Things My Future Husband Should Know: I Should Be a Priority

Hopefully this letter reaches you before you actually become Mr. Tori D. (lol) because if this isn’t already present then there’s no way that would happen. So consider this a reminder.  

I know we have our own, individual lives. I love that! You do your thing, whether it be sports, tech stuff, video games, whatever; I do my thing—crafts, reading, traveling. We are able to maintain separate interests so that we don’t smother each other and it is beautiful. However (you knew that was coming, right?) I feel a way about being at the bottom of the totem pole.

What do I mean? In short, I mean that I should be a priority. I don’t expect to be priority #1 all the time. There’s (hopefully) your relationship with God, and if you already have kids I definitely expect you to put their needs ahead of mine (within reason. Does that sound bad? IDK). But I can’t be that wife that is just there to cook and clean for you. I don’t want you to be up under me 24/7, but I refuse to take the position of waiting after you’re done with 50-11 other random interests to see if you have any time or energy to pay me any attention. If you only want to talk to me when you’re bored with everything else, or when you have an issue and want to vent, or when you're stuck in the car and can't stand silence, then we’re nothing more than associates who happen to be roommates.

Simply put, I want to know that I’m as important to you as you are to me. That’s not a whole lot to ask for, in my humblest of opinions. Just like I will put forth every effort to show that you are appreciated and a big, beautiful part of my life, I hope expect you to do the same.

"911 Call to Myself"

The other night I wrote a poem for the first time in forever. Even though I was talking about one situation in particular when I wrote it, while typing it just now I realized that it applies to another area of my life as well. I guess it's now or never, huh?

In case of an emergency
Break glass.
Shatter the confines that keep you
Locked down,
Boxed in,
Stunted.
This is life or death!
Your next breath may not come
Unless you run!
Don’t be suffocated
By the soft, overpowering comfort of the known
Or the fear of the unknown.
Aren’t you grown?
Grow up!
It’s time to do the hard things,
To loosen the ties
And hopefully avoid cutting heart strings;
To stand on your own two feet
And eventually spread your own wings.
But you’ll never make it
Without taking that very first step.
Break the glass.
Break free.
This is an emergency.

Late Night Randomness

Sooo it's almost midnight on a Friday night, and here I am, "talking" to y'all. I'm still trying to wind down from 13 hours of work. Even though I'm exhausted, I'm wide awake! The inevitable crash is coming though, so imma make this quick.

I told y'all about the new job right? Not like I finally got my dream job or anything like that; it's just a little part time gig to supplement my salary so I can get an apartment. And that IS happening. This month. As in, if I'd had time to go get a money order for my deposit it would have been paid today. My anxiety level is absolutely through the roof. I know my folks will flip out when they find out I already got the place; I'm not sure if I can control my reaction.

That's the reason I've finally decided to get help. I've talked about feeling like I needed to talk to a therapist, but I hadn't. Mainly out of fear. But this whole ordeal with moving out and realizing just how stressed it had me (I've never had anxiety attacks before this, not to mention the headaches and insomnia) made me realize that something is really wrong. Thank God for the EAP (employee assistance program)! Not having to pay for therapy (if it doesn't have to be extensive) is one burden I don't have to worry about.

Will Smith will never not be fine. (Sorry, Independence Day is on.)

My hair needs some serious TLC. Sometimes I seriously consider going back to the perm. But now I feel I have to keep it natural for a few more years, just out of defiance.

Am I the only one who doesn't gibbadamb about the Olympics? It seems that way. I haven't kept up with any of the events, but I am  happy for Gabby Douglas. I love it when young black women do the darn thing!

Okay, sleep is descending on me, time to wrap this up. Next week, new posts.... I think.

An Indifferent God?

There’s never been a time in my life that I questioned the existence of God. Although as a child I was taught not to question anything I was told about God and the word, I find myself with more and more inquiries. I have, and still do, question the logic and truthfulness of some of the things in the Bible. And even though I practice Christianity I feel that all religions have their validity.

The latest in my list of religious rhetorical questions: what if God is just indifferent to our lives? Like the little day to day minutia of it all. The things we pray about but never seem to get anywhere with. What if it all is just a matter of luck? Or a matter of what you do to make things happen?

The thing that got me thinking about this today was reading about a young woman who started a cosmetic company that has been picked up by Macy’s. How did she get her startup money? She just happened to be in the audience the day Oprah gave everyone a brand new car. (Y’all remember: “You get a car! And you get a car! Everyone gets a new caaaarrrr!” *in my Oprah voice*) Since she had a car, she sold that one and had the money to pursue her dream.

Her story is absolute awesome sauce, the stuff that dreams are made of. But my question is why are some people recipients of such amazing fortune and others are left to scuffle to make ends meet? Why are some people blessed with great families and some with those plagued by abuse or addiction or poverty? Why do some folks have a string of bad luck and others seemingly are cruising down Easy Street?

I’ve heard preachers proselytizing that to be blessed you have to be living according to the Bible. Just yesterday the preacher mentioned how John said that he received everything he asked from God, and that if we aren’t receiving everything we ask then apparently something is wrong with us. But how does that explain the folks who are living good and never asked God for anything because they don’t even believe in Him? Or the millionaires and billionaires who attained their riches by cheating others? How does that explain folks who are living the best that they can and try to follow the scriptures but still struggle financially, physically, emotionally, etc. all throughout life? I can’t reconcile that idea of how good you are equates to how good you live when reality is showing me a completely different story.

So I’m thinking maybe God really just doesn’t care. Sure, He cares about the stuff like your soul, but whether or not you recover from that tumor that’s causing indescribably painful headaches or ever find someone who truly loves you or recover from a traumatic incident… Well, maybe that’s on his clutter list. I’m thinking He’s left it all up to us and fate to make something happened.

Make A Move

I’m finally doing it. I’m making steps toward moving out of my parents’ house. It’s not the ideal situation, honestly. The plan was to move once I found a house I wanted to buy and could do so without having to work multiple jobs. Alas, that is not the case. The second job has been found, the apartment shortlist is down to two and as soon as I get that chunk of change from the part time gig I’m saying adios to Casa del Whitley.

I have mixed feelings on the whole thing. The question of why I couldn’t have the type of parents who were happy to see their offspring grow and thrive and become their own person in their own place living their own life is always at the forefront of my mind. But the why doesn’t really matter now, does it? I would love to have the type of folks my friends have, who encourage and help them find a place without acting as if them leaving the nest is some sort of betrayal. But I don’t, and the decision to move instead is the result of an increasingly strained relationship with my parents and pressure (both internally and externally) to “grow up.” (I thought I was doing a fairly decent job on the “adult” thing: working, paying my own bills, no kids, no STDs… but anyway… I digress.)

The desire to escape for my own peace of mine is almost matched by the fear of not being able to handle it. What if I absolutely hate this part time job and end up quitting—or being fired? Yeah I’ll have enough to pay rent but what about eating? Gas to get to work? What happens then? Or what if something awful happens and I’m screwed because I don’t have any extra money to use as a cushion? I cannot—will not—go to my parents asking for help. In fact, I refuse to ask for help now. (After a bad incident with my father the summer after I graduated from college and was still looking for a job, I vowed to NEVER ask for anything from him and to reject whatever he offered. On GP I don’t ask momma for anything either, but I know if she offers something it’s because she truly wants to help, so I’m slightly more open to accepting.)

Whatever happens, the wheels are set in motion now. I hate the thought of giving up a (mostly) comfy life for one of (possible) struggle, but it’s so heavy on me that if I don’t make a move now I never will. Trying to make up for lost time, overcome stunted growth…

Meh, I’m getting slightly emotional (read: pissed) and my thoughts are starting to jumble so I might as well just end this here.

Morning Quickie: Certificate of Singleness

Last night, after being accused of being secretly married for the umpteenth time (don’t ask) I had a brilliant idea. Wouldn’t it be great if there was a certificate of singleness? It sounds silly, but think about it! What if you could avoid the drama of unknowingly being the other woman (or other man) simply by verifying a document? I mean, marriage is verifiable by the license (and yes, I am well aware that nobody actually carries their marriage license around; we’re talking hypotheticals here, people!). 

Picture it: after a little bit of flirty convo with the guy at the coffee shop/bar/bookstore/wherever, he decides to holla.

Him: So, can I call you sometime, maybe go out to dinner?
You: Yeah that would be nice…
Him: *grinning*
You: One thing though. I gotta see your certificate.
Him: *nervous laugh* Certificate? Girl I got a degree!
You: *dry laugh* You know the certificate I mean! Let me see your certificate of singleness.
Him: Aight. *pulls out certificate* There, see?
You: Dude, this expired two years ago. What’s up with that?
Him: Well, you know… I just haven’t gotten around to renewing it…
You: *pulls out phone to scan via app* Yeah…. It says this is null and void. Deuces!

Okay, I know there may be some kinks in my plan, but I still think it’s pretty freakin brilliant.

What Is Your Passion?

Is there just one? More than one? Do you have any?

*stream of consciousness here folks. sorry if i ramble*

While reading and researching for a class I thought I’d be teaching on Finding Your Purpose in Life & Work, I found a Venn diagram saying that purpose is a combination of your talents, values and passion. I could easily identify my talents and values. I’m a skilled writer, a pretty good public speaker (even though I hate it), I tend to look at situations & problems differently in order to come up with a creative solution. I value individuality & authenticity, self-development & improvement, knowledge, creativity, peace of mind.

But what am I passionate about?

Recently this question was posed to me and I didn’t have an answer. Sure, I've had things that I was passionate about at the moment, but that waned… so was it really passion or just a strong interest? I’ve been passionate about writing but I don’t know if I’d say I still am. I still love it and want to do it; I think the reality of how rarely writers “make it” have dampened it somewhat. And the jewelry-making… am I passionate about it? I enjoy it, definitely. I don’t look forward to the business side. I want to continue and possibly take it to the next level, but I’ll be okay if it remains a hobby that brings in a little money on the side. That’s why I don’t consider that a passion. I really, really, REALLY want to try coaching/consulting to help people be happier, more productive, and at peace. But will that be fleeting like everything else?

Maybe my passions simply evolve over time. Nothing says that passion has to last forever, right? After all, when I’m into something, I do have that “strong affection or enthusiasm” for it. But then it fades and I’m left to pursue something else.

Is it possible to live without any passion at all? Surely it is, but wow, that has to be a sad existence.