But You Couldn’t Stop Me, Could You?

Fifty-one years ago today, shortly after 2:00 A.M., Mama gave birth to me. There was no pomp and circumstance, she simply gave birth to a 5-pound baby girl and was released to go home by 7:30 A.M. that same morning.

I was welcomed home by my older siblings, the youngest of whom was 11. My oldest brother was away in San Francisco with his own family. I have two nieces who are older than I am. My sister, Margaret, had already told Mama to name me Trease. I have no middle name. I was never babied. I was spoiled, but I was never babied. Most people who know me say that I’ve always been grown. I have an old spirit.

The past 51 years have carried one lesson after another for me in a constant fashion. I know when some of you heard that, you said, “Yeah, we’ve all learned lessons over our lifetimes.” For the most part that’s true. I say for the most part because in some cases, people don’t learn anything from their experiences. They continue to make the same mistakes. They grind their gears and they spin their wheels.

Here is some knowledge I picked up along the way:

  • In almost all cases, you get one chance to make an entrance. You get one chance to make a first impression. If you storm through any door in a destructive manner, reeking chaos, disrupting the good, folks won’t forget. Even though we’re supposed to, most folks won’t forgive either. Be mindful of what you do when you enter another’s space.
  • Your exit is probably more important than your entrance. I really can’t think of a reason to leave a situation in shambles. Why? Because to do so means that another person has gotten under your skin so deeply and has disrupted your psyche so much that you became someone you’re probably not. Don’t get it twisted — I’ve left material damages in some places that were so bad I should have been charged with the highest level of vandalism. It was bad and it was stupid. I let someone who had mistreated me take me to another level. I’m not coming at you in a “holier than thou” manner. Just don’t allow another person to take you out of character. What I think makes a  more profound statement is to simply take your ball and go home. You don’t even have to provide an explanation or say goodbye. Just go and be at peace.
  • Be extra-possessive of your time. Time is a precious commodity. We don’t have as much of it as we think. Don’t waste it on people who don’t love you fiercely, on a job that you hate, or in a situation that you don’t want to be in. Do life big!
  • Let no man or woman take you for granted. This is a lesson I learned the hard way. My presence — my whole being — was taken for granted by someone I thought valued me. Turns out, he is the most selfish individual on the face of this or any other planet. Lesson learned. The wrong people will take your love for granted. Take it back and give it to someone who deserves it. You’re so amazing. You’re such a blessing. If a man or woman can’t see that – GO! Plain and simple, just go!
  • Love your folks without condition. I’m grateful to see this day, I really am, but I would be lying if I said my heart is not filled with grief this morning. It has been nearly 11 months since my nephew passed away suddenly. The void his death has left in our lives is massive. Cherish your people. Loss is inevitable. Cherish your people.

I’m going to end this by saying that all those things that were designed to stop me from living my best life have failed. An abusive marriage, an aneurysm, unemployment, a devastating breakup — all those things wore on me, but here I am. None of those things stopped me. Nothing will. Trust that. The decision to live is yours. The kind of life you live is up to you. Let nothing stop you from having it all and from being it all. It’s up to you.

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Hello?

Things have been crazier than usual. Living in my world has been like riding a tremendous tailwind through the eye of a hurricane after being tossed around by a typhoon.

My life continues to be tilted because of my nephew’s death, but I’ve taken the steps I need to in order to get back on track. Grief is a bully and it’s staunch in its efforts to drag you under. I hate that its taken such a hold of me, but I’m fighting back. I can tell y’all this — the death of a person you’re extremely close to is not one you get over, but at some point, you’ll make it through. I’m getting there. I visited his gravesite for the first time since he’s been gone. I went on Memorial Day and it was surreal. In some ways, I think it was still too early, but I’m okay. Seeing his name on that tombstone was just…

Photo credit: Trease Shine Hinton

I’m getting myself back on schedule, but know that mourning has a way of disrupting not only your calendar, it’ll destroy your very being. I’m doing my best to get back to blogging and writing consistently, and living a good life. It’s so hard. It’s no longer about taking one day at a time for me; sometimes I strive to make it one hour at a time.

Over the past few months, I’ve had to let go of a relationship that was so toxic, it was slowly draining the life out of me. The person that I finally released from my life (for good, forever, for real) should have been a source of peace and relief; instead, he only added to my pain and grief. He was deliberate in his decision to include me in his life knowing full well there was no room for me there. He claimed an addiction to me, one that has been around for nearly 30 years. There may well be one, but what I refused to be was his 50-year old side chick. Nah.

Be careful who you let in. Selfishness is a bitch and I finally accepted the fact that I have no room in my life for anyone who is only around for selfish gain. Was it hard to let go? Yes and no. Yes, because we’ve known each other our whole lives. I once considered him my soulmate. I loved him with everything I had. He didn’t appreciate it. Therein lies the “no”. He wasn’t always an ass, but he allowed himself to be morphed into, well, an ass.

I think the poorest excuse a person can have for being bitter, angry, or any other selfish thing is that someone made them that way. No, that’s not true. You control who you are. You control how you react. After a bad relationship is over, it’s up to you to become a better person in spite of the pain. You don’t have to become the person who hurt you. I refuse to become jaded because of my past relationships. Just because they were stupid doesn’t mean that the next man will be. I will always believe in true love. I will always believe that I deserve it.

I’ve made some final decisions as to where I plan to live. I’ve also made some other decisions that require me to spread my wings and fly. It’s time to make a move.

I’m coming back, y’all. I’m coming back.

How Much Can You Handle?

My tolerance for pain is different from yours. Yours is different from the person’s you sit next to on the train. That person’s tolerance for pain is different from the person in the cubicle next to his at work.

 

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Photo credit: Photo by Rodolfo Clix from Pexels

 

We’re all susceptible to pain — physical, mental, and emotional — and how we decide to deal with those things is just as different from person to person as the actual levels of pain we experience.

The Physical

Before July 21, 2009, I thought I had experienced the worst physical pain imaginable. At 4:53 AM on July 26, 1995, my son was came barreling through into this world and my body was traumatized, I shook. The pain was so intense, I couldn’t hold my baby for several minutes after he was born.  As the saying goes, though, I forgot every single second of the pain I’d endured over the previous 36 hours when I saw my little bundle of joy. I would be reminded of everything I went through when it was time for me to use the restroom for the first time after giving birth, but that’s neither here nor there.

 

Will at 7 weeks
Photo credit: Trease Shine Hinton

 

The next most excruciating level of pain I would experience came when I had to have emergency surgery to remove my gallbladder. Anyone who’s ever had a gallstone knows the pain I speak of. Well, magnify that by at least 200 and you’ll know what I went through in April 2008. The doctors and nurses asked a million times how I had been able to function with that much pain. I couldn’t answer them. To this day, I still don’t know.

Those two experiences pale in comparison to what I felt on July 21, 2009. Y’all know the story about the aneurysm so I won’t go into it, but let me just say that I would rather give birth to my 6′ tall son at his current weight of 232 pounds than to be hit with that level pain ever again.

I can handle physical pain.

The Mental and Emotional

A large part of my story involves the mental abuse I sustained and lived through over those 19 years of marriage. The belittling, the lying, the constant put-downs, being told that I was worthless, hearing him tell others he made the biggest mistake ever by marrying me, being disrespected on a consistent basis — those things finally took root in my subconscious and set up home.

One day, I started to believe that I was too much trouble. I began to believe that I wasn’t smart. I believed that I couldn’t make it on my own. He had me just where he wanted me. That level of control is reserved for abusers. Believe that.

 

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Photo credit: www. pexels.com

Then One Day…

 

…I woke up. I had to. I had to draw on the strength of the woman I was before the mental, emotional, and verbal abuse overtook me and swallowed all of me.

I also had to form an image of the woman I wanted to be in the future in order to have something to strive for. It’s taken me a minute to get there, but I am so happy to say, I’ve made tremendous strides.

I filed to register my writing business with the state of Louisiana on June 22. It became an official L.L.C. on June 25. I am working on the website now and building my portfolio. I’ve been writing for a very long time; it’s time for me to share my knowledge with the world. For the first time in my 50 years on the earth, I will do what I love to do and that’s put pen to paper.

The Moral of the Story?

Whatever the cause of your pain, use the experience to grow. The worst thing a person can do is allow the pain they feel to consume them and cause them to hurt any- and everyone that crosses their path. To hurt another person because you’re hurt is the ultimate expression of immaturity. It’s out-and-out childish.

Getting hurt is nothing new nor is it unusual. It can happen. It likely will happen. Be a grown-up about the thing and go somewhere and heal. Don’t spread that pain. Take the time you need to fix you. Don’t destroy the lives of others because someone did you wrong.

No one has time to deal with a hurt person who’s out to hurt others.

 

In This Time

It’s been just over 28 weeks since my nephew passed away.

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Photo credit: Trease Shine Hinton

 

So many things have happened since that time. My son has been home since school let out in early May. My granddaughter has been here since that time, too. We needed this time together. We needed this time together so desperately.

We needed to love on each other. We needed to lean on each other. We needed to bump heads. We needed to make up. We needed the tears. We needed to laugh.

With my nephew’s death came many lessons, not the least of which is that we have no time to waste on things that don’t matter or on people we don’t matter to. My best advice to you: get out of the way of toxic people. It’s true that hurt people, hurt people, but that is purely by choice. Hurt people don’t have to hurt people, they choose to. You, my friend, must choose to get out of their way.

One of the best things I’ve done recently is starting my own business. I’m not talking about reviving my Mary Kay business; I’m talking about a business of my very own. I’ll be writing and editing full time. I am also working on attaining my notary commission and am very excited about that. Every single thing about my life will be different by December 31, 2018.

My quest to become a speaker on the atrocity of domestic violence is neverending. I have some engagements coming up and will be sharing those things with you guys.

Know that your time and energy is precious. Don’t waste it.

 

Why Is She Like That?

It’s not that she’s mean.

It’s not that she thinks she any better than anybody else.

It’s not that she doesn’t care.

It’s none of those things.

It’s just that she doesn’t feel anything anymore. Well, she feels a little bit, but she’s well on her way to stopping that “feeling” train from rolling at all. She’s back at that point again. It’s imperative that she stop that thing. All those feelings are going to kill her.

To let it roll on will allow the things she does feel to kill her. She’s smart enough to recognize things for what they are and to let this train continue to roll is suicide. For real, all the bullshit just might kill her. She would be allowing it to kill her if she doesn’t stop those feeling from clouding her judgment.

The sad thing is that locomotive is gaining traction. It’s plowing full steam ahead at a dangerous speed. She doesn’t like “feeling” stuff, especially when those feelings are reciprocated. Damn all that.

The good thing, though, is that she can stop it. She knows how and she’s going to.

Death

The physical deaths are unavoidable. The mental and emotional ones are. There are two ways to handle that thing. The first: trust no one. The second: be smart enough to walk away and STAY away when someone shows you their true colors when those colors are dark. Let’s get back to the girl’s story.

Oh, she had slipped for a while and let the wall crumble a bit, but the foundation for that thing is still there and she’s rebuilding with a furor that’s unheard of. It’s safer that way.

She had spent nearly 20 years behind a wall that prevented anyone from seeing the pain she was in. The wall was just a cover. She felt stuff, but to the naked eye, it was not visible. She had mastered the art of preventing tears from falling. No one knew that she cried. She refused to allow her feelings to surface. It safer that way.

So many things have died. Death by any other name is still death. People have died. Things have died. Death by any other name is still death.

The physical deaths have almost taken her out. Since July 31, 2017, she has seen three deaths in her family. Here recently, she has seen the death of one of the women who was her sister-in-law was nearly 20 years.

On July 31, 2017, she lost an uncle. He was 82 so he was considered elderly, but did that fact lessen the pain? Nah, because he was one of her favorite uncles. He was one of the last real examples she had of a man. She had watched him treat her aunt like a queen.

On December 9, 2017, she lost what could only be considered one of her limbs. She lost her nephew. He was the closest person to her. They had a brother/sister relationship. She won’t ever be same. She has no closure because she just doesn’t want to close that door. She never will.

On January 14, 2018, she lost one of her first cousins and it was that one that caused her to start construction on that wall. As bad as it may sound, she’s better at not feeling that she is the opposite. Back in 2014 when another of her favorite uncles died, she shed a single tear. One. She shed one tear. Her heart was broken into a million pieces when he passed, but that wall had prevented her from letting that broken heart break her.

On March 23, 2018, she lost one of the women who had been her sister-in-law for close to 20 years.

Death of the Mind and Heart

The mental and emotional shit that comes from caring is just not worth it to her. She has felt enough. She’s just not interested in caring anymore. Let’s clarify — she’ll always, always, ALWAYS care about what her son and granddaughter feel, but those two are the only ones she can allow to get to close to her, just like it was before. She’ll always be there for her family, she just can’t allow them or their stuff to drag her under. She’ll never leave her friends sides, but she’s had to re-learn a very painful lesson. Not everyone has your best interest at heart. Some people are only after what they can get.

When people show you who they are, believe them. I don’t’ care how long you’ve known them, BELIEVE THEM! Dueces, y’all!

The Color of My Pain

Bereavement. Grief. Pain. Loss.

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Photo by Kat Smith from Pexels

At 50, I’ve felt all of these things more than once. I have felt them all in varying degrees. I have experienced them all on a variety of levels. I’ve felt them all in a variety of situations.

For the most part, bereavement, grief, and pain are the things you feel after the loss of a loved one. I’ll talk about that level of loss in a few. Let me tell you how those things come into play in the mental and emotional sense.

Blood Red

 

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Photo by it’s me neosiam from Pexels

Nineteen years of mental and emotional domestic abuse taught me to shut down, take cover, and to fight fiercely to survive. My very soul was shrouded in the bloodiest red color. Red is an extremely emotionally intense color. While it signifies passionate love, it also points to danger, anger, and violence. Those last three adjectives sum up the19 years I was married.

While the physical abuse was limited to two incidents of spousal rape, the mental and emotional trauma is what put my life in danger. I almost died of an aneurysm that was brought on by stress.

The level of perpetual anger I felt nearly drove me insane. I was mad all the time and I was mad at everybody. I was extremely angry with myself, too. I waived between being angry with my ex for abusing me and being angry with myself for allowing it to happen and for staying.

What I felt internally took the term “seeing red” to a whole new level. Red covered everything in my life.

I’m happy to say that wherever red shows up in my life today, it’s all about its representation of determination, power, strength, and energy.

Black

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Photo by Mustafa ezz from Pexels

On December 9, 2017, my entire world went black. With the death of my nephew, Arthur, such deep darkness fell over my world that the light is just now starting to seep through. It comes through in spurts. Sometimes it stays around for days; sometimes it’s only a momentary flicker. For now, light is fleeting. Bereavement, grief, pain, and loss have enveloped me.

Most days I just go through the motions. I have to. I have a son who means the world to me. I mean the world to him. He needs me. I have a granddaughter who depends on me for all things in her tiny world. My siblings need me. So do my other nephews, nieces, friends, and family. I know they all need and love me, but things are still covered in black for me.

The murkiness left after Arthur’s death can’t be penetrated with well-wishes. It gnashes my soul. I hurt. I cry. I scream. Then there are the days I laugh, giggle, and chuckle when I think of something he did or said. The emotional roller coaster that I’m riding through the blackness is far from thrilling. I’m not in an amusement park. I feel like I’m in the valley of the shadow of death sometimes because I know that’s where he was. I always knew where he was. He always knew where I was. Now, I feel like he’s wandering around in that blackness that I can’t see through.

Is That Light I See?

I don’t know if what I see occasionally is real light or just a figment of my imagination. I want so badly for things to be normal, but in order for things to be normal, my nephew would have to be here. He can’t come back. He’ll never come back.

It was 68 days ago that he passed away. It’s only been 68 days. Some days, it feels like it’s been 20 years; some days, it feels like it just happened this morning. Some days, I see the light; some days, that darkness refuses to let any light shine through.

I will continue to grieve. I will struggle for some time to come. I will keep pushing forward because I have no choice. It’s what I have to do, but for now, I move in darkness.

New Year, Old Me

Every year in January, folks set out to enact resolutions for the new year and that’s cool. I used to do that. I stopped, though, many years ago. Here’s why.

In my mind, starting anew can happen any old day of the week. It doesn’t have to be the first of the year, the first of the month, or the first of the week. Wednesday is just as good a day as any. Thursday or Friday can be your new start date, too. It’s all about starting the thing — the day you start is irrelevant.

I have so many things in the works. My entrepreneurial ventures are going to explode this year. There’s a portion of Proverbs 31 that screams at me to get off my duff and use my skills, talents, and desires to flourish in order to prosper. I have all I need to succeed, so put simply, that’s what I’m going to do.

Don’t wait. Get hustlin’! I promise the day of week is not relevant — it’s all about the hustle.