‘Brown Sugar’ and Heartbreak

I hate associating music to irrational decisions. Even worse? People.

Image for post
Image for post
“Lady” will get played at my wedding though.

I can’t listen to D’Angelo without thinking about the most tumultuous five or so years of my life. It brings me back to when I forgot way before I could even fathom forgiving. Had me out here looking foolish, wondering if I could make rational decisions not only about relationships but life.

I had a moment to reflect when “Me and Those Dreamin’ Eyes of Mine” came blasting through my speakers. It’s a favorite but it instantly takes me to a place where being passive became super dangerous to my emotions.

He can now say that he treated me like “trash”. It took me a smooth five years to get to a place to admit that. Trash can’t be redeemed, right?

Right?

I think there is a fighting chance for light at the end of the tunnel. I’m not who I used to be. This girl gives a damn about herself now. But I think I’m trying to save something that will ultimately fight me off. Christians have this saving complex, I swear.

I just get triggered now. Songs trigger me. Pictures trigger me. I trigger myself. I talk about our past so much that I walk right back into the mist, only to get lost. By choice. And pleased to do so. Sadly.

I’m asking God to give me discernment. To help me better understand the world I’m walking to and the decisions I’m set to make. I’m not asking for God to allow me to be more clairvoyant. I just want my chest to get hot more often when things don’t feel right.

The temperature inside my chest hasn’t risen since I said that we should try to fix this.

He felt my pain. I call that “fixed”.

But I feel like I’m the only person trying to get this right. I also feel like not wasting time. Because you can’t turn back time. What’s done is done.

What has been done resides in the music of an artist that I paid no attention to until this person told me too. The crazy things we do for attention, acceptance and value. And fear. Or rejection. Publicly.

And as I grew to love it, I grew to hate what it represents. A pain still taking its time to shake off of me. A relationship never existing. A pregnancy that almost happened.

I finally opened up to him about that. Never thought I would.

I call that fixed. But for what?

This is part of my attempt to write every day in July. You can follow the series here.

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store