I would love to say I’m excited to share my life with you all again, but I’m not.
I’m actually quite terrified. I’ve fallen back from my relationship with vulnerability… for many reasons. I am no longer comfortable with sharing myself on the internet, or in real life for that matter.
But, that was a part of the reason that I began blogging. Hell, that I’ve begun writing. Vulnerability has always been a purpose in picking up a pen. Whether I’m journaling, writing poetry (no I will not share), writing philosophical texts, or blogging. Writing has always been deep to me, but I’ve intentionally abandoned it. Of course, it was to allow myself to find safety, within myself. That’s one of the only spaces where I feel okay. I wouldn’t say great. I wouldn’t even say content, but I am safe. I can only judge myself with all of the knowledge that I have: my intentions, my perspective, my hope, and my faith. That gives me the understanding to deal with my actions. No one else has that understanding, even if they have the grace.
However, that has made me close myself off from a shit load of love. Lately, I’ve been allowing myself to find love within my friendships, again. Despite way too many friend break-ups (no matter how necessary, even if temporary), I have allowed myself to indulge in sisterhood. I only had a faint idea of how desperately I needed that. On the other hand, I had no idea how badly my support system needed it. It feels so good to be able to breathe around them, again, especially through our growth and changes.
As I’ve been hanging out with my friends, and even my own sister, it feels as if I’m meeting strangers with familiar identities. Like I get to remelt everyone and explore all that they’ve been through since I’ve been hidden. I cannot explain how magical it feels. How grateful I am that they’ve allowed me back into them. How grateful I am that they have also taken the time to relearn me. We’re all allowing each other to change, which is something that I thought I would have had to do alone.
So, on to what you’re here for. Love and sex and stuff.
I would love to say I’m excited to share my life with you all again, but I’m not. Dating (and even sexual relationships) has been traumatic for me. It’s not easy to share that experience of exhaustion with the world… especially when it seems never-ending. Especially when my platform is supposed to be fun. This shit is not fun.
I don’t feel like I would be able to experience the same type of love that I receive from sisterhood (or even friendship) in the average relationship. No offense to the straight men out there. I do understand that this isn’t “all of y’all,” but it seems that I, and every other man-dating Black woman, have to be superwomen. We must accept flaws and be consistently what they need — flawless. I haven’t been shown much grace in romantic relationships. I also haven’t been shown much support when change is needed.
I rarely see men able to show up while in growth. Change is usually a mission of solitude with them. That is such a weird concept to me, you know?
Women were raised to be emotionally available even when we aren’t perfect because we never will be, despite what men expect of us. Now, most of us have been expected to be emotionally available when we shouldn’t be, but I’m not even discussing that at the moment. But maybe I should circle back to that in another post. I’m just talking about being there for those around you when you are imperfect.
Men typically want to be a finished man before deciding to show up for others… which, let’s be honest, they still may not do for those who were there through the process, given their track record.
And by a finished man, I do just mean “finished” by their standards. Some men are satisfied with a lack of emotional intelligence, but that’s "finished" to them. These men may even understand that they are flawed, and maybe even why they are flawed. They may even bring it to your attention to excuse their actions, but the men that I’m speaking of don’t actually have the desire to change. They see this flawed version of themselves as a finished version of themselves. If they ever do decide to change, they leave you to do so.
Then, there are the men who expect to be perfect before calling themselves “finished” (which, as humans, we never are until death). These are the ones that I tend to fall victim to, to be honest. They are already great but have work to do. They realize their flaws and abandon ship. Typically, leaving me confused, hurt, upset, or a combination of the three.
That’s where my trauma lies. That’s my vulnerable truth for this post.
Even on a platonic level, I avoid true intimacy with most of my guy friends.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying that men shouldn’t take time to work on themselves, but I am saying that the men who find a flaw in themselves while in a certain situation probably shouldn’t unravel it all to work on themselves, if not necessary. And even more, they probably shouldn’t stop searching for ways to better themselves while in relationships.
That’s obviously not my only complaint when it comes to the dating pool, but maybe I would be a lot more patient with the rest if men were patient with Black women (but maybe not… let’s not lie). If I were to list it all today… well, I certainly wouldn’t have content for later.
So, yeah, I am not excited to share my life with the world again. It is full of complaints, exposure, and vulnerability, but I do think to return to my true self, it is necessary.
Note: I keep finding more thoughts to add to this post. Please find any extra notes post-published below:
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