Monday, June 7, 2010
Build up to breakdown
After three years it turns out the man I though I knew, I knew nothing about at all. I loved and thought I was loved. Instead I was one of many being "loved". I gave my best and he gave his best performance. When the truth came out I didn't feel anything. I didn't hurt, I wasn't angry, I wasn't sad. Today is a different story. Today my heart is heavy. Today I am ashamed for being so stupid and blind. Today I am angry that I was used. Today my "slap-a-bitch" hand is tingling, not for her but for him. Today everything is hitting me like a ton of bricks. I never wanted to let a man make me cry and yet tears well up in my eyes. I never wanted to let a man steal my joy and yet I can't even fake a smile. I thought I was stronger than this and yet here I am. I guess I am going to go through several emotions over the course of this healing process. I will yell, scream, smile, cry over and over until it is done. I know that in the end I will come out stronger than I was before. I have to because I am a De'Braux, I am my mother's child and the one thing she gave me before she left this Earth was her strength.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Change is gonna come
A couple of weeks... A couple of weeks stand between me and probably one of the biggest achievements of my life. I will be done with nursing school in a little over two months. I will have a career that I have wanted for years. I will be done with school, at least for awhile. I will have finally done it. Yet I am afraid. Don't get me wrong, I am not afraid of being a nurse, its my life's passion. I am afraid of the change to come. My life will change and I am sure for the better, and yet... I am afraid. I know why and it bothers me that it, well, bothers me. I am afraid of what others strive for. I am afraid of NOT having to work so hard, of NOT being a student, of NOT having to be full time here and there. I am afraid of having down time. Since the death of my mother I learned to deal with emotions by NOT dealing with them at all, just keep myself busy. I graduated high school with honors because I threw myself into school. I immediately got a full time job after school. I then went to college, never below full time. Since I was 19 years old I have been a full time employee and student somewhere. I have barely had time to sleep, let alone grieve and now I am afraid of what will happen when I DO have time. I don't want to think. I don't want to grieve. I don't want to feel. I just want to keep floating through life like I have been. I don't want things to change and there is the problem. I know me, I know the person I am. I won't sit back and enjoy my new career, my free time, my increase in pay. I won't travel, spend money, and have fun. I will work full time, and get a second job or probably try to find a reason to go back to school so things stay the way they are. Being stretched to the limit has become my comfort zone. Not dealing with my emotions has become my norm. I don't know how to just LIVE, to just BE. Its like the 90's movie "Speed", if the bus slows down or stops its going to blow up. I am that bus, if I slow down or stop I am going to finally explode from the inside out. I am afraid of all the things I will start to remember, all the things I hid away, all the things I never dealt with. I'm afraid... I'm afraid
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Reflection
Stood in the mirror and took a good long look at myself and noticed all my flaws. My head is just too big. My eyes are such a plain brown. My hair is just too thick. My lips are just there to hide these damn braces. My fingers are so long and skinny. My chest is too flat. My hips look so big. My feet are so large. My skin has such a funny pink undertone. My waist isn't small enough. I am just not a pretty girl. As I stood there tears began to well in my eyes. Everything that could ever be wrong with a person was wrong with me. How could someone love this? I reached to turn off the light so I wouldn't have to see my reflection anymore but stopped. Something whispered to me "my child, look again." I raised my head and saw my real reflection. This big head is full of knowledge and fits me just fine. The plain brown eyes can see right through your bull. This thick hair is God given, gorgeous, and natural. These pouty pink lips are made to be kissed not just to hide my braces. The long skinny fingers will hold the tools to save your life soon. My bra size does not make me any less feminine. These are some good ol' fashion southern belle hips right here! These big feet keep me planted firmly on the ground. This pinkish skin was my mother's skin and it just as beautiful on me as it was on her. What man wants a small waisted woman anyway, he wants something to hold on to and I have it. You're damn right I am not a pretty girl, I am a beautiful woman. How can someone NOT love me?
Saturday, February 20, 2010
No thanks, I will tough it out
For over a year now I have had an issue with my knee. I have great health insurance, and I work in a hospital... yet I will not go to the doctor! I know something is wrong, I can feel it worsening day by day. What makes it so bad is I just got done yelling at my friend for not going to the doctor since she was sick yet my leg is about to fall off and I am trying to shake it off... What the hell is wrong with me? How can I become a nurse and try and educate people on how to take care of themselves when I am letting myself fall apart? What is my aversion to the doctor? I frustrate myself beyond belief sometimes...
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Not black enough?
Somehow being black has a definition, a definition that I am not familiar with. I have met those that think I am not "black" enough because of who I am naturally. I speak in complete, understandable sentences. I don't like 99% of the rap I hear on the radio. BET does not entertain me in the least. I think Baby Phat is beyond ghetto looking. I don't watch "Real Housewives of Atlanta" because I think those ho's are idiots. I cannot stand to see little girls with a gazillion beads or barrettes in their hair. Somehow that is what makes a black person black... WTF? So when is "black" about what you do instead of who you are? Yes I am an oddity but so what! So I watch Japanese cartoon in Japanese. So what if I like rock more than rap. So what if I like Aeropostale over Apple bottom. That makes me what then since it means I am not black? I will tell you what it makes me... It makes me Shaunelle De'Braux. Take that for what it is.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
How can we NOT help you?
So as a health care worker for over 2 years now I have seen a growing and disturbingly frustrating trend... why are more and more people coming to the hospital telling us of their health issues then refusing to let us treat them? How can we know what meds to give you, to help you get better, if we can't do any test to find out what's wrong because you refuse them all? What the hell did you come to the hospital for then? You just wanted to spend $1500 to complain to someone? For all of that call up a family friend, it is a whole hell of a lot cheaper. Even better are the family members that bring someone in and then constantly complain you aren't doing enough yet don't want you to do anything at all. You want him to be comfortable, you want his swelling to go down, or you want to know why he is in multi-system failure. Yet we can't do a biopsy, you don't like the way it sounds. We can't do blood test because you don't want us drawing blood, he had his blood drawn once already so we should be able to run EVERY SINGLE TEST from that ONE vial! Let's talk him out of the MRI, the machine is too loud. So exactly what would you, the annoying overbearing family, like for us to do? Want us to guess what's wrong? Better yet how about lets have the doctor stare at him really hard and see if they can see his internal structures. Ooh ooh how about lets write a random prescription and hope it works? If you want us to help, then step back and let us do just that... thank you.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Why blog?
I have had many people ask me why I blog. I tell them that it is my way off getting things off of my chest and out of my head. Of course the next question is: why don't you just talk to someone? Why you ask? I don't "talk" because I don't want to. When I blog I don't have to hear the obvious pity in your voice. I don't feel like having the bible thrown at me, I get it-pray more that fixes everything. I don't have to see the disparaging look on your face as you hear what is really on my mind. I don't have to listen to your pretend sincerity and concern. I don't have to have you interupt everything I say because you feel the need to give me your "expert" advice. I don't have to listen to you tell me that I am wrong for feeling the way I feel. I don't have to hear the "sunshine and rainbows" bullshit that you want me to believe. I can say what I need to say without judgement. I don't have to censor myself. I can cry as I express myself and no one can see me at my weakest. I don't have to worry that you won't understand how I feel, my words understand me perfectly. I am not a talker, I don't like to verbalize my feelings. I will express myself the best way I know how so accept the way I am. This post is NOT directed at one person or one particular moment. This is to all of you, all of you that feel I need to share my feelings, all of you that think you want to know how I am feeling. If you really want to know, read the blog because that is the closest you will get to expression.
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