It feels like you're dying

That's what a broken heart feels like, a broken soul, and an open mind.

Sometimes I find myself standing still just pondering on how hurt I feel. How CONFUSED I feel.
Like what the fuck is love?
How is it even possible for me to say that I am in love, or love someone when there's so much pain attached to it. Shouldn't that be physically impossible?
Well if it's not it should be.

I don't get this.... thing..... I'm in.

One minute it feels so much like love, it feels so much like happiness and contentment that I can almost dupe myself that it's real.

But by the next moment the illusion falls before my eyes and I am left to bear witness to the destruction that remains.

Sometimes I like to pretend I am enjoying the ignorance. I pretend that I am totally unaware. I like to purposefully forget. But like a wound unattended that always comes back to haunt me.

I've tried to stop looking for the messages. But it's addictive. It's like when you open the gate to the other world, you can't close it. Not only will you notice the spirits, but the spirits will now notice you.
I don't do it all the time, just when I want to snap myself back into reality. Just when I've caught myself making plans for the future. When I catch myself using that stinking L word.

And that's when I find myself standing still...
pondering how hurt i feel. How CONFUSED I feel.
Like whtat the fuck is love?

Why it’s Easy for People like Me to Get Lost in the Mix.

An introspective essay by: Khadija Charles > that weird girl that people really like but tend to forget about.

With all of the innovation that is going on in social media it’s hard to admit that I am friendless. How so, you ask. Well, yeah, I’ve got tons of friends on Facebook, and have been working a little wingspan on Twitter and I’ve also even started dabbling into things like Tumblr  and I’ve got an undercover blog on Blogspot that’s got like 2 fans, and I’ve got a work-in-progress blog on WordPress, but I don’t have friends.

What I do have is a best friend that lives all the way in Seattle and a “friend-of-emotional-convenience” that I’m having a hard time navigating my friendship with. However, that’s not to say that I don’t have people I know and like and actually consider my friends in my lonely, fiendish mind but don’t actually feel like they are when you realize you barely speak to each other. I’m closer to my estranged father than I am some of these “friends”. I’ve realized, over time, that I’m very friendly and people like me. People think I’m cool, interesting, and from time to time oxymoronic by being mysterious and open all at the same time; this leaves me being quite memorable. However, I’m also (very oxymoronically) forgettable. For a while I couldn’t figure out why and then an experience with getting employment made it all very clear.

In the state of New York, in order to work with children you have to complete a special type of background check. This one specifically checks your background for any instances of child abuse or maltreatment in your home as well as ANY home you’ve lived in for the past 28 years. Now, I never had any problem with this clearance because I don’t have any child abuse in my background, as well I’ve always only went back 10 years because everything after that gets fuzzy. However, this time, this company was requiring my entire 22 years of life in addresses. For most people this wouldn’t be an issue, but for me there were two things wrong with completing this form. One: I’ve lived in over 40 different places (5 different states 20 different cities) and Two: close to half of those places were domestic violence shelters (where the addresses have to stay confidential for the security of the women). I struggled, but eventually I got the information. It took a lot of sleuthing into my childhood emails and Google Maps, but I did it. Nevertheless, I digress; this is just a part of the problem. The problem that I realized I had was that with all the moving around I've done, I’ve conditioned myself to be the way that I am now. I’ve conditioned myself to be an oxymoron.

Wait? What? How? I know that’s the first three words that pop up in your mind, unless you’re a psychiatrist then you’re like, “I knew it!” Nevertheless, I’ve literally became what I despise most about my life right now and why I feel like I no friends. I’ve come to find that in my childhood, because I got used to the pattern of moving around a lot, it became easier for me to adjust to making (and losing) friends that way. I could make friends easily because they felt comfortable with me and it was easy for them to move on (making it easier for me to) if they could forget me just as easily. I might have left an impression, or a moment that they might call upon when they think of their childhood with a nostalgic smile and a soft chuckle, but at the end of the day, there's no hard feelings. This worked a lot in my younger years, and got more complicated to achieve as I got older and as technology came into play because now these friends wanted to “keep in touch”. However, I was just left to bear witness to their lives and how they’ve moved on. I ended up feeling resentful and jealous realizing that nothing can replace a friendship that is solidified by proximity and time. Therefore, no matter how cool, sweet, or funny I was people just wouldn’t go the extra mile to keep up an active friendship with me.

Moreover, as time went on, I became harder to want to be friends with. My life was just too complicated and too depressing. Then I discovered a few other issues that played a major factor into my lack of friends. I was suffering from Bipolar Disorder. So in a nutshell I was essentially a nut case. I can’t handle my emotions effectively and end up pulling into myself and pushing others away. In an effort to not burden people with my illness or my problems I saved them the text message breakup and just faded away. In doing that I missed out on a LOT of things, a LOT of opportunities, and a LOT of friendships. Another issue that I noted was that I’m just an oddball. I look very young, and most of the time I act very young, but I’m stepping into that weird ADULT threshold where I can act older than I actually am. I can engage in older activities, but at this point don’t have anyone to engage with.  I wrote a poem called “Weird” that was about this predicament (kind of) *warning there are expletives*:

People are weird.No let me rephrase that.I'm weird. I'm not like other people.
I don't have friends. I don't go out. I don't retell stories that start with, "I remember that time when I...when we...when this..."I don't hang out or chill or "Hey, let's do (insert awesome activity) at/on/this (insert time/day of week/month/year/season).I don't have raging Facebook posts/pics of all the places I've gone/things I've done.
Don't have rings/necklaces/bracelets or tattoos/piercings from when I went (insert awesome place).I'm fucking boring.
I don't have a black book, notches in my belt, or reasons to get dirty looks.
I don't live on the edge or between the lines.
I don't have a tag that says, "I'm cool because I've been/done/had/went/saw/was a part of... etc."I don't have a tag that says, "I'm uncool because...." you get the point.
I'm just here.Not really doing one thing or another. Not really being one thing or another. Not really fitting in, but not really sticking out. Like shit. What am I really? I guess, I’m just weird. Because I'm not weird, and I'm normal, I'm like oatmeal. Kind of bland, but I've got a dash of cinnamon and sugar so I'm not all that bad, but still there's no bang...This needs to change.

I ponder a lot on this, well mostly on that last part. How can I change this? How can I over turn years of habituation? And yet, before I even delve into that I have to ask myself, why is this an issue? What’s wrong with being a loner and having no friends? What’s wrong with just staying home and playing Lego’s with my 1 year old or gorging myself with all my favorite shows on Netflix? Well, because that’s just no way to live, especially not for a 22 year old. I was always one to preach on the soapbox that my life wasn’t over just because I had a child. And it’s not, especially when you have people waiting in the wings to babysit. If the opportunity arises I should be able to jump on it like a San Fran streetcar! But here’s the kicker, it has, and I just let that streetcar pass me by. I live in New York City! There’s no way that I shouldn’t be able to get myself out there and MAKE friends and ENGAGE in cool activities, but I can’t. Why, you ask? Well to be frank, I’m scared. And I don’t know how. These past few years have brought on a lot of changes, especially emotional ones. These changes that have turned me into a shadow of the person that I used to be, and I can’t get past that. This talent that I’ve cultivated over the years has left me hollow and shy, really shy. To top it off the problems just keep piling up and the stress just keeps pushing me down. Every once in a while I raise my hand up to ask for help and it just dangles there in the breeze, waiting. No response. This in turn pushes me farther down than I was before. And as easily as I found it to train others to forget me, I have started to forget myself. This need to change.

As a woman, a black woman at that, I cannot fall into that trap of just letting myself go. I have a daughter to raise, a black one at that. She will have the whole world trying to forget her before she’s even had a chance to make herself known. I have to show her that it’s unacceptable to fall into the shadows. I have to come out of mine, I can’t continue to wait for someone to come along, hold my hand and pull me out. If I cannot be a role model to her, than who can? If I don’t face this fear, this depression, this oxymoron, it will only get worse and I’ve beard witness to countless woman who held this as their only inheritance from their mothers. My daughter deserves better than my pitfalls, she deserves a legacy to build on. So even though I’m “normal” to some or “tainted” to others, I still take pride in being me, I think it’s time I shared that with others.  

If you can identify with some of the things I have talked about and are looking to come out of your shell you can find me at:

khadijacharles@gmail.com

Facebook.com/khadijacharles

Twitter.com/water_flowz

innovationfrminspiration.wordpress.com

linkedin.com/in/khadijacharles

You can also contact me if you are interested in being a part of a documentary I am going to be working on about slipping through the cracks.

I thought ....

I was thinking about publishing another post or something sort of to say... Happy New Year.

And so ....

Happy New Year.

It's 2014 and again, I don't feel that much different, but I do feel more hopeful.

I think.

no... I know.

I've decided to just play the tides out and work a little harder about going for what I want.

NOT what Tom, Joe, and Sally want. (nothing against anyone named that... good going for you.) But Olivia is the most important thing to me and I MUST do better by her this year.

She'll be two this year. I've decided to attach a picture of her loveliness.

Peek-a-Boo

Can you see her??

Isn't she just adorable?? hahahahahahahhaha

I'm sorry that was as much as I was willing to subject her to your scrutiny/judgment. Maybe one day I'll fully disclose myself and my daughter. Or possibly when my book publishes you'll just be able to Google us....  

Anyway, yes. 2014. 

I didn't say it last year, so maybe that's why it didn't come to fruition. But this is the year. That I break my barriers and reach my goals. Things are already happening, so I can feel it. I'm so excited. 

For those of you who've made it this far with me, thanks. Stick around there's more to come. 

And for those who've just hopped on this ride... Stick around, there's more to come. 

Why I've come to HATE the Holidays

Yes, I've said it. I despise the holidays...
And not because I don't believe in them, or the idea of family, down time, or mass consumerism. But because its come to mean something different to me.

There used to be a time when I loved the holidays. Even though we lived in the shelter, in some one else's home, or in our car we were together and a family. And that was enough for me.

But since I've had my daughter or rather since she's came into my life... its a bit more complicated.

Lets go over how this came to be...

About 3 years back, our first Christmas out of the shelter was uneventful. It was depressing and stressful for whatever reason. I can't really recall that Christmas clearly. I felt tides changing, but I couldn't pinpoint what was changing.

Next Christmas I was pregnant. Although I was not yet aware. I was in the first few months that is characterized as "you're-losing-your-fucking-mind" trimester. I spent that day, at someone I did not knows house, followed by partying all night in a club. I was fucking loony. And that my first taste of "I hate Christmas".

Then comes Olivia, and that Christmas managed to get fucked up because I spent it in a mental hospital. Just days prior as I wallowed in postpartum depression and undiagnosed bipolar disorder the world flipped upside down, and I chased my infidelity with a slit wrist. Once again, loony... are you sensing a pattern here? Because I am.

Then, finally this Christmas. Familial pressures everywhere, shelter lifestyle, no money, stress and depression. I smelt a breakdown coming along. Until Christmas eve comes and too many shots of tequila makes him into a monster. I don't recall doing anything, and neither does he. I do recall the sting that followed a swift slap to the face. The air rushing out of my lungs as my windpipes were constricting. Nothing I did could make it stop, and I myself couldn't avoid/stop it. This time I wasn't the loony one.

I had never been a victim. Never considered myself one, and Im still unsure if I am. I just know it hurt. The angry words followed by the vindictive hands. I've never felt so weak. I cried, until I couldn't. I yelled until I was too scared to do anything but just stand there. And at some point in time even that angered him.

He has NEVER been like this before. What happened??!!?? We'll never know.

He didn't stop until we gained the interest of the dutiful security guards. I was paralyzed so I nodded everything was fine, and I let him guide me into the shower once they left. The rest of my night was plagued by nightmares and his apologies. He swore to never do it again. But he's never done it before. He doesn't even know how he got to that point in the first place.

So how can one control the unknown?? I'll never know...

So this is why I despise the holidays. Its been bringing out the worst on me. Its rained the shittiest parade and Im left to pick up the fragmented streamers of my life. Every single fucking time.

And I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I don't know what to do. Im stuck. Frozen. In that frame of mind.

My hope is that my soul will heal as my wounds will. And I can pack my pessimism away until next time.

Until next time.

Weird

People are weird.

No let me rephrase that.

I'm weird.
I'm not like other people.
I don't have friends. I don't go out. I don't retell stories that start with, "I remember that time when I...when we...when this..."
I don't hang out or chill or "hey, let's do (insert awesome activity) at/on/this (insert time/day of week/month/year/season)
I don't have raging Facebook posts/pics of all the places I've gone/things I've done.
Don't have rings/necklaces/bracelets or tattoos/piercings from when I went (insert awesome place).
I'm fucking boring.
I don't have a black book, notches in my belt, or reasons to get dirty looks.
I don't live on the edge or between the lines.
I don't have a tag that says, "I'm cool because I've been/done/had/went/saw/was apart of.. etc."
I don't have a tag that says, "I'm uncool because.... you get the point.
I'm just here.

Not really doing one thing or another. Not really being one thing or another. Not really fitting in, but not really sticking out.
Like shit. What am I really? I guess, im just weird. Because I'm not weird, and I'm normal, I'm like oatmeal. Kinda bland, but I've got a dash of cinnamon and sugar so I'm not all that bad, but still there's no bang!...
This needs to change.

Am I a terrible, crazy person?

Am I terrible for not wanting any friends at the moment?
I'm at the worse pinnacle of my life and at this point, just a Debby downer I really want to just focus on me and my daughter. So it's hard to get invested in other people's lives. To be honest, it just doesn't concern me. Am I terrible for that?

Am I crazy for wanting to get away, from EVERYBODY?
In many ways, I feel like I've over stayed my welcome. And I need to break away in order to really solidify my independence, within myself. Its hard to explain but it's very tiring relying on other people. At any point in time. Because they begin to hold it against you. Whether or not they do this conciously, at some point in time it manifest in their actions, they way They talk to you, treat you, feel about you. And that just hurts, but it's human. The only way to stop it is yo remove yourself from the situation. And that's what I want to do. I want to do it on my own. Because I know I can. If I had the balls enough to just not care, I could've done it a long time ago. Before things got So out of control. Well It's never too late I always say.

So here's what I want to do. I can't really call it a plan because NOTHING is concrete and there is a possibility that things might change to the point where it doesn't happen. But because it involves me and Olivia only, there's not much that s stopping me. So the "want to do":

Study abroad!
Preferably in Ireland. Study film, the Celtic culture, and learn Gaelic. Im not exactly sure why, I'm drawn to Ireland. But I am, and that's what I want to do.

Make my second documentary!
Kind of a part 2 of the first one. Documenting life after having Olivia. The struggles of trying to gain my independence and learn how to be s good woman and mother. Especially being black and young and virtually single.

Start my production company!
Not entirely sure how this is gonna happen, But I'd like for it to.

Publish a book!
Don't know if it'll be the sci-fi novel I'm working on with my best friend (because I don't think that's gonna pan out anymore and I'll post more on that later) Or if it'll be a biography about my shitty life and the wonders that come with it.

Gain stability!
I don't really plan on staying in Ireland for more than a year, but we'll see how things go. I'm hoping that through my experiences I can create a foundation somewhere or set up shop with a new beginning. If in able to create my own company, plus generate my own income I might be able to go anywhere and do anything. Who knows. Possibilities are endless.

With that being said. In hoping for the best, but my hearts prepared for the worst. I just wonder if these aspirations are crazy or terrible. ....

Untitled

So I stopped to think to myself.... I hate everything right now. 

Probably the only person I don't hate at the moment is Olivia. Because I could never hate her. It's not possible. No matter how upset I am, I look at her and peace and love floods me. She is my happiness. Manifested in a human form. 

Which means that I no longer have it. She is all the best parts of me. Therefore I am only all the worse. 

Never thought of that until this precise moment. As I write this on the subway to work. Aware of every wrong that's taking place. Things have only gotten worse since I last posted and I thought it'd be impossible but of course there's always room for another hole, even if it means making one that already exist bigger. 

I don't know. All I can do is write. This weekend is all I've got. 

Here's how I'm going to do it. 

I'm going to look for an apartment, aggressively. For just myself. And my daughter. Studio or 1 bedroom. I will get an apartment by next week. And I will use every penny I have to do so. But ill be in a place. L is no longer working so he's not tied down to the Bronx by convenience. He can choose to stay here and find a room or bunk with me and Olivia until he finds a place of his own. 

I'm going to put all my energy into this. This is my last affront. If it doesn't work I'm going to a shelter, or rather... A homelessness prevention unit. In hopes that they give me the boost I need. In fact  I might go there anyway. During my intense search. By Wednesday of next week I will be out of this current apartment. And I'll do it my way on my terms. I'm going to stop caring about other people. Because its only brought about my suffering. I am way too important for that. As well, once that's settled, my goal is to get full time work after this summer. One of the companies that I either already am, or have been affiliated with should be able to give me that. At least 24k per year. Ill save up and I'm moving out of the state. Maybe Rhode Island. I'm going to lease a mini copper but before that learn stick shift. On my own. And then I will buy a house. This will of course be with the help of others, but for now I'm doing things on my own. 

I know that's what I've been trying to do for the longest, but you can't do things on your own while trying to help other people. I can't do it anymore. I've got to cut my loses.

Sorry mom I love you, but it's YOUR job as a parent to help me up, it shouldn't be a co effort. Because at the end of the day, we just both end up down. So in lieu of that, I'm gonna pull myself up, and then focus on doing my duty. 

I've gotten to a very dire point, where I have realized, I didn't get myself here... I thought in had, but in all actuality, I didn't. I've been thinking and thinking to myself, I wish I was cold hearted enough to not have to care/worry about others long enough to care/worry about myself. It's sad, but honest. 

I don't have time for idle conversations, friendships, or relationships. I've got the basics of ME to focus on. I can't cater to everyone right now. No longer. 

So duly note, I may not post until after I'm sitting in my own place. More than likely on the floor... Till then, wish me good luck, or hard work, or whatever....