I’m Not Ashamed 

  

I’m not ashamed I am battling mental illness.I’m not ashamed than I am not “normal” and that nothing in my life has ever been easy or came to me on any type of platter.

I’m not ashamed that I’ve had to hustle for what seems like “little” to others and everything to me.

I’m not ashamed that all I’ve ever wanted out of life is to be loved and valued by others.

I’m not ashamed that there have been thousands of nights I’ve cried myself to sleep and thousands of morning I woke up in tears.

I’m not ashamed that I don’t know how to love and hope that one day someone can teach me.

I’m not ashamed that I may have missed out on good relationships because I know I am extremely hard to deal with and every “great” guy will not able to deal with me.

I’m not ashamed of my screw ups in life sometimes you have to make sacrifices in order to survive. 

I’m not ashamed that I walk this earth alone with no family.

I’m not ashamed that I usually spend my holidays alone with leftover Chinese food fantasying about spending my holidays with a make believe husband and family. 

I’m not ashamed to be in the skin I’m in. For I was created with a purpose just not sure what.

I’m not ashamed that I’ve told lies in life but who hasn’t? The funny thing is the truth has been valued as lies and lies have been valued as truth.

I’m not ashamed that I don’t smile. Not really sure “how” or “why” I should.

I’m not ashamed that I think I am crazy/beautiful. The only thing I pray is that I don’t harm myself or screw my life up.

I’m not ashamed that those “friends” I cared for went out of their way to hurt me mentally, physically and tried to ruin my reputation.

I’m not ashamed that I was kidnapped as a child from my country by a mentally and physically abusive woman.

I’m not ashamed that all my life I dealt with others mentally and physically abusing me, parents who were functional crackheads, and not being loved as a child/teenager.

I’m not ashamed that I’ve never been able to admit to anyone the “true” home I grew up in out of shame and out of refusing to be that typical black girl.

I’m not ashamed that I want to seek help and overcome my mental illness 

But honestly speaking, I don’t know if I really want help…

I’m not ashamed to admit that I don’t think God loves me or cares for me because of the cards that he dealt me so I have a hard time believing in him and his existence. 

They say only “God” can judge me but I’ve been judged my entire life and I judge others…

Like I said “I’m not ASHAMED” 

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Mental thought 

The world is great at telling me my downfalls and where I fall short

But when I achieve goals and accomplishments the world sits still and quiet. My biggest problem in life is I want to feel loved and I want to be accepted. I use my sarcasm for popularity. But sometimes coming up with new material isn’t easy. I roamed this earth seeking for love and each time I fail at it… The past (ex boyfriends) come into my present thinking they have a chance at my future. The thing I’ve never understood is how come you couldn’t love me during the time we were together? The insecurities of my dark skin seems to haunt me more and more. I wonder if my skin is lighter would I be loved more and better?! Would I be wanted and highly favored? Some women can look at themselves in the mirror and see their beauty. I look at myself in the mirror and point out every flaw about me. No matter how much I want to change the “negative”… I can’t.. I hate it when people tell me later on in life how much they care for me but when they were apart of my life they treated me like shit. I don’t believe people truly love and care about me…. I frown and cry more than I smile. It seems as if sadness is who I am. Maybe I should stop fighting it and accept it. Because I have yet to see, believe, and experience what “love” is…….
Crazy thing is….
I wrote this thought in blood… Because my heart and soul bleeds for happiness, love, success, marriage and good health…… I feel if I bleed a lil more each time..the universe will one day hear my cries….
Until then……

Dark Girls

I watched this documentary on being a dark black girl and it made me cry. For so long I hated my dark skin, my kinky hair, my big lips and my big face. I wished everyday that “God” would love me enough to make me lighter. I wanted dimples, I wanted lighter skin and I wanted long curly hair. But “God” never answered me. If anything I felt he wanted to torment me. For every night I prayed and cried to God to make me lighter, my mother would tell me “how ugly I was” how big my head and face was. I remember going out with my mother and she would compliment the beauty of lighter skinned children and speak on how she wished they were her daughters instead of me. I would’ve given anything in the world to be lighter to feel love from my mother.i truly felt she didn’t love me because I was dark. I wanted to feel accepted by her, to feel I am beautiful to her. For my strength, my love and my values were to come from her. I remember she would bathe me in bleach and tell me to soak in for 10 minutes. I wonder if this was to ensure my “dirty” body was cleaned or to see if I would “lighten” any??? I never wanted to have dark friends. Most of my life my friends were either light skinned or of different nationalities. I figured if I surround myself with light..I would become light…. I remember being emotionally jealous of my lighter skinned friends because they could look like road kill laying in the middle of a road in desert heat and men would approach them while I would put on my “best” everything and be overlooked for them. I dated outside of my race most of my life because men of other races found me beautiful and men within my own race thought of me as “ugly” and on top of being “ugly” not having a huge ass. I remember reading “The Bluest Eye” because I could relate to it. I don’t know if I will ever believe “My dark black skin is beautiful” but I Love “me” more today than I have in most of my life. Please check out this documentary!

Black beauty

I am sitting here looking at myself in the mirror and reminiscing how far I’ve come with “self-acceptance”. I remember a time when I couldn’t face myself in the mirror. I hated the ugly dark skinned black bitch who stood before me so much that on several occasions I would destroy my mirrors in hopes of destroying her. It didn’t help much having a mother who always told me “my blackness will never be beautiful”. She complained how I was too dark, my head was too big and how ugly I was. My mom would even go to the extremes to point out other little girls who she thought was beautiful and wished they were her daughter instead of me…(did I mention I’m adopted?) I read the book “the bluest eye”. By Toni Morrison and found myself relating to the little girl in the book. I always enjoyed writing and wrote a prayer to god asking him for blue eyes, light skin, dimples and curly hair and despised god for a long time for hating me so much he refused to answer my prayers. I didn’t have many blacks friends so I hoped that by hanging around other nationalities some of their characteristics would rub off on me. Needless to say it didn’t happen lol. I fought for so many years trying to accept my darkness, my big head and lips and it doesn’t help when the media especially black media and stars idolizes the beauty of light skinned women. I’ve even considered bleaching my skin. One morning I woke up with a “fuck it” attitude and decided every morning I would look at myself in mirror and tell myself “I am beautiful” and “being dark is not ugly”. I swear being me ain’t easy. But no matter what others think of me…”My Caribbean Black is BEAUTIFUL”