Fall easy, hard and long

falling in and out of love

I remember my very first crush. It was my third grade teacher.

Who looked like, Vanessa Williams!

My second crush, involved two.

Saretta. We lived on the same block and went to the same elementary school.

And Miss Brown, who lived around the corner and taught me how to Crochet and Knit.

My last crush, became my mate, for fifteen years.

Reoccurring dreams, Seasons and dates, make it difficult to forget her and to move on.

I know, I will love her forever.

I just want to stop mourning the lost.

I thank my Pastor and Friend, Rev Shorb-Sterling. Who’s retiring soon.

Besides my dad, She was the only person that empathized with my many challenges.

So much so, she supplied the words for me, when I was unable to express how I felt.

Something I lacked from family and friends of more than thirty years.

I will miss her tremendously.

I love you Rev Sue!

I pray we all have the Peace this World needs to heal.

God Bless!

Yvette

“Depression, I don’t get it”

Just the other day, someone said to me,

“Depression, I don’t get it”

A while back, someone else said,

“I had it” and how great their life was.

As if to say, “Get over it, I did”

I wish it was that simple.

Depression makes me isolate.

But I went out (doing the opposite)

And I get “I don’t get depression”

Lucky you.

Alternatives



What’s the alternative?
To;
Church
Family
Facebook,
Friends
Etc….

Where do I find?
Identity
Equality
Mutual understanding
Racial Progression

I am;
Woman
Black
Mentally Ill/Able (on SSD)

I need;
Hope
Selflessness
Community
Better

I’m 57 years old. And extremely tired.
Last year I prayed, that if my life wasn’t going to be better, that I didn’t want to be here.

[I’ve learned through the years, to be precise in your prayers]

It got better.

[I presume, being able to deal with situations accordingly/maturely, is life. So, better. High marks from my therapist]

Still, I feel as equally about life, as I do death.
My dad is 80. With Stage 4 cancer. I don’t know, that he really knows.
Memory loss, has some use.

He’s never complaint or asked for anything, my whole life.
It’s why I feel guilt, when I serve others (not him)

I’m a daddy’s girl.
I’ve never been able to imagine life without him.

What’s life?
living for others
Having a family (or not)
Happiness
Rich
Poor
Black
White

What’s most important?
My dad.
The betterment, of the rest of his life.

Because relationships change.

[Due to illness, money, etc]

I am Christian.
I am a Realist.
I am angry.

I pray I make decisions, based on the needs of others. That I do what’s best, through those decisions. And that All, is guided by You.

Too much time has been wasted.

I have never felt complacency, about the issues that plaque my Race.

Yet, I know no one, that feels as I do or is motivated to do, anything about it.

I am tired of being limited.

By our own inabilities or the obstacles placed in our way.

I now pray there are others, who will read this, with mutual understanding and aspirations.

If you identify, Please reach out.

I am.

What’s the Alternative?

You can contact me at:
Email: deeds4needs@yahoo.com

Peace, Yvette

Talk

I never been one for, small talk.

For the most part, I speak to express my feelings.

[Something that took, recovery and years of therapy]

Why I think I listen, with a compassionate ear.

But what warrants a, turned up mouth or rolling eyes, when one speaks?

Some say they care.

It seems true.

Long enough to have their wants or needs, satisfied.

So, don’t ask me why, when I become silent.

Remember, I spoke.

You didn’t listen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Suicides

Kate Spade, then Anthony Bourdain.

What do you do, when you feel a deep lost and understanding,

Every time someone decides, they’ve had enough?

For me, years of extreme Brain fog.

Years, of feeling physically exhausted,

Every second, of every day.

[No matter how much, I rest]

A life of depression.

Bipolar.

PTSD (Rape, Has devastated my life and many others)

Medication.

A Black woman, living in this World.

All reasons, that make life, less appealing.

Each time someone choices death over life,

I’m saddened.

I understand.

And it seems my meds stop working.

All I can think about is, not wanting to be here.

But, I won’t commit suicide.

I fear I would survive.

And be worst off.

I think more about, moving to one of those States.

Where you have the right to say when, you’ve had enough and you’re ready to go.

Ready to die.

No, I won’t commit suicide.

I’ll cry, until I stop.

And I’ll keep taking my meds, in spite of.

And I’ll keep seeing my Psychiatrist.

I’ll keep doing this thing called,

Life.

‘Til I can’t.

Yvette

The Lonely Lesbie

I hoped I would miss you, less and less over time.

It’s been two years.

Two years since I’ve seen you or heard your voice.

I did all I could, to get you out of my system.

It worked, for a bit.

But then, I had a moment.

And I text you.

Desperate, for even one of your, one worded responses.

I think of the good.

The weekend get aways to “The Room”

The road trips.

To Virginia, Pennsylvania. Martha’s Vineyard.

And the, not so good.

Him. Us and him again.

Still, I love you, as much as I did, the first time I met you.

Because, Whatever we were,

You were always, straight with me.

I miss you, immensely.

Yvette

Fifteen years

I never wanted my fifteen year relationship to end. I would still be in it, had I not start loving myself. I appreciate the benefits of both, a relationship and being single.

It’ll be two years, the sixth of this month. The day I decided to engross myself, into something, that would take my mind off of you.

Two years later, I’m healthier (for the most part) confirming that, that

was the right decision.

But still, I miss you. And love you, as much as I did, the first time I met you.

I think of you, when I see couples.

Or Singles.

And why wouldn’t this be?

It was thirty years ago, that we met.

[You didn’t know it, but it was then that, I had a crush on you]

We would meet again, in fifteen years.

And it wasn’t until today, I realized.

Fifteen years (two years ago) marked the anniversary of our “Involvement.”

And the ending of it.

I regret neither.

I just wish I could stop, thinking about you.

And wanting you.

I know it will take time.

I just hope it doesn’t take

fifteen years!