Tag Archives: high school

Superheroes Need Heroes, Too

Some days I am divided between the human woman that I am inside, and the superhuman woman I have become. The expectations are great. These are two conflicting sides always at battle for balance in my life. They need each other. They can’t survive without the other. They are co-dependant entities in one body with one entity born from the other. It’s not the same as having multiple or split personalities. It’s a dualism that a lot of people who are entertainers and creatives have. It’s that dualism that allows us to be “on” and able to entertain people one moment, and become quiet and shy the moment that curtain closes. 

In spite of my internal struggle with my duality, I recognize that I’m so blessed to have friends around me. This keeps me from being “alone” in this world. I have very close, understanding friends that I have relationships with. Some of my friends I’ve known since high school. Some I’ve known only for a few weeks. Some are “super” women like Kimberly Swift, Charmaine Fuller, Kimberly Cooley and Regina Nyatui. Some are “super” men like Michael Burnett and Lloyd Parchment who are both intelligent, sexy, strong, good men that remind me that men like them do exist in this world. Without their perspective and encouragement to live my single life fully, I’d drown in heartache. There are a few more people that are on my list and they know who they are. They are the people outside of my bloodline that I can confide in and trust with my authentic self without fear of judgement. They make me laugh, comfort me when I cry and have an understanding of me as a person that others don’t. I trust that they won’t sale any stories to the tabloids and they always have my best interest in mind. They don’t allow me to fall and lay down. They don’t allow me to be right when I’m wrong. They know I’m crazy but they don’t discourage my brand of crazy because they know it has its benefits. They make me get up and keep going, even when I don’t feel like it. They remind me of my worth and never let me leave the house looking a hot mess. They protect me and I feel safe with them in my life. I don’t think they even realize the impact they have on my life. I pray that I can repay them for their unconditional friendship one day soon.   

There’s a reason why these particular people are my friends and have outlasted many of my intimate relationships. To someone on the outside looking in, the friendships might seem like a fluke. I’ve had men I’ve dated even verbally challenge the strength and validity of my friendships because they couldn’t believe I have these amazing people in my life. Well, amazing people, have amazing friends. My friends are all different people with different personalities and different talents. My friends keep me balanced and they keep me sane. They help and encourage me to be Super and they still love me when I’m not. They give me tough love when I need it and allow me to be vulnerable also. Some of my friends are near me and some are far away. What demonstrates genuine friendship is that no matter how many days, weeks, months or years go by, with one phone call, we can catch up. The positive energy doesn’t vanish if we’re in different cities, timezones or states. I appreciate them for that. They are my heroes. Superheroes need heroes, too.

I will always need, love, appreciate and value them all, even the ones I didn’t name. I am ME because of THEM. I am Super Woman because I have Super Friends.  If you want to know who I am, look at my closest friends. They are a direct reflection of me, and I of them.

What about your friends? 

 

Years to Remember

Tomorrow is the day. The day my eighteen year old son graduates from high school and prepares to go to college in the fall. I knew this day was coming. I had eighteen years to prepare myself for this. But I didn’t know it would feel like this. I raised him to have leadership abilities and a mind of his own. He’s always had more freedom and responsibility than a lot of young men he knows. No curfews, but he never has stayed out too late. No restrictions, but he’s never been anywhere he shouldn’t be. He’s had every opportunity afforded to him that I could financially afford, and some that I made sacrifices for so that he could have the experiences anyway. He’s been able to travel a little bit, but I often wish there were more places I had been able to take him over the years. He’s never caused me any “trouble”. He hasn’t had any incidences that would have resulted in jail time; he’s never tried narcotics and decided on his own to remain abstinent for the time being. All things that I’ve had very frank discussions with him about but allowed him to also make his own decisions about. Needless to say, I’m proud of the decisions he made for himself. I’ve never had to come up with bail money, nurse a hangover or potential overdose and I’m not a grandmother at thirty-six years old.  

There were many people who constantly said that I didn’t know what my child was doing when I wasn’t around because “single mothers never do and they always think ‘not my child’ and their child is the first one in trouble”. I’m glad I can gloat and tell those people that they obviously didn’t know my child. They also obviously didn’t know me. I’m that young mother that believes in old school discipline. Although my son hasn’t had a spanking since he was seven years old, he has a very healthy fear of his mother. He knows the expectations are great and measureable as my son. He knows that major disappointments are not taken lightly and that failure is not an option. It has been instilled in him.

One thing I always tried to teach my son was that he didn’t have to personally make mistakes to still learn from them. Life is a teacher and when you look at other people’s lives, you can learn what not to do, if you want to. My son understood this it seems because he often tells me that he is going to try not to make certain mistakes in his life because he saw what it did to someone else. I’m not sure if my son has a celebrity “role model”. After all, so many of them don’t want to be “role models”. But I think a few of their experiences have educated my son as a young black man as to how this world will treat you if you are not careful. One moment they love you and place you on the highest pedestal because you are scoring touchdowns and three point shots. The next minute they are persecuting you, taking away your endorsement deals and dragging your reputation through the deepest puddle of mud that can be found. So thank you to Kobe Bryant, Michael Vick and countless others who showed my son what not to do.

My son hasn’t had the best relationship with his father, due to no fault of his own, or of mine. You can’t force someone to love you, support you and exemplify what you think a parent should be. All you can do, is do better when your chance comes around. I never spoke ill of my son’s father to him. I didn’t have to. It wasn’t going to benefit me in anyway to do so. It wasn’t going to improve the situation at all. So I was very mindful not to engage in those kinds of conversations or confrontations in my son’s presence. It didn’t always work, because his father likes drama and enjoys being the center of attention, even when it’s negative. But I did manage to be the bigger person 95% of the time, even when I didn’t want to be. As a result, my son learned for himself, without any influence from me, the type of man his father is, and isn’t. I intentionally removed myself from the equation so that I could not be blamed (by his father) for how my son feels towards him. Whether his father sees it that way, I do not know. I honestly do not care.

After eighteen years of many sacrifices on my part, I don’t care what anyone thinks. I gave up my goals for higher education. I gave up a modeling career. I gave up a size six body. I gave up many, many, many, many men. I gave up countless hopes and dreams of traveling around the world, sipping champagne and buying designer handbags. I gave up eighteen years of many other things so that I could nurture the life of another person. There were times during those eighteen years when the thought of what I could’ve had caused me to become very depressed, so much so that I was even hospitalized for depression at one time. I suffered from and recovered from a chronic illness. I’ve had major car accidents that I was blessed to walk away alive from. I’ve lost good jobs, had crap jobs and got better jobs. With every hardship and loss, my motivation was that I had to continue on for my son. I had to show him that although life knocks you down, repeatedly, you have to get back up and keep living. I had to show him what it was to be super. And in the process, I showed myself.

I don’t know what I’m going to do when my son leaves for college. What do you do when your best friend, your anchor, your reason for persevering daily goes away to explore the next phase of his own life? I don’t know. This is my first time having this experience. Hopefully, between now and then my career will catapult forward to the point where I’ll have my own radio show, a couple more books published along with the opportunity and finances to travel. Maybe I’ll even meet my Superman. I don’t know what will happen next. What I do know is that tomorrow signifies a new phase in life for me and my son. When the sun rises in the morning, it will mean one thing to him and something else to me. When the sun sets in the evening the same will also be true. And I promise that I will try not to cry all day.

I had many years to remember with my son. Eighteen years and nine months to be exact. That’s a lengthy investment. Now it’s his turn to go forth and be super. He can do it. I have the utmost belief in him. After all, he is Super Son.