I am starting this blog as a request from my roommate. She feels that I have something to say to people. That my thoughts are interesting enough to put to the universe. I am over thirty. I am black American. I am female. I was raised in the inner city. These are not strikes, as the majority of people who fit the above demographics would say; rather just characteristics, details, something to put with the words as you start to read this. If anyone will actually read this. Who knows? The one point I may want to make with this post is that we all, as people have random thoughts that lead to actions, situations. We all sit and daydream in a state of seemed confusion wrapped up in our random thoughts. That’s all this is going to be. This blog – Mona Lisa’s random thoughts – is just a sounding board. Nothing more, nothing less. Please do not look too deep into the content of this blog. Its author, myself, is too free spirited to be concerned with non-free thinking and actions. I’ll leave that for the voices that were called to express the majority thought. I am simple. This blog is simple.
Some things that I know at this point in my life is that pain is real, love is difficult, and untangling is a process. I have expressed different levels of pain, enough to know that pain isn’t always physical, it is not always done by someone who does not love you, and it takes everything a person has to stay strong through it. I have observed myself in this last pain. This last pain, power tackled me into a dark corner, with only myself to talk to the majority of the time. The times others talked to me, I couldn’t hear them. Its a muffled sound when others speak to me. It sounds like Charlie Browns’ teacher, the voices of the people who talk to me while in pain. And I mean real people, not some imaginary voices, my pain isn’t psychotic it’s real. So these are real voices that talk to me, my friends, my family, and it sounds like a piece of plastic is stretched across their mouths. so all that I hear is vibration. Learning to love yourself through pain is one of the most hardest things that I had to do, for myself, to survive pain. I’m learning that when the self is loved, then others around you are loved. Immediately, this is a chain reaction, a great one I might add. All days aren’t me wrapping my arms around myself and slow dancing. Love isn’t always pink, and yellow, and lavender. Its not lilacs, and roses, and orchids. Sometimes, I’m finding out, love is walking away from love. Whether its something or someone. There are times when love is expressed with a basket of thorns, and thickets, and ivy. Or in blacks, and blues, and greys. Love is dark. Pain is bright. At times, my most recent pain has been aqua, and fuchsia, and orange. There were days when I gave a big smile for my pain, I made a banner for it and paraded it around, laughing. And my love, well, that is a roadblock; its a tangle of f-bombs and destruction.
Tangles of pain and love have been my background since I was a child. Let’s say I was born into a tangle. A tangle of what one may ask? There isn’t a what, there is just an is. A concrete statement cleans the air inside our vessels. So, I am a tangle, my person and my spirit, both the public and personal me are all intertwined. One big ball of multicolored yarn. I’m tired of being a tangled ball of yarn, what I told myself after this last pain. So now I am untangling myself. And I am finding out, slowly and stubbornly, that untangling is a process. A very slow semi-destructive process if one isn’t ready to untangle. You know when your necklaces get wrapped up into each other and become a mess. What do you do? Get frustrated, start sweating, try to steady the hands to untangle the gold or silver ropes. Their is a little ball where it all is nestled and waiting to be released if someone has the patience to untangle. Honestly, I have been untangling other peoples necklaces for so long, that my tangled ball on a gold rope, is now a tumbleweed in a desert road. So at this moment, in my new normalcy, I am untangling, all of the small balls that have formed to create this tumbleweed. This blog is a part of that healing, this untangling, this dance. As the healing continues for me, then these random thoughts may make sense to the reader, if their are any…besides my friends and family. If they read this even.
I am making progress. Losing a baby has been the most important and dedicated thing that I have ever done in my life. No amount of previous self destruction can amount to the pain of doing all of the right things only to lose. His mother will tell his story until the world understands the importance of talking about the babies, and children of the world that have left their parents physically. His mother wants the people to understand that us parents who have angels have to find new ways to communicate with our babies, that we live in a standstill searching for a sign from somewhere to show us our loss. The untangling of this ball, losing my baby is a multifaceted ordeal. It is detail oriented and confusing. It is just as fresh as it was on the day I held him and watched his heart beat until it beat no more. It is taking a step back to take a step back to walk forward slowly…strolling towards everyday. It is a smile that curves at the corners and leaves all to wonder who she is…this woman with this crooked smile…these eyes that shout something, though eyes cannot make noise. And hearts do bleed for the lost and still survive. And this is just my random thought.