Pregnant with purpose, being delivered into my destiny. Pt.10

Hey Family!!!! How are you? I know, I know. It has been a long time! What can I say? These “babies” get harder and harder to birth. If I’m honest, it seems like everything comes to distract me all at once when I’m trying to get it posted. Listen, I have had phenomenal sisters who have encouraged, counseled, and helped me get this chapter to you. They know who they are. To them, I say, thank you, I love you, thank God for you!!! I know God sends these sisters because when ya girl felt less than worthy, they were there. They are the essence of sisterhood, the “village”, my tribe, my Homies! I’m so honored and grateful you are still with me on this journey! So y’all ready? Get comfortable, and let’s pick up where we left off. Let’s do this!

As I reached my car, I sighed. I exhaled the weight of that job. I exhaled exhaustion. I inhaled strength. I exhaled stress. I inhaled power. I exhaled doubt. I inhaled unlimited faith. Please don't misunderstand me. I had no idea how I was going to make it. What I knew in my spirit was that I was kept. I was held by the Almighty God. I knew that God made me and that if this was where I was, He was making a way for me. As I turned out of the parking lot, I recalled how many "dead ends" I thought I found myself in over the years. As I recounted the countless situations that should have landed me in a mental hospital or the grave, I realized that these things were not my reality because God had a specific call on my life. God was in control, not me. I may have thought I was in control. I may have thought that I was the one arranging things. But at the end of the day, the Creator was protecting my life, the lives of my children, and guarding me from myself. He ordered my steps and gently called out to me to follow His plan for my life. Driving out of the business complex, I took notice of the trees again. I was reminded of Matthew 6:25:

25 "Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? 26 Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? 27 Which of you by worrying can add one [a]cubit to his [b]stature?

28 "So why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; 29 and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not [c]arrayed like one of these. 30 Now if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?

31 "Therefore do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' 32 For after all these things the Gentiles seek. For your heavenly father knows that you need all these things. 33 But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.

This settled me. This calmed me. I didn't know how anything would work… But I thanked God. I thanked God for deliverance. I thanked God for provision. I thanked God for the plan that I was unaware of in that moment. I thanked God for loving me. I thanked God for even thinking about me when I was so covered in sin and dysfunction. I thanked God for caring about me. I thanked God for being God. What I did was worship even at this, my low point. I worshipped God because He was the Creator, and if I knew nothing, I knew God had an excellent track record of making a way out of no way. I knew I served a God that would trade beauty for ashes. My worship was creating the environment for a supernatural shift. My worship was creating the environment for a miracle!

The first few days after my termination was so peaceful. There was a stillness that settled over my home. I was able to devote my full attention to the care of Jaaziel and her brothers. In true Monique fashion, organizing my house was the first thing that needed to be tackled. When I am in a confusing headspace, it shows in my physical space. I cleaned and organized everything in my home. Let me be clear… I CLEANED EVERYTHING!!!! The house was immaculate. I needed what I could control to reflect more organization than what I couldn't control…also known as my mental state.

I attempted to gain control over my befuddled mental state. It was conflicted in so many ways. I didn't know where to start to unweave this web of dismay. I was still shocked that my heart and head could be so out of alignment. I still talked to and shared every part of my heart with the Anesthetist, although my heart was a little to the left. He was my person.  He understood me. He understood that I needed rest and happiness more than anything at that time. He may not have been able to give me this, but the understanding existed there.

Monique Moment: This is a perfect example of when Godly community, aka your tribe, your Homies are needed. Any relationship, platonic or romantic that separates you is not a healthy relationship. I'm learning that both parties in the relationship need someone they can be honest, open, and transparent with. You need someone who can see the things you can't see. There is so much value in this. So often, I would let my ego pull me into dangerous spaces because I thought I was "grown," or it wasn't anyone else's business. As I mentioned before, it takes time to cultivate these relationships. Take the time to do this. Having friends is nice, but these people become more than friends. You also want to ensure that you are both living by the same standards. Amos 3:3 states: How can two walk together unless they agree? Once again, Fam, if you don't have this…start developing these relationships. 

I shared my plan to spend time in a creative space with the Anesthetist. I shared my idea to start catering. I'd been researching and started gathering information on how to start Divaami's Cupcakery and Catering. This seemed like a fantastic idea at the time. Since Jaaziel was born, honestly, since I had Tyree, I have turned to cooking as my outlet. I knew cooking was my love language. I love to feed people, and celebrations with good food were part of my best memories. I also planned to give 25% of my proceeds to the Spina Bifida Foundation. It was a win-win situation for me. The Anesthetist, my children, and all my neighbors reaped the benefits of this. I found so much joy in creating something from nothing. There was something so peaceful, so calming just being in the kitchen. I loved the controlled environment. I enjoyed knowing that if I planned and used a specific amount of ingredients, I'd get an inevitable result. If I added flour, sugar, butter, eggs, milk, salt, and baking soda to my bowl, I would take a cake out of my oven, not a car.

I threw myself into this business. It made me happy. I allotted a certain amount of time to the business side and to the creative side, which I saw as R&D (research and development). I found test kitchens to use and was even able to secure a few catering jobs. I was happy. I talked to the Anesthetist about the plans I had. I wanted him to be just as enthused about my new business venture. I wanted us to partner in making this business venture a success. Thinking about it now, I guess I wanted both of us to be intentional about making the Cupcakery a success because it was obvious our relationship, and by extension our plans to raise our daughter together, were shattered into a billion pieces. I was craving stability. I was craving consistency. I desired a partnership. I was in a very unfamiliar space. My ability to communicate effectively with words sidestepped me. The situation's pain and weight rendered me emotionally mute while craving connection and healing. I still looked to the Anesthetist to help provide this for me. My routine of talking to God was getting better, and I even spent time seeking help and glimmers of hope in the Bible. But I was still healing from the Anesthetist. It was a habit, and I wanted him to repair my heart, no matter how foolish that may have been. My head realized that he could not do so, but it was what I wanted.

Monique Moment: As you can see, my mental state was all off. How could I expect the one who hurt me to bring about healing? How could I want to build a life and business with someone who just tore my entire world down? In those paragraphs, you hear "I want" so much. That is the essence of the problem. I thought I knew what was best. Clearly, my ability to plan and/or make good personal decisions was suspect, but there was no one close to me to vet those feelings. You need community. You need good Godly community. I decided to be on my own and not be a part of a church that would hold me accountable, and this season is a consequence of that action. You also need Godly friends. Not just people you introduce your representative to, but the ones you bare your soul to, and they don't use it against you. Trust me, they exist, and I'm so thankful for the few I have in my life. I love you, my sisters!

If I'm honest, I was unwilling to share. I didn't want people to see the real me. I wanted to look like I had it all together. I wasn't mature enough in who I was to step out and say this is my ugly. I was so afraid of what others might think. As sisters, aunties, and friends, we must do a better job of keeping people's confidence. We have to do a better job of building relationships. This includes slowing down to be present with people and being vulnerable too. There is also a level of responsibility to KEEP YOUR JUDGEMENT TO YOURSELF. Life calls us to be strong, brave, and vulnerable at the same time. At any moment, we are juggling 20,000 balls. The last thing any of us needs is people to throw things at us or try to trip us. Unfortunately, many times it is those people closest to us that do these things because of their own hurt and insecurity. My experience with this made me seek, crave, and desire the comfort of my shell of dysfunction. It also assisted in my staying complacent in the perpetual cycle of trauma.

I was unemployed for seven months. I know, that is a really long time. On paper, there is no way a single mother of 4 should have been able to survive without suffering major setbacks for this long. You know that, and I know that. Mathematically, there is no way I should have been able to maintain. Let's be honest, I didn't have that many catering jobs. But I thrived during this period. Sure, things would happen, like my car broke down… a few times. My unemployment debit card was hacked and robbed, but I thrived. My household thrived. Zyon's tuition continued to be paid at St. Paul's School for Boys, and he was rocking every sport he was in and excelling academically. My children had a fabulous Christmas and New Year' s celebration. Jaaziel continued to shock and amaze the medical community. Azariah was doing well at school and was in general a happy child. Tyree was doing well and started working his first part-time job. I was able to stay in my townhome too. I knew why I was thriving. I was thriving because I was covered by the Creator! I did nothing to deserve it or earn it. God was blessing me in the midst of my mess. But why? Why me? Don't get me wrong, I appreciated it. But I did question why I was being blessed and enjoying favor. The answer is simple: it was God's grace! I had not turned away from sin. In all actuality, I stayed in it. You could say I embraced it and normalized it. Okay, I'll keep it real... I was like a pig in slop! I continued my relationship with the Anesthetist. My rage and anger would show up occasionally, but I had not truly changed. I thought my actions would summon fire and brimstone to rain down on me like Sodom and Gomorrah, but they didn't. I was experiencing God's unfailing love and mercy. I was experiencing grace!

The truest example of God’s grace during this time is when Tyree was accepted to Valley Forge Military School. Tyree has always been really intelligent; he just lacked self-motivation and required strict boundaries. He has wanted to attend Valley Forge Military School since preschool. I'm not sure where the absolute love for Valley Forge came from. It was a combination of my father showing him the movie TAPS several times and seeing the billboards all around Philadelphia. My father also took Tyree to every Blue Angels show remotely close to Philadelphia. Ever since he was about three or four, Tyree has had a reoccurring dream of being in the military. Actually, the dream wasn't just being in the military. Tyree dreamed about fighting beside Jesus and Angel Gabriel in the last battle described in Revelations. Let that marinate in your mind… Imagine your cherubic three-year-old waking up in the morning telling you about this tale… Yup! That was my reaction too. What in the ham sandwich kinda child do I have here? Honestly, I knew I had my hands full, so I went with it.

To say that all things military consumed Tyree would be an understatement. That boy LOVED all things military. He watched the History channel. He talked about all things military. He always knew he wanted to be in the Marine Corps. He would go out of his way to find men with veteran hats on, out in public, to have conversations with and learn from. He was ALL THINGS military. I wasn't surprised when he joined ROTC in his freshman year. I rather expected it. He admired and respected his Gunnery Sergeants. These men, along with the other men Tyree sought out, shaped his expectation of the US military and made him crave it more. He not only wanted the military as a job, it was part of who he was. He was the military, and the military was him. I loved this. The discipline and the structure that it gave him worked in my favor. 

One day, I got a call from Randallstown High School. It was the nurse. The school told me there was an accident, and he probably needed to go to the hospital. I was shocked and couldn't process what was being said. I asked them to slow down and repeat. She explained that there was an assembly earlier in the day, and a young man who was notorious for acting out and being violent was insulting a female ROTC cadet. She explained that Tyree asked the other student to leave her alone several times. (Military personnel protect their own.) The other student took offense to Tyree reprimanding him in front of their peers and then proceeded to pull Tyree backward out of the chair and beat and kick him in the head. The administrator explained that he had several large lumps on his head. She explained that he seemed disoriented, and they were unsure if he had lost consciousness.

I felt all the emotions at the same time. RAGE…as I thought what kind of child can do this to another! ANXIETY…as I tried to get to him as quickly as I could. ALONE… because I had to gather all of my children at this time because I was in Baltimore, and no one knows or really loves us to step in like family. SHAME…why was he going to Randallstown anyway? I didn't go to a public school, why should he? You should be doing better so you can afford to educate your children better. How could you let this happen to your son? SORROW…when I thought about what this other child's life must be like to be this angry and this violent. DISGUST…as I thought about why this child was in the same high school as my son if he has a history of this.

When I walked into Randallstown, I was greeted by the musty stench that most high schools have. I never could identify what that smell was. But today, that scent was identifiable. I knew what that scent was. The scent was broken dreams. The scent was fear. The scent was robbed innocence. The scent was lack of protection. I made my way to Tyree; it was all I could do to not cry as I laid eyes on him. His head and face were disfigured as a result of the beating he received. I maintained my strong face for him. He was being a soldier. He was strong. He was beaten but not broken.

Immediately, the administrators began to speak and try to explain. I didn't hear them because the sight of Tyree drowned out their voices. I could feel them talking but could only hear his pain. Tyree's hurt spoke to my heart, although his words said "Ma, I'm okay." Once we made it to my car, I asked Tyree to tell me what happened. After he recounted the story, he said "I had to do it. I could not stand there and let her be disrespected." He said, "If the kid had not hit me in the back of the head, I could have taken him. But he hit me from the back, Ma. Who does that?" I told him I was proud of him and that he had done the right thing. On that day, Tyree became the essence of a soldier to me. He protected and served without being asked to. I thanked God for the budding young man he was becoming. To be honest, in that moment he was more man than many other males who called themselves men. Although he had so much life to live, I knew it would all work out for his good because he was a solider at his core. He was so much more than a boy. He was a man. 

Talking to Tyree as we waited for test results let me know he would be okay. He spoke confidently and assured me that it looked much worse than it actually was. He assured me he was in pain but said, "pain is fear leaving the body…" I respected that. I respected his courage. I was in awe of his strength. I knew he was destined for more than Randallstown. He deserved to go to Valley Forge, but how? I'd done my research and knew the tuition was $40,000 per year. Hmmmmm. How could I afford Valley Forge tuition, St. Paul's tuition, pay my bills, and raise my other children without living in a cardboard box and eating air?!?

I was willing to work multiple jobs, but I was still looking for my first job. I didn't let my fear of lack of finance stop me. Tyree and I started the application process, and I prepared him for the interview. It was a cold, rainy, grey day when we walked onto the Vally Forge campus. You could feel the history as we walked to the admissions office. I walked behind Tyree, who was dressed in his ROTC uniform that was impeccably pressed. His shoes were polished to a high gloss. The confidence in his walk across the cobblestone commanded the attention of students and teachers alike. I was proud. I allowed him to take the lead in the interview. I knew he knew how to communicate what he desired. As I listened to him talk, I knew during the tour that he would be admitted. Tyree knew it too. At one point in the tour, the administrator stopped saying "if you are admitted" and started saying "when you start, and how soon do you want to start?" My heart was happy. Tyree needed and deserved this change. I wasn't sure how it would all work, but I was so proud that Tyree represented himself. He took every stereotype of an African American boy needing to be in a military school and broke them into a million pieces that day. He showed them that I may want to come to Valley Forge, but Valley Forge wants to partner with me.

I thought about what advice Tyree would give me if he knew all the details of my life. I knew I was not being courageous at all. I was in the most tremendous pain of my life. My heart and body physically hurt. My mind was loud and uneasy. As much as I tried to convince my mind and body that things were "okay," they rebelled. My body and mind acknowledged and carried the trauma of betrayal that I endured. But I wanted to act as if nothing had happened. I wanted to return to the fairytale before the nightmare! So I pushed the feelings down. I swallowed the sick feeling of betrayal I felt when I saw the Anesthetist because I craved his company. I drowned out the screams of rage in my head when I heard his voice because I wanted to hear that I was loved, desired, and accepted. I calmed my anger when he touched me because I needed connection. I was dying in my skin…alone.

Looking back, I can see how the biggest betrayal was to myself. I betrayed my body, my emotions, and my logic and willingly endured the pain…But for what gain? How and why would I expect to be treated differently at this point? Although resuming normal behavior was not automatic, after a few months, I started to behave similarly to the way I behaved pre-nightmare with the Anesthetist. There was no way that I was going to be the same. I had a beautiful daughter who needed lots of care, and I was parenting her alone. I was tired and ignored my trauma. I was not the same. At best, I was wearing a skin suit of Monique, but Queen Monique was like…"Nah, I'm out! You can have all of this." I resumed my life but at high speed. I busied myself. I created faux productive routines to give myself a sense of accomplishment and turned a blind eye toward acknowledgment and healing. Thank God for mercy because even in this act, where even the slightest love for self was undetectable, God's unconditional love and favor was on me. I started a new position as a consultant. This was awesome. Now let me show you God's hand. When negotiating the salary, I was asked how much I'd like. I responded with a number that was $20K more than I made from the company I was fired from. Hearing myself say this shocked me. It just kinda rolled out of my mouth all unplanned. The recruiter asked me to hold. My stomach dropped. My thoughts got loud on me. "Girl, you know you messed up! How are you asking for $20K more when you don't even have a job now? Do you really think you are worth $20K more? The other company didn't think so? Are you even qualified to do this job?" The recruiter came back on the line and said we could do that and give you more. (Insert blank stare into the distance…) Although I was still shocked and amazed, something made my mouth accept and thank the recruiter, but I was actually dumbfounded. After the call, I sat on my bed looking at Jaaziel sleep like she would wake up and explain what happened to me. It didn't take long for all my senses to catch up before I was praising and thanking God. This is what I needed! Finally, I can start to rebuild! I'm going back to work!!! I can pay my bills without feeling like there is literally a pool of boiling acid in my stomach! Yay! Oh wait, I've got to leave my baby girl. Oh no, I wanted to start my own baking business too. Wait, what's happening? What life do I want? These thoughts along with the theme music for Jeopardy were playing in my head. I decided to move forward with going back to work. It wasn't a decision that took so much time to ponder you know. It was kinda like no money versus money, or eating versus not eating, or sleeping indoors versus sleeping outdoors. This was not a hard decision at all. I asked God to prepare my family and me for the next chapter through my praise and worship. I was so excited that day. I called daycares and scheduled tours. My baby deserved the best! Of course, I was in a great mood when I picked everyone up from school that day. Then I saw it. As I flipped through the pile of mail, I saw a letter from Valley Forge. I called Tyree down, and we opened it together… Valley Forge is pleased…we stopped reading and started celebrating!!!! Wow! What a day! I found a job, got more money than before, and Tyree was accepted to Valley Forge! What a coincidence….nope! Look at God! God stepped in and said "In the midst of your mess, while you are unable to function, I've got you and this whole family. My strength is made perfect in your weakness!!!" God showed me that He stands outside of time, financial situations, and drama and makes it all work for our good! I didn't know where I was going, but I knew God was leading me.

I will pick up with Part 11 soon. I promise it won’t be a year because we baaaccckkk baby!!!!!!

Keep evolving toward excellence!!