Skip to main content

Flawed Measurement of My Strength

Why is my strength determined by how much you put me through?
Did you watch your mom break time and time again only to embrace him once again?
Was that strength to you?
How many times must I cry a river and torpedo inside?
I am vital to you because you cheated, and I took you back.
I am capable of you because I raised our child in lack.
I am stable to you because you deliberately abused me psychologically, and I did not break.
You don’t see the damage as I have learned to pretend well. Maybe my ability to act is a strength.
When will my strength be measured by my success and not my pain?
You don’t understand how many times I wanted to take the easy way out.
How many times I stood over you as you slept, wanting to put your lights out.
How many times I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t say goodbye.
That does not mean I am strong; it is a weakness.
But your mother did it, you say.
When will you admit you despise her?
She distorted your view of all women; you have convinced yourself otherwise because you don’t want to feel that way about your mother but look at how you treat me.
Your actions towards me are a reflection of what you wish you could do to her.
You know she was weak; you are mad at her for staying that long, but the conditioning whispers to walk away is soft, so you call me tenacious because I remain.
Dysfunction is all I know, so I assumed it’s love, I’m not too fond of it here, but I have nowhere else to go.
Why has pain become the ruler to measure a black woman’s strength.
What is strength anyway?
Do tell.
Is strength power?
So why am I not sound because I have acquired and applied knowledge?
Why isn’t my ability to think for myself declared strong?
I am building something to leave my children’s children. Is that not strong?
So, I am only tough when in pieces caused by a man’s hammering, I forgive repeatedly?
Deeply entrenched in our community are perverted views of forgiveness.
The real forgiveness belongs to me for staying.
I am walking away now; strength chooses to heal and leave you with your baggage you won’t unpack.
Strength says no more tearing me down; I choose me.
My strength will not be measure by how much toxicity I can bear before I break.
Strength stands tall and says no more.
I won’t put more on myself than I can bear.

Thank you for reading!
You can find me on Facebook in a private group Unaltered Voices where we take freedom in speech seriously. Hope to see you there.


Popular posts from this blog

Identifying When To Invest In A Life Coach

Some life coaches have experienced trauma, healed and overcame it, and are now helping others. They have become who they need for others. Other times, they have mastered an area of their lives and are now helping others who exhibit gifts in that same area. Your need for a coach will depend on where you lack knowledge or resources to accomplish your goals.   Coaching and consultants are taking the industry by storm. Anything you need, there is someone to help. It is a matter of finding them and making sure they are a good fit. By the end of this article, if you feel you need a coach but not in my area, please email me to help you find who you need.  Life Coaching does for the mind what a personal trainer does for the body. We help with assessing a situation to provide strategies for moving forward. It is a gradual process that allows individuals to dig beneath their thoughts and beliefs to help them understand internal obstacles to their success and wellbeing. Coaches help people ide

#1 Most Scariest Rollercoaster

  As a child, I loved rollercoaster rides. It was the highlight of any vacation with my dad or whomever I went it. They were huge, scary, and got my adrenaline rushing every time. I enjoyed the thrill so much I wanted to take a spin repeatedly. It did not matter if these things had me hanging upside down, entering a dragon’s mouth, taking me underwater, or looped me faster than I can think. I wanted it. Boy, was it fun! Of course, I wouldn’t dare do it alone; I needed company to experience them with me. I wanted them to feel everything I felt; there was no way I needed to be there alone. The scariest ride was not one I experienced on vacation; I was in my hometown. I stood there pondering the outcome if I went there. The longer I thought about it, the deeper I traveled into my thoughts. I no longer had control, I lost myself in it, and at the time, it felt good. I felt empowered going there, although the side effects were dangerous. After I got off the ride and became aware of my surro

The Devaluing of the Single Mother

  Are you aware of the chatter? It’s heard loud and clear; secret thoughts are no longer private anymore. Like a car depreciating as it exits the car lot, single mothers are made to feel this way for giving life. I found that women with husbands are belittling us just as much as men are. Do we do anything right? I use to wonder why there was such a great fear behind being a single mother. Some would have rather died than to be marked with those scarlet letters. Many did not make it because bringing them forth was not an option due to the stigma.   Single mothers are targeted and verbally destroyed. And by all means, don’t be a black single mother, double whammy! Black women experience demonization for having children out of wedlock and for being a black woman. It is not enough that our menstrual is considered a curse; let’s take it a step further and apply that to our existence.   Did you hear about the law passed to wear the hair growing from our scalp freely; then we have to listen