Delusions of Grandeur: HJNTITY

Hey Siri, Old Time's Sake x Sweet Sable

Hey Siri, Old Time's Sake x Sweet Sable

Well, I told you when I had something to say I would! Did you miss me? I know you did.  Many of you didn’t give a damn, haha. My DMs were flooded with eyes wanting their blog fix. I am “back” for now.  I never stopped writing! I stopped sharing though. The blogs were extremely raw, negative, and too personal to share. 

Life Lately

How much rejection can a person take? I don’t know how much wit I can infuse into this one. What if the best things miss me? I’ve never been good with “not being picked”. Rejection is something that has always made me ache in my bones. 

Why is it when you’re processing a loss people try to keep you positive saying “Better things are coming”. Kindly, shove it! Google toxic positity. I am constantly battling the thought “what if better things aren’t coming?” My life is overflowing with rejection! Professionally, platonically, and romantically the rejection is chipping away at me! Before you go too hard on me— no I didn’t break my fast. Hold on… I will get there.

Mood: I’m throwing back mocktails.

I was stuck in a loop! Apply, automatic rejection, a person I know puts me on an opportunity, that eventually falls through for miscellaneous reasons, a small project is booked just in time to cover an expense, and we repeat. That was my life over 7 months 🙂

I don’t want to over-spiritualize my situation either. You know “God’s storm is preparing you”. I find it hard to believe bombs are literally being dropped in Gaza, genocide is killing millions in the Congo, Trump is President but God is using his time and talents to put me to the test! Answer their prayers… please!!!

That's where I was on July 28th, 2024! Fast Forward.

I started my new job on the 19th of August. Fascinating how quickly circumstances change? I was 1 rejection email away from crime, lol. This isn’t any ol’ job either…I won’t give all the details! You know how the internet can be, you make a few off putting comments and now people want you fired. You’ll have to get on your Oliva Pope to find out those details.

Immediately after my first deposit, I felt capable. There were very few problems in my life that money couldn’t solve. I simply needed a regular paycheck. According to Maslow, survival needs must be satisfied before an individual can address their higher needs. Lately, my survival needs haven’t been met, which has made it incredibly difficult for me to navigate interpersonal relationships. I owe so many friends phone calls. What started as me genuinely taking a pause for myself has turned into guilt for missing birthdays, graduations, proposals, and breakups—making reaching out now feel embarrassing. My world has become small.

Life stopped for me but continued for everyone else. Not quite sure where there is space for me, if at all in those once well watered friendships. How much grace would I extend if I were them? 

Can I hold mic? I finally have something to say!

I know I’m long overdue for a blog! It’s a delicate dance… sharing yourself: life, feelings, experiences, even fears, while protecting the intimacy of your life. I’ve been unsure of what to expose and what parts of me need to stay safe. The minute it leaves my lips (or in this case, my notes app), I lose all control over how my feelings are consumed and, inevitably, welcome the judgments that follow.

Do I want to voluntarily subject myself to that? Today, I will! There is therapy in the release. Instantly, I feel a little less crazy, even if just for that moment—because, in truth, I don’t control my feelings, only what I do with them.

If my words weren’t clear…the blog is back! I am committing to sharing a blog once a week.

I’ve gone 355 days without alcohol, sex, or dating. Which left me ample time to think about alcohol, sex, and dating, lmao! Mainly questions to myself that are impossible answer.

What if we went to the same college?

What if we got on the same page sooner?

What if he is my one true love?

Would things be different?

Before we get too far, this is a critique and borderline character assassination of a man I love deeply. Only I can speak about him in this way! Keep the comments cute, he is a good man Savannah.

”He’s just not that into you”, a thought that has plagued me for the last few months as I’ve struggled to accept romantic rejection. Internal dialogue that irritates me for a multitude of reasons! The feeling of jealousy (I know it’s natural). To know deep down inside I want what someone else has — I’m a girl’s girl but everything in me wants to dislike this woman.  What did she do? Nothing, but I’m a self aware hater, so it's different. I’m very mindful with my hating—it rarely leaves the lips, I don’t start rumors, and I give Ms. Thing her credit when it’s due... I just won’t give credit to a woman who can’t dress lol.  On her best day she is Kinu and on my worst, I am STILL Whitley. If you can’t relate to hating to cope? Great, here is a cookie! 

Why is being a self-aware hater ok? 

News flash it’s not but this is my life. I make the rules— haha! I’ve allowed myself the guilty pleasure of disliking this man’s current partner, as long as it doesn’t transition into hater behavior. The minute I’m out here behaving like a hater: scheming, plotting, and ploying? Well then it’s time to let go of this very unhealthy coping skill!

I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me—I want someone who doesn’t want me to want me. It’s nuanced, it’s different, it’s delusional, but it’s my truth. I know what some of you are thinking. You can’t shame me! I know you heifers in real life—and your mamas too! Love makes us foolish, and this blog is no exception.

I wouldn’t choose to love him. My affinity for him defies all logic—we exist in a perpetual state of uncertainty, which I KNOW is the exact opposite of everything I believe to be true about love.

Emotionally? I crave the harsh words he’s too polite to say.

“I have no desire to be with you”

“I’m just not that into you”

“I love you! But I don’t want to be with you”

I look forward to the day he looks me in the eyes and yells, like Ghost from Power, “I chose her, not you!” Then blocks me on everything—LMAO. Honestly, the harsher, the better. It’s so much easier to dislike an asshole.

Any variation of that would surely snap me out of my delusion. But instead, I’ve fixated on the unsaid—filling in the gaps, romanticizing his actions, which rarely align with his words. More fucking confusion! Then again, maybe I’m choosing to stay confused. It’s obvious: he’s just not that into me. * screams *

What I’ve reluctantly come to accept as confusing communication is actually CLEAR communication. My misunderstanding works to his benefit! It allows him to function in two relationships, leaving him fulfilled beyond measure while I sit here longing. How is that fair? It’s not! I’m not waiting to be chosen—I choose myself.

Love got me to this loser place. Respect will get me out of it. Which brings me to my complaint of the week… month… quarter… hell, the year. Self-love isn’t enough! Keep eating shit if you want to, but it’s a better use of my energy to develop and nurture my sense of self-respect.

Be real!  

Be honest! 

Look around at all the things humans will do, accept, and try—all in the name of love. Love will, indeed, make you foolish.

Love has taken people to places that self-respect would never allow. Self-respect is tied to a value system, but I don’t believe something has to be valued to be loved. Maybe I’m jaded about love—possibly heartbroken.

Have you ever listened to an episode of Black Love and thought, “That man actually hated you”? Like, ma’am, you’re living a horror story by any standard. Please stop telling people this “love story”. Is humiliation a prerequisite for heteronormative relationships?

The older I get, the more I realize just how much people, especially women, endure in the name of love. The concessions, the sacrifices, the outright humiliation. How we (myself included) hold our breath, praying, wishing, hoping that the person we love will finally change.

Admittedly, people can change—they can grow. But at what cost? I’m looking at the family picture with the kid that isn’t yours, the 15-year timeline where only the last 4 years were monogamous. He’s all in now, sure…at age 50, after doing everything he wanted to do.

Let me ease up. I don’t plan to throw self-love in the trash altogether. It’s not useless; it has its place! However, its effectiveness depends on your self-respect. What do you think? That feels like a more mature take.

As my mind goes into overdrive—possibly overanalyzing my platonic, romantic, and familial relationships—I’ve been thinking.

Big questions, heavy answers. They all overlap in some capacity, with the responses encompassing some form of respect.

Respect for myself.

Our mutual respect for each other.

The respect we have for the relationship.

When you grow up in a family riddled with dysfunction, you can’t trust your definition of love. You have to question what feels good. When your baseline for normal is a "Dad" with multiple children and partners spread across three distinct areas of town, you subconsciously accept competing for attention, affection, and time as a routine practice that is part of "love."

Now that I’m a few months shy of turning 30, I finally see the clear connection between my adolescence and dating choices. I’d rather my relationship be challenging, complicated, and confusing. My brain was wired as a child, sitting on the couch waiting for my weekend with my "dad," who would never show, to associate the brief affection after neglect with care. I’ve been programmed to follow up on promises voluntarily offered, coached to appreciate the time I did get.

I reacted then the same way I do now—extending grace and understanding when none was due, overextending myself to create new opportunities for inconsistency, leaving me more disappointed than the time before. Does this sound familiar to anyone? It’s hard to see the parallels between our relationships with our parents and our partners. Even harder to start new patterns.

I’ve made a lot of progress since undergrad. While I do know my value, like Fashion Nova—I always have a coupon for him 😭. Concession after concession.

Recently, I watched a clip with Reese Witherspoon; she discusses the scene from *Legally Blonde* when Elle runs into Warner at the house party in her Playboy bunny costume, IYKYK! I had a sobering moment similar to what Elle Woods experienced in that scene. “It was never going to be me,” I thought to myself as my eyes welled up with tears as I stopped waiting! I had officially become tired. You know the saying, “when you get tired” or “when you’ve had enough”?

A few months ago, I invited this man over to have a conversation. He did not even show—after saying he would! I like to think he avoided me that night because he didn’t want me to look straight through him, or perhaps the universe was protecting me from my own stupidity. 

I see him—through him actually!

Every aspect of his life is limited by his cowardice. He exists at the lonely intersection of inconsistency and unrealized potential—a terrible place to be, if you ask me! Some people aren’t courageous enough to pursue the life they truly want—career, education, family, love, and relationships. And his poor partner? A tragic case of Good Guy Syndrome.

"Good Guy Syndrome" is how I describe men who care more about how others see them than their own happiness. On paper, they’re what some might call a catch. But in my opinion, these men stay stuck in unfulfilling relationships or stressful jobs because they fear judgment. More than that, they crave being seen as responsible, loyal, and selfless.

Push past the surface, though, and you’ll find cowards—abandoning their own needs.

Now, who wants a partner like that? Not me. A man who can’t choose himself could never choose me. I’m not about to let him play me like he plays that lady. As I work on letting go, I am going to try to not villainize him to make myself feel better. I love him…all of him!

Context: my blogs are a compilation of journal entries. The sentiment shifts as I delete from my memory—jk I meant process it… I like to think I’m maturing. I promise I’m not manic— a switch didn’t flip. These entries are a combination of journal entries over 12 months apart.

For every critique I’ve written about him, I could list five reasons why he’s loved and one of the few people I am my full self with. I wrote a borderline hit piece; obviously I am never in the wrong, ahaha! But I'm wrapping this thing up, so let me put on a bob wig and channel my inner mature self. I am not above reproach.

Although he would never publicly share his critiques of me, I know he has just as many—one of which is, me airing our personal business on the internet? I believe one of his least favorite things about me is how public I am. I think of all the times I’ve shown him the worst parts of myself and he only embraces me more. His grievances with me are likely just as long.

How can someone so full of dreams, a clear vision for their future and skills to pull it off remain paralyzed by fear, content to live like a damn pilgrim, just settling? Again if he can’t choose himself, how can I expect him to choose me? It’s frustrating—harsh, maybe—but real.

“How you do anything is how you do everything.” I don’t want a partner like that, do I? I don’t? I don’t! I am saying it to make myself believe– friends. Cause I still want him badly. Maybe that is what this is all about. My ego— my desire to be wanted!

As I work on letting go, I will attempt to NOT villianize him in an effort to make myself feel better—- everyone clap for me *whhhooooo I am mature*. God go ahead add this to my “Reasons to allow into Heaven list”

Despite how my sharply written character critique of somebody’s son may read, the love I feel for him is DEEP — deep to my bones, down to the deepest depth of my spirit… I have an unwavering consideration for him! 

These kinds of feelings are intense to the point that I feel it in my body, where are my lovers? They’ll know about

-A connection you ache for? 
-You ever have enough chemistry with someone you have conversations between blinks?
-Have you ever laughed at a joke only you two heard?
-Have you ever felt a feeling in your feet? 
-Have you ever burned for someone?

I have! It's dangerous what you will forgive and accept when you do. Also, an experience I want everyone to have. I’ve been in love and been loved without conditions but nothing ever compares to the feeling I have for this man. I know who he is and still yearn for him this way— still hope for us to make sense.  

Time to wrap this up.

As I write this, it feels impossible to let go and move on. I wonder, will these feelings ever go away? Eventually, they have to fade, right? I don’t have control over how I feel, but I fully own what I do with all these emotions. Which leads to the question: what am I going to do next?

Bitch, I have no damn idea. Because if I’m being real? I want to call that man right now—help me, I’m sick.

While I figure it out, I’m choosing to savor every good memory, every joke, every moment of intimacy shared. I appreciate the complexities of memories, pine privately, and remain hopeful that I’ll experience love so intense I can feel it in my feet—but from a man who has the capacity to reciprocate. I’m done forcing things (I think) or chasing after what isn’t meant for me. I’m a hopeful romantic, holding onto hope—not for a perfect love, but for one that’s real, one that gives and takes in equal measure.

I believe a partner who won’t require me to endure and perform is near. Even closer is the greatest love story I will ever know—my relationship with myself.

For the heart and brain to have bidirectional communication, these muthafuckers are surely out of sync. Logically, I know better. But emotionally? I’m still playing catch-up. And that’s okay. As many L’s as I’ve taken with this situation, at least I don’t have a child with him. Imagine trying to get over a heartbreak while having to coparent a child that looks just like a man (HELL on earth). Once I finally get it together, he will be nothing but a memory I’ll never have to revisit.

I’m learning to love the process—the journey of figuring it out, not forcing anything, and trusting that eventually, everything I need will align. Even if it takes a little longer than I want.

It’s been an emotional writing session. Have you ever been where I’ve been? How did you get past it?

Xoxo,

The Cool Girl Karmen