I spent most of my day today in the house. When I finally left, I went to Starbucks and spent a little bit of time at the beach. Taking some time to be in awe of God's creation looking at the waves, feeling the wind on my face, reflecting on my current situation. Not to go into too many details right now, but let's just say that I'm in a semi-unhealthy space right now.
Before I left the house, Vivian Green's Emotional Roller Coaster came on my iPod, which is one of my favorite songs. As I sit here and type this blog, parts of it are playing in my head. "Emotional roller coaster, loving you ain't nothing healthy, loving you was never good for me....and I can't get off (that has so many meaning right there, I dare not try and address all of that right now)".
There's a guy (isn't there always), who I believe I have loved for a long time. But too many times, I have found myself crying over said guy, drinking over said guy, while not being in a "relationship" with said guy. There was one time, I had consumed some dark alcohol in an attempt to numb that sadness and anger I was feeling over said guy, who lied and did some things that I thought were shady. Long story less long, I got drunk and threw up. Not a good look.
Fast forward to yesterday, said guy didn't respond to a few text messages and today sent me to voicemail today when I called back. That shit pisses me off to no end. I will admit that I am insecure but I also don't do too well with being lied to. You're probably thinking, "Why are you still dealing with this person?" HELLO....Emotional Roller Coaster. Duh.... Some days are great, like earlier this week...some days are crazy, like this. I recognize that "relationships" are not easy. Regardless of what you think about this, this is no exception.
So I go out and spend some time at the beach, I feel sadness and even begin to cry a little bit. "Loving you ain't nothing healthy, lovin' you ain't neva good for me...and I can't get off.". I say all of this to say that, I'm caught on an Emotional Roller Coaster and after all this time, Cam is still insane...especially as it relates to issues of the heart.
So it's been about three weeks since I've said goodbye to my Chocolate Love. I told my Godmother about him and she suggested that I talk to him as a couple of people have and I considered it but I've since opted against it. I'm not obsessing over this man like I used to, not really paying him a whole lot of attention. He seems to be doing his thing with work which I can respect and since things with me are getting ready to really hit the fan I can't really deal with someone who isn't really thinking about me.
Today saw him for the first time in almost 3 weeks and I wasn't overly impressed. My mind didn't race in a million different directions when I saw him. I didn't secretly smile to myself when we made eye contact. It looks like I'm over it. Now as long as something doesn't happen to set me back 6 months I should be good. But for now, it seems like things are getting better.
I know it's been a while since I've posted something based on my insane life. Maybe that means that things are starting to slow down and I am gaining some sort of sanity. Probably not. But for this particular post, since it has to do with men, I thought it would be most appropriate to place it here.
Background
I've been in this really weird space with a guy that I really liked for a good portion of 2010. As 2010 was winding down, I decided that I would have "the talk" with him, say what I needed to say and see what happens. The challenge was that he wasn't around and I didn't want to have the conversation electronically. So I said that if I didn't have the conversation by the end of the year, I wasn't going to have it. Long story less long, we didn't have the talk. Because we haven't had the talk, there is a part of me that feels like it's time to move on. Also as 2010 was winding down, I said that I was going to have the talk because I needed to know where things were because I wasn't going into 2011 with such confusion. I needed to know so I could know which way to go and what to do next. Things had gotten out of control on my end; I was having multiple dreams about him, not all of them were sexual in nature, but there were some that were. He was constantly on my mind. I was thinking about him at times when I should have been thinking about someone else - just completely out of control. So you could kind of understand why I wanted to get a handle on things, especially going into the New Year. Even though I was scared out of my mind, I knew that it was something that I needed to do either move together or move on. But alas, I didn't get to have the talk. I am okay with it. While it wasn't what I wanted, I'm okay with it.
Flashback
I was coming out of a relationship and I decided that I needed some type of closure. My ex and I weren't really on speaking terms but I feel like I had a lot to say (maybe because I always have to have the last word, something I am really working on). So I wrote a closure letter. It wasn't for him to read, it was more so for me to feel like I said what I needed to say. In fact, I didn't give him the letter. I put it in a box and I actually still have it. I haven't read it in a long time but I remember that doing that made me feel so much better. So I figure that now would be a good time to write my closure letter to Mr. Milk Dud.
The Letter
Dear Milk Dud, I didn't think that it would happen this way. I didn't think that I would move on. Or maybe I did and just didn't want to face it. Maybe I was clouded by my hopeless romantic side, blinded by my constant thoughts of what you and I would be like together. But the truth was, I never KNEW how you felt about me and I never said in words how I felt about you. Here it is completely after the fact. I liked you. I liked you so much that it would make me crazy (or it just enhanced the crazy that was already present). I liked the time we spent together, I liked the jokes we cracked with and on one another, I liked your perspective on things. I appreciated your honesty, even if I didn't agree with it. Even when shit hit the fan, we fell out, got back and handled it like adults. That experience was more than I could have ever imagined and I am grateful to have shared that experience with you. That said, plus the fact that I had dreams about you of all types, thoughts about announcements, thoughts about what it would be like to be together. Maybe not forever, just for the moments that led up to it.
No, it isn't what I wanted it to be. This isn't how I wanted this to go. But I guess this is the way it's supposed to be. There's that hopeless romantic side of me, that's hopeful that one day you'll stop looking around and SEE. One day, WE will stop playing around with other people and take a chance on happiness with each other. But that's the hopeless romantic side.
The truth is that we are and will be friends. And while that's the great foundation to a happy and successful relationship, you and I won't be more than that. With my rose colored glasses on, I'd say that if you came to your senses, we could get this party started. But with a fresh pair of HD contacts, it's me that needs to come to my senses and walk away. This isn't by any means the end of our friendship, but I can't hold on to the idea of being with you when you don't even look at me. It is what it is and it will be what it will be. Like I've said many times before, "forgive, forget and be on to the next".
So one of the things about me and House is that there are times when we don't speak for weeks, maybe even months on end (and usually when that happens it's on her, not me). But when we do speak, we have the connections like nothing ever happened and that everything is all good. I love House. House loves me. We love each other and we are twisted sisters. One of my favorite shows on TV is Grey's Anatomy. One of the reasons it speaks to me because I see a lot of me in two of the main characters, Meredith and Bailey. I mostly see Bailey in me because she's short, bossy, brilliant and can quote Star Wars. The times when I see the Meredith in me are in her interactions with Cristina. Recently on the show, Cristina was having a hard time sleeping since her husband was at work (please don't get me started on the whole Owen/Cristina thing) so she went to Meredith's house and climbed in the bed with her. This type of behavior wasn't uncommon between the two of them. After all, they are twisted sisters. This reminded me of the time House and I lived together. It wasn't uncommon for us to go a little while without speaking, even though we lived in the same house. She had her moments and I had mine where we just didn't want to be bothered. It took a long time for me to not take it personally but eventually I got there.
One night, the summer after I graduated from undergrad, House and I had somethings going on, independently. I remember laying in my bed and hearing a knock at the door. It was House and she was having a moment. My first instinct with a lot of situations is to understand them and to try to comfort and/or nurture the person involved. But House was at a point where there weren't enough words to comfort her. She just wanted to come in get in my bed (luckily I was in bed alone that night) and just lay down. Flashing back to that moment, remembering that moment, makes my eyes water just a little bit because it was one of the most powerful, if not the most powerful moment in our relationship. She didn't want to talk about anything, she didn't talk about anything, she just laid at the foot of my bed and went to sleep. And in the morning, she got up and carried on like nothing ever happened. Every now and then, we flash back to that moment and really realize that we are in fact twisted sisters.
We talked earlier this week about Grey's when we realized that if we ever got married and lived in the same town, that our husbands would have to understand (like Derek and Owen are trying to understand) is that we're twisted sisters and some times, there will be some situations where we'll have to sleep in the same bed.
After yesterday’s (Monday) events, I thought that I would have a different perspective on my relationship with my momma. And to an extent, I do. Actually, since my father’s been sick, I’ve had a different perception of my mother. But the shit that has really pissed me off has happened within the last Four days. My birthday was on Friday. My mom called me at work to ask if I was coming home before going to the Ball game, I told her that I was but only to change clothes. She said that she hadn’t gotten my birthday cake and didn’t see the need to get one since I wasn’t coming home. (Footnote: Every birthday, every year, every member of the family gets a strawberry shortcake from Neldam’s bakery. It’s been a long standing family tradition) When she said this, I was blown. I got to my parents’ house and she was fussing (because that’s what she does) and told me to go get my cake out of her car and to take it to the Ball park. What the fuck? Why the hell would I take my birthday cake to the ballpark when it’s a family tradition? She then proceeds to yell how she is mad as hell that she didn’t get a birthday cake for the last two years and she was not going to forget it as long as she was alive! Are you fucking serious! You choose my birthday to fucking fuss about a birthday cake from March! How the fuck do you do that to someone? I was so shaken up, I couldn’t even think straight. I put the cake in their refrigerator and went home to get ready for the baseball game. But I was so blown.
Oh wait, I forgot! Either Wednesday or Thursday, I was sitting in my parents’ living room talking about my upcoming birthday. My dad asked me what I wanted for my birthday. The only thing I really want is my Cole Haan pumps (black, patent leather peep toe the only problem is that they are $300!Yikes!) My mother says to my father (in front of me) if you buy her some $300 shoes, I’ll break your fuckin’ legs. Wow, over some shoes? Really! That’s a cold blooded game in the streets.
So let’s recap, even before my birthday, you’re hating on my gift from my father, on my birthday you want to talk about YOUR birthday and what YOU didn’t get. Caught up, good.
(Footnote: I made the elaborate plan for my birthday – drink, dance, eat – repeat! I didn’t tell my parents’ about it because they never want to do anything that I like to do, even if it is my birthday.)
Oh I forgot to mention since, we’re talking about what does and doesn’t happen for birthdays. Apparently, the family tradition is to go out to dinner, the birthday person gets to decide. I haven’t been taken out for my birthday yet! And I’ve been home for FIVE FUCKING YEARS! I digress…
So I decided to go ahead and just get ready for my birthday. Everything after that point seemed to be cool. That was Friday.
So after Friday, I wake up Saturday morning with a friendly reminder that I am not pregnant, not like that would be a concern, but you know. (Footnote: why is it men over the age of 21, seem to have a problem when a woman mentions that she’s on her period. Dawg, you’re married with a daughter! Don’t act like you’ve never heard about a woman having a damn period!) I had somewhere to be on Saturday morning and I actually pulled myself together to make it happen. But why is it that my mom thinks that my sole purpose in life is to do the things that she doesn’t want to do. No, boo boo! It doesn’t work that way. Because she forgot my dad’s dialysis snacks and she didn’t want to take them to him, she felt like I should do it. Negative ghost rider! I did the rest of the stuff that I had going on for the day and didn’t pay her any mind.
Now we’re at Sunday. I put together a pretty nice outfit. My long white floral dress, my black cardigan and some pink flip flops. (There's a picture for your viewing pleasure) I felt like this was more that appropriate to wear to church especially since I wasn’t singing. My mother disagreed. Did she come to church, no? Was it because of my flip flops? Who knows. She really wasn’t pleased with my pink flip flops, which matched my dress to a T! Whatever. So fast forward to Sunday night, I said that I wanted to cut my cake at 7pm. Please tell me why, we didn’t cut the cake until damn near 7:30! And on top of that, I stood around looking stupid because no one wanted to sing Happy Birthday. (Footnote: if I acted the way everyone else acted about my birthday it would have been a major problem. Maybe I should start acting like these simpletons! Why the fuck is it when it comes to me it’s a fucking problem but let it be your shit and I am all about accommodating your punk ass – mostly my mom and my silly ass brothers. My dad seems to do fine with it. I guess I get it from him.) The birthday person should never have to start singing Happy Birthday to Me! Who does that? Camille Michelle Harvey. So I cut the cake, take my pieces of it and go home.
You would think the foolishness would stop. Nope. So Monday, I get home from work and my mother first asked me what I was going to wear with my shoes. I told her that I would wear whatever, which is fair because they are basic black pumps. No need to do anything fancy. She decided to say that she was going to get me a whole new outfit to wear with them. Cool, spend your money, Ms. Honey. Then she decides to start talking about some kids who got in trouble for wearing flip flops to the White House and how there is a certain protocol and shit. What the fuck are you talking about? Then she starts talking about what people from our old church would say about my flip flops. Ma, I don’t give a damn. And that’s basically what I told her. If you have a problem with something I am wearing, please feel free to make a contribution to my wardrobe by replacing it. I am not the one who gets hella caught up in what other people say or think about me, especially if they can’t verbalize it to me. The point was, she didn’t like the idea that I had on flip flops. But rather than say all that, she wanted to give some historical protocol bullshit about something that I could give a damn about anyway. If you don’t like it, say so. I’m still an adult so I wear what the fuck I want to!
And finally, I am on my way home from work today (Tuesday, yes, Tuesday). She calls me and asks if I took her spaghetti. Now, I have told my mother time again, if I take something from her, 9 times out of 10, I tell her OR she’ll see me take it so it’s not a big surprise when it comes up missing. I told her that I didn’t have it. As I am coming from the direction of Safeway, she is heading towards Safeway, I would imagine to get some spaghetti. I get to my parents’ house and see a nice huge pot of spaghetti sauce on the stove and some Italian Sausage on the counter. Hell yeah! I wanted some spaghetti! All good. I had a couple of spoonfuls of spaghetti (I really can eat it all by itself) and then I go into the living room to talk to my dad. My dad basically says that my mother thinks I lied about taking the spaghetti and I was mad at her. For real! I’m done! As I’ve already stated, if I am gonna take something you’ll know (except for the purple egg slicer, I didn’t say anything about that). But you’re gonna accuse me of lying about taking some spaghetti. I’m done. I was so mad, that I turned on my Wii Fit Plus and definitely got a great work out in. Now I am sitting in my kitchen, banging this blog out and ready to hop in the shower. I’m gonna try and get out of town this weekend because I don’t want to deal with the silly shit. Me and my momma.
I had a brief conversation with Wilson about Mr. Milk Dud, who has been in the middle of some questionable activity lately. Wilson asked me how did I acquire some information, I responded that I did some research the clues that I was given. When I did some further digging, I found out that Milk Dud is living a double life (translation = he has 2 FB pages). Additionally, information that I was looking for was later confirm after seeing the additional information on the 2nd page.
What's to be learned from this Insane Moment:
People will show you who they are if you give them the chance.
Just because someone may look like you, doesn't mean they like you.
Sometimes it's not that deep, sometimes it is. The challenge is knowing which time you are in.
Life and love are much like playing cards. You can win or lose based on the hand you're dealt as well as the way you play the hand you're dealt. Sometimes you have to wait for the right card to have the winning hand. When in doubt, throw all your cards in, shuffle and start all over.
Insanity - doing the same thing repeatedly expecting a different result. That seems to be the theme of my life, insane. This blog is gonna talk about my insane life, give you a chance to laugh and/or cry about it and give you either hope that your life isn't so bad or comfort to know that you're not alone.
