Of boys, babes and Immigration

I used to blog often (ok maybe more accurately "often-er.") For me, it may sound weird, but being creative takes something for me to push through, maybe the depression, and to create and or express myself. Whether it be through writing or drawing, painting or whatever.  Yes I said depression.  Just a bit of a falling into myself. A slight heaviness/tiredness of where I'd rather sit on the couch for hours and watch streaming TV. My other excuses are that I have a 3 month old baby that I am still up with in the wee hours of the morning breast feeding and I am working as a teacher of sorts at a Montessori Preschool.  If I bathe semi-regularly I'm doing pretty good. And if I remember to eat without too much time going by. (Oh my word.)  It's a season of caring for a tiny person. There are hours where she is sleeping but her need for care is regular. It is day in and day out.  I am the air she breaths pretty much.  I can't think about it too much and too deeply, especially when I am tired, it will make me feel anxious! But I LOVE her. My little baby girl Savannah, my Savvy-Joy.

I need something to motivate me, to give me the "chutzpah" to sit down and make something. I do deal with depression. I know what motivates me sometimes is when my "love tank" is full. If I'm energized by being with people.  I need positive, good quality, conversation with people.  That makes me feel energized, loved and alive.  Those encounters, will at times, inspire me to sit down and paint, and  I've gone so far as to pick up a paint brush late 10 pm or later, at night after an evening of good conversation.  It has often been said that, "I am a night owl." 

  But being with people doesn't always energize me either.  It takes me time to process and feel that I am comfortable with many people. With some people it's a lot easier to feel comfortable with right away.  And then sometimes those I am comfortable with I over think about and I end up anxious.  Yes I also deal with anxiety and have most of my life.  I also have OCD, moral OCD. We can talk about that later. I dont want to make you depressed (rolls eyes). Anyways moving on.

I (re) started this blog maybe a month ago or so.  I started writing when parts of Richmond were in an uproar. There were protests supporting "Black Lives Matter." there was also rioting where people set a building and a bus on fire.  Stores were looted and windows broken. I've never lived through experiences quite like that. I've lived through a lot though.

Was in Thailand during a coup...
    Went into a country illegally on a mission trip.
    Had my first alcholol on a mission trip in the Ukraine!
    Been to Isreal 2 times and the first time there a couple of suicide bombs were set off!

Ive lived in New York City for a few months and as far north as Sault Saint Marie. It's so far north there is a Sault Saint Marie Canada, no joke!

I am a 38 year old single mom. My baby girl just turned three months on the 20th. I have told multiple poeple, "I didn't know if I'd ever be a mom." But then it happened.

I made choices that I never thought I'd make. I moved in with my boyfriend. Of course my family did not agree with that choice.  I held out for a long time on not being intimate. I then made the choice to be with my boyfriend.

We got pregnant 6/7 months after we started being together that way.  I've not felt much guilt for making that choice of being with him. Also how could I say, "I made a mistake" when I have this beautiful little girl as my daughter now.

I have less figured out now than I did coming out of three years of bible school.  I have been a Christian since I was a young child. My dad shared the Billy Graham diagram of salvation.  He actually drew it out on a piece of paper. Drawing simple shapes, two cliffs seperated by a chasm but bridged by Jesus' cross.  He also wrote in his curvy handwriting. Most likely dating this document of spiritual choice. A life marker.

Being a christian was very much my identity.  I had an "aha moment" (as Oprah likes to say) when I was in Therapy one day that my faith was a very performance based for me. I felt anger about feeling like the "adults" in my life had taught me wrong all my life.  Faith wasn't supposed to be motivated and lived that way.  It felt like a sham. 

My faith and walk with God has been steady in some ways but also evolving in other and sometimes big ways.

When I decided to have sex, yes I said that 3 letter word: sex I was kind of testing God.  Like will you strike me from heaven? Will you turn your back on me. 

It was a very personal experience for me when it finally happened. It was actually very special.  I was in a committed relationship, I loved him. We had also waited for a long time.

I come from a background that is very morally agaisnt having sex or being sexual until a person is married.  I do question that. Im not so sure God is so black and white.  I'm afraid to even put that out there.

I read a book called "Good Christian Sex." one of the premises that stayed with me from that book is that your actions sexually with someone need to be based in love.  You can be technically "pure" but not motivated with love toward someone in your actions toward them romantically.  And then on the flip side you can be very committed, open and honest with your partner and not be married.  Marriage doesn't automatically mean that people are treated each other in their sexual relationship in a "Godly" and loving way.

There's "new to me" ways of thinking about sex and relationships that I've had or listened to that I wouldn't normally share with "Christians" Im usually around.  Alot of poeple I know would consider my viewpoints or viewpoints I've heard and been open to as wrong. 

I've also been "deconstructing" as I've been healing from my toxic christianity.  I am not as moralistic and judgemental as I used to be. I hope I'm not as judgemental.

I remember after finding out I was pregnant that I was glad I was outside of that glass house. The house of "Christianity" where you must be a virgin. I had stepped over that invisible line.  I wasn't untarnised and highly praised as a virgin, an example anymore.  But most of those voices were inside my own head.

I grew up in the age of Joshua Harris' book, "I kissed dating goodbye."  I heard someone say that that book wrecked it for me.  There definitely was a culture that rubbed off on me of taking dating sooo very seriously.  I have wished I had started dating when I was like 16 or 18. Instead I started, I'm not joking, dating at the ripe old age of 30.  I dated, we'll call him Beau.  He was a tall beautiful black man with soft luscious lips. Beau was a beautiful man.

 He had come to Virginia from the Bahamas on a scholarship to a local Christian university.  About 3 months in he shared a big important piece of information with me.  He had not shared it with me earlier because I would "freak out" about stuff.  I've always dealt with anxiety and also the extreme conservative background and carefulness when it came to dating didn't help me to be relaxed. 

Finally one day Beau told me that he was illegal.  At first I was measured and seemed ok with the information. I told him I had also taught children in Thailand that didn't belong anywhere either. 

He informed me that he had come to the US on a sports scholarship.  Beau was here on a student visa.  He let it lapse. In hind site he said he should have gone to Canada to get it renewed.  He felt that he deserved to become a legal citizen. what i learned was that if he was caught he would be imprisoned for a while and deported and not allowed back into the US for 10 years. I definitely am now at a place where I am sympathetic to Illegal Immigrants. And my experience with Beau is one of the reasons, one of the people why.  Illegal Immigrants are real people too.  I do come from a flavor of Christianity that is more "binary" more black and white even when it comes to the law.  A lot of people in my circles feel that illegals need to be here the lawful way.  I've personally known and basically dated 3 men that have been illegal.  What I do know, as my own thoughts and not thoughts of the collective christian culture bubble whole, is that number one, these are real people with real lives. Number two becoming legal in the states is not an easy process and I think it should be simpler.  Maybe you've noticed I haven't fully laid out what I feel or believe about illegals.  Again I am sympathetic to them.  I do get scared about putting out some of my feelings beliefs that are more liberal. I don't want to hear it from people that feel or believe differently than I do.  Let me ask you this question, "Do you personally know anyone that is illegal?"  If you don't, than please don't give me your opinion on the matter. 

I think that is a good mindset to have.  To not make a hard and fast decision morally on an issue until you know someone personally (and as I say that sentence I am emphasizing "SOMEONE PERSONALLY") that embodies that experience or that "sin".  For my conservative christian friends out there, Do you know someone that has had an abortion? Do you know an illegal immigrant? Are you friends with a gay, bi or trans person? 

(Yikes, I am "postpartum."  I'm 3 months out from pushing a 7 pound 7 oz. baby out of my lady parts...which gave way. They tore!  I've said multiple times that "Savannah brok my butt."  I worked today, it's not even 10 pm and I've started crashing. I was up at 6:30 to feed my little one.  My eyelids feel heavy and dry. 

(Oh boy it's like 10:14 pm and I feel ready for bed! I keep backtracking on this blog and editing words my blog post template underlines red, and I keep adding thoughts. Making what I write easier to read...I close my eyes and rest for a few moments. Yo yo Ma Pandora radio plays in the background. My growing baby girl is asleep on her back in the cutest button up Target PJs in Grey trimmed, teal polka dots and neon orange snaps.  Her legs are tucked up under her in that quintessential baby style. Arms up by her head, hands in fists. Baby girl is a good sleeper... oh yes, I should probably feed her one more time before I head to bed other wise she will be up even earlier than we were up this am... Its not an eating schedule that is "scheduled". sometimes when I am tired like this I want to just go to bed and feed Savannah whenever she decides by herself to wake up, but I don't want to wake up around 3:30. Id rather wake up at 6:30.

I'll often put Netflix or Hulu on while I am breastfeeding or bottle feeding Savannah. I know I'm tired when I'm sitting up these postpartum days and I feel painfully tired. Where if I closed my eyes long enough (and it may not be that long) I will fall asleep. I will fall asleep sitting up.  Sometimes I'll be holding Savannah and sitting their tired. I'll actually jerk, kinda come too cus I'm so tired. That's the phase before closing my eyes and sleeping. 

My battery on my computer is also running super low. I want to get the link to this my newest blog post shared on my FB.  

I do enjoy writing. I actually live my life and think about how an experience, even an insignificant small experience might be written about or documented. This happens to me often.  It's usually as if someone else documented that moment of my life.  Not myself.  

I do one day want to write a book. That can feel overwhelming but then I think the book could be short and the chapters could be like blog posts.

I'm gonna get off here soon and probably feed my sleepy/sleeping baby daughter.  Sleep tight.

The World is on Fire

It's been a hard day for me today.

I started as I always do now, by waking up early with my two months and eleven days old baby girl Savannah. Today, new mom luck, we woke up together, at the same time without her crying, seriously, a little after 6 am.  It seems the last two days our early morning "breakfast dates" have drawn on past the normal-ish one hour to closer to two hours. Is this normal? I think she's having a growth spurt. Mind you our "breakfast dates" are Savannah enjoying breakfast, usually a two part meal of mommy milk and formula. If I eat anything it's a glass of chocolate milk and maybe one or two bars, maybe a banana. My official breakfast with regular to decaf coffee comes hours later.

Feeding and being up with baby girl I tend to be so very tired. Often our night/early morning feedings I'm kinda in a la la, I've been sleep deprived for over two months numbness, state of mind. I often get on my iphone. I've heard the term "mental load" these days and being on my phone doesn't feel like that, kinda the opposite. It's a vegging out escape.  Also I don't remember that I've fallen asleep yet while looking at my phone.  

I've tried listening to books on tape and podcasts but inevitably I fall asleep, no joke.  Its the worst feeling for me, to fall asleep, not on purpose while a book plays in the background.  I can't enjoy that bit of media because I am so painfully tired.  So tired I find myself nodding off... I cant even focus... "oh no the baby is crying"... shit faced tired. 

I'll be sitting up, baby in my arms and I'll start dreaming.  But I do wake up and take care of her.  If she stays in my arms "to sleep" I've made the decision to have her there.  Most of the time though I will put her back in her wicker Moses basket... and sometimes she is wide awake at that point!  Soo cute but not where I'm headed with this post. Ha! :)

I've been cocooned, in this tiny white-with a turquoise door, house since my relationship with Savannah's dad started to crumble.  It's been a safe haven for me.  Finding this place to live actually happened easily.  I have a friend "S." that I met years ago.  We didn't do much together. Hung out a few times.  We spent time together a few years ago at Maymont Park here in Richmond, Virginia. We talked at length about the house she lived at and was renting a room to another young woman. Little did I know that in a few short years I'd be living with her.  Living with her throughout the majority of my pregnancy, starting my labor here and bringing home a tiny 7 pound 7 oz. baby girl.  Yup, I did not fathom that at all! (Yes, I did use the word "fathom."  I like big words and I cannot lie.  Ok it's pretty late.  I may stop "editing and fixing things up to this point."  You can mentally edit the worst of my mistakes from here on out. Remember I'm a new mom. It's not an excuse She's a living breathing reality!)

I do believe in God.  My faith has been a struggle.  It's been a journey.   I have things less figured out than I did 10 years ago.  Hmmm, 10 years ago I was 28. Where was I at that point? I have to think back. It would have been the year 2010.  (My mom was diagnosed with cancer in 2012...) oh yeah, I was back in Richmond for my 2nd time of living here. I've lived in Richmond 3 times now.

 I lived in Fulton Hill, volunteering full time with Youth With a Mission. I had initially moved to Richmond, for some reason I wanted to get my CNA training here. Don't ask me why. I don't remember my motivation.  

Of course I did not know that I would someday move back for my third time and stay for now over 4 years. Four years! Wow that's crazy.

I guess my writing style tonight is "stream of consciousness."

Ive been dealing with anxiety and depression today. Like I said my day started early feeding Savannah and being up with her for over an hour.  I got into my phone and on Facebook. A friend of mine on Facebook posted videos of the craziness happening in my city last night.

Some back story, an African American man was bruttally murdered by a policeman recently.  The victim wasn't even doing anything dangerous.  It was a senseless killing.  People want justice and have been motivated to take to the streets in protest.  Many have protested peacefully but there has also been rioting, vandalism, looting and setting things on fire-in one word "Violence."  I don't know much about what is happening.  

I have seen many posts on Facebook and Instagram about people standing with our Black brothers and sisters.  

To be honest I do not have the brain bandwidth to try and delve into that situation and feel empathy. Remember I am a new mom.  My world is Savannah and I am her "moon."  I orbit around her at this point. My day and night rises and falls with her.  A sleep deprived, hormonal, part time working, over eating (can we say "Cookout Shakes") moon.  

I did feel a visceral discomfort and pain from viewing those videos. Especially the video where people are throwing Molatov Cocktails into the Women's Confederate Building.  I don't even know the official name of that building. Its right next to the VMFA.  I could look it up but I'll just let you do that.

It's just crazy. I don't understand that mentality. A mentality to fight back, an eye for an eye. An acting out in violence and destruction. (To see violence on TV on shows, knowing that it's not real is one thing. And I don't like to watch shows that are gratuitously violent. I can't handle it. It doesn't feel good to me to watch and it is over stimulating.)  How much more knowing when those men and women throw their "cocktails" of fire into that building and the flames erupt it's really happening.  I know poeple that live across the street. God loving, family loving, peaceful, ethnically diverse people who feel the safety and peace of their city is being destroyed.  I read an Instagram post by a young woman I know who had their little toddler sleeping in bed with them late last night as they heard the violence happening across the street. It's just too much.  

I also have a lot going on in my own little world. (Or to "harken" back to my previous allegory, my own little universe.) I need to find a place for me and baby girl to live in the beginning of August.  I don't know where we will live.  I vented to the pastor about it from the church I go to as I loaded up on free groceries.  I just started working part time. I'm thankful for my little job, but it's not easy being up in the night to care for a newborn then to turn around sometimes after going back to sleep for awhile and heading to work for a number of hours.  I need to work, I need to make money to provide for me and baby girl.

I know right now I'm in that "pinchy" discomfort of not knowing the heck where I'm going to live; where we're going to live. How I'm going to pay for it.  Her dad will help out.  I do feel the weight of our worlds resting, pressing on my shoulders.  I guess many people would say, welcome to the world of a single mom, welcome to the world of parenting.  The joke is on you. 

But like I said it was "easy" the way I slid into this home, this safe haven I have been living at since last Sept. I believe September was when I officially moved in.  I found out I was pregnant beginning of July.  

Its been the perfect place to be pregnant. My room is on the ground floor and there is a private bathroom with a tub and toilet.  I've Especially needed and utilized the toilet while being pregnant and postpartum.  I'll put it this way, "both ends" and "never trust a fart."  

Oh right... there's crazy people destroying private businesses and vehicles, setting dumpsters, a bus and a public historical building on fire, ANNNND on top of that we are in the middle of a FUCKING GLOBAL PANDEMIC. That was one thing that I've been aware of while seeing footage of these protests....um what about social distancing? Are we going to see a surge in Corona-virus outbreaks because of the large numbers of people gathering together to protest?  

Savvy (Savannah's nickname) and I spent time with her dad today. I told him when I walked in, "The World is on fire."  It's just crazy. So much is happening in this season of life, just everywhere. It also seems like the outside world is going insane... thousands have died around the world because of the Pandemic, we wear masks and practice social distancing. People are going crazy setting things on fire and rioting... and then many people's personal lives are "too much to handle."  Pardon my "French" but the shit keeps hitting the fan... over and over and over again. 

The uncertainty is global. The unheaval is global... then local.... then personal.  The world is on fire... 

My brain and body have been on fire today.  I am also in that phase called "Post partum."  Us women deal with so much.  I gave birth over two months ago.  I had a stage 4 tear... front to back... yada yada yada... and then I was reminded recently, oh you could start having your period again. "Oh yeah, I forgot about that."  I think my hormones have been shifting recently.  Hormonal changes isn't a dynamic men should tease women about... or flippantly blame a women for her moodiness on "hormones." Dealing with hormones weather it's during pregnancy, postpartum, periods and yes even ovulation is not easy. Its tough and can even effect our moods... and at a physical level we can't do anything about it. We have to cope and let the waves of chemicals course through our bodies. And while our brains and bodies are on fire, we better not light anything or anyone else on fire.  Women are bad-asses. We are amazing with what we do with our bodies. My body is amazing. Even if Ive put on a few pounds, I fart like I never have before. The stage 4 tear effected and changed my neither regions in some ways that I'm still dealing with and may always deal with.  My body built a baby, pushed it out of a small hole, (oh yea that hole ripped), is now feeding that baby and then decides lets prepare and get ready to maybe have another one, and lets do it right away.  My body is A MA ZING. Fucking amazing.

If you've "been there, done that" you know the post partum struggle I am referring to.  

I don't like it when I feel this way.  The way I have felt today, (ok yesterday, it's after 1 am now) I've tried to push through the brain fog, emotional fog of my feelings and feel better. I've tried some "mind over matter" thinking. Ive learned that it helps me at times to realize very specifically that I am feeling anxiety. To step back and be like, this is what I'm feeling. Anxiety is talking right now, but lets see if I can look at it in a different perspective.   

I also listened to my churches online service. That brought some, as they would say, (and who is they anyway??) "Balm to my soul."  

I know God and life will make a way.  We wont end up on the streets.  Something will work out. Something has to work out. It always has. Which isn't a cliche... since it is real life. Since I have lived it.  This little home I live in "worked out." The insurance to cover my prenatal visits and then labor and deliver and then being readmitted into the hospital, um yes both baby and me the week after she was born, worked out.  Just amazing ways of being taken care of.  The timing of so many events has been perfect too.  "Working out." 

The world may be burning, I may be burning.... but I am on a solid rock.  He's not going anywhere.  I just have to keep moving forward. I just need to get up tomorrow and the next day, keeping praying and turning my heart toward trust and hope. Asking God to give me those feelings of trust. "Help me to believe..."

I do know that He will provide a home for Savannah and I to live in.  

The world may be on fire... but I do have "this Hope" this person who is Hope with me. I have experienced His guidance and help time and time again. I know and have experienced this in between, this uncomfortable "pinchy" period where I don't know how I will survive. I don't know what the heck is going to happen next.  I've even gotten sick being so anxious while I was pregant.

 Life doesn't end.  As "they" say, and it is true "Things work out." It doesn't mean life won't be hard.  It doesn't mean people won't get sick, it doesn't mean people won't die even... (my mom died, which is another story in and of itself) but as long as I'm breathing and moving, and making choices to push through and knock on doors until one opens, "things work out."  

So this is a new blog I just started. I had a "Previous" blog at www.journeygirl4god.blogspot.com for years. And then I stopped writing in that blog for about 5 years.  

I am wanting to get back into writing.  I have a lot of "life experiences" as "they" say.  And there's so much going on in the world and in my world.  When I write, I often need to write, I have the impulse from an emotional place. Today I have felt heavy, and yucky and yes anxiety and depression. So i did have that impluse.  That emotional catalyst of I want to communicate the weight of this life Im living, feeling and expericning today.

It's now after midnight. My baby is sleeping in her moses basket. She is stirring a bit. My eyes are sticky and dry from tiredness.  I'll finish writing this and attempt to clean up the spelling errors and maybe grammer issues for awhile.  But maybe I'll let it be as is and head to bed soon.

I am so thankful for my little white house of a home with the turquoise door.  Even if the world is on fire... my baby girl and I are safe and sound, at least for another night.