All we need is love?

I have been humbled every day by the response I have gotten from my friends and family as I go through this intense period of transition. I keep getting slapped in the face with the message: PEOPLE LOVE ME!!! There are so many people in this world who care about me and I am so grateful for their grace right now. I have had people drive miles to give me a hug if they hear me crying, people offer me their house so I can get some much needed alone time while they are out of town, people understand when I tell them I can't attend their weddings or be as active in the planning as I would like, I have had friends let me stay with them in a one room apartment for 17 days IN A ROW, I've had women pack my house when I couldn't do it myself and hold my hand while I cried at my sink, grieving over my broken dream. And these are just my FRIENDS. My family has been graceful as well, giving me space, a place to live, a listening ear and arranging for people to move me out of my house. Compassion is truly a blessing and I see God in the people that love me, every day.

I've been reading the book Uncoupling, by Diane Vaughan. In it, she says, "People do not make voluntary transition alone." And I find this to be so true. She says that when leaving a relationship we find "transitional people" to help us. These people help by being confidante's, by giving advice, by working as a sounding boards, by loving me.

This post is my love letter to all of my transitional people. Some people may be temporary, but most, I believe are long standing, constant forces in my life. I believe that if you're lucky, you find many, many soul mates in this life. People who are brought to you to help you through this journey, people who love you in ways you can't get fulfilled by anything else and all of you have been my soul mates. Some are new friends, people I've known for two or less years. Some have been friends since we were 12, wearing funny hats. One has been my soul sister, from another mister (and mother for that matter) whose life parallels mine in an intense and sometimes, freaky, manner. I love you all more than I can put into words. I'm grateful for you and I can write a novel and still not be able to express my gratitude in words.

Know this: I see God in you and all of you have been a gift. One of my biggest sources of anxiety entering this period of transition has been the fear that I would never find love. That I gave it all away, but all of you have wrapped me in a love and a grace so pure, so full and so amazing, that I can only laugh at myself. The Universe has a hell of a sense of humor...I see love all around me. I'm covered in it in a way I have never experienced before.

Selah, thank you.

Share Your Power With Me!! Pretty, Please?

I complain often and much of not having the power I want in my life, in my relationships and in my job. It's a consistent pattern with me, and has gotten increasingly more frustrating and dangerous as I have progressed through school. My schooling has taught me all about the sociocultural nuances of being a Black female in this society. Issues of White privilege, male privilege, straight privilege and a host of others have given me ammunition and reason to fight a battle of establishing my own power. This knowledge, combined with a general distrust and disdain for not being in control has made me a veritable Empowerment Activist. Or so, I thought.

For the last few months, power is something that I have grappled with, especially in the context of my relationship. I have begged for it, manipulated for it, complained about it, and generally have racked my brain about how I can force the Lincoln Lawyer to give it to me. I NEED more power, I begged. I HAVE to have more power, I demanded. Give me more power, or ELSE, I threatened. But nothing came to fruition. Each day, I felt less and less powerful in my relationship. As as this continued; I fought back!! I can MAKE myself more powerful, I thought. My ego became so big, this issue of MY power, MY power, MY power, made me look for it in every situation, in every remark, gesture or touch. Any suggestion that did not come from me, any attempt to break through my ego and give me negative feedback see what I wanted was interpreted by me as a lack of respect, an attempt to dominate and an attempt to take MY power away.

Then a day came, when I had the perfect opportunity and excuse to excercise my own power. I would take it back!! I would make the grand statement and do the thing that had not yet been done. But no one tells you how difficult it is. That the thing you have not yet tried is often so because it is the least comfortable, most frightening option. I was unprepared for the anxiety and ill equipped to deal with it. As a result, I marched my little self RIGHT BACK into the very same situation. I could not wait, nor trust myself enough to BE the power I so desperately begged for. I piled my power on a platter and handed it to the VERY same person that I had been begging to give it back. I gave it to him EVERY time I only discussed him with my friends and ignored other aspects of my life. I gave it to him EVERY time I KNEW I needed more but settled for less because it was the most COMFORTABLE option in that moment. I gave my power away ALL of the time because I have no skills to manage my own anxiety, to sit in my own discomfort and to accept the fullness of life that includes moments of pain, frustration, despair and worry.

And isn't that the lesson? The man I love is no thief. He wasn't consistenly STEALING my power away all of these years. I have been HANDING it to him. Repeatedly, consistently, handing it to him, and then resenting him for it later. Because, like Sally Kempton and many other's have pointed out to us, when things are worth fighting for, like all of the most important things are, they take a ton of effort. I could never get my power back simply beause I begged, pleaded and demanded. MY power is MINE and no one can take it from me. And because I know enough to know that our intimate relationships are breeding grounds for teaching us to stick up for ourselves, I should have known enough to realize that finding my power would lie in a journey, that, like all journeys, would be difficult and painful at times. That sticking up for myself and my needs, and therefore reclaiming my power would leave me lonely and in pain, broken, perhaps, and dealing with lots and lots of anxiety.

Because what I learned the day I gave him my platter is this: sometimes power isn't worth fighting for and sometimes, it's not a fight at all. Power can be the softest voice in the room, speaking barely over a whisper. Power can come in simply letting go and in choosing to have faith. Sometimes, the most powerful decision of all is the decision to stop fighting, the decision to start believing and the decision to wait on the God who lives in me as me.