Soooo… I’ve never seen Being Mary Jane. At all.
I am in tears. My eyes started welling up at the end of the very first episode.
I’m so sick of men… Seriously.
I have had the craziest week. I have so many stories I can’t even begin the process of the act of writing them down.
I’m sitting here trying to figure out why I started crying and I think it’s that I know how she feels. I know that feeling of wanting something so much and feeling happy about it only to find out you were so damn wrong about the situation you’ve invested all this time and energy in… It’s heartbreaking. And you don’t immediately heal or deal JUST because you are a strong black woman. Or smart. Or capable. Or sane. My potential and capacity for a true and loving relationship is so warped due to this cracked, faded and broken heart.
Why is this so hard? Why? Love is not supposed to be hard. I know this. I’ve never really witnessed it, but I know it. I can’t count how many times I’ve been Mary Jane. Caught up in a whirlwind of laughter and ease and good sex and pillow talk and comfort… For days or weeks or months at a time. Then one day, it dissipates, vanishes. And all the assurances you give yourself, all the things you do to build yourself up to believe that finally, this time, this man, this love, will be the one… It all comes crashing down. Our hearts and psyches are not built for this. The continuous rise and fall of these relationships create such a dysfunctional framework for this shaky, fragile foundation.
My tears are not solely for this fictitious Mary Jane.
I am crying for the “Mary Jane” in me as well.