I don't normally add photos's but there was something that was just so true.. so honest about this one

It's a crazy mess, whirlwind of a ride... but it's my life and I'm happy to be living it.

Invisible

There's a certain invisibility that I feel. In almost every aspect of my life. It feels as though as long as I harbor these thoughts (or insecurities rather).. Of all the things I'm missing in my life.. Of all the things I wish I had.. Or want.. Or need. I'll be invisible to the life I have. 

I'm always thinking to myself. I wish I had her hair or her nails. I wish I had those shoes or was that skinny. I wish I lived in that apartment or had a boyfriend/girlfriend like that. These thoughts always rejuvenate sorrow within me. Because I have many things that no one else has. Why can't I just be happy with that? 

Because no one likes a work in progress. 

Everyone truly enjoys the final product. No one would pay to see a half finished movie, or stay content in a half renovated house. And although people claim they like the work needed to reach a final product... That's a lie.

 That shits stressful. 

But I can say it's worth it. The gratification is amazing. That swell of pride. Because all amazing things come with work and time. And when that time has come to a conclusion we unveil our hard work. 

Having realized this, I like to think of my invisibility as a necessary evil. It's like my cloak, my scaffold, my cocoon. Protecting me from the harsh environment. And now I just have to put in the work and time. And when that time has come to a conclusion unveil my butterfly wings. 

It's time

If you haven't noticed yet... And actually to be quite frank since I'm assuming almost no one reads this blog I can safely say that no one has noticed, but I digress ...

If you, said invisible person, haven't noticed yet, I have revealed my real name in one of my posts. Again I'm pretty sure it doesn't make a difference but whatever, my hopes is that one day it will. Having said that, I have decided it's time to actually do something with all this pent up creative energy. I am about to embark on one of the most difficult journeys of my time. 

I am going to start on my next film. Another bio. 

Here is the plot:

It's a film about making a film about a blog about my life. 

INCEPTION!!

Ok let's break that down if it's confusing. The movie is about my experience making a movie about my life essentially. But the byline of the movie is my blog. So  it's basically based off my blog. 

I realized that my blog is about half of my soul. There's some very serious thoughts, feelings, and emotions in here and I need to release them. I need to essentially come out of hiding. 

So here I am. Writing. I plan to write at least once every day until start of production than I'll bring it to at lest once a week until end of film. Then I'll go back to my once a month peek a boo. 

Well then! Let's begin.....

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.