Epiphany.

I spend too much a lot of time talking about my relationship woes on this here blog.
But driving home today, I had a God honest epiphany about that facet of my life.

God was protecting me.

(FYI, there's no joke coming. This is not a post full of the funnies.)

I try to be very honest with you all here, but there are some parts of my life, my past, that I will never share here. Parts that I have never shared with anyone. 

But I will say this-- I made some poor decisions in my young adult life. Decisions that could have had disastrous results for my health, safety, and emotional well-being. And truthfully, I continued making variations of those poor decisions up until the end of my last "relationship"-- less dangerous to my physical safety, but just as detrimental to my emotional security. 

I've been honest here that, for a myriad of reasons (chief of which is my extreme distaste for getting up and out the house before noon on a Sunday, but y'all already knew I was lazy) I'm not a regular church-goer. But that does not negate the fact that I fully believe in God, talk to God daily, and pray about what's going on in my life. So it's odd that it took me so long to see what was directly in front of my face-- I wasn't in a relationship because I wasn't READY to be in a relationship.

And I don't mean "ready" in the way women talk about being ready. *cue India.Arie* I don't mean I wasn't ready because I was having fun dating and hanging out and didn't want to commit.

I mean I wasn't ready in that I was self-destructive. I accepted anything, justified being treated poorly.... I had on blinders. I made poor decisions. I was so caught up in my crazy that even my daydreams about relationships inevitably featured a traumatic breakup followed by an epic reunion. That was my idea of what love meant.

To be blunt, I was ripe for an abusive relationship.

Thank GOD, that was never the case. I wasn't always treated well (who is?), but I was never harmed physically, emotionally, or mentally. And for that, I thank God everyday.

So when I say God protected me, I mean he literally protected me. From stupid, painful, dangerous decisions. I could have learned through trial by fire, but God is a merciful God and saved me from my own fool self. Instead, he took me totally out of the way of harm. I didn't understand it before, but oh boy it hit me like a stack of bricks today.

I am not an ugly woman. I dress fairly nicely, I smile freely, and my hair looks kinda cool the majority of the time. But in the past 4.5 years, I've not been approached once on the street, or at Target, or at the bookstore. I didn't understand how that was possible. There are women out here looking like who shot Dracula, why, and what for, and please don't do it again -- and I'm dateless???

I realize now I had to be fully removed from that situation to heal. It was not something I did intentionally. It wasn't even something I realized was happening. But... things are different now. It's hard to explain, but I'm different at the core. So, thank you God. You protected me when I didn't even realize I needed protection.

S.

The More Things Change...

The fatter I get.

You totally weren't expecting that, were you? I'm sneaky like that.

So, I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but my body basically hates me. And by hates I mean in purely superficial ways like OMG I KEEP GAINING WEIGHT WHAT THE FUCK AND MY FACE LOOKS SHITTY AND MY HAIR WON'T GROW AND NO ONE IS EVER GOING TO LOVE ME AND I'M GONNA DIE ALONE.

In a nutshell.

How sick does it make me that I legitimately fantasize about having a diagnosable disease to justify my weight gain and/or getting punched in the face so hard I have to have my jaw wired shut so I'm forced to lose weight? Really, on a scale of 1-10, is that more or less than a 9? I'm thinking 8.2 (I mean, it's not like I'm considering actually not eating 'cause... cake) but I'm biased. Whatevs.

In other news, my job still employs me, so that's cool. I'm also still single, but also still child, STD, and stalker free, so win.

Also, I'm writing a book.

Well, ok, I'm going to write a book. I haven't actually started, but I have the idea. Kinda. Actually...

Look, I'm gonna write a book, ok? Ok. Think Bridget Jones' Diary + shit that applies to Black people. And in this book Black is gonna be capitalized all the fucking time because mine.

I hope you guys will read it. Or at least don't and say you did.

Peace out, homie.
S.

Truth Time

I've gained back approximately 20 of the pounds I lost in 2011 since I started work.

I'm having skin issues for the first time in my life and my face looks like crap.

Lonely.

Tired of hearing myself say I'm lonely, tired of typing it out here, tired of worrying about it.

I live vicariously through romance novels.

I don't have a fair pair of jeans.

I don't have any outfit I can put on that makes me feel gorgeous.

I sit at home most weekend nights.

My mother is my most constant companion.

I feel like everyone is progressing in their lives except for me.

I miss DC.

I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.

I hate that no matter how much I work out, if I don't eat perfectly I gain weight.

I hate that I already know I'll have to work out and eat blandly for the rest of my life or else I'll blow up like a balloon.

I wish I were funnier.

I do not know how to flirt.

I am sick of hearing myself whine.

I'm always surprised when my superiors tell em they think I'm good at my job.

I'm still waiting to go on a great adventure.

My mother unexpectedly cleaned my bedroom for me and she found absolutely nothing dirty, awkward, naughty, or scandalous. I don't know whether to be proud or ashamed.

My crazy is crazier than ever.

S.

Things I've Learned

1. Law school does not teach you how to be a lawyer. Maybe it teaches you how to think like a lawyer, but I could have went to paralegal school for that and saved $200,000. So, thanks for that, Georgetown. Much appreciated.

2. Law firms like to give you lots and lots of free alcohol and free (bad for you) food.

3. Lots of free alcohol + lots of free (bad for you) food = Lots of non-free shopping because you've gained too much weight to fit into your formerly "skinny" clothes. Damn it.

4. Do. Not. Piss. Off. The. Secretaries.

5. Running 3.1 miles is doable!

6. Running 3.1 miles with a blister is less doable.

7. Blister gel/cream preventer stuff does not work.

8. There are exactly 16 Black people in my firm. Total.

9. It's so easy to spend money when you've got money.

10. Don't ever take a job where you have to bill hours. Trust me on this.

11. It is totally appropriate to wear flat jeweled sandals to the club in June, and don't let anyone tell you differently.

12. Rooftop parties are fun.

13. Walking through an alley that smells like a schizophrenic homeless woman's underwear to get to said rooftop party is not fun.

14. The attractive, Black, cool, male lawyer is not totally an urban legend. If only I could remember his name...

15. As long as you look busy and type furiously, no one will bother you while you're on your computer at work. Even if you're blogging.

Happy Friday!

S.

P.S.- 16. Three day weekends should be mandatory.

Perhaps I Spoke Too Soon...

...Because I just got offered that job I interviewed for.

Whoop!

Knowing that I'll be able to pay some bills takes a huge weight off my back and definitely put a smile back on my face.

Lord, don't let me mess this up. Also Lord, this might be rather superficial, but please don't let me turn into one of those weird, socially awkward, lawyer types. I'm too cute for all that. Shudder.

S.

Revelations

Last night I dreamt I was in some amazing Old World European country where I had to climb over the roofs of buildings and move this huge block of cement in order to shimmy into this dark cavern that led to the best party I'd ever been to.

Don't be jealous of my imagination.

So, that was pretty cool. But during the dream, I got drunk. Like really, really, rip-roaring drunk. Off whiskey sours. Is it even possible to get that drunk off whiskey sours??? Anywho... I was drunker than I've ever come anywhere close to being in real life (which really wouldn't be that difficult seeing as how I've only ever been drunk like twice in my life). And that would have been cool too, except that when I woke up my first thoughts were getting that drunk sounds like a really good idea. I wish I could get that drunk right now.

That scared me.

Then I went and weighed myself and I had gained an additional 2.5lbs from the 1lb I gained last week, putting me up from my low of 189 back to 192.5 and I didn't even have the capacity to be upset. I just laughed because WHAT THE FUCK. Even though I do yoga regularly and I just ran somewhere near a 12 minute mile (a whole mile! Without stopping!) for the first time, I still gained weight. But I just didn't have it in me to be upset about it.

That concerned me.

And I had this job interview that I think (thought?) went well, so I sent them my references and a writing sample two weeks ago at their request, and then I got a call from the firm on Monday saying that my information had mistakenly not been sent to the hiring partner and he wouldn't have a chance to look at it until Thursday. Which means he probably won't make a decision until next week. Which means my Christmas wish for a job won't come true, and I'll have to return this gorgeous dress I bought (being confident that I would have a job in the near future... that was probably a really dumb move) in order to pay my bills.

Not so much fun.

The other day I decided I needed to stop watching Lifetime/Oxygen/ABC Family Christmas romance movies because they all have happy endings and I'm currently living through a demonstrably non-happy ending, especially in regards to my completely, utterly, not even a little bit existent love life. Same goes for romance books, which if you know me, is basically like me telling you I'm going to start hanging around with rich, White, conservatives for fun. Shit makes no sense. And yet, I'm actually gonna stop. The book I previewed on Amazon last night about vaginas and other gynecological concerns (google pelvic prolapse. Please.) was pretty interesting. So, with all that said...

I think I'm depressed.

S.

A Prayer

Dear God,

Thank you. Thank you for carrying me this far, for knowing my heart, and for accepting me as I am. I have my life, my health, my family, and my friends, and I am so incredibly thankful for it all.

But God, I'm scared.

I feel so... stuck. I have no idea where to go from here. I've done everything expected of me, everything I set out to do, so why do I still feel so unsure of myself? Of my abilities? Of my place in the world? I expected to end this chapter of my life in a completely different space than I'm in right now... nothing's as I thought it would be. What is my purpose? My friends are out to change the world, and I'm just trying to find something I won't hate doing everyday for the next few years. At 25, I thought the world would be my oyster, but instead I'm sitting on my mother's couch, nothing to do, terrified all I have in front of me is a sea of days just like this one and the one before it. I can't think of anything that excites me career-wise, and although I say it in a joking manner, it kills me every time someone asks me what field I'm looking to get into and my response is "one that pays" or "I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up."

Lord, I don't want to joke about that. I want to be able to say confidently and assuredly that I am interested in X, Y, and Z. I've always had a plan, always had a mission, and it kills me every day that I seem to be standing at the precipice of a cliff with no where to go and no way to get there.

So God, this is my prayer.

Lord, please don't let me be afraid to step out on faith. Don't let me be so full of fear and apprehension that I miss out on the signs you put right in front of me. Let me have faith in myself and more faith that you will work things out as they should be. Let me not be afraid to fail. If I fail, Lord let me have the strength to try again. Lord, let me open my heart and my mind to all the opportunities available to me, even if they seem completely out of line with what I've taught myself I should want. Let me not be afraid to try new things, and let my fear be a motivator instead of a hindrance. Lord, help me to remember that my friends want only the best for me, and that I should rejoice in their successes, not take it as a personal affront against my own abilities.

Finally Lord, please help me to remember that everything happens when it is supposed to happen. Help me to remember that good things come to those who wait. Even when I don't understand the timeline, help me to remember that it will be OK, and I am meant to learn something every day of this experience. Lord, please just... help.

Amen.

Fear.

Paralyzing, debilitating, all-encompassing fear.

That's what I've been feeling lately... Lately being subjective, as if I'm honest, I could probably say I've been legitimately feeling it for the greater percentage of my law school career.

It hit me today that my fear (of rejection?) is so complete that it's impacted literally every aspect of my life. It seems like I'm afraid of EVERYTHING, and I hate it. I. Hate. It. I HATE IT.

I don't know when this fear started, or why it's manifesting itself so totally now but I feel like it's taking over my life and if I don't get a hold of it now it's going to spiral out of control and I'll be the crazy cat lady featured on a "Special Episode" of Hoarders who hasn't left her house in 15 years. P.s. That show gives me the ultimate creeps.

I'm so afraid that things won't go the way I want them to that instead I do nothing. Take no chances, strike out on zero limbs... nothing.

This doesn't make sense! I know that I am accomplished. I know that I am successful. I KNOW that I'm going to be damn good at whatever I decide to do once I figure out what that is.

But I'm scared.

So scared that it's taken me over a week to work up the courage to call a successful sports agent my cousin happens to be friends with. Not to ask for a job. Not to "network". To simply ask for advice. How did you get where you are? What do you think about the path I'm taking? Realistically, I KNOW this man is going to be gracious and giving and wonderful, but in crazy Samantha World, I'm going to say something that's going to make him think I'm a complete idiot. And I just can't let that happen.

I'm so scared that I keep putting off sending my resume' out to family friends who have asked for it, because I'm afraid they'll look at it and see my lack of experience and decide there's nothing they can do for me. And I just couldn't handle it if that happened.

I'm so scared that I keep putting off working on my bar application because if I turn it in I have to actually take the test and what if I don't pass??? I don't think I could bounce back from that.

I'm scared of change because it means I have to open myself up to the possibility that things won't go the way I've planned it in my head. So instead, I hold on to the status quo for dear life, even with the knowledge that while it may be my lifeline to keep from drowning, it's also an anchor tethering me to my present, and to mediocrity, and to a life I've never envisioned myself living.

But I'm scared of the life I want. Because that life means new people, and new experiences, and new places, and new opportunities to make a fool of myself. But it also means fun, and excitement, and love, and happiness, and joy, and fulfillment, and growth, and pride. I want that.

I deserve that.

How am I supposed to conquer the world if I can't even conquer my fear?

S.

I Am A Nerd

Let me tell you why.

I don't want to go to class tomorrow. I mean, I REALLY don't want to go to class tomorrow. Not that I particularly hate my classes, I just don't feel like going through the process of learning.

So much effort, not enough payoff.

But there's a 99.98% chance that I'm going to get my behind up out of my marginally comfy bed at 6:45am and go to class tomorrow anyway. And take notes, and listen to my professors, and maybe even participate. Even though I haven't finished my reading, and I'm suffering from the worst PMS ever (TMI?? Eh... no.), and it's currently Student Appreciation Week at school which would be fine if the appreciation wasn't shown through copious amounts of ice cream, cucpcakes, candy, and other delicious sugary goodness I can't partake in. Sidebar- Why does Georgetown always put Student Appreciation Week during Lent? This is a Catholic School! Are they trying to test me as Jesus was tested? Cause if they are, they should know in advance that I'm totally failing that one. You know why? Because I literally feel BAD when I don't go to class. And not the tinge of guilt I assume most people feel when they don't do what they're supposed to do. I legitimately feel bad--racing heart, sweaty palms, butterflies in my stomach, twitchy right eye.

I blame my Mom.

See, when I was little, no one in my house took a day off. The only day my mom wouldn't go to work was on her birthday. That was it. Although, now that I think about it, my brother and I still had to go to school on our birthdays. Moms was a hypocrite!

#Anywaydoe

Like I was saying, everybody went to school and work. Unless you were highly contagious or vomiting, you went to school. And that became so ingrained in my brain that I was unable to turn it off, even when I didn't have my mom looking over my shoulder. When I was in college, I missed exactly 5 classes. Not five days of class, five class sessions. My sophomore year, this guy I had...have??... a huge crush on came up to campus for some reason and essentially needed someone to hang out with for a couple hours. I missed two classes that day, but it was clearly worth it-- even if all we did was sit on the futon and watch reruns. That could have been our moment! It wasn't, but it totally could have been. The other three class periods occurred at the end of my senior year, when I decided it was more prudent for me to work a couple extra hours then listen to my classmates give their final presentations. I think that was a good decision.

In law school, I missed one class my 1L year because of intense back pain that only allowed me to sit in one position without pain, no classes my 2L year, a week my first semester 3L year because I was in Atlanta for work, and one day this semester because I was on a plane back from Puerto Rico. That's it. No skipping class to play in the sun, or take in a baseball game, or catch up on sleep, or pretend to catch up on work.

It's so bad that I literally ask my friends... and my mom... for permission to miss class.

It's truly sad. Very, very, sad.

So with all that said... can I stay home from school tomorrow? Please??

Don't make me sit through class all day tomorrow looking like this.

S.

Quick Weight Watchers Update

Because I'm not generally as emo as I was last night....

Regardless, I want to send a huge smile and patented Sam hug* to everyone who commented and/or contacted me through other social media with kind words or expressions of commonality. Love y'all.

*I give great hugs. Forreals.

Anywho, just wanted to give you guys a quick update on my Weight Watchers journey. As of Wednesday, I've completed 2 full weeks on the program and have lost 8.5 lbs. That's a lot, yes?!? Excited!!

Remember that my initial WW goal was to lose 10lbs, so I fully intend to smash that goal. I'll probably take new pictures after a month on the program, and I can't wait to share my progress with you guys!!

Alright, that's it. I'll try to keep my crazy to a minimum in the future. But no promises.

S.

Self Esteem Issues

I'm lonely.

It's hard for me to admit this, because I know I'm supposed to be young and carefree, and having the time of my life Sex in the City style. But I'm not. I'm lonesome. I like being in a relationship--or at least my idea of an ideal relationship. Not that I've been in anything resembling my idea of an ideal relationship. I've had three boyfriends and never held hands out in public. Something seems wrong with that, doesn't it? Anyway, I digress... I like having someone to call or text just to say hi or have a random stream of consciousness conversation with, or share an inside joke that really shouldn't be funny anymore but for some inexplicable reason still cracks us up. But I don't have that.

Haven't had it for two years.

For two full years 25 months if you want to be specific, I've been utterly single. No boyfriend, no significant other, no "or something" (Q: is that your boyfriend or something? A: yeah... or something) no dates, no hookups (do black people hookup?) no kisses, no cuddles, no... nothing. Just me. And my thoughts. Which is bad, because my thoughts lead me to ugly, self-defeating places I don't like to go. Which is why I'm up right now at 1:03 a.m. writing this instead of sleeping peaceful in my bed.

Sometimes I think I'm "the Ugly Friend".

I'm sure you know how people always joke about there being one unattractive girl in each group of friends; there was even a Twitter trending topic about it a few months back. I find myself trying to take an unbiased look at myself and figure out where I really fall on the scale of attractiveness. Because there's got to be a reason that I haven't even be seriously approached by a guy in the last two years, right? Especially in DC where so many other young women seem to be having the time of their dating lives. So what else could it be? I know I'm tall, and maybe that accounts for some of it--especially in DC where there seems to be a strictly enforced height maximum of 5'10 for all men---but that can't be the determining factor, can it?

So maybe my standards are unrealistic. I mean, I look in the mirror and after critical assessment think that on a scale of 1-10, ten being Halle Berry, I'm a solid seven. I don't think that's giving myself too much credit. I have pretty nice cheekbones. And my smile gets lots of compliments, even if it is slightly gummy. But seven is above average, right? And above average women don't go on two year long dry spells. So maybe I'm not as unbiased as I purport to be. Maybe I'm more like a five. And as such, I should proportionally lower my personal "he's cute enough to give some time to" scale. Because people generally end up with people who are equal on the attractiveness scale, right?

When I was in middle school, there was a girl that all the boys liked. All of them. To this day, she's still just as gorgeous. Anyway, I remember looking at her and thinking to myself, "man, I wonder what's it like to walk into a room and have everyone there wanna get with you". Must be daunting and exhilarating and empowering all at the same time. I'm envious of people who know what that feels like.

Remember when you were in high school, maybe middle school, and you would put on your cutest outfit and cruise the mall or hang out at the movies and get hit on by little knuckleheads whose pants were too big and shirts were too long and wore sweatbands around their wrists because it was cool? And you would give them your number because, why not?

I don't remember that. It never happened to me.

No little knucklehead ever asked for my number at the mall, or the movies, or the Auto Show, or the State Fair.

Maybe that screwed me up and now I'm so unused to dealing with men that even if I am getting hit on or I can't even see it. Wouldn't that be tragic?

Remember when you were in college, and you'd go to the club with your three best girls because you'd just finished finals and you were desperate to blow off steam? And your faaaaaavorite song with the thumping bass would come on and you'd all run to the dance floor en masse because all the guys would be at the bar trying to swindle drinks out the bartender even though they were underage and you just couldn't wait for them? So you and your girls would dance and laugh and before you knew it there was a guy dancing with you, and your friend, and your friend over there?

I was always the girl left dancing by herself, trying to remember why I liked that damn song so much to begin with anyway. But maybe I'm just a bad dancer.

Sooo, yeah. I promise I'm not looking for sympathy or anything like that. But I said this blog was to keep me honest so... this is me. It's my pity party, I'll cry if I want to.

S.