Tuesday, January 6, 2015

The one that got away? - Day 2

Day 2
The One That Got Away
You bump into an ex-lover on Valentine’s Day—the one whom you often call “The One
That Got Away.” What happens?

Gabby could see her breath it was freezing cold all around her but inside she was burning up she could feel her resolve crumbling, She couldn't remember what she was supposed to be doing. All she wanted to do was submit to the urge. Give way to the passion, let it go don't fight it.
"Gabby, I love you" The sound of DJ's voice reminded her of what she needed to do.
"Please, Stop, I have to go we can't" She slowly stepped away keeping eye contact. Oh those eyes so pretty, she felt safe looking in those eyes. She stepped closer DJ smiled, that smile. Her blood ran cold, No stay focused,
"Please, I'm sorry I have to go. I can't do this anymore" "Don't leave Gabriella, Please Don't leave"
"I have to go"
It took Gabby 20 mins in the car to stop shaking, when she got home she grabbed some Moose Tracks Ice Cream sat on her couch and turned on My Girl. Spent the rest of Valentines days crying. She stopped 4 months later.

It took Gabby a few minutes to assess the situation. She was in fact standing in the produce section closely resembling a child of a hobo and cat women. Her auburn ringlets sat on top of her head in a bun knotty bun. No bra, oversized sweatshirt and extremely dirty pajama pants. She was pretty sure her eye makeup had married her eye boogers and produced weird kohl colored babies that sat in her eyes. She was hopeful that she was hallucinating and the vision in front of her was not standing there. She closed her eyes and wiped the cold kohl babies out, took a deep breath and looked again.

"Gabriella? GABRIELLA! Is that you?" DJ stood not 2 feet away from here. It had been 5 years since she last saw her ex.

Gabby smiled, quickly remembering she hadn't brushed her teeth yet. She ventured to talk hoping her voice sounded stronger than she felt.
"Hey DJ! Yes yes it is me. What are you doing here? How have you been? Why are you here? Are you still in the area? What.. what.. Hey? How are you?"

DJ chuckled, "I'm great, made VP doing really good, What brings you here on your favorite holiday? You normally spent it in a cocktail dress accompanying me to dinner. Why are you here? Like that?"

DJ took two swift steps invading Gabby's personal space. Gabby's ex reached out finding a rouge curl and twirled it.
"Listen, I can ditch my chick for the night and take you out. It's obvious your single, maybe this is a sign from your God person. Maybe you needed some time alone to realize I am the one you need to be with. I'm assuming that ministry thing you left me for wasn't very lucrative huh? It's ok you miss me. I'll even let you do that Jesus stuff I've grown. I was wrong to look down on for your beliefs you can help the hungry or whatever, and I can keep you looking good while you do it. How's that? You ready to live?"

Gabby's mouth fell open. The audacity to assume because she was dressed homeless chic she was single and miserable. The idea that her current look was somehow related to her decision to follow God 5 years was not only rude but extremely laughable. Gabby thought about how ludicrous DJs statements were and began laughing.

This was not just a normal chuckle this was a deep hard laugh. She tried to get her words together.
"You think? Haahahaa I'm haaahaaahaaa wow that's Haaahaaahahaaa." The tears started to flow she could not hold herself together. The aminigauted gall to assume was so DJ. Such a pretentious jerk. Oh wow how she was happy to be delivered from that mess. And all she could do was look at DJ and laugh. The laugh was contagious. DJ started laughing too. Unaware but amused.

"Wow thank you, Thank you very much that was a great laugh. I am not single, I'm actually on my third year of marriage, I have twin 2 year olds. And my new Valentine's Day ritual is to make love to my spouse eat Chinese food and get a good night sleep. We actually came out to get some supplies. Gatorade, strawberries, pineapple, you know stuff you wouldn't ever try. So No, I'm not at all interested in going back to you. I also am working on my third book deal, and I am 3 months away from starting my 2nd national tour speaking to God's people about Love and Acceptance."
Ever the dickhead, DJ snickered and says

"Yeah sure, and where is the mystery mate today? Out with some more appealing lady?"

On nothing less than Godly timing Gabby heard her named called.  

"Gabe! Gabe! Man, I thought we were supposed to meet up in the Ice cream aisle? Why haven't you left the produce section? You be slacking" They exchanged a quick kiss.

"I want you to meet someone. Um, Candy here was confused in the woman's aisle, I was telling her about that cup thingy,  told her I would let you explain it cause I still don't fully understand"

Gabby shook Candy's, feeling sorry for Candy have to walk all the way over here to talk about her period she was probably mortified.
"Hello, nice to meet you, here just take my number we can sit and talk about it over coffee or wine or something, you look all dolled up to go out."
Candy smiled "Wow, thank you very much. You are actually talking to my date, we are on our way out to dinner, but I would love to take about the menstrual cups I have so many questions"
"DJ is your date?"
"Whose DJ?" Dre asked while preoccupied nibbling Gabbys' ear
"Honey, this is DJ we dated 5 years ago. We broke up so I could focus on God and find myself, DJ was not very supportive of my ministry dreams. Thinks religion is for us unsmart folk"
Dre smiled "Oh so nice to meet you. I'm so glad it didn't work out, I'm happy for your lost, I mean I don't know what to say"  Gabby watched Dre and began laughing again.
"Gabe? Why would you call her Gabe? Her name is Gabriella not that of a pre hormonal boy."
"It's Gabe cause it rhymes with Babe and Gabriella is her professional name I'm the only one to call her Gabe. Dre smiled, gave Gabby the "make it better look", looked at DJ and said, "So, it was great to meet you uhh PJ? I hope you and Candy here have a great night, I'm guessing not so much for you since she's on the rag but hey what can you do? We need to get going, I have plans for this lady that includes those strawberries and this heavy cream"
Dre grabbed Gabby's hand they gave a wave and briskly walked away. Gabby was still laughing when they got in the car. She said a quick prayer for DJ and Candy's heart hoping they would find God, if they hadn't already,  she said a prayer of thanks for such a great life and asked for forgiveness for hoping Candy bleed all over DJ's car. She took a deep breath and drank her gatorade, she couldn't afford to get a cramp in the next few hours.  

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

I'm bringing writing back Day 1

Day 1
Breaking Up With Writer’s Block
It’s time for you and Writer’s Block to part ways. Write a letter breaking up with Writer’s
Block, starting out with, “Dear Writer’s Block, it’s not you, it’s me …

Ok Let's go

Dear Writer's Block,

It's not you it's me, I've allowed you take residence in my heart and mind. I've allowed you to take reign on me since that day in 8th grade when I decided I was not meant to be a writer. That day I made a choice to listen to the harsh and hateful voice in my head instead of the voices of my peers. That day I gave you power that you did not rightfully earn. I gave you the power to decide my fate and my future. I gave you my freedom of expression. I became a faithful prisoner under your control. I ignored the things I truly wanted to do. I closed my ears to the writers in my head. I ignored the yearning to go to poetry slams and join cyphers. I stopped short of the writers workshops getting brochures just long enough to read the type of classes but never asking my parents to send me to the writers camps. I considered your thoughts and not my wants and dreams. I never even whispered the dream to be a writer. I never even considered the possibilities of being a writer of putting the colors in my head down as words. I never let myself dream that dream. Instead for 20 years I've silently painted beautiful pictures with words in my head. I've secretly listened to soliloquies rambled by characters never inscribed. For years I've wrote stories in my head never attempting to free them, keeping them prisoner like you did me. I've pushed aside character bios and lines of poems begging to come to life. I've killed the stories before they had a chance to take root and grow. I allowed the fear of being heard to outweigh the loudness of my screams. It's me Mr. Block. It's always been me. I've wasted our time, I waited for you to get the balls to leave, but why would a leech voluntarily fall off it's source of blood? Why would a parasite leave it's source of life? It wouldn't Mr. Block, it would attach and never give up because it would die without the source. Without my willingness to be bound you would died a long time ago. Possibly coming by for visits but never taking residence for this long. Sir, you should have tried harder. You shouldn't have let me go. I was a very good source. And I know you tried. I know you knew how awesome I could be. That's why you chose me. I can't imagine it was accidental. You saw me on that day, that day i had doubt in my abilities to be something more and you decided that I would be a good source. I can't imagine you thought it would 20 years later that I would get rid of you. Maybe you did. Maybe you took me as a lifer. Full of potential scared of change. But you messed up, you allowed me to see the wrong prompt, you didn't realize that years of reading instead of writing would train me still. You didn't realize that the guy walking in the woods took that walk often, the difference came after the day he changed his choice. You don't understand me. You don't love me. You never cared about me. Maybe it was fear Mr. Block maybe you were scared of what might happen if I stepped into the awesome. Maybe you were worried about how my greatness would manifest in the realm of things around us. Perhaps I was. I'm sure I was. But today I'm breaking up with you. I'm sure we will see each other around here and there but I'm just not willing to stay in this relationship with you anymore. We can keep going back and forth I could let you stay here but I would be killing myself sir. I could but I wont. It's over and I could say I'm sorry but I'm not. So goodbye Writers Block, it's been real. I'm pretty sure you owe me some back pay.

Pregnant with expectation,
Cynethia Williams
Mother, Daughter Sister, Girlfriend, Cook & Writer etc.

Thursday, August 14, 2014


I remember when I tried to kill myself I was in high school I think, 9th grade. It was somewhere between my sisters' death and my first abortion. I drank some medicine we had leftover from when I had mono (I was NOT kissing boys I was sharing food and drinks with my friends -don't judge) But I drank this medicine wrote a goodbye letter and waited.. but nothing happened. Looking back I should have drank more than the swig I took (it was nasty) and medicine that is expired does lose some potency. My Mother found me and my letter and initial yelled. I'm pretty sure she was scared and confused as to why her oldest child would want to kill herself. I remember her telling me how selfish suicide is. And She was telling the truth. Suicide is selfish. When your in that space your thinking Me dead is easier for everyone. This doesn't seem a very selfish thing to think on the surface but in actuality, it's pride that makes us unwilling to say Ouch. It's pride that caused me to say I'm going to die instead of asking for help. It sucks and I know it's not nice to say but if you unwilling to get help for fear of how it will effect others your prideful and judgmental, and your judging yourself worst than anyone else will.

I was 30 when I find out I had depression. My only suicide attempt was in my Freshman year of High School. I never spoke about it again because I never considered it a defining part in my life. It was more like a mistake that I was saved from. The last few weeks/months have been hard for me. I thought it was nothing i was just tired. I thought maybe it was anxiety with the new job, maybe the kids being seniors, lack of sex I didn't know i just knew it had been a hard few months. I didn't want go out. I didn't want to work out (i never want to work out) I didn't want to eat. I didn't want to cook. I just wanted to sit and think or sleep and read. I'll want to go outside but the amount of effort it would take to get up and get ready was more than I had to give. Even now, right now it's taken me 3 days to write this post because I can't make myself care enough to do it and finish and proof read and think. It's Effort. Depression is not about being sad all day or crying it's about being in a state of blah. I don't know how else to explain it.

Imagine being on the beach when a bad storm comes in you take cover and wait for it to pass.  But it never really passes all the way there is still an overcast, and some showers. Then one day you look and see sunshine on the other side of the beach, but to get to it you have to go through a ditch. Now, you can sit comfortable in the gloomy skies and annoying mist OR you can jump the ditch. IF you decide to jump in the ditch you'll soon realize it is full of quicksand and about midday just when you finish with that it turns into tar and it gets harder then you get to the edge but before you can get to the sunshine you have to climb a the wall of the ditch. And when you get to the top of the wall and you finally get out the ditch your tired. But your scared that IF you allow yourself to sleep you might miss the sun you worked so hard to get to. So you have to learn to trust yourself and your weaknesses then you get to enjoy the sun, and ever so often you turn around and see the ditch and gloominess you ran from. When you take drugs, it gives you a ladder to use to help but you still have to do it.

I want you to know this. It's ok to say ouch. It's ok to scream OUCH!!!, FUCK this hurts. DAMN IT this sucks I want OUT I can't do this, It's ok. Say it.. say it loudly scream it. It's ok. There are people that are paid to hear you. People who are paid to listen and teach you how to get through the ditch. Speak up. We want to hear you. We want to help you. We really do love you. I know it's hard and if i could walk through the ditch for you I would, but I can't. So I'll walk through my ditch, and when i get out I'll cook you something so that when your finished we can break bread together.

I need you to survive.  

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

The First Day

8/7/14 @ 11:45 pm 

Sleep is not doing easy tonight. I have made a decision to go to a workout class tomorrow and my anxiety (or the enchilada i just ate) is giving my heartburn. I'm worried what I will look like in stretch pants and a tight shirt in a room full of skinny slender tall women. I keep seeing myself as a lumpy uncoordinated non dancer. Maybe I should stop trying to be things I'm not.

8/8/14 @ 1:30 PM

Ok so I feel a LITTLE better this morning. I still nervous about class trying to find an excuse not to go but i really want to go. I think it might be expensive though - and spending money on myself has never been an easy thing for me to do. BUT if i'm Honest with myself secretly in the back of my head  I'm not always happy with the way I look. I don't want to be much smaller I don't like skinny women. I like girls that are 'TICK' (Jamaican accent) I think my main if not only complaint is my belly I'm tired of seeing it. I feel like I'm 5 months pregnant. I foolishly stepped on the scale a few days ago.. it said 210. It is time.

So here's the plan:

1. I want to download Pact to my phone. Pact is an app that pays you to workout and eat healthy.
1A. To do this I will HAVE to buy a new phone. The app won't download to my phone because it's the first EVER smartphone made and things have changed over the years.  (please don't laugh at me)
2. Join Pure Barre - They say it takes 10 classes to really get it so I'm committing to 3 weeks 4 days a week - It's going to cost me about $100 - To offset the price I've decided to not eat out for the rest of the month - no store brought coffee, no breakfast sandwiches,  This is going to be hard folks.
3. Not Quit. I'm going to try really hard to NOT quit...

OK Lets do this!

... I really hope there are some chubby chicks in this class...

You never want to be in the class and everyone KNOWS you just started like.. awww poor little fat girl wants to get healthy "Good Job Cynthia, you looked good today" "OMG, you really did well keep at it you'll see results in no time" "Hey! I was your size just 2 weeks ago.. look at me.. if i can do it you can do"..... I don't want encouragement I don't want to be talked to.. I just want to be lost in the back of the class..


I still haven't gone to a class... smh

Thursday, August 7, 2014

SELF CHALLENGE!! Lets Journal Out Loud!

So I've been having a hard few - life. Yeah, that sums it up BUT these last few months since school started have been especially difficult for some reason. However, I'm pretty sure it's all for comic relief in the end. 

And in the slight chance that If I ever become unsure of God's comedic geniusness  I just remember the platypus. It's a duck and a beaver and it's named platypus (that my friends is comedy!) 

Through it all I've been wanting to write. The problem, my topics where all over the place. I wanted to bring something of substance something that was meaningful, something interesting and all I had was me. (WOW that was deep) Me, and my life, my complicated, messy, hard to understand life. I repeatedly said to myself nobody wants to hear this craziness but one day you should write a book. It was/is so confusing. Then after a few hours or thought  I decided to simply Journal Out Loud. 

This is the plan, I'm going to use this blog as a  journal, honest and true. I'm gong to try really hard to not worry about what anyone else will get from it or  learn. I will not wonder what you might think of me if i say ouch or $hit and I will try really hard to just be me. Out loud in Black and white... or Rainbow. I promise to be honest and open. I promise to tell as much as my truth as I can and I promise to commit to do this for a year. a full year.. whats today? Ok SO Aug 8th 2015 I will have at least 52 blog entries. (Once a week folks) 

And for those Christ Lovers I know 

Monday, January 6, 2014

At this Thyme

This morning was a rocky morning, I spent a lot of time trying to convince myself to just get there. I spent the morning rushing to get somewhere I have waited my whole life to be. I pulled up and they were also waiting on me. The last one to arrive. On time but later than I wanted to be. In the midst of my rocky morning, I had a few displays of loves not just from my friends and family but from God. I had one friend remind me to be me, and have fun, I had a brother hug me and tell me he loved me, any parent of a 17 yo boy will tell you what a miracle that is.  My daughter looked at me as I was dropping her off at school and took a second to let me know it was going to be ok and that I could relax. I had an email saying I was loved and even as i was praying away my anxiousness in the car, the Kaneshow happened to play a recording of DMX praying before one of his shows. Now, I'm not saying his voice calmed me down by no means, but no matter who says it the name Jesus will change some things in your spirit. I've spent a lot of my day going over the mistakes I've made, but over and over again, things would happen to remind me that I am loved, I am highly favored and I am made in His image so I am good.  Sometimes we miss an opportunity that we were sure was made for us, sometimes we blow the one chance we feel we had to make a difference in our lives. Sometimes things don't work out the way we want them too, need them too, expect them too. But in all times ALLTIMES we are loved, we are loved we are loved. In all times, we are exactly where we are supposed to be at that very moment in time. At all times all things are working for your good. In ALL times God is. 

Thursday, April 18, 2013

But God

20 years ago today, my sisters Rasheeda and Rashawn were born. I don't remember much from that day. 7 months later Rashawn passed away. They had both spent most of their lives in the hospital, in the NICU, Incubators, we had to scrub our hands and put on masks before we were able to see them. When they finally came home, Rasheeda first then Rashawn we had to keep a pristine house, boxes of antibacterial scrub brushes were everywhere, selective friends and family were allowed in the house. I would watch them in their crib, astonished that 2 babies so different in size could actually look so much alike. Rashawn was much smaller, but she seemed stronger. She wasn't as lazy as Sheeda. She held her own bottle which was half her size, she was holding her head up first. Sometimes, Rasheeda would lean over too far and fall on Rashawn, and start crying, I noticed that it wasn't the fall that would make Sheeda cry but the fact that Rashawn would Pinch her whenever she would fall on her. I KNEW me and Rashawn would be very close, she was determined even at 4 months. Her stature would not be an obstacle but a blessing.

I don't remember much from the day they were born, but I have very clear memories of visiting them, of going to the hospital, the nurses, the food in the cafeteria, Luckily I don't remember their doctor but I know I met him. I also remember the day she died. It was my mother's birthday, Rashawn had a procedure so I had to spend the night at my friends house, it was a week day. I decided to get my mom a very nice fake rose for her birthday. I could only afford something from the dollar store, so I made up some story about it being a forever rose so she wouldn't realize it was from the dollar store. I remember, instead of spending the night i was picked up and taken home. No real explanation. I remember sitting on the couch as my mother walked in holding Rashawns blanket, she was crying from the worst pain I have ever seen. I was scared. My family was all around, helping her get to bed, making her a plate of food, a drink, a joint, anything to help numb the pain and all I did was stand there holding my brother's hand. I don't know when I started to cry. I know i was in my room alot after that. Cousins evading my space and helping my cope. I remember feeling guilty because I ate all my food and wanted seconds. Some said "Well, you must be ok you didn't lose your appetite" they didn't say it as a put down, they were genuinely happy that i was ok. But the guilt was still there. Later on the funeral was being planned and I was still just in my room and a few people came up to talk to me, hug me give me a kiss. They would also remind me to be strong form my mom and brother. They needed my help and since I was old enough (11) the best thing I could do was keep it together for my family.  I tried my best. After the funeral my mom would go to the grave site everyday and stay for hours. She would sit and talk to Rashawn, watch the kids play across the street and laugh and cry. I think that was her therapy. Sometimes I would go with her, just for support. Eventually she got better, she didn't have to visit everyday, she moved on still missing her child but able to function more and more in society.

As fate would have it the other day I ended up in front of the hospital where my sister died. I have actually avoided this hospital for 20 years. If I'm in DC and I get a familiar feeling, I instinctively turn the opposite direction. However, a few Sunday's ago God would place me in front of this hospital, unprepared for what happened next. My family was with me but they were both sleep in the car. I drove up to the hospital and got out, prepping myself to do something outrageous, to break a window, or punch a wall, or nurse, to scream I HATE YOU at the building, but sane people don't that type of stuff so I got out the car, looked at the building and drove home, crying to myself. The next morning, it all became clear to me, I had never allowed myself to go crazy. My sister dying had such an impact on my life but I never noticed. Sometimes it's the silent things that have make the biggest disturbance in our lives. Over the years, I have unsuccessfully most times, attempted to keep it together. I'm strong, I look at things practically, and objectively. I let myself cry as needed but not at all excessively. I have an unhealthy connection to the best friends i had when i was 11. I haven't talked to these ladies in years, and I still call them my best friends. I know at least one got married and I was not on the invite list, and I was genuinely hurt. Again, I haven't spoken to them for years. BUT somewhere in my heart i still held on to her as if she was my forever friend. I realized that I don't go to the doctors enough, nor do I take my daughter enough. I also realized I purposely look a mess when i first meet people, in hopes to keep the shallow people away. Right after my sister died, people in school that didn't like me, were giving me hugs, and cards and saying sorry. I was so annoyed by their pity that i began to lash out. I didn't want to me treated differently I wanted to be treated the same. I wanted to blend in, so for about 15 years, all I wore was variations of black. I didn't notice it at first but my whole wardrobe was black with a pop of color. I even stop asking my family to do my hair, i didn't care to be noticed or pretty or anything. I just wanted to keep my friends and help my mom. I also realized, my depression which i began treatment for last year, after a bad adoption situation (save that for another blog) was really all about my sister. The feeling of another baby that wasn't mine being taken from me didn't start the depression as i thought it simply reactivated a sadness that had been in me for 20 years. I was reliving the inability to do anything, the staying strong for the friends and family that got attached so they could heal. I was the same 11 year old little girl that was trying to keep it together and stay sane so everyone else would be ok. the difference was, they didn't need me to be ok. Like the people I was mad at in Middle School they were just waiting for me to do the natural thing. To be sad, and mad, and grieve, instead I said "it's ok, guys God is in control." BUT GOD!

God, allowed me to go to that hospital, because he has a plan for me. He allowed me to go to the beginning of my pain to show me it's time to call a hurt a hurt. He allowed me to go there so I can allow my friends to help me. SO I can say out loud I didn't want to get out of bed today, but my best friend sent me a text that said I love you, so I did. He allowed me to see what I've been missing so I can no longer be numb. So I can feel the good and the bad. So I can say Ouch and Hallelujah. He required me to face my fear, so I can say shut up I'm not scared anymore. Being hurt is not the end result, it's simply a by product the ending is healing. Always. I know it doesn't make much sense, but after that trip I realized, my Sister's death had a purpose. To heal us. My mom at the time was in a very abusive relationship. My sisters death I think gave my the courage and strength to say no more. If she hadn't died, I may not have made it. I might have had to die for her. I don't understand God's plans but I starting to trust that He really knows what He's doing. So Today I say I love you & Happy birthday Rasheeda & I Miss you & Thank you Rashawn.