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Enough is Enough


People used to be able to get me fired up with the blink of an eye. I was like a tornado out for destruction. I could get so angry, and breaking things was the best feeling because it was like all the anger within was finally released. Thanks to getting older, for the most part I outgrew that stupid move. Thankfully, because I really like all my stuff and hate having to spend more money to replace my own things. 


I needed a new outlet for managing my feelings, no longer damaging myself or items around me, which has led me to my writing. I was able to let every thought and emotion out, and say everything I wanted and needed to say. During those angrier days I wanted to make sure whoever caused the storm would hear everything I had to say like it or not, and I wanted to have the last word. Once I started writing it no longer mattered who heard what I had to say.  I could say it all, with no back talk or arguing. I had the chance to say my peace and that was that. The satisfaction I got from the feeling of anger being released when breaking something was nothing like the peace I felt after writing another, “Lovey’s Lessons.”


Not only was my writing a form of therapy for myself, but it also became my form of communication for the individuals who are impossible to talk to. Ya know, the kind of people that never let you get a full sentence out before they have to interrupt. Or the ones who can listen but never actually hear what you have to say. I can talk and talk, but yet I am never heard. When I sit down and write, I am able to get everything out with no interruptions and never leaving something out. Then when the recipient has to read it, they finally (well most of the time) hear what I have been trying to say. By reading it they actually think about what they read, which more importantly means thinking about what I have said. 


It can be exhausting when it feels impossible to have a conversation. It doesn’t help matters when everything has to be a joke or when it just turns into an argument. It can be hard to get over the hurt when I'm never heard, or taken seriously. After so many times of not being able to have a serious conversation, being made fun of, or never being able to finish a sentence, you just stop trying. You begin to feel alone, like there is no one to turn to when you need a shoulder to cry on. At that point, my only option is to turn back to the good ol “Lovey’s Lessons” because nothing good comes from bottling up all those thoughts and feelings. 


There are a million self help books out there with author’s giving advice on life, relationships, and communication. Whatever you want or need to know about, there's a book out there for it. I feel like I could have a library of books like Belle, and still be at a complete loss as to how to deal with certain people and situations that come with them. 


There is no book that can help me just forget all the hateful things said, or all the accusations that get wrongly accused multiple times a month. There is no book that can teach how to have a serious conversation without being ignored, made fun of, or cut off. There are so many self help books on how to be healthier, or to better yourself physically and mentally, and I could read every one of them and know exactly what needs to be done, but I remain stuck hating myself. I’d remain stuck replaying in my head all the bad words or times of my life. Why can't all the books work for me like they have for others? 


You can’t say it's because I don't want change. For years I have seen so many that are homeless and sleeping in tents. There are so many with no place to truly call home. Seasons come and go, and the only things that change are their locations for their tents. I was homeless, longer than I had ever wanted to be, but every day I tried everything I could to change my situation. It took time, with a lot of trials and errors. Today I am blessed to say I am not homeless. I never stopped wanting and fighting to change, to better my life. Just because I'm not homeless today, doesn't mean I've stopped trying to change either. I may not be fighting to change my situation anymore, but I do fight to do better and to be better. Reality is, I fight everyday for my life now. Being told your heart is at 15% function can give you a reality check like no other. 


It may have taken longer than I would have liked, but while I was gaining years in life, I did actually gain some patience. Well I don't know if I would exactly say it was patience, but maybe the ability to ignore ignorance for a longer period of time. When I was younger, it didn’t take much to make me fly off the handle. I would have been like a tornado, destroying everything in my path and making sure everyone knew how I felt and what I had to say. I'm not sure if it's due to getting older or realizing tomorrow isn’t promised, but I see how shit just isn't typically worth getting upset about. It takes me much longer before I finally say enough is enough. I wish even then I wouldn’t let shit bother me, but I can only take certain things for so long.


All I have ever wanted was to find someone to love me, to have a home and to grow old with someone. To have a family. I don't want to “want to” die. I don't want to miss out on watching my baby being a mommy now. I don't want to miss out on all the amazing moments that being a Gigi comes with. I know everyone has disagreements in relationships and no relationship is perfect. But is it too much to want to be someone’s wife and to feel appreciated and needed? Is it too much to want to be taken seriously or respected? Is it possible to have a relationship without secrets or even without some type of mental abuse? I didn't think it’s asking too much to want these things. Hell, aren’t I worth it? 


I try to tell myself I am worth it. I try to tell myself I deserve to have the love and life that I have fought so hard to have. One person can only do so much, and can only change for themselves. There aren’t enough books in the world though that can tell you when enough is enough. You can only beg to be heard for so long. How long are you supposed to wait hoping to get married before you accept that it isn’t going to happen? Being told your heart only has 15% function brings a reality and fear of everything I could miss out on. Everything I will lose. So when is enough finally enough? Am I finally worth hearing? Am I worth truly loving? 





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