercely slaps me across my face. I was stunned by what happened.

“Don’t you ever speak badly about a teacher. She is your mother,” Ms. Outz said.

I back up holding back my tears for I really respected Ms. Outz. She turned on me like they did. When will it ever end?

“No she is not. No mother would sell her daughter to men,” I respond.

“God does not tolerate children misbehaving,” Ms. Outz replies rhetorically to me.

“Thou shall not kill is one of Gods commandments. Yet she killed my sister. I’m telling you the truth and you won’t help” I said.

“Do you have the bones to prove it?” Ms. Outz asks.

“No, she used lime to dispose of the bones and the rest she fedTo the dogs or sold to the dog food company” I reply.

Ms. Outz looks at me taking what I had written shredding the 60 pages. She smiles,

“Your writing disgusts me. No one rapes their children. Let this be a lesson to you. Your voice shall never be heard” Ms. Outz.

I begin crying.

“You better cry and pray for forgiveness for speaking against a teacher. You’re lucky I’m not going to report this to your mother. Instead, you’ll after school in detention for two weeks.” Ms. Outz says.

“Doing what?” I ask crying.

“You’re going to write an essay everyday about how children are to be seen and not heard. You’ll write how you shall be obedient and not disrespect your mother. And write how your voice shall never be heard.” She responded.

Even when I told someone to rescue me, I was laughed at and slapped. What a dim a reality I was living.

Ms. Outz was wrong. My voice was heard. My voice is heard. I understand that she destroyed the book that I was writing out of fear, and at the time such abuse was not believed. I do not condone the behavior. Ms. Outz perpetuated the belief system that I was nothing by ignoring my cries for help. Today I write this memoir sharing how I endured a past of cruelty and lived to tell about it. I may have blocked the emotions for all these generations. Today I embrace my emotional wholeness with honor.

Writing is my passion. Every child has a mechanism that they use to survive abuse. Some child will paint. Some children will become angry. I used writing as an outlet to dream of a better future. A part of me hoped that perhaps one day I could write a real family for myself. I wanted a family that would not hurt me or make fun of me. A family that would love me for me. A family that would love to talk with me and interact with me. That dream would come true.

Today children are coming forward with their testimonies of what they went through as survivors of abuse. We live in a time now that such cruelties to children are meant with compassion and not mockery. Those of us that have endured such evils do not have to hide what we went through. I do not have to be ashamed or afraid that I will be made fun of. I am honored that I did not give up my writing or burn any of the journals over the years. I decided that I needed to take steps of first experiences. It was time for me to step out of the shadows. I cannot wait for others to provide the opportune moment. It was time to take my life into my own hands and live the authentic journey.

I needed to take the first step and make the change. There was still a loss of how and where to begin. I felt like a newborn child learning life all over again at the age of 40. I decided to start with myself. I was going to celebrate my 40^th birthday. I truly thought it was going to be scary because I was afraid that I was going to be alone.