Pregnant with purpose, being delivered into my destiny. Pt.9

I’m back! Did you miss me? I missed y’all. I know, I know.. I took way too long to write this. What can I say? I felt like no one wanted to read this. I’m battling the negative self-talk daily. Let’ focus on the positive, shall we? I didn’t give up! I’m going to keep on pushing until this story is told. I appreciate you coming back to read this. I recognize you could spend your time in any number of other places, but the fact that you share some time with me is an honor. I hope you are learning who I am. I hope you are seeing me. Feel free to let me know what you think in the comments. You should know your girl is all about having a conversation. So you ready? Let’s do this!

I replayed the conversation with the Anesthetist’s wife in my head over and over again. Even as I write now, I feel a dull pain when I see the words “Anesthetist’s wife” on the page. I was hurt because someone I thought I was so close to could lie and cause me so much pain. I was in despair because I ignored the red flags. I was ashamed. All the emotions of fear, rejection, and loneliness flooded back. “How am I supposed to function with all of this? I wasn’t supposed to raise my family alone,” I said to myself. I didn’t feel worthy of love or respect. I felt low and underserving. I felt naive and weak. 

I tried my best to pull my emotions together when I was around the boys. In my mind, there was no reason to undo their worlds because mine looked like ground zero. All I wanted to do was sleep. I didn’t want to eat; I didn’t want to do anything. I even tried to mask my pain when I cared for Jaaziel. I knew that babies were sensitive to the energy around them, and she was fighting enough on her own; she didn’t need this too. I avoided calls from the Anesthetist because I didn’t know what to say. I had no strategy. I didn’t know what I was going to do or how I was going to do it. I felt like I was standing at the base of Mount Everest, looking up and being expected to climb it with no experience. I wanted to hear his explanation but didn’t want to listen to it at the same time. I knew that he had no problem lying to me, even if that meant lying to my face. I didn’t know if the root of his lie was malicious intent or self-preservation, not that either excused the behavior. I knew that even having a “Come to Jesus talk” with him would not guarantee he would be open and transparent with me. But I wanted answers. I wanted to know the truth.

More importantly, I found myself in a place of shame when I considered how God would see me. I wondered, “How could I be in this place?” I felt separated from God. Let me see if I can clarify this: I felt like my circumstance and shame separated me from God. I knew God was still with me because He was sustaining this miracle I called Jaaziel. I could see how God took something ugly and all outside the moral, decent boundaries and created something perfect! I saw God with her and with me. I saw how God was still sustaining my household with my boys. They were growing and excelling in every area of their lives, so I knew God had not left me, but I felt that my sin and willingness to walk in sin created a distance between my heart and God’s spirit. I can’t tell you what my prayer was at this time. It wasn’t primal and loud. It was hushed and sorrowful. It was simple because I was sorry. I didn’t pray for answers or a way out either. Why? Because in my heart, I thought I could work it out. Did y’all catch that? Without even hearing his explanation, I was working out in my mind that I could and would do the thing that would allow me to WIN! This is because my simple mind felt like I had vested too much in the relationship to walk away. I felt that I had to continue on so that I could get what I deserved out of the situation. I made up in my mind that a piece of the Anesthetist was better than being alone.

Umm… Monique’s Moment: I’m literally looking at myself in the mirror as I write this, and I want to grab that girl in the mirror and hold her. I want to tell her that if she doesn’t learn how to value herself, no one ever will. This is why we need to find people who have earned our trust and confide in them. The people who have earned your trust may or may not be your family, which is okay. I am talking about tried and trustworthy people who have shown you time and time again that they can keep your confidence. These are the people who’re not going to judge you but are willing to sit and let you bare your soul. That might be difficult to find, but I guarantee you this is something you need to do. You can’t do life alone. You need this person like you need air. This person has the extraordinary task of allowing you to be you in all of your ugly and encouraging you to see value in yourself when you can’t see it in yourself. I bet that if we are honest with ourselves, we can admit that role is hard to fulfill in most of our lives. This is a relationship that is cultivated over time, but it is worth everything. We repeat the cycles of our mistakes when we are not able to vet them with a trustworthy person. If you don’t have this person, spend some time finding one. If there is no person to fulfill this role, find a good therapist; they will do just fine. I certainly have done this. In fact, I have done this two separate times in my life, and what I learned about myself was AWESOME. I highly recommend it. Seeking out therapy and doing the hard work will help break you out of the negative cycles of you. 

When I finally accepted the Anesthetist’s call, he said that his wife was lying. He explained that they were indeed separated and “about” to go through a divorce. He used this moment to explain that he hadn’t submitted the paperwork. He went on to say that he needed me to help him file for divorce. I stopped him. I was in no way in a position to help him with anything. I peppered him with questions, more like facts that I carefully tucked away in my memory over the years. I recounted situations where he promised he would be with me and spend time with me but needed to pick something up from his house and would conveniently show up the next day. I mentioned holidays that he would start with me but finish somewhere else. I also asked him to justify why he felt he couldn’t remain at the hospital with me and his daughter during her first day or surgery. I even challenged him on the hospital armband being pulled off. I questioned the passion marks that mysteriously showed up on his neck three days prior (this was now the second time I saw these on him) that he denied. Once again, he attempted to have me question my vision by saying that’s not what that was. I said all the things and asked all the questions, but to what end? I could tell he was just lying to me. I explained to him that we couldn’t have anything if we didn’t have truth and honesty. I shared that everything we had was a lie because truth and honesty did not exist. He teetered between being angry and apologetic with me. I think he was mad because I was very direct with him; there was no honey drippin’ from my lips when I spoke to him. He was angry that I stored away situations and occurrences, which I never mentioned to him. He was also apologetic, but I think that was more because he was found out than really feeling emotions associated with the pain I was feeling at his hand. He said he would make it right and that he just needed a minute to fix it. But would he? Could he? He asked how he could be lying about his love for our family and me because I had spent time with his mother or sister. I replied, “I don’t know, but I do feel like a jump-off.” This enraged him. I didn’t understand why. How could he get mad at a term I gave myself for a role he helped put me in? If he wanted me to feel like a queen, he would treat me like a queen. He put me in the jump-off role, and worst of all I allowed it. Not only did I allow it, but I also excelled at being his jump-off!

I was conflicted. I was angry. I was angry at the woman I had become. I hated the woman that I was becoming. She was dull, dispassionate, and unimpressive. Life was happening all around her, and she did nothing to strike back. She allowed someone and situations to recast and replace her as the leading lady in her own life, and she submissively accepted the role as the supporting actress. Moreover, I had unconsciously committed to this role before having even had the conversation with him. I had subconsciously predetermined that I was unworthy of anything more than having a piece of a man. I was more concerned with the way things would look and how others would see me rather than how I was feeling. I had succumbed to the negative voice track telling me that this was as good as it would ever get for me. So while I didn’t believe what he was saying, my actions aligned with what he wanted me to believe. That’s deep, right? On the outside, it would appear that I was forgiving and willing to try to work the situation out, but I was not. I had made an agreement with the negative self-talk to try to save face after so many years invested. Now anyone in their right mind should know that there is NO GOOD that could possibly come of this. But y’all should know your girl is persistent, even with the stupid thangs… I was determined to Moniquify this whole situation and get the storybook life I thought I wanted with him. (I’m literally shaking my head as I write this.) This behavior is a result of my fear of surrender. I didn’t want to surrender to the situation. I didn’t want to have faith that God was leading me into something better if I would surrender and walk away from this situation. When I look back at this now, I can see that God was creating an out for me. He created an exit ramp so that I could come back to Him. I could course correct and see my worth. I was being given an opportunity to see myself in the light that God sees me. The issue was that to deviate from the normal negative soundtrack in my mind, I needed to take a leap of faith. There was no doubt in my mind I was not strong enough for that. I wanted to take it. I wanted to be the woman I dreamed I would become. I wanted to be the woman who was strong, who saw herself with value. I wanted to be the woman of God who knew and acted like she saw herself the way God created her. I just wasn’t ready. I was afraid to let go of this stressful life with a man to possibly existing in life without a man. I wanted the fairytale lie-life the Anesthetist and I created. I felt more comfortable betting on what the Anesthetist could provide for me temporarily than trusting in God’s eternal promise for me.

As time passed, things seemed to normalize. I got used to the Anesthetist’s wife calling my home and verbally abusing me. I would often be sitting next to him as they argued and screamed at one another on the phone. I got used to her parking outside my home, blowing her horn and banging on my door for the Anesthetist to come out. I got used to him trying to leave out of other doors to avoid her. I understood her rage. I am not a victim by any means. I was in a perpetual state of confusion. I got used to questioning my own sanity. I got used to parting with logic and got more comfortable with compromising my life and my standards away. Excellence was no longer on my radar…I was merely mediocre. Actually, I wasn’t mediocre. I just was. Once again, I was existing. The feeling was so strange. There was no emotion at any point. It was as if I was drifting through life in a drug-induced state…anesthetized. I would force myself to smile and laugh with the kids and Anesthetist, but there was no true happiness. I knew I couldn’t exist this way for too long; it goes against my nature. I needed something more. I needed a distraction. I needed something to take my mind off life so that I wouldn’t have to come to terms with my life. I talked to the Anesthetist about an idea I had about starting a lifestyle blog. I showed him a diagram I put together and talked about how I needed a creative outlet in my life. I wanted him to tell me it was a great idea and push me to get started. I didn’t get that. I let that idea go because I didn’t feel qualified to write. As I write this, I see how the first mistake was consulting a human on a spiritual matter. I should have been talking to God. I should have spent some time with God discovering what this desire to distract myself was. I decided to go with something I had proven success in…cooking. Cooking and baking were a cornerstone in my home. It was and is how I showed love. It also allowed me the creative space to try new things. More than anything, it helped me disconnect from the pain. It also made everyone, including the Anesthetist, very happy to have tons of food and cupcakes around for their enjoyment. It was a win for them, so it became a win for me.

The distraction was therapeutic, but there was still a gaping hole in my life, in my heart. The pain was with me at all times of the day, all night…every moment. I knew God was with me, and I spoke to God on a very regular basis. I felt it was essential to continuously check in with God for Jaaziel’s health and the boys' wellbeing. I prayed over Jaaziel all the time. I can honestly say I thought if I stopped praying, something terrible would happen to her health. As I write this, I realize this too might’ve been part of the plan. Perhaps God knew that I was too stubborn to surrender to Him, so He allowed a situation to occur to create a space where I would be more likely to turn to Him instead of leaning on my own understanding. I realize that our God’s plan can impact so many of us all at the same time in so many different ways. As my prayer life picked up, my hunger to be fed God’s word increased as well. I needed to be in a place where my family could be fed spiritually. I found my way back to my local home church that I was attending. I felt at peace just sitting in the pews. I was being spiritually fed. I felt like I was home and that I would be able to let down my guard a little with my church family and receive some encouragement. After the service was over, I waited for the Pastor and First Lady to finish speaking to other congregation members. I walked up to them with Jaaziel in my arms and introduced myself again. The church didn’t have a large membership, so I knew they recognized me but might not have remembered my name. I introduced them to Jaaziel and said that she had Spina Bifida as a tear slowly ran down my face, as they are now. The tears weren’t because of the diagnosis. The tears were because I needed someone spiritually connected to hold space and let me share… I needed to be heard and put my burden down for a minute and rest so that I could carry on. As I spoke and shared how she exceeded all the doctors' benchmarks for her, I noticed that both the Pastor and the First Lady seemed very distant and unwilling to share in this intimate space with me. I quickly wrapped up what I was saying and put on a smile. I apologized and said, “It feels good to be back home.” They both just looked at me blankly. The First Lady said, “Oh, our granddaughter has Spina Bifida, too. You take care now.” I stood frozen. I quickly glanced to see where the boys were. I was glad they were not around to witness that less than loving response from the head of the church. I fixed my face, put the guard back on my heart and my pleasant “fake” smile on my face, and left the building. That was the last time I set foot in that church. Please understand that I wasn’t looking for any sympathy, but I was looking to be seen. I was looking for the spiritual head of the house to see and connect with me. I was looking to see a glimpse of the compassion that Jesus showed the woman with the issue of blood in the Bible. You see, I pressed through the circumstances and the negative self-talk, pain, and depression to get into the doors of the church. Yes, I had an encounter with God during the service, but I needed to witness the compassion of Christ through the people in the church. I didn’t receive that. I didn’t feel the love. Although being vulnerable was scary and hard, I pushed myself to do this with the church leaders because I knew it was vital to my survival, the health and wellbeing of my family, and ultimately my future. It was necessary for my mental wellbeing. I realized that day, at that moment, it was still God and me. I was in the house of God, but I wasn’t home.

I continued to work, raise my family, be in a relationship with the Anesthetist, be on the defense with his wife, and try to start a small catering business. I welcomed the distraction of cooking and tried to find a way to create another stream of income. I was exhausted. I was too exhausted to be exhausted. I was on autopilot. I prayed and studied God’s word on my own, but I was not being fed the way I needed. I knew I was walking a tightrope. I knew that there was only a matter of time before something changed, and all of the balls I was barely keeping in the air fell to the ground and took me with them. 

As I drove into my office in Columbia, Maryland, I noticed the trees were alive and vibrant with beautiful colors on a crisp November morning. I marveled at how the trees were so full of beauty and color, even as they were transitioning into what might be a season of death and being dormant. I had only been back from maternity leave for a little over a month. As I pulled into the parking lot and sat in my parking space, I prayed. I prayed that God bless and look after my children. I prayed for strength. I reasoned with God and shared that I couldn’t handle any more drama. I prayed for guidance because I was out of my element at this job and not being the “rockstar” I usually am. I prayed for strength to do the tasks that I had been called to do. I also prayed for peace. I asked that God help me not to hate the job as much as I did. I ask that God bless all the people I knew had a hand in me getting there and initially loved me. I asked that God help me not hate the way they turned on me. I prayed that God give me the strength to play the political office game when I could barely play the game of life. I prayed that God heal the hurt and betrayal I felt. I asked God just to help me not feel so lost, so gone, so useless, so stupid, so empty and full at the same time. I asked God to just be with me. I ended my prayer and wiped my eyes. I checked my face to make sure the evidence of what had become my regular “I hate this job” prayer and weeping session in the parking lot was gone. I gathered my belongings and started into the building with my head held high. I was tired by the time I got to my desk. I took a deep breath and started my day. I could tell something was different. My supervisor refused to make eye contact with me. There were even more closed-door meetings, and no one seemed to engage with me, and I’d seen the HR representative on our floor a few times that morning. I’d been in managerial positions a few times, so I knew what was going on. As a precaution, I gathered my personal belongings (Just my cup. I knew I didn’t want to stay in the position long, so I started to take my things home and only left my cup.) I was then called into a “meeting” that wasn’t on my calendar with my supervisor. I took a deep breath and asked God to be with me as I sat down. I looked at my supervisor, who for months called me the “rockstar”. She looked at me like she was in so much pain. She opened the folder and proceeded to tell me the company was letting me go. I looked at her pleasantly, professionally, and said “I understand.” She looked at me in a somewhat confusing way. I could tell she was trying to get emotion out of me. I wouldn’t give her the benefit of the doubt. She went on to tell me how they tried to make it right, but there was no place for me at the organization, that I’d made mistakes. I responded with “I understand.” I could tell my attitude caught her off guard.

My manager was fully prepared and perhaps had rehearsed her rebuttal to my begging, but I didn’t offer that. I didn’t do that because I had executed my job correctly. Had I made mistakes, yes. Was I being terminated for those mistakes…no. The company was not winning new business. The person/friend who referred me to the job was charging an overhead account billable to the company. I was charging a government contract. In essence, it was financially beneficial to terminate my position and allow her to take my position. The company had to make a business decision. They had to decide if they would keep me or her. They decided to keep her. I understood that. And in many ways, I just didn’t fit in. I was the last one in. I was not very social outside of the office with the group. I didn’t play softball or go to Happy Hour. I wasn’t like the others in the office. I wasn’t married. My husband didn’t meet me for lunch or any other company event. I had three children when I started, and now a fourth. My children had different fathers. My life wasn’t a fairytale, and no one could relate to me. I didn’t look like anyone else in the office. And although they didn’t know all the gory details, they knew I was battling a painful situation with a newborn baby who had been diagnosed with Spina Bifida. I was messy. I was the one thing that wasn’t like the other. Although I played the game, I just wasn’t the same. And for this company, it was easier and cheaper to stick with what you know. I sat there and waited for my supervisor to conclude the meeting, but she didn’t. She continued to explain how the company tried to make it work. She talked about how she tried to make it work. She cried. I realized this was her guilt on full display. As she talked, she became more and more emotional. She acknowledged that I just had a baby, and she bawled. I just looked at her. She looked as if she wanted me to comfort her. She expected me to let her know that her having a hand in my termination was okay. I did no such thing. I just looked at her and remained professional. I prayed! I asked God not to allow me to become a WHOLE ANGRY BLACK WOMAN and disassemble the supervisor who resembled an actual living and breathing Barbie doll across the desk from me. I asked that God keep my alter-ego Bonquesha from finding her way to the surface and giving them the show they wanted to see. I could feel sweat trickle down the center of my back as I looked at all the pictures of the storybook life she had. How dare she try to manipulate this moment into being something about her! I held Bonquesha back. I talked and reasoned with Bonquesha. I told Bonquesha, “We got this job being polite and professional, and we will walk out of here in the same way.” Bonquesha WAILED in my head! She wanted out! She wanted to leave all the tension and stress that she had pinned up inside of her out on the supervisor… out on the WHOLE DANG OFFICE! Bonquesha wanted to TURN UP!!!! But God! At that moment, as I sat in silence trying not to have a full-on nervous breakdown and reveal my ever-waning sanity, God held me. God showed me grace and gave me peace. I wanted to scream, but I heard in my spirit, “It’s cool! You hated the job anyway! I’ve got you! You need the sleep anyway!” That one whisper shut Bonquesha all the way down. My supervisor and I sat there staring blankly at one another. I was waiting for her to finish; she was waiting for me to start crying. I broke the silence by asking, “Shall I go now?” She replied, “We will have security walk you out, and we will mail you your personal belongings.” I explained, “I just need to grab my purse; I don’t have anything else here. Something made me prepare. You take care of yourself. I wish you and the company all the best.” I got up, held my head high, and threw my shoulders back. I walked toward my desk with the confidence and swagger of a Queen as she walks through her palace. My back was as tall and straight as the trees I admired on my drive into the office. And the essence I exuded was as regal as the colors of the vibrant leaves I'd admired on the trees. I didn’t know how I was gonna make it with no salary. I didn’t have a plan. I knew God was with me. I was walking into something better! I knew God had my back, and I trusted that.

I will pick up with Part 10 soon. Okay, okay… It won’t be months from now. I pinky promise!

Keep evolving toward excellence!!