Love at Last

Revelation is such an invigorating experience. I got the opportunity to look at myself this weekend. I thought that I’d developed an objective view into the hurt that I’d been feeling but in all actuality, I hadn’t. The hurt that I felt due to failed relationships, neglect, and misuse by men was my main focus. Most . . . all of which I, myself, perpetuated. So, I can’t just blame them for what was done. Further more, I won’t dwell on what was done. The motive behind this post is to try as best I can to get what was given to me this weekend across to you all. I came to the realization that I was concentrating so much on my hurt that I’d neglected myself. I saw my hurt but wasn’t looking at Ashley. The two entities aren’t attached. Yes, I wore my hurt but it was merely an accessory. Something that can easily be removed and disregarded, tossed to the side, and if I’m gutsy enough I can obliterate it. Pain looks good on no one and there is no amount of MAC, Bobbi Brown, or Iman that can cover a painful experience after said experience has been put on by the “victimized” party. (Smiling) The dopest part of all of this is that I came to the conclusion that my consistency with attracting men that weren’t able to be faithful to me was because Ashley wasn’t faithful to herself. I’d sacrificed the love that I was supposed to have for me to seek love elsewhere. My nurturing my hurt caused Ashley to lack in so many areas. Areas that no earthly man could ever fill, validate, or make whole. This time around I opted to walk out of the door of “reliving when” and decided to walk across the threshold of “remembering when.” From this point on I’ll always remember. That’s where growth and healing begin. But never again will I relive any of these instances. Talk about freedom. The pity party’s over and done with. My emotional debt has been paid in full. So, as of midnight Saturday night . . . Ashley’s in a fulfilling and drama-free relationship . . . with herself. I’m committed to . . . me. This is a little nerve wracking because well . . . I’m a handful!