Are You Tired Of People Trying You

I decided to write this piece after a nap, because the topic exhausted me. Quite frankly my entire weekend exhausted me, and it was the inspiration for this exhausting piece.

I have a question:

Are you tired of mfs trying you?

I know I am

More importantly I am tired of the aftermath.. going over what I could have and should have said in my head, and wondering why they chose me specifically to fuck with in the first place.

It all started when I went to New York on a trip my ass had no business taking. I went to see my good friend off as she is moving to California to completely kick ass with her new brand! Now the party itself was fun, New York is a scene, I met a friend’s boyfriend and gave my unsolicited approval, my outfit was cute, and I only managed to spend $18.00 at a closed bar event and still got lit. The only low point of the night was my drunk friend that I hadn’t  seen in a while blowing me off while I was talking to her about my writing work. Which as you all know is like my baby, it was literally like she ignored my newborn baby, resting in her imaginary carseat, in my make believe 2020 BMW SUV. Yes, I am dramatic and 1000% serious. Other than that run-in the night was an even 8 out of 10.

However

I was so fucking tired. I had worked on a major project the week before. I was running on like 4 hours of sleep, half a burrito bowl,  and had used so much of my energy during the week I probably would have benefited from a quiet night at home. Did I mention my peri- you know what, men read this blog, let me move on.

But the night was going to consist of being around my friends and partying.. and if you know me, you I’m down to ride for a homicide. So I was with the shits, when my friend called to invite me. It wasn’t until we were driving down i95 that I found out the plan was to spend the next  day in New York City all day. I had packed linen pants and a pair of uggs, and realized I was dressed for a car ride home, which evidently turned into a train ride home. Had I known that from the beginning, I would have probably stayed home or I would have at least packed a cute brunch outfit. So as I stood in Penn Station the next morning, waiting for my train to arrive I looked forward to relaxing and going to sleep.

And then my phone rang..

It had been a new friend I had been getting to know. He was checking in to see how I was doing. I enjoyed our communication, he was really intelligent, and seemed spiritually guided. He was driven and personable, also it didn’t hurt that he was ridiculously attractive. So when he called originally, it was a pleasant surprise. I didn’t mind talking to him for the first hour of the train ride. It wasn’t until we hung up that things got…weird.

We began talking about relationships, and attractions, a bunch of shit that is irrelevant to this story, because contrary to popular belief, I am not venting about niggas this week. At one point though we began talking about homosexuality.

As most of you may know I consider myself a fluid woman. I have dated and slept with both women and men. I am open to the idea of spending the rest of my life with either gender. I am an ally and consider myself a part of the LGBTQIA community. I was raised by a semiconservative father who accepts me for me, and most of my older family though they may say some wild ignorant shit at times, are kind people. I was taught it is more important to have good character than who you choose to lay in bed with at night. Also to be clear whether my family accepted who I am or not…I’m still going to be Ivana Estelle Thornton THE ONE AND ONLY BABY (actually there is another Ivana Estelle out there, she’s a rapper/singer look her up  if you want. I’m not giving free promo till she gives free promo)

So when the topic with this young man made its way to homosexuality and dating, I made sure to state clearly who I date, again. We had glossed over it before, and I knew from all accounts he didn’t agree. It wasn’t until that day that he clearly let me know how he felt. He was against it, and believed he was in my life to help “cleanse” me and make me a “woman of God.” I am not going to get into details because this isn’t my version of a diss track. I knew while reading those messages a few things: I knew I was tired, I knew I had a choice in not responding and going to sleep, and I also knew he had me all the way fucked up. I was not going to accept any form of bigotry, and try as I might, ignoring it in my opinion meant I was allowing this person to disrespect me, my late uncle, my best friend, and many others. I also wretched at the fact that he made the assumption that my relationship with God was flawed due to my sexuality.

Because sexuality ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is a human construct. Humans came up with the idea that God doesn’t accept homosexuality…because humans were the ones to create a label for homosexuality. You think penguins go around calling each other gay? You think seahorses who’s genetialia can change when pregnant, call each other trans?

Fuck no.

We made up this nut ass concept and have used it to segregate, and differentiate people for years. “WelL Ivana if wE aCcEPT ThAT wE aCCepT AnyThiNG. WhAt AbOuT PedophIliA?” There is no comparison. Also, call it what you want, someone well over 18 being attracted to someone well under 18 is sick. Your brain doesn’t even fully develop until you’re 25, so fuck is a 25 year old doing with a 14/15 year old? Argue with your damaged aunt.

I was fuming and I actually took the time to ask “what would Jesus do?” I knew the answer wasn’t Knuck if you Buck, it most likely would be forgive and let go. But my ego needed to let him have it in the most poetic way possible. So I simply told him he was entitled to his opinion, however everything he said was insulting and false, he in no way was sent to my life to “cleanse” me, and last but not least he was full of shit.

Full of shit.

Full of shit.

Full of shit.

The last portion of my paragraph was not necessary. See I could have taken that moment to say I thought he was homophobic and had no interest in communicating further, but I chose to make my last line sting, which quite frankly made me no better than him. The only difference is he really believed what he said to me. Just as I really believed it was a crock of shit. I didn’t need to add that though.

I called my best friend who is trans, and was full of outrage, I wanted them to back me up, and instead they said to me “you know, people are going to say and believe what they want, you can’t let that dictate your response or who you are.” I thought about my uncle who grew up in the deep south of Mississippi to a police father, and what he must have had to endure and ignore during that era, between racism and homophobia. If they could keep their composure, I could too. I could defend them and myself without allowing a person see me snap. I should have, because I could have used it as a teachable moment, instead of leaving someone I plan to never associate with again, with a bad taste in his mouth. I mean, if he didn’t like the gays before, he probably hates us now.

The entire day I had our interaction in my head. I reveled in replaying it. Isn’t it funny how we do that? We go over an argument we had and it goes from what we didn’t say, to what we should have said.

I thought about how I could have conducted myself better, what portion of my words were strength and what portion was ego? Even if both had a point, only one needed to be executed. It didn’t help that after a healthy dose of homophobia, I argued with this white man on the train because he was being extremely loud on the phone. Honestly in that instance, I knew when to stop responding, and his ass knew when to hang the phone up and sit quietly for the rest of the ride.

But I mean that’s masculine toxicity, homophobia and white misogyny all  in one 3 hour train ride. I was exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

But since the only white man that crosses my mind on a daily basis is Shia LeBouf, for obvious positive reasons, the second interaction didn’t bother me nearly as much as the first one did.

I thought about that Gabrielle Union quote she said in an interview while reminiscing about an interaction with  her therapist. They were addressing things Gabrielle had said about another actress over the years, and her therapist said “after you said those things did your life get better? Did you feel better? Did you get the guy, or the job? Did you gain the success you longed for?” Probably not.

I think these are questions we need to address when we are responding to someone who says or does something we don’t like. We need to accurately address the space we are in before we respond. In my case I was tired and ready to be home in my apartment. My patience was already thin, and this person was giving their God’s honest opinion, no pun intended. Don’t get me wrong, I was proud of what I said and I was happy with my delivery. But in hindsight I could have accepted what he said, and felt secure in knowing his words don’t define who I am, or my relationship with God, nor should I feel the need to defend it against someone who I had lost all respect for in the first place.

When someone try’s you, when they test your patience, when they attentively or inadvertently make you feel small, think about how you will feel in a few hours. More times than none, if you are all but disgusted with their presence, you don’t need to give them any energy. Like Michelle Obama once said “when they go low, we go high.” Does Barack address every tacky thing Donald Trump says? Absolutely not, and it’s pretty objectively clear who the better person is.

I always tell my girlfriends who want to curse someone out “how is it going to make you feel a few hours later?” if nothing else ask yourself that before you respond. Make sure you are at peace with the outcome. Whether that means they curse you out, or they don’t respond at all. Normally for me its regret with the way I conducted myself, could I have said more? Did I say too much? In this moment I was kicking myself for not just letting it the fuck go.

After all is said and done, you need to let things go. You can’t let them control your mood or happiness for hours on end. Pick and choose your battles and how you want to address them. Only give things energy that truly impact your life, and will grow you for the better. If you follow those guidelines you’ll find yourself sifting through a lot less unnecessary addressable shit.

Abraham Hicks, a spiritual guide has a trick that can be used to help you let things go. It is called the 16&38 second method. First you address the problem, whatever is on your mind, you can say it out loud or in your head. Make sure you address the entire issue, even if parts in hindsight sound silly.  Then, you take 2 long breaths, 3 seconds breathing in and 5 seconds breathing out. Remember to do it twice and count the seconds. Then you take 3-5 breaths using the same practice, and once again you count the seconds. When you’re finished focus on the idea that you used your time breathing to truly let go. There were 16-38 seconds where this issue, whatever it is, did not control your mind and thoughts. The point of this exercise is to remind you, that thoughts, and certain experiences are not supposed to control you. They shouldn’t devour your mind, especially if they are harmful. If you can take time to focus on your breathing, you can find more time to focus on yourself, and that problem that seemed like such a huge monster, isn’t so frightening anymore.

So my advice this week, is to address what’s bothering you in a light that you’re proud of, that you wouldn’t be embarrassed if it were told to someone else, regardless of the narrative or narrator. Pick and choose what’s going to get your energy.

And if you are tired.

Take a mf’n nap.