Recently I was asked if I had shares in a particular hotel in Jamaica and the reason for the question was that I visited so often. My response to the inquiry, was that I go where I feel free. There was a time in my life when Freedom was a thought or an idea. I never knew what Freedom would look like for me. I became very fond of the word Freedom because I felt it was something I could comprehend, but I wasn't experiencing. I got a call from a Police Officer one night back then stating that my ex was planning committing suicide. The Officer was concerned, and he wanted me to know that they were going out to try to save him. My response seemed callous, but I was not going to look for him because I knew he did not have the balls to kill himself. (We'll come back to the reason for that behavior). My ex-husband was not a valiant human he was charismatic in his dialogue; he was affectionate when he chose to be and every human who met him thought he was a kind, King like human. When family members visited, he was Mister Congeniality. He could charm his way into their hearts with just a few words or a few acts of service and at home he was the same. He never drank, he never took drugs (that I know of) but he owned the property called MoNique. So, he made it his priority to always have eyes on me no matter what. His desire to inform the police that he was going to kill himself was based on me deciding to spend a weekend at my mom’s home.
The extent of his behavior got more and more ridiculous over the period we were together. I had saved a voice note he had sent me in the good times, and one day when he was going through my phone, he heard his own voice, thought it was some other man, came to the job and called me every kind of hoe in the book. When finally, he asked who the man was, I told him that it was his own voice that he heard that was recorded months ago. Of course, he started apologizing profusely and pathetically. Until today, I struggle with apologies; like isn't this something on the agenda for next week? Why bother to say Sorry?!! At the time, it was soothing for me, and I believed every word. I believed every song dedication, and ever romantic gesture meant to make me feel “loved.” It was the get back, to get back! The process of divorce is the 2nd hardest thing I ever had to do, the first would be raising a kid alone. Not the paperwork, I filed it myself. Just the process. My mom always used to say, “everything in life is a process, and you have to go through it to get to it.” I will never forget walking up to the window at the courthouse and paying $264.83. I had to stretch to save up to pay that money. Why?? I had left the job at the bank. After a while it became too embarrassing to stay there, plus I was morose every day. I had gone through multiple separations and rekindling with this man, my father had a stroke and died in Jamaica, I had a miscarriage of what should have been my daughter, and I was just very exhausted. So, I left the bank and bathed in depression for weeks. No one warns you of the depths of losing a child while it's happening or after. The doctor removed the remains and sent me on my way with a back to work order for next day. Like nothing happened! The trauma of a life passing through my body, one that I held inside me for months was disregarded. Many women experience this, only few speak on it. The child that I had gotten attached to, started working an extra job to get more income for, one I picked out names for, was now gone from inside me. I worked at the cruise line as a check in agent on weekends and the bank during the week, and as a tutor 2 nights a week for high school kids. I was doing all that while pregnant, protecting my son's space and being a wife. We found out my baby was gone during a regular checkup. He and I both saw the look on the nurse’s face during the ultrasound. She panicked, ran to the doctor, and by the next day my baby was in a petri dish. So those weeks after I left my job at the bank was horrific. He decided it was the perfect time to leave me and go into the military, because his dream of acceptance had come through. When he went off to the military, I thought the marriage would just phase itself out. With him leaving, I confided in my mom as best as was possible. She had her own issues; she had an injury from her job and MY DAD HAD JUST DIED! I was not prepared for all that, mentally but every day I had to show up for my son. I had to assist my mom, I had to communicate with my ex-husband while he was away, and I had to play strong. Trust me, people don't fake depression, they fake being well, and I did my best to do so then. I recall taking a picture of myself looking happy, to encourage him while he was struggling in bootcamp (less than damn 6 weeks and this fool was failing like a muthafucker). His bitchassness spilled all over the place, he told them he was going to kill himself, they put him on suicide watch and informed me that they were shipping his ass back to me. I was still not 28 yet, and yet another person to take care of, so I crawled out of my depression, put on my big girl panties, got a job that paid well at the time, and started my master’s degree. I was going to save my family. By the time he got back, my mom was better, my son was happy to see his sorry ass, but happy nevertheless and he did daddy day care while I worked. Many won’t even grasp the shit I was swimming through. Anyway, when it became apparent that he was not going to make an effort to do much else, I got him a job working at my place of employment. Me, "Captain Save A Hoe" created the opportunity for him. The fact that he expressed that the picture I had sent while he was in the military made him think I was having too much fun without him, which is why he threatened suicide (sounds familiar) bothered me, shocked me rather, but I brushed it aside and muscled on. Now during one of the separations I mentioned before, this cretin had figured out my online password and transferred money to himself. After the numerous apologies, the promises, the "I have changed" speeches he admitted to stealing and was going to be better, all around. This was the job that he said he would use to "pay me back"... and he did pay me back, by sleeping with someone who worked at the same workplace. He was unskilled at hiding it and Ms. thing was too bold and too cheeky about it. Everyone at the job knew, I did my best to function adequately amidst all that. Working full time at the same job with them, while finishing my 1st Master’s degree, while living at the same house, while listening to his lies, the more they paraded their "hidden" fling (getting caught by others in compromising positions, the constant whispering, the questions and giggling each time I walked into a break room), it became too unbearable, so I resigned. When he finally never made it home one night, I wasn't the same. The morning he showed up my ironing board wasn't the same either, but that's another story. His response to my final question of why was ... in his words "you threatened my manhood. You just should work part time and let me earn more money; furthermore, why do you need more degrees...." There began the divorce journey. Now I mentioned in Part One that he reached out to me after the divorce asking for money. They made some babies, and they were struggling, so they decided that he should ask MONIQUE for money to assist with pampers, etc....Monique! THAT ask, didn't threaten his manhood, apparently! Tanya Steven's sang a song entitled "Tek Him Back" a few years ago. It seems so apropos in this case.
"Him refuse to look wuk, so him pocket stay bruk...look how me used to brag and show aff, down Inna di end a you have the last laugh.... “ Cheers to Tanya, that song has so much truth to it.
Now mind you, this man knew how to serve good dick (it was offered while asking me for money to help him and same chick) and he could talk the thong off almost anyone, but there was no way, in heee, heee hell, under the beautiful sun which I existed, guarded as ever, protected by my experiences, being the matriarch my son needed and the human my life mandated; that I was going to even attempt to harken to a call to assist them. The audacity! The energy that came with that No was such a reprieve and an exhale to my true Freedom. Can you imagine how many humans are constantly exposed to pain, who repeatedly make mental excuses for what is happening in their life? Who are forced to shrink daily? Can you imagine how farfetched the idea of freedom must be to them, as it was for me? Following the same pattern over and over again? I offer you this, freedom is not a myth, freedom is plausible, and it does not include creating a narrative for the decisions you make with you as the priority. I also offer you this, do not give humans a blueprint to your life in such a way that they know how to harm you. Guard your goods, treasure your treasures for the human who truly deserves to be exposed to it. You can Own YOUR freedom. I own mine. I will not give it to any human ever again, irrespective of family friend or foe… my FREEDOM is mine.
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