When I think about moments that impacted me, changed me, or that moment when you say to yourself, ” This were it all went wrong.” And you might be thinking “Oh God what is she going say right now?” It’s nothing like that. Maybe. This is… my muva fucking site and this shit ain’t easy to write. So don’t come for me, but it’s all love. It’s love because I’ve decided to let it go right now, for myself.  And it’s true. Leggo!

I was born on October 11, 1985, so I’m a full blown Libra. If you don’t know about us look it up, I love me and my sign. This story isn’t told very often, so if your thinking I’m stalling to get to the story. I am. If you’ve read my other passages you remember that as a child my sister and I spent an abundance of time with my grandparents.

My Grandfather passed away December 23, 1992 and I can’t remember weather or not this happened before or after he passed away.  Nonetheless, it was a typical day of chores and I…was…run-down. The day was very hot, Grandma never turned the A/C on,  and she wasn’t cooking her regular callaloo and white rice. Today, she cooked curry chicken with white rice and she told me to help her.  Looking back I don’t even remember doing much at all. I mainly stood there watching her prepare the food. My feet were killing me and I tried to sit down a few times in the kitchen, but she kept telling me to come look at what she was doing. I swear to you I don’t even remember one thing she showed me about cooking curry chicken that day.

I only learned how to cook rice and  prepare curry chicken in Jamaica on a hill top called Davidton by Ol’ Brown,  rest his soul, love that man.  And before I tell you the rest of the story I’m going to bust your fucking head with some deep shit because this Noir is kicking in and the sun is coming up.

Peperoni pizza, jalapenos and Pinot Noir. I love spicy foods and I just opened this bottle,  such a wonderful combination. The burst of flavors is amazing, I’m lovin it. (Food network moment) Have you ever had a negative opinion formed about you before you ever met or even got to know another person or people? It doesn’t feel good. Feels like hopelessness.  Like condemnation and it hurts. They say ignorance is bliss, but it’s….. not when you carry the burden of someone else’s destructive foolishness.  In your head your like, I was hoping to get to know you.  I wanted you to know me, too.  I was… exited. Now… what’s the point? You shoved me into the “opinion box”, put me into time out. For what? Defiantly not based on facts. And I’m not saying that I want you to feel sorry for me.  (Aww poor thing.) Fuck that!!! I’m just trying to let you know how I felt. What went through my head.  Cuz ain’t nobody ever sacrificed themselves for my peace of mind,(Member dat, for life) and I was a child.  But I digress… a lot …get use to it. Anyways, I spoke and my words were never heard.

I was polite, naïve, obedient.  Always seeking approval from adults. Trying to find what I never had or got enough of.  Once, I thought my Aunt could give that to me, but I was wrong; and for a long time I sought that.  Till one day I was like, I don’t want it anymore.  I’m not chasin anyone for anything that isn’t meant to be mine. I’ve learned to let go of things that never change(Pat on the back). However, as a child this was normalcy and  I felt like I was stuck in some fuckin … The Good Son Lifetime movie shit,  a  black hole. The only thing that saved me was optimism and my (charming smile) sarcasm.  I can identify the absurdity in things really quick and that shit is hilarious to me.

Its taken me sometime to write this mess. So, as I hear the squeaking of my neighbor having sex up above, onto the main event.

Curry. Kitchen. Grandma. Tired.  Mi feet a killing mi.  I told Grandma ,”I’m going to the bathroom.”(Lie) I was so tired that I went into the living room where she holds meeting. I sat in the old light blue retro chair, with no arm rests. And I just sat there. Took a deep breath, closed my eyes. Looked out the front door.  It was so hot, sunny. I can almost hear the birds chirping. Sitting there. Peace. Calm. If you don’t know this was a pivotal point in my life. This changed me. Elementary. So young. Sitting there. And… my sister comes running down the hall. Yelling. “Fire! Fire!” Now it’s slow motion from this point on and I will try to give you the most accurate recollection of the events that occurred. Including! The aftermath of this October in the 90’s. I run to the side of the house and I’m in the 3rd bedroom to the right. Small room only enough room for one bed and I see the bed. Its burning. I run out and tell Grandma the bed is burning. She goes into the room and she carries the burning bed into the back yard.  Yeah it was a cheap wooden bed, but the sight of her holding this burning bed was like, “Wow!”. This is some Superwomen type shit.

In the back yard she puts the fire out with the garden hose. I don’t remember her ever saying anything or doing anything. All I knew is that my sister was going to be in a lot of trouble when Mommy saw her. LOL!!- Shaking head- I was like she going to get her ass whopped. I was literally laughing in my head in anticipation,  but it never came (foreshadowing of life from that point on time). Here’s the thing Grandma had Alzheimer’s, we didn’t know what that was because I was a child. Duh!!! It wasn’t like I was a trained  BSN RN in Psychology(Shots). Again, I was a child. And Grandma would ALWAYS MIX UP MY SISTER’S AND MY NAME!!!!!!!!!!!  ALWAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!

We get home, and at the time my sister and I shared a room in a four bedroom house and we slept in a bunk bed.  I had the top bunk and when I got home, that’s where I went. We waited for Mommy and even though nothing happened in the car ride home I was still optimistic that justice would be served.

My mother had a boyfriend the time, that I didn’t really care too much about, I forgot his name.  He will be described as a tall sinister asshole that treated my sister and I like shit, but was in a relationship with my mother. He was very disappointing, concerned mostly about his old fashion car, which was new at the time. A vehicle that had a trunk that could close itself (wow…?),  not the way they do now, but it was the new thing then. The only reason I know this is because he scolded me once for slamming the trunk close, like normal people do (Rolling eyes).

The next time was when he came into the house one day, and forgive me!!!!!!!!!!!! I thought he was going to be the father figure and I wanted to create that bond. I thought communication had been established, my bad play boy (shots). He came in the house and I asked him, “Hey(smile), where have you been?”; in my child  like nature, he had been gone for a long time and I was just curious. He said, “Don’t ask me anything, that’s nun of your business.” I never heard this tone form him before.  I immediately got the point and I stayed away from that point on. It was all a façade and it made me feel uncomfortable around him. I wanted a father because mine wasn’t around,  but how could you love or appear to love my mother and not love her children too? What was the point? Now I realize that I need that. This experience showed me what I didn’t want in my life. Yeah its sad but I’ve learned to take even the negative and treat it as a chance to learn from life.

In our room I sat patiently waiting for justice. The time came (now I remember his name) my mother and Kenneth come into the room, him first. He starts talking and I’m like ok? I looked at me mother.  Mommy was just standing there letting him take care of the punishment (macho fake father bullshit). — It’s curious the man didn’t seem to even care about my sister and I, in my opinion, but he had that much sway that he could silence my mother when her voice was needed the most.  My mother isn’t a quiet person she says wants on her mind wrong or right. I just realized that(Digress).

He continued talking I don’t remember much. Then he says, “No Trick o Treating”, and some other disciplinary action. Whoa whoa whoa!! Wait! What(confused face)!? This was my birthday month. A very happy time for me. I DIDN’T DO THIS! I didn’t BURN the bed! Why am I being punished for something she did? The alarms in my head start going off. Mommy isn’t saying anything. So I spoke up for myself “I didn’t do it.” I didn’t name her as the rightful culprit. I didn’t stop her from doing it either. I ignored her and so I was guilty by association.

Could I have stopped her? No. Because it would’ve probably happened at home which would’ve been worse. She really would’ve burnt the house down. Has she tried? Yes, but I’m not going to get into that right now. Yeah, we played with matches before, but I never wanted to light things on fire. I was curious about the match, not the flame. In my primitive child mind: Flame Burn! Flame Hurt! No Play With Flame! That and Grandpa caught us with some matches in the driveway  once and he almost beat the shit out of use. I had to run and hide under the bed to get way from the dreaded green belt. When that belt came out, oh bitch, you on your own, I’m out. Watch mi disappear under a bed.

It didn’t matter. My birthday was ruined. My month was ruined.  It was like some Twilight Zone shit, I was being sucked into all the gray. Did the guilty party confess? (What do you think?) But Karma is the biggest baddest bitch in the world. My sister has two children of her own and one of the daughters tried to burn down my mother’s house, so side eye. As a child I knew that all that was happening to me was wrong, but I didn’t know how to overcome it, because it was overwhelming and this was only the beginning.

I was living in backwards land, where misbehavior and cruelty was meet with gifts, literally. For my birthday I got nothing but a card and an ice cream cake, maybe. While for  her birthday she got a paint set, electronic toys and whole bunch of other things she never appreciated or cared for. She still misbehaved and it came to the point when I would get blamed for so many things that, I did even care anymore.  I just stayed in my room. She always got her way. She got and continues to get her way so much that, my mother is consumed by her. It sad.

I don’t know is it guilt? Pity? Shame? Or just all a continuous cycle of  mistakes that never ends? Maybe you like the abuse, Mommy? Or maybe this is your penance? I don’t know. All I know is that’s not want to happen to me or my son.

People surround themselves with there mistakes because they haven’t learned form them, and thus the destruction continues. This was the beginning of me not having a voice… confidence. I became depressed as a child. I was crying at school, hyperventilating.  I was suffocating on my thoughts. So what did I do? I through myself into my school work, seeking approval from my academic achievements.  Even now in the face of negativity,  when I can’t or am not able to express myself  I bust my muthafuckin ass. I know this about myself. When you face me it’s not just one, it’s 10,000.  I am fucking crazy when it comes to work.  Maybe for real.  I’m not perfect, but watch me when I catch a lick. Tread lightly on fate because karma is a bitch. Now look again. (Righteous indignation)

I don’t have many friends. I don’t know why. I just don’t.  I’m not into the Fren fren thing, but I do have frenemies. I think everyone does to some degree. At first that shit would catch me of guard. — (Talking really fast) When AOL had chat rooms and girls would pretend to be someone else to ask questions about themselves  and then try and turn around and throw whatever was said in the other girls face. When in reality if you would’ve just asked me I would’ve said the same thing to your face–Confused Face.( But I digress.)— They tell you a bunch of shit and in return they want the same or they ask a lot of questions trying to find that little nugget of gossip to run and tell anyone foolish enough to listen. Why, because that’s what they like? Why? Because high school crept into there adult life and now this is all they have? Or is it because they watched to many episodes of Being Mary Jane and had the audacity to live there lives like women that committed suicide? (I don’t know her name and I’m not researching it and just the gossip part of her). But what I do know is that. I’m not afraid to get a bit personal. I’m not afraid to be imperfect. I’m not afraid to say I don’t give a fuck what you think or say. The frenemy cares too much. The frenemy doesn’t usually show up in my personal life, but recently  I’ve had some high frenemy activity (dramatic investigator voice as camera zooms in puts pipe in mouth squints one eye and closes shutter).  I’ve also had it in my work place too, but I don’t care. If you know me I’m not much of  a drama filled person, but Gawd damn I’ve had a piece of drama lately. So lets beginning.

I live in the Roll Tide Capital.  I’ve resided here for over 2 years now and the place is growing on me very. very.. very…very slowly.  I actually left New York and found out on the way here that I was going to be living with my aunt. So I’ve been here for a while and I was at work one day and I get served to appear in court. Mind you no one knows exactly where I work or live. So you had to do some hunting ($$$$) in order to find me.  I get severed and I appear in court and my lawyer just had back surgery (Bless her heart ) . She’s a tiny women with ice blue eyes. We’re at the courthouse and in my head I’m like, “Shit this abusive mutha fucka is tryin to take my son. Bitch!” However when I went to drop him off he was agreeing with everything I said and smiling and even tried to invite me to sit down and eat with them.”Eww ..NO!?” Then we started talking on the phone. He called me like now and again. Say hi. But then we started conversing about the wife and how he wanted a divorce. I was saying to myself, “Ok?” Then he started offering to pay my bills and move me to Orlando so that he could be closer to our son. Blah blah blah. It was sounding great almost had me sold. Sometimes he would say I love you or I miss you and I was still like “ok?”(shrugs shoulders). But it all came to a head when he called me on Wednesday morning saying that he had been arrested  and that I needed to come to Orlando and pick up our son. Now I’m pissed all the way off.  I asked him several times, “Why were you arrested?” I was always met with some general non-answer. “I don’t know…. I don’t know Era. Mi just can’t deal wit the whole ting.”–He’s Jamacian.–  I told him “No!!!” I had to be at work. My son was in no danger. I told him I would be there the next day after I got off work.  That night his wife calls me. She says, “M is no good. He’s crazy. M has done this to me. M has done that to me.  M says you are in cahoots with his mother.” She did most of the talking.  And as a women I felt bad for her because the man put me through hell and it just kept on getting worse. He is so self-serving, so self- absorbed, a  con artist, misleading, fabricator. You get it.  He’s a liar. And I believed what she said not knowing that she’s one too. (Country voice) I work 10 hr. shifts, so at 3am I touched the road and made my way to Florida I got there at 12pm. I went to his friends house got my son and that’s all I got. None of the stuff I sent with him has came back yet. Plus, the clothes that he did have on had blood stains on them because my son had an abscess under his arm. This is why I didn’t send him with much because I thought something like this would happen, but never thought it would get so far fetched. So his friend was like. “Are you going to take a nap at your Moms house?” and I was like, “Yeah.” In my head I was like, “Hell no I rather sleep in my car.” My son and I said goodbye we stopped by Sunshine Bakery got we some patty. I drove past my Grandmother’s house and we were back on the road. I thought Orlando was home. I thought I would feel at home in the place that I once called home, but it felt so different. I didn’t even recognize the place anymore and it certainly did feel like home.

I was on the turnpike now and I was getting tired, so we pulled over at a rest stop. My son played on my phone while I got a little shut eye. Then the phone rings it was  a collect call from the jail.(One guess) I answered and it was M. He thought that I was going to stay in Orlando. He thought that I was going to give up everything for him. He thought that just because he told me that he loved me and would helped me out here and there, that I would be foolish enough to end my life for him. It was frustrating. It is frustrating. I asked him, “Aren’t you tired of this? Aren’t you tired of going to jail? Aren’t you tired of spending money on lawyers? This is disgusting.” Of course he was answering but his voice does this weird thing when he’s lying, so I didn’t believe a word he was saying. All of this for what?  To prove what? I know what it is. It’s fear. For a long time this man was a frenemy to me because he didn’t want ” a good life”. He wanted it to appear as if we had a good life and I convinced myself that it would get better. I bought into the lies for years (10 years plus) and now Karma has him. Do I rejoice in that? No. I really feel bad for him. Not too bad, but enough to thank the higher power for all that I have learned and for what I have. I learned to look at all my difficulties as a chance to learn. To grow.

Frenemies are only focused on negativity and driven by gossip. That’s fine for them but I think its irrelevant. And if you care about me so much come live in these size nines and then fall back. So frenemy  when I see you and trust me I know it’s you. I say welcome into my world. Thanks to Keke “The gag is I only tell you things because I know your going to run and tell anyone that’ll listen cuz that’s what I want you to do.”- Sips her wine.

 

So….Yeah. I have this website. What now. Do I tell you all my secrets in one post? Hell No!!! and if you know me Fuck No!!! But do you know me. Who is Era and what is the point of all of this? Honestly I don’t know.  I just want to shed some light to me because I don’t talk much and I’ve been decided as secretive. And  yeah I have some secrets, but those will come somewhere down the line.

Let me start by sharing a little bit about myself. And I know. I already told you where I was born and moving all over. But where was I raised?  I was raised in Orlando, Fl. My mother worked very hard to provide for us, so we never really had her around. In the early years my younger sister and I spent most of our time with our grandparents.  My Mother’s parents where both Jamaicans. As children we spent most of our days with Grandma and Grandpa. I WOULD say it was mostly fun, but it wasn’t. We were worked and when I say we……I mean ME.  My sister was sick often and  was mostly exempted from participating in such menial character building activities. One day I was so tired from cleaning I asked Grandma, “Why do we have to clean everyday?” and she said “There is always work to be done.” This response has really stuck with because it true. So when Grandma said “Dig this cassava.” I did it. If  you know anything about digging up cassava or yellow yam, its a bitch to get to especially if its roots go deep and you have a huge cluster. Another fond memory of my time spent as an unpaid worker was mowing the lawn as child in elementary school and this wasn’t gas this was manual. It was new a pretty bight red that was so difficult to push. You had to tilt it at a certain angle to get it to cut the grass right. When Grandma told me to help her cook after a tiring day of cleaning, I did it.  All though I did know it then my time with my Grandmother set the build blocks for the women I’m today and what I want and except for my son.

The first book I ever read was book about a bee.  My mother read it to me a couple of times.  Then she wanted me to read it to her. The book was maybe like ten pages and I would spend a lot of time trying to pronounce the word correctly, so the next I showed my mother this book I read it fluently. I read it to her messed up and continued to practice. Then she gave my sister and I more books. I loved them they were these moral and manners books that told stories about how not to behave. I told myself I want to be a good person.  Then my mother got a couple books with poetry for kids and I feel in love with those books too. Then in middle school for Christmas mommy gave my sister a book   ——-Looking back at this memory. I’m giving my mother some major side eye. U know dis gurl don’t read no books. But OK—– Of course my sister didn’t want it and I ask if I could have it and she said …..NO and tossed it into the fire!!!!!!! LOL deceased af  right now. Yes she gave it to me it was the first Harry Potter book. I loved that book and went on to ready the series. Do I read now …No, not as often as I would like. My Goal is to read 2 books by the end of this year.

To be continued.