I thought of starting some new blog…but let’s continue here

I am lost. Not like totally lost, lost, but lost nevertheless. A theme of my life it seems, though I certainly am not getting nowhere younger. Just more solid around the edges I suppose. In a couple of months I have a flight…for a “new life” with a “partner” but that really is daunting actually. Because with the apartment search there is still no real “place” to move to, nor is it actually “new” because well yeah because again it’s again Berlin. Truth be told though…this is my last time to “live” there. I don’t summon that my life’s timeline is endless in these attempts and well at times one must accept one’s growth and keep it moving. My mega illusions,innocence, and blind trust have faded circa last summer anyways so now I’m more of a sober version of a recovering me. At last, that at least is good.

I cry. A lot. I cry a lot, and sometimes, daily. Well today I didn’t cry yet. Mental anxiety is a real foe I tell ya. It’s a real culprit and an
In a different life. In the one where I could have made the choice and had the inner strength to hold on to something I would marry myself with music. But my timeline is seemingly fading. Some freedoms are calling me to face that well…it’s not always magical after all. I thought I mutated into sorrow a version that I don’t know of me, some foreign object. But I understand now that I must honor me in all forms. And even in the one that has been affected and a result an ONGOING progress of a sum of everything. A whole whopping 30 years full of story lines.

Speaking of which an accumulation of my shit through this timeline has to be shed. Because well, if Berlin is not working out I still ain’t coming back to the folks house. We have also reached an end in my soul and parting ways is the healthiest for everyone to be honest. No animosity, nothing crippling at least but consequential of seeds you plant in relationships with your children do catch up with you. Because, well, they grow up and turn into “adults” someday. My adulthood has been knocking for 10+ years now and well, it certainly has settled itself in house already and I must let it all just soak in. But like on a 24 hours a day basis.

I’m shaving my hair btw. Amazon promises a Thursday delivery date. I’m taking the clippers to my head then in a few days it seems.

It was so hard. So, so, so hard. When I look at old pictures of me then in Ghana, especially with Kiska. I feel how hard it was. How do you ever go back to being “you” when “you” pushed your boundaries and “your known to yourself, self” to parts “you” knew nothing about? I mean I pushed and pushed, until I did’t know what was pushing and for what. So a year + a lifetime of post recovery is not surprising after all.

Aight ya’ll let me go live my life a bit.

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Yo

Where is life spear heading to? Like for real? The glossy Instagram photos of people I follow is sometimes overwhelming. I mean I am balancing overwhelming senses and controlled calmness each time I a looking at these IG statuses.

Last night I had an active dream of being lost inside a building while unable and being not helped by people to find a path to get over to the next building it was connected to in my dream. The passage way was nowhere to be found. When I woke up this morning I googled some interpretations of being lost in a dream were. The common thread is that they represent experiencing anxiety and feeling at a crossroads, or lost in life. Check mark right there for me indeed.

Gone are the good old days of my free spirit self. Anyways, I’m rusty and the weather is bipolar around these bits too.

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Breathe and F+* Bomb

You know when you are overwhelmed with the life you have? Yes that is really a thing. When you accumulate experiences and hit that new decade and then you stumble on going forward. Yes, that is also a real thing. How did I end up dicing and chopping for 7 hours a day? Well I suppose it’s life choices, caught up societal structures, and part mix of destiny. Climbing socio-economic ladder is a real thing. Prejudice, discrimination and systemic racism are also a real thing. Journey of immigrant refugee is a real thing also. Hurtful relationships that leave marks are all real too. I suppose all of it is real. And that time is a very unforgiving and moving factor is also oh so real too. Can’t go back. Present is real. Future is imagined and not guaranteed.

Why isn’t my hair coming back the way it was? Why do I have thoughts that are not serving me kindness? Why can’t I seem to force myself into my imagined “past happy self”? Changes. Accumulated experiences.

Sometimes I feel like I am living outside of my consciousnesses. Like, things are happening and have happened to me, but I am only gradually understanding that they did in fact happen, and they do in fact affect me.

I have a partner. A good partner. A partner that listens, encourages and sees my spark which I suppose I have also allowed to get dimmed. Strange. I know he has his own difficulties….I hope they are not bigger than mine to be honest. I can’t carry a load for someone else to be honest. My own is a soulfull to overcome it feels.

I have so many thoughts as I dice and chop at work that today I had to leave. Right on time. Just like that. Finish shift, done what was done, and out of the door. My thoughts swirling in my mind, accumulating like those avocados, I need to write. I need to write better. To learn to express myself better to speak my own narrative. To tell MY story on MY terms.

Yesterday I had the honor of meeting Ms. Sybrina Fulton, the surviving mother of Trayvon Martin. She has a book Rest in Power – she tells her own narrative, her own life story and speaks for her murdered son from a perspective of a mother who birthed and nurtured this precious young man who was killed by hatered. I realize now that at the time of his murder and the followed state sanction injustice in trial, I was not as aware of the systemic racism of America yet as I was still floating in my own safety bubbles. What a different understanding I have now really. And knowledge too. The knowledge that is kept from us by the same state that is still unable to process that our oppression will not continue to be accepted. Our ancestors have empowered us an continue to empower us to rise up and will continue to see us forward until the giants fully grasp that no your racism will NOT be our norm. Ms. Fulton echoed Ms. Mamie Till joining her path of bereaved mother. How sick is that? The legacy of white American violence to be precise.

Good breathes. Seemingly no F+% bombs dropped.

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Random relief

Breath baby girl. Breath, in and then let it all out. Yes, out and then a little bit all will come in too.

I really have to let it go. Really. Like for real for real for real for real for real realz! Phew. It always feels so much better just letting the thoughts roll onto my writing. Letting go. Letting it go.

“So ask myself do I let you go or I keep you in the frame of my mind.” ~ Jorja

This world is tiny as FUCK! I know people there and then they know each other from here and meet in place X.

Teddy Pendergrass also said it damn well right! “You can’t hide from yourself” DAMN RIGHT

You can’t hide from yourself no-matter where you go, you will always look at yourself!

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When I met you I didn’t know I found my gem…

Almost three years ago we met on a beach. I was punished for being there. It was a coping space from which I found hard to leave because we met. I met him then and didn’t even know I had it in me to feel that way again while still being the same hurt person. Last summer, I almost lost him. Being stuck in illusions, overwhelmed with realities and stuck in the vortex of the past – I almost lost him. I pushed him away, I ran away, I broke our ways. Then something clicked. I lost my passport, dignity, time, money, phone and illusions of the past. Ghosts that I created and cherished for so long that finally upon seeing the real thing again, I couldn’t deny anymore and appease the coping sense of my mind’s creations that the truth was always there in front of me too. I was not wanted, was told of that frankly after being coddled in heaps of lies. I was hurt deeply. With scars I will carry to my grave or air, perhaps I will be cremated someday…who knows. Yet that too now passed. I am still standing and with love at that. Also, maturity knocked on my shoulders and frankly told me to stop being a wimp and a coward to even myself. Something clicked also when I unwaxed my ears from that sticky yet sweet layer of lies which I held on to so desperately. There was also a heep dash of illusions which were as equally sweet. But more importantly now, I finally heard him – the one who has been with me for the past almost 3 years. And I still hear him more loudly now thankfully too.

Change is not easy. Especially when you gradually or for your whole life wanted something so badly and seemingly find it hard to get to. But then there is also hope. And with hope and honest love I think there is something real to actually get to – a path not only made by being alone yet someone who sees the light in you which you have allowed to become dimmed for yourself to see anymore.

I’ve made grave mistakes. As a result some relations are gone or gravely severed. I am remorseful on my end for causing frictions and dissent. Also I am more accepting of change. Of time passing, of people changing and moving forward even without me in mind.

Ase to my truth, my love for you, and us.

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I miss writing, I miss me when I used to write…I’m writing now

Long title. But today I felt like actually coming through and sitting down to actually write. Write, write, to write, to say something to say my words out loud on the screen, this screen – our screen.

I feel better. This morning I dragged myself out of bed, feeling sorry for myself. Critical of myself and yet determined to change up my hair. So it is changed. Yet again. Like me. Like all of me that keeps changing and changing and coming up with more things to change. The 5 minute journal that my sister gifted me 3 years ago finally found it’s birth last night. I started to write there for the first time. My new journal for 2018. Will this year be better? I think so. Honestly. I don’t feel as “only numb” but thawed in many ways finally….eventually.

My hair is giving me life. I woke up this morning determined to change it yet again and now I did. And to think that 3+ years ago I thought I would just keep going with that “curly revival” and never touch it. Funny. My hair died when my innocence was being crushed yet again in Ghana 1 year ago actually. Or going on 2 actually already?Time….this thing of time which just drifts farther and farther away is a strange thing.

Last summer finally I began to grasp that time is a rapid thing. A thing that never stood still even when my ordinary days in Ghana felt like eternities in passing. One day had 48 hours it seemed. I was wrong. People moved on in other parts, broke down, found new things, made new people and prices went up and changed. As I had changed so did they…and the places that I knew too. Prices went up, Berlin boomed and continues to boom and kind of also push me away. Or I would say repelling actually…something like that.

I’m talking to him now as he called. Long-distance requires respect of time differences. And this post came to a holt and I only now realizing that it was 3 days ago when I first began to write it (yes it is now the 11th and I’m back to finish it). He called and then my writing stopped. When someone is talking to you, listen, give them your full attention or at least try.

So now it is Thursday, and I am going soon back to my old university for a job orientation. Albeit not the kind of job I thought I would be doing on that campus after spending thousands of dollars on my education there, but alas I am content! I just hope as I wrote in my journal this morning I won’t be too overwhelmed and too proud to work in the food industry after my education and “other” pursuits and failures. It’s all part of my journey, and as I wrote in my journal today I hope to respect it and the pace at which my life takes to get to my true independence. Which is my lifelong dream for myself. Humble.

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When you realize that Anger, Disappointment and Pain are not going to be themes of my life.

Of course I am angry. Of course I am hurt. Anger is a product of hurting. While I hurt I am angry but then it will fade and just settle into hurt.

Maybe I hurt because I am hurting people? That could be true as well. Well, right this moment, I am tired and the solution I think to end this cycle is to simply not have relationships with people, that way nobody gets hurt. Not on my account at least. That’s what I can control.

These years have been brutal. I have gone through hurt and disappointments, and complete melting of my innocence. I have hurt and have been irreparably hurt as well. I acknowledge that this is all part of life as well and that it is time to just accept things and myself for all of these things. All of these things. The key has been to find myself in the midst of all these things.

Relationships and life move on. They end to move on. Period.

Starting today I am consciously changed yet again. And more importantly I am also more consciously choosing who and when gets to hurt me and how I myself am going to be complacent in these situations.

Let go even of the people I thought would hold on till my ending days.

This is not out of spite but simple realization that  Anger, Disappointment and Pain are not going to be themes of my life. I am not perfect (I don’t expect anyone to be), but I see that my intent and pressures are at a colossal clash that things are just happening at a pace and repetitive manner which I don’t want anymore. My soul doesn’t want it anymore.

Peace to those who want it. I’m not here for more of sadness anymore.

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