Pregnant with purpose, being delivered into my destiny. Pt.4

Part 4

Welcome back! I am so grateful you are hanging in there with me.  I’m hoping something in my story will help you. I’ve gotta be honest; seeing all of this on the page is crazy.  Is it possible that one person can have so many experiences in such a short amount of time… I assure you it is ALL true.

Well, if you are ready, I am.  Let’s do this!

One day after about six years, the Haze found and called me. I was totally caught off guard. He had so many questions about who Tyree was and what he was up to. I believed he was genuinely concerned. His conversation was laced with questions about me and if I was dating. I wondered if God was sending him back to complete my story? Keeping things to yourself or friends on your level keeps the perspective on the situation small. Without the proper guidance, I was, once again, willingly walking into a situation that I had no business engaging in. I was enthusiastic about having conversations with the man that caused me so much pain in the past. I was proud when I spoke of the career I had established for myself. I shared that I was back in school at Temple University. I had managed to secure an internship at the University of Pennsylvania through my boys’ pediatrician in neonatology. The pediatrician was well-known in Philadelphia, and she was impressed with the ability I had to commit to my education and career as a single mother. I told the Haze about the pediatrician's talks and my plans to be an obstetrician and neonatologist. I talked to him about the conversations with the pediatrician concerning financing my medical school education while needing money to raise my family. The internship she helped me secure was a carefully devised plan to get me in the neonatology department's door at the University of Pennsylvania that could turn into a paid position that could allow me to attend the school for free. My life was on the rise; I was bouncing back. I thought my darkest days were behind me, and I was approaching my well-deserved happily ever after.

When the Haze came to visit, it was strange. It was strange because he was the same and I had changed so much. I matured. I was responsible for running a household, managing a career, continuing my education, and raising two beautiful sons. His routine was largely the same, except he was living in Atlanta. He talked to me about having a future with me. He wanted to be married and have his family grow up with his friend's family. Ironically, as he came back into my life, my church life dwindled, and so did my prayer life. He was living with one of his childhood friends from New York. They made their way to Atlanta to work on music production. The downside of this was they were using money from the drug game to finance their endeavor. I didn't realize that the Haze didn't want me or the family that came along with me. He wanted the idea of a family because he was chasing the family-feeling he saw his friend living. I didn't drop everything and follow him. Instead, we planned to be married; I guess you could say we were engaged, although there was no ring. Let's pause here… If he was making money in the drug game, why did he never actually purchase a ring and really propose marriage? His proposal went something like this: 

The Haze: We should get married. You are too used to taking care of yourself and working for the man to take care of yourself and the boys.

Monique: Okay…

Monique to everyone: I'm engaged now! 

Talk about high standards, right?!

I did have some standards, although they were very minimal. I refused to move to Atlanta. I also insisted on staying in school, working, and keeping the routine I had with the kids. My internship and future career as a neonatologist depended on it. He was good with that. I stayed in Philly, and he traveled back and forth to Atlanta. Things seemed to be working out pretty well.

 One day, I got a call from my sister asking me if my oldest nephew, who was in high school at the time, could come to stay with me for a bit. There were problems in their home that spilled over to his school. I agreed and welcomed my nephew into my home. This did not interfere with the plans I had with getting married. I had made it clear that family is everything to me. If any of my family needed me, I would be there, and I would expect that he would support me in that or I was out. There was no room to negotiate; I would always help my family.

There were many events between my sister, her husband, and my nephew that would bring me back to Maryland. I could hear how desperate she was for help when we talked. The strife in her voice pained me. I knew how much she wanted/needed her marriage to work. I also knew first- hand how difficult it was for a woman, especially a woman of color, to move up the ranks in the IT field, but she was doing it! She would talk about how much it would help her and me if we could live together and raise our families together. I knew that a deep need to sustain her marriage, career, and raise her kids is what made her call me. I knew she needed me, so I left Philly. I won't go into too much detail because this is my sister's and nephew's story to tell and not mine. I will share that the arrangement that I made with my sister was to help her manage her house and her children while running interference between her husband and my nephew. I would transfer from Temple to Howard University to finish my education. My internship would die. I knew this was major, but I thought I could find another internship and pay for medical school with loans. I was more disappointed that I was letting the pediatrician down. Tyree's father thought I should make a move. He said that if I am to be a wife, I should become accustomed to him supporting us. I knew then what that really meant is that I want to have control, and you are too independent, and that threatens me. Instead, I agreed to leave everything and start over again. My sister and her husband came to Philly and helped me pack my house, and I set out for P.G. County the weekend before my internship was scheduled to begin.

There was only one week of peace in the home before realizing I had made a terrible mistake. I enjoyed being with my sister and her children, but there was a major problem in their household. One I could not fix. In addition to the obvious tension, her husband treated me like I was their actual nanny. I don't think my sister shared that there was supposed to be some reciprocity in the arrangement. It felt like she told him that I needed to be there and be their maid and nanny, which was certainly not the case. My sister's attitude quickly changed when I didn't accomplish all of the tasks he posted on their refrigerator to complete daily. I was no longer welcome in their home, and he let me know that. The tension continued to grow between my sister's husband and my nephew, and we needed to leave immediately. I was grateful to have my aunt close by, who allowed me to move back in with my two sons and nephew. While I am sure this was not easy for her, I appreciate her assisting us in our time of need. I'm disgusted when I think about all I sacrificed to help my sister. I love her and her children and would still do whatever I could to help, but I would have prioritized my life and the lives of my children. I knew that my dream of being an obstetrician and neonatologist was slipping farther away. Let's be real: this is where the dream died. How could I have been so foolish, again? How much more difficult would life with my boys be now that I would not be a physician? I wanted that career so badly and fought for it over the years, just to give it up again. I knew it was time to boss up and grind it out to make something of myself in my plan B career - Information Technology.

While at my aunt's house, I tried to establish my routine again. I wanted to go back to school; I wanted to continue the life I had before moving to Maryland. I was a grown woman with children and my nephew living in my home. I had taken on more responsibility, and I needed to help pay the bills and save for my life after the wedding. After one month of supporting us, the Haze hit a slump with his finances, or so he told me. I had no choice but to find a job to support all of us, which is exactly what I did. Once again, I tried to establish a routine in my prayer life. I joined the church that my aunt attended. I enjoyed the sermons and the people's warm nature, but I knew it was not the church home for me. I still went to the church and focused on my prayer and Bible study. I went to the pastor to inquire about premarital counseling and scheduled our appointments. In preparing for the meeting, we were asked to complete a questionnaire. The questionnaire asked all kinds of questions that most people probably wouldn't think to ask during the course of a relationship but should be addressed and considered before entering into a union. During one of our sessions, the pastor asked if he recommended we didn't get married what would we do. I explained that we had spent so much money already and deposits were non-refundable. The pastor said that we shouldn't proceed. I should have stopped, but I didn't. The Haze's mother said she found a preacher who would perform the service. I knew better than to go forward with this. This pastor didn't know me. He did not know the Haze. He didn't inquire much about the reason for our wanting to get married at all. This should have told me that he was not genuinely bringing people together in the eyes of God forever at all. Nothing in me told me that I should get married. In fact, everything said that I shouldn't. In conversations with one of my sister-friends, I told her that I really wasn't in love at all. Tyree was happy to have his father back, and he wanted to be a real family, which broke my heart. I explained that I was in my late twenties and had two children by two different fathers. I explained that my pool of good men was pretty small at this point. At least I knew the ugly the Haze had and could deal with it. I couldn't deal with the pain and rejection I could feel waiting on another mate. 

The day of the wedding came, and Zyon was an emotional mess. He was only four at the time, but he knew what was going on. As I was getting dressed, he came in to see me. He cried and asked me to please not marry the Haze. I held him and almost cried myself. I told him it would be okay and that our little family was going to be complete now. When I started my walk down the aisle, I was looking at Zyon. He was still visibly upset and looking at me with such disappointment in his eyes. I looked at Tyree, and he could not have been more proud. When I got to the altar, and the pastor started the ceremony, he mistakenly called my sister-friend’s name; this was another red flag. I laughed it off and proceeded to say, "I do." The second confirmation that what I had done was wrong came on my wedding night. We stayed in a hotel not far from where the ceremony took place. One of my close friends offered to take the boys to her room, and I prepared for my husband. He never showed up… He spent the night with his friends a few doors away. While I got a very peaceful night's sleep, I knew that I should have gone to the courthouse to get the marriage annulled. I smiled over the confusion and rejection I felt. I wondered if this would be what the rest of my life would be like as a wife. How could he not want all of this? Who would choose to hang out smoking weed with their friends instead of being with their wife on their wedding night? Later that day, my family met up at my uncle's house to spend time with one another before everyone headed back home. I wanted to scream and tell everyone that I made a huge mistake, but I felt like I was finally part of the club. I was married, but my marriage was a sham. After we left my uncle's house, I became violently ill for days. I think this was a physical reaction to an emotional trauma that I was living in. I decided to try to make my new life work. 

We didn't have a place to live when we married, yet another red flag, so we moved in with his mother. I attempted to be a good wife. I applied all the things I had been studying in the Bible and everything my mother showed me over the years. I also did some things I found on my own. I treated him the way I wanted him to treat me. I treated him like a King. He loved every minute of it. In fact, I became more than a wife; I also became his mother. I picked out his clothes and ironed them. I turned the shower on for him and even put toothpaste on his toothbrush. I wanted him to see that I was caring for him. I did all of this before getting myself ready for work and the kids dressed for the day. It was the summer, and he had not found a job in Maryland, so I didn't think it was a problem for me to leave the boys with him when I went to work. I was so wrong. He thought that children should sit in front of the television and not interrupt his schedule. On one occasion, Tyree, who was eight at the time, asked the Haze to open a pack of cupcakes for him. The Haze said no and gave him a chef's knife to open it. Tyree attempted to use it and cut his hand. What father is too busy to open a pack of cupcakes while they are watching television? On another occasion, I asked the boys what they did that day, and they informed me that they pulled a big block of stuff (marijuana) from between the seats in the Haze's car in downtown Baltimore. They said the Haze got so mad that he put them out of the car and pulled off. He came back to pick them up, and when they got back home, he made them get into a push-up position, bending their elbows, and beat them with his belt. He promised to beat them again if their stomachs touched the floor or if they told me. I knew it was time to make my exit.

I started to be more strategic about how I spent my money. Saving money was really hard because I was really open with the Haze, a little too open. He took the information and used it to his own benefit. I put his name on all of my bank accounts, and he knew when I got paid. He made a regular habit of leaving my children in the house with his mother so that he could take his friends out for seafood lunches on my paydays, leaving me with barely enough for gas. I was disgusted. I needed to find an apartment for the boys and me. I wanted the relationship to work, but I wanted my boys to be happy, and I would not stand for his abuse. I found an apartment, and he decided that he was going to move with us. The Haze found a job and was working. I explained to him that he had to help with the bills. He agreed but asked me to call child support to report that we were married so they would stop garnishing his check. I didn't. I asked him what difference it made if the money was still coming into the house. I was stupid in my own way, but not completely stupid. This pissed the Haze off.

I learned I was pregnant in early September, just six weeks after getting married. I thought this would make our situation better. It didn't. He wanted to travel back and forth to Atlanta, which I thought was odd since he wasn't working. He said he wasn't in the game anymore. He explained that he left a relationship with a stripper that he loved just as much as he loved me in Atlanta, and he was traveling to make sure she was okay. I was devastated, disgusted, and dumbfounded. I knew, pregnant or not, I could not stay. We were in the same home, but we were not a family at all. I made sure my children were never alone with him. I didn't let them go anywhere with him at all. I let him know that he wouldn't be beating them or having drugs anywhere near them or me, and if I found out, he was gone. I also let him know that he should find a way to get his penis to Atlanta on his own dime if he wanted sex because he would never get it from me again. I had a new baby to think of. One of my sister-friends suggested we start a weekly prayer call with some of our friends. This was a fabulous idea, and I looked forward to the calls. I was not attending church and didn't know anyone in Baltimore at all. I was alone again. I focused on keeping myself healthy and caring for my children. I didn't care if he was in the home or not. When he was there, his negative energy disrupted the whole feeling of the house. He would get high and drunk and have temper tantrums because he didn't want to be in Baltimore. He wanted to be in Atlanta. I wanted him to be in Atlanta. The prayer calls restored my balance. These women's prayers calmed me and ushered me into a spirit of worship for days after the call. I needed the prayer to stop me from flipping out and absorbing the Haze's life essence like a mutant superhero! In fact, I was counting the days until I would be done with this marriage and could move back to Philly.

Philly was home, and I was homesick. My support system was there. I worked in Virginia and lived in Baltimore, and the only people I knew were my next-door neighbors. I craved community. I used to spend every weekend in Philly during that time. I had no control over anything else in my life. I needed to be in Philly because it was constant; it was familiar to me. I remember sitting on my mother's porch and opening mail that I had not opened during that week. One letter was a notice from the State of Maryland. I couldn't believe what I was reading. The state was letting me know that they didn't get the signed copy of the marriage license. This was so shocking. It shocked me because about three weeks after my wedding, I would talk to my girlfriends about my horrible marriage. I would tell them, “When I said I do, God was looking at me and saying I don't.” I called the same friends and said, “I told you God said I don't, and now I have proof!” (Insert praise dance and shouting here!) I didn't share this information with the Haze. Instead, I just started putting my exit strategy together. Shortly after getting the notice, the Haze lost his job. I told him that he had to go. He attempted to use my religion to force me to continue letting him stay and continue working on the relationship. I told him that we shouldn't have been married to begin with. We had no business being together. He argued that we were married, and we needed to save our relationship. He called me a hypocrite. He said I was picking and choosing which part of the Bible I believed in and assured me that God was not happy. This pissed me off. He had no idea how much I was trying to be a real Christian. After all, my love for God and desire to be right in his eyes was the only thing stopping me from ending him, gift-wrapping his body up, and mailing him back to his mother. (Just jokes, y'all.) It's a fact my desire to be right with God was the only thing that kept me. I didn't argue. I was calm. He was animated. He yelled, cursed, and broke things. I ignored him. I let him tire himself out and then said, "You should call your mama and let her know you are coming." He asked me what the kids would think about him not being around. I responded, "You do remember I was a single mother before we got married, right?" I also reminded him we had only been married for less than six months… we will be fine, I insisted. And with that, I told him to take care of himself. My marriage started in mid-July and was over before the end of November. 

The months leading up to the birth of my third son went by quickly. I prayed, I raised my boys, and I focused on keeping my stress low. I was single, but I was okay. I wasn't happy, but I was okay. I started to see myself as worthy and beautiful. While I wasn't part of a church, the Holy Spirit met in my space and ministered to me. Courage, resilience, and strength were being poured into me. As the time neared for me to have my baby boy, I intentionally found a name for him. I went to the Bible and prayed for a strong name to be given to me. Once again, I prayed for a name that he could grow into. I spent some time reading the story of the three Hebrew boys, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in Daniel 3. For those who aren't familiar with the story, these three boys were under King Nebuchadnezzar's rule. King Nebuchadnezzar decided to build a large golden idol and commanded everyone to fall down and worship the idol when they heard the music played. If a person didn't bow down and worship, they would be thrown into a fiery furnace. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego decided they were not going to obey. When they were brought before the King, they still did not comply. They told the King that they knew that God would deliver them from his hands, and even if God didn't deliver them, they still wouldn't bow down to the idol. This news made the King extremely mad. He demanded that the furnace be made seven times hotter than it was and ordered the three be tied up and thrown into the furnace. When the guards approached the furnace with the three, the flames from the furnace killed the soldiers. The three fell in. The story says that the King asked his advisers, "Didn't we throw three in the furnace?" The adviser confirmed that three were thrown in. The King jumped up and said, "Why do I see four walking around inside the furnace?" King Nebuchadnezzar then approached the opening of the furnace and told them to come out. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego came out of the furnace unharmed. After being examined, they didn't even smell like they had been thrown in the furnace. This story gave me life! I knew my son had to have the name of one of these three. I needed him to have a strong name and a story that would remind him that he, too, will have to walk through fires as he walks through this life. I needed his name to remind him as he walks through these fires, he may feel like he is alone, but if he holds on to his faith and believes in God, he will not be in the furnace alone. The Creator will be with him. I decided that Abednego was the one. In the book of Daniel, Abednego receives a new name, Azariah, which is translated as “God has helped.” If I didn't know anything, I knew I needed God to help him in every aspect of his life. This was my prayer, and so Azariah became his name.

Like with all my previous labors, this was a mission, it was a prayer, and it was a ministry in itself. I naturally labored for hours; I needed to experience this sacred moment as I believed the Creator intended for me to experience it. Before laying eyes on him, I thanked God for bringing me through. Azariah was particularly feisty when he was born. He came out with attitude. He was visibly upset. Clearly, being born was not on his lists of to-dos for the day. He looked at me like, "What gives you the right….?" I said to the midwives and my mother, "This one right here is gonna give me problems." I saw his conviction, which would probably cause me problems as I raised him but would serve him nicely. Once I calmed him, I saw it…pure, sweet love. My love was multiplied, and I fell in love with him. He was so attentive. His eyes would follow me around the hospital room. The look was loving but laced with "You sure you know what you are doing, Mommy?" I looked back and, with my eyes, said, "Yes, I got this, and I got you. Stay in your lane, little one!" I assured him that he was going to love being in our crazy home. I whispered to him that I was glad God chose me to be the vessel to bring him into the world and that I would do all I can to make sure he and his brothers reached God's purpose for their lives. As I smiled and kissed his angelic little face, I also took the opportunity to let him know that he was going home to two older brothers, and while they may be the majority in the house, the house is like my kingdom and I am the Queen. And the Queen doesn't negotiate with a terrorist. 

As we settled into our routine, I made sure to find a church to connect with. The need to raise these boys in the church burned in my belly. I knew that the deck was stacked against me. I was a single mother of three sons. That is a scary thing for a mother of African American sons in America. I found another megachurch to join. I still felt the need to be anonymous but was settling into a regular Bible study pattern and intentional prayer. I began to understand what 1 Thessalonians 5:16 meant about praying without ceasing. What I was doing was talking to God. I would talk to God all the time. I also was very real with myself. Although I told myself that I was fine, and so were the boys, we needed a place to talk through the feelings of rejection and abandonment, and abuse that we lived through. I found a therapist, and all of us went. Tyree and I were diagnosed with PTSD. We stayed diligent with therapy. I was adamant that if something broke in us, we would work to fix it together. We were too strong as a unit to let someone leave us less than whole. My love was just not enough, but my love was good, and that love drove me to find help and commit to the hard work to get better, and we did that as a family.

I really didn't date much; time didn't allow for that. I had one relationship with a person that was a few years younger than me. Let's call him the Charlatan. The age really isn't the issue, but the maturity was. I was developing into God's woman. I had unapologetic confidence, a swagger if you will. I still didn't have much, but I knew who I was, and I knew what I wasn't going to stand for. The Charlatan was the first and only man to offer and take me on vacation. I was flattered but cautiously optimistic. My past left me less than confident in men and what they say. He offered to take me on a trip to Las Vegas for New Year’s. We would be traveling with two of his cousins and their girlfriends. As I told one of my sister-friends about this, she said, "Now you know we don't let these dudes take us away from our home to treat us bad." I agreed and said, “I'm prepared. I have enough money in my account just in case something goes wrong; I can fly right back home." I had my reservations about going on the trip simply because I had never met the other couples we would be traveling with. I convinced myself that it would be fine. So, I decided to go.

I was excited to be going to Las Vegas with the Charlatan. I introduced myself warmly to the Charlatan's family at the airport. They were nice but cold. I didn't read much into this. I figured they were just more comfortable with one another because they knew one another. Mistake #1 - When your gut says something ain't right, something ain't right. That is your cue to leave. But I wanted to go, and I hadn't reached diva status with the nerve to just roll out. As we sat waiting for the plane, I heard one of the Charlatan's male cousins asking him what kind of shoes I had on… I was shocked stupid. I sat in amazement as I pretended not to hear the conversation. I was thinking, “What the heck am I doing going on a trip with people who feel like the thing to do is to joke about the shoes I am wearing 5 minutes after meeting me?” Now, I feel the need to share with you that I am never on the half. And even if I was, are we not all adults? Oh, I get it. I was traveling with African American people who felt like they needed to wear their wealth and didn't really have two pennies to rub together. Makes sense. I understand. I decided to give them a pass for being nothing less than stupid and ignorant. I did note that the Charlatan wasn't the man I thought he was. He didn't even try to defend me or ask them to stop. I decided we would talk about this when we were in private. We landed safely in Las Vegas and climbed into the shuttle to rent the car for our stay. They were discussing the itinerary for our time there. I overheard a remark that the Charlatan had not paid his share of the trip to cover me. I also heard the Charlatan explaining he would take care of it as soon as we got back. I sat wondering why the Charlatan's cousin would put him on full blast like that. I was waiting for the Charlatan to put him in his place. Then it dawned on me; he said it to put me on notice. Did he expect me to write him a check? Did he expect me to go to the ATM and pay the money he put out? Did the Charlatan dupe me into coming on a trip that I had to pay for? Oh, no, sir! I thought to myself, "The two of you made that arrangement without me; I'm gonna let y'all figure all of that out on your own." I made another mental note to ask about this too. We finally reached the house. It was beautiful. I could not wait to see our room and to have our talk. I wanted to understand the relationship dynamic between the cousin and the Charlatan. When we reached the room, I asked him if what I saw was how they were are all the time? He looked at me like I had seven heads. I said, “The one cousin really is on a power trip, and I am uncomfortable with how he is talking down and ‘son-ing’ you in front of me.” I went on to say that I really didn't appreciate the conversation about the shoes that I selected for a flight at 4 a.m. He acted as if he had no idea of what I was talking about. Instead of arguing with him at the start of this vacation, I decided to give him a fair warning: "If he continues to be disrespectful, I won't look to you to put in his place; I will." He laughed me off. I wasn't laughing at all. I assured him if it happened, he wouldn't be laughing.

Later that night, we went out to dinner at one of the buffets at a casino. The Charlatan reached in his pocket to contribute to the tip. The cousin promptly picked up the money and threw it back at him, saying, “Get that outta here.” I looked at the embarrassment on the Charlatan's face and started in… Before I get into how I handled this situation, let me say, while I was saved and very much a Christian at this time, I was mad. Like HOT! The Philly rose up in me, and my alter ego, Bonquesha, showed up! I started in. I asked him why he felt the need to do that? Why did he feel like he had to throw crap on him repeatedly?! He looked shocked that I was saying anything. I exclaimed, “I got it, I got it! So you got a little bit of money, so no one else at the table can contribute, huh? You a boss, right?" I looked over and saw the Charlatan looking at me like I had slapped him in his mouth. In fact, everyone was looking at me like I had done something wrong. I stopped talking, and we left the restaurant. Mistake #2 - I should have made my way back to the airport at this point, but nooooooo. I needed to see if the brown substance I was rolling in was really poop. 

As you can imagine, the Charlatan was less than pleased with me. I thought he should have been thanking me, but I could be wrong. Everyone in the house was visibly upset with me. I was thinking to myself, "Y'all are mad ‘cause I said something. I really didn't expose my Philly and cuss all y'all out! I exercised so much restraint. So say thank you, and get outta your feelings!" The next morning, the group was rushing to get to the itinerary's next excursion, riding ATVs. I told them I really didn't want to do that, and I'd rather go shopping. Well…the look on their faces when I said that was like I pulled my pants down and relieved myself on the floor. The cousin, the one I battled the night before, unleashed his fury on me. He started screaming, saying, "What do you mean you’re not going?! I made a decision and put money out!" He went on to yell that I was ruining their trip. He yelled a bunch of other things, but I was no longer focused on him. I was looking at the simple look on the Charlatan's face. I waited for him to make eye contact with me to remind him visually of my commitment to put his cousin in his place while giving him a chance to step up and be the gentleman he should be in this situation. After meeting eyes with me briefly, he looked down at the floor; this was my green light. I returned my focus to the cousin, put that good Philly bass in my voice, and showed him that I have a loud voice too. I won't share exactly what I said because of the colorful language I used. (Don't judge me. I am a work in progress.) I told him exactly how I felt in a language I knew he could understand. See, I understand that everyone doesn't comprehend kind. Not everyone understands polite and professional behavior. Some people only understand if you communicate the way they communicate. So on that day, I communicated my displeasure in his behavior, going back to the airport incident. I communicated louder and better than he communicated. As soon as I started, he shut his mouth. I was rolling so much that I couldn't stop. I told him how unacceptable his behavior was toward the Charlatan and me. I can admit that my communication style was an hour past disrespectful by this point, and I wondered why his female companion wasn't putting me in my place. I was fully prepared, and half-way expected, to have to box my way outta this house. But quite the opposite happened. The cousin lowered his voice and apologized for the way he spoke to me. He said nothing about how he treated his cousin. He ended by saying he really liked me and thought I was perfect for his cousin. I had made up in my mind I wasn't dealing with any of them. I knew I would end up in jail with assault charges if I had to be around these people if I continued this relationship. After the argument, the ladies and I enjoyed a nice afternoon of shopping on the strip where the cousin's female companion told me she understands why I did it and said that he needed it. (Insert gasp and pearl-clutching here.) I didn't understand any of them, and I didn't want membership in their crazy club at all. While all seemed fine on the outside, the cousin could not sit with the fact that I got the best of him in front of everyone. He secretly changed my ticket so that I would travel back alone. I was leaving before them and had a connecting flight that would land after them. I felt shunned but really didn't care because I didn't desire to spend another minute with this group. Before boarding the plane, I pulled the Charlatan to the side and explained that if he wasn't waiting at the airport to escort me home, there would be consequences and repercussions of epic proportions. Please know that I don't make it my business to threaten people or behave like this, but there are times people will try to disrespect you. It is in these times you don't ask for respect; you demand it. I demanded respect in no uncertain terms. When I landed in Baltimore, the Charlatan was waiting to escort me home. Our relationship ended the next day when he decided to ask me to take out a loan to pay for my portion of the trip. Once again, I won't share exactly how I told him to get the money because it reflects negatively on me as a Christian. Just understand that I have grown quite a bit since this time.

I was content being single at this point; me and my team were loving life. We worked hard and played hard. We were diligent in our church attendance. We left the megachurch and found our way to a smaller, more intimate church that was very reminiscent of the church I grew up in. I was comfortable. It was cool hanging out with my young family. As was the pattern when I was single, my prayer life was thriving, and the Creator was speaking clearly to me. I could see God's favor in multiple areas of my life. My career was thriving. My children were good, healthy, and happy. I was blessed and so grateful. Around this time, I desired to be a better version of myself. I started a daily routine of self-assessment. Each day, I would examine my character, the good, the bad, and the ugly. The things I didn't like, I would intentionally work to correct. I daydreamed about the woman I wanted to be, and I ran my current behavior through the filter of that woman. If the behavior didn't align with the behavior of the future me, I corrected the behavior. I studied myself and was honest with myself. I also was intentional about learning something new every day. I believe that learning should only stop when you die. This is something I was determined to instill in my children as well. If I couldn't be in school, I would become a student of myself and every other subject that interested me. My goal was to become erudite. I was still lonely and holding on to the hope of one day meeting God's perfect man for me. But for now, I was killing the single-game and loving it! 

I will pick up with part 5 soon.

Keep evolving toward excellence!!