Unapologetic.

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Apparently, I am supposed to be feeling “guilty” because I didn’t attend a family member’s engagement ceremony this morning.   Keep in mind, said family member hasn’t spoken to me in 3 years, let alone had a relationship of any kind for years  before that.   We grew up together, I took care of her and her sisters when they were younger, and I invested a whole lot into them because I wanted to have some semblance of a family.   But as we got older,  they didn’t want much to do with my sister and I, so we let them go.   So, why on earth would I attend her engagement if I haven’t spoken to her in 3 years?   To keep up the facade of what a close-knit family we are?   To fulfill some sort of BS obligation?  Forget you.

I’ve spent 30 years fulfilling obligations and being somebody I’m not so everybody else would like me or out of fear that they’d leave me because I wasn’t good enough.  I’ve come to learn, that no matter what I do — right or wrong — they’re going to leave.   What’s the point of holding on, then?

Look, I’m not trying to paint this picture of me as being a victim.  I am not a victim.  I am far from perfect when it comes to relationships and friendships.  I will freely and willingly admit to my shortcomings — I don’t lack in the shortcomings department at all.   But, what I will say, in my defense, is that no matter what relationship it is, I give myself 150%.  I try to go above and beyond because I want to do everything I can to keep them in my life.   No one has ever tried to earn my love or earn my friendship.  I’ve always been the one doing the giving and hoping I can earn THEIR love and THEIR respect.

For once in my life, I’m going to sit here  and you’re going to have to come HERE.   You’re going to have proved YOURSELF.   You’re going to have call.  You’re going to have to text.  You’re going to have to set it up.

I’ve been called selfish.  I’ve been called a b–ch.  I’ve been called overemotional.  I’ve been called lots of things.  And today, I will happily accept ALL those names — if it means I’m looking out for myself and surrounding myself with the things/people who I want to.   If it means I’m selfish that I don’t want to attend functions for people who I have no relationship with — then I’m selfish.   If I’m a b—h because I don’t beg you to talk to me or hang out with me, then I’m a b—h.   I don’t want relationships in my life that require me to give more than you give me.

I will not apologize for being selfish anymore.

I will not apologize for wanting what’s best for myself anymore.

I will not apologize for loving ME more than I love you.

Because for 30 effing years I sat and allowed you people to make me feel less than and not good enough or worthy enough.  I am obese and unhappy because I allowed people like you to be the criteria by which I lived.

No more.

This selfish b—h became even MORE of a selfish b—h.  And I won’t apologize to anyone for it.

Deal with it.

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Seasons

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I teach seasons ever year.  Emphasizing that when one season begins, the other has to end.  Seasons can’t coincide.

The old saying that friendships are like seasons has never rang more true than right now — this very moment — for me.

Boyz II Men were right, it is hard to say goodbye to yesterday.  But saying goodbye is what I need to do because I’m ready for my new season to start.  I should have said goodbye to this season a long time ago.   I held on to it for too long.

It’s like I wanted it to stay winter, even though spring is better and right around the corner.

So this is my goodbye to winter.   I won’t say goodbye, without saying thank you for what you gave me.   You were what I needed, when I needed you — back then. But, I don’t want to hold on to you anymore.  I’ve outgrown you, winter.  Just like you may have outgrown me.  I was too loyal to let go.  But my growth as a person outweighs my loyalty.

I’m ready for spring now, and the adventure that awaits for me there.

In Transition.

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“The hardest thing to put up with is transition — it takes us out of our element, our comfort zone, where we are sure — we cannot control everything when we are in transition.” – Bishop T.D. Jakes

I find myself in a place of transition. A very difficult, uncomfortable place of transition. In fact, I feel like I’ve been in this place for a while now — at least since the fall of 2012.  It seems to me that it has become more obvious since I turned 30 in May.  I’m more aware that I’m right on the precipice of something — what that something is, I have no idea.

At the end of the school year, last spring, I felt like I was getting ready to jump into something else.  Usually, by the spring semester, I am prepping for the new school year — mapping out how I want my classroom to look, things I want to change.   I’m always planning what I want to buy or change.  Last spring?  Nothing.  I couldn’t even force myself to think about it.   It was really freaking me out.  I had never been so NOT invested and the thought of it made me believe that I actually wouldn’t be coming back to teaching.  I didn’t make extra copies of things to use for the next year, I didn’t do any of it.   I had believed that I had come to the end.

I didn’t resign — I refused to unless I had a 100% reason to. I took a leap of faith the year before by resigning from my previous school.   I wasn’t ready to take another leap just yet.  And since I hadn’t seen/heard anything from God, I figured I’ll wait to resign until I did.

So summer comes and goes, I get news about becoming my grade level chair/team leader, as well as taking other leadership positions with technology/web.   I didn’t understand why I had all these responsibilities when I knew I had to get out.

That’s usually how it goes right? We see what we want to see. We think what we want to think.  We believe what we want to believe.   But God’s plans are always so different — and not because we’re wrong — but because He sees so much more than we do.

I have convinced myself that I’m ready and I’ve learned what I’m supposed to learn. But as the school year has started, I’ve already experienced so many lessons and have realized so many of my own shortcomings as a person and as a leader.  Things like, I need to be able to delegate responsibilities, not act like I have to do everything, quit putting so much pressure on myself, communicate with everyone on my team, and lead by example.

Every day, I beg God to take me out of this place and change my situations.  But I can’t beg Him anymore.  I have to accept where I am right now because there has to be a purpose for it. And there is!  All those lessons I have learned (and am continuing to learn), will be lessons I carry with me when I go on to lead worship teams or ministry teams — and even my own family.

So, yes, this place of transition is hard.  It’s frustrating.  It’s a long and weary road.  But, Bishop T.D. Jakes said something the other night that has stayed with me, “We were not born to stay where we started.”  And I’m so grateful that I am not where I started and I won’t end up in the same place, either.

I’m no longer sharing the journey of turning 30.  I’m sharing the journey of being in transition to something bigger and higher.

I’m now a 30-year old in transition.