Attachments. Pain. Insecurities.

I am home from picking the boys up from their Nana’s house. My Love and I are going to watch another episode, or 3, of The Handmaids Tale and I am thinking about attachments, pain, insecurities and how all of these elements intermingle to make up what we think of us as our identity — the core of who we are.  On the way home, my Love and I got into a little bit of an argument about me being of the lighter complexion and some of the ways I have felt about my skin.

When we started dating I had always thought I was “dark-skinned”and it wasn’t until we started to talk that I realized how she saw me. One time she described me as a white man.

I was insulted.

Not that there is anything wrong with being a white man. It’s just, I am not a white man.Long story short, I lashed out at her. I was determined to make my point so I got passionate, also known as loud. And I “won”.

Takia, my Love, and I have discovered some key differences in how we approach the world.She likes to feel grounded, anchored to something. It gives her a sense of security.

I, on the other hand, want to feel detached.

I have a tendency to let anger consume me. And the cure has been to surrender to life and let it flow how it will. To detach. For me, with attachments come anger, aggression; the need to defend what doesn’t need defense.I found a calm in not taking Life too serious. I began trying to look at life without labels of good, bad, positive, negative. I found a peace in not wanting Life to be anything other than it was.

Many times, this leaves me feeling open and exposed — uncertain.  But the peace makes it worth it.

And it’s moments like tonight that show me where my attachments lie.  When my peace is interrupted I know I am still attached to something.  This time it was the color of my skin. How dark it is; how light it is . . .  Somehow, I am still finding my identity in something so trivial.

It is disturbing.

I hate the feelings I have after I have protected myself. The walls go up so easy; it’s comfortable inside of my shell. So to escape the pain I run into my shell where it’s dark and no one can reach me.

Now, it is time to let go of this defense mechanism. It is time to open my heart. And keep it open even when it gets uncomfortable, dangerous.Because to cut myself off from what I perceive as the negative aspects of this Life is to cut myself from all of it.

I am grateful for these icky moments; they show where I can expand.

Expansion is the goal.

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I Want Habits

Today I’ve been thinking about habits — how we build them, how we continue to build them, how we use them, how they inform who we are.

Without even being aware of it, our identities are steeped in the habits we embody.

At work I had a thought: what if I had a habit of crushing goals?

I know I can build habits. The question is: can i build good habits?

What if we only built the habits that drove us towards the best version of ourselves? That would be something, yeah?

Going into this new year I know a lot of us are going to be setting goals and making resolutions. It’s beneficial to reflect on where we came from and what we went through, take stock of our current situation and figure out from there what needs happen — where we should go next.

It’s a part of the holiday tradition.

Refresh. Recalibrate. Reset.

This time last year I set a goal to finish my first novel. I have started a lot of novels — finished none of them. And this year was to be different.

Well . . . About that . . . I failed.

It’s cool though; I learned something valuable.

I have a terrible habit of believing the limiting thoughts that cross my mind believing them to be me. I own these thoughts, emotions, and experiences but they are no more me than the van in driveway is.

I want to create habits that erases negative thoughts and replaces them with uplifting ones. I want to be in the habit of doing what I say I’m going to do when I say I’m going to do it. I want to create habits that uncover more and more of who I am everyday.

I want habits that reveal the best me.

So I guess that is my New Years Resolution.

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Bookstore Adventures

The day before yesterday I went to the bookstore and didn’t purchase any books.

I stood in line with 2 books: Heavy by Kiese Laymon and a collection of poetry by Pablo Neruda entitled, The Poetry of Pablo Neruda.

I was indecisive about whether or not I should.

My internal dialogue was having a ball:  It’s almost Christmas and you need to buy gifts for friends and family.  You already have so many books you haven’t read.  You can never have too many books.  

I was in the middle of an argument with my Love through text and an author who I met had asked me if I was gonna buy her book.  I was feeling guilty because I was in line and was not holding a copy of her work.

Buying books didn’t feel as good as it should’ve.

Which is an oddity. Im not sure I’ve encountered a time before when I felt the purchase of books was unnecessary.

Buying books is always necessary and appropriate . . .

. . . Except for the day before yesterday.

I was standing in line with 2 books ready to commit and I realize my wallet is missing. I could feel my heart plummet into my stomach and all the worst scenarios invaded my mind. I am thinking of my credit and debit card I keep in my wallet. I even started wondering if I bumped into anyone who happened to be a pickpocket.  However, the way my account is set up, they would’ve been disappointed.

After tracing my steps i realized my wallet was in my book bag the whole. For whatever reason, that whole debacle seemed to shake me from literary induced slumber.

I put the books back and made my way out of the store as fast as i could. I hailed an uber and made my way home. I felt a sense of satisfaction at overcoming my usual knee jerk impulse to buy any and all books that might interest.

I felt it was maybe my best decision all day.

And if worst comes to worst, I can always buy those books on Amazon, yeah?

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