Mad Black Woman

Aside from posting the prologue to my novel, I have not written a blog in almost a year. It is amazing what can change in just one years time. Circumstances can drastically change for the better or for the worst or in my case both better and worst. I had good times, bad times and immensely grievous times. It is because of these tremendously grievous times that I write today for those who are going thru or having went thru tremendous loss. This is to say "You are not alone!"

Just a brief synopsis of my past year entails my mother passing, my fiancee breaking up with me, injured in two car accidents, both my father and sister having operations due to cancer, watching my daughter become more out of control, placing my house in order, receiving many materialistic gifts, separating from my best friend, understanding the value of self and finishing my first novel.

As I said my life has drastically change for both good and bad. Most of the events happened in the last six months making me suffer alone and in silence. I cannot cry because my daughter will not let me, I can not scream or throw things because everyone will think I am crazy and I can not lie in the bed everyday because I have a job and a child to care for. So here I am left just wallowing in the depths of unexpressed anger, consumed in it both consciously and subconciously. It keeps me up most nights, this anger, this festering rage overtaking my soul completely that I have nothing to do but turn cold. Love does not live in my brain any longer, I am devoid of all things that entails for I feel as if it is all a lie.

Before my ex broke up with me, he told me he was angry at the world for he felt cheated. I knew he was directing that statement at me due to certain circumstances that shook the very foundation of our relationship. Before he broke up with me he listed all the things his life was missing because of me and my daughter, anything to justify his abandoning us. He never once thought or cared about sacrifices I made for our relationship, the many times I held my tongue or went without for him and his goals. So he felt cheated, I also felt bamboozled. While I was planning for union, he planned for separation. While I was planning for building, he planned destruction. While I loved, he hated. While I stayed hoping and praying for the best, he took the opportunity to walk away and never look back. Just left without even so much as a goodbye.

This morning I asked God what is the point, everyone I know who do nothing but pray all the time still does with nothing more than barely just enough and the same grief they started with. I asked for healing, no healing; I asked for sustenance, no breakthrough, I ask for success, no prosperity. Yet these individuals and groups, these selfish, self-serving humans rise higher and higher.

He started over with another woman, traded me in for someone younger, more flexible and childless. My mother started over, recycling into a new space to live once again and find happy. My best friend started over with new confidence, snipped away that which makes her feel hidden. My sister and my dad start over no longer bothersome with the threat of a disease so that they may live longer and happier. The two cars that injured me started over, not having to pain one dime for my pain or suffering. Yet for me nothing, absent of all growth, void of all emotions except one: Rage

So why am I enraged? Why? I don't know, maybe because I am mad or sad or afraid. Maybe because when I attempt to assert my voice it falls on deaf ears. Maybe I am selfish, believing I can heal everyones pain when I can't heal my own. Maybe because, as always, I am left alone.

My friends tell me, this rage, this anger is a normal stage of grief and it will pass. Is it? Am I grieving? Will it pass? or Will it continue to fester until I am placed in custody for releasing the anger on some innocent being? I don't want to hurt anyone but will I see the choice if presented. If love is blind, would not anger also be blind leaving you open to hurt without realizing what you have done until after the fact. I think of Betty Broderick, the socialite who killed her husband and his twenty something new wife. Although convicted in the appellate courts, she was first presented with a hung jury. Why were they deadlock? Did the first jury members understand that it is hurtful when someone abandons you without so much of a word. You spend your life with a person for them to tell you what an awful person you are as they exit.

That is what he did, my ex, left without a goodbye; left without a I appreciate you; left without any notice. We were supposed to spend our lives together and he won't answer a simple email. He did not bother to send a card, a floral arrangement nothing to my mom's memorial service. He forgot my daughter's birthday even though she remembered his (and we were broken up).

He will never know how much grief we are going thru over him, not that he cares for he's "doing what's best for him."

That's all we women get, that's all i'm getting from everyone an "i'm doing what I wanna do and I don't care how you feel or how much it might inconvenience you." My mother wanted to die, she told me so herself. My father, sister and best friend wanted to have their surgeries. My child wants to disrespect and mistreat me. So i'm sorry because I am the selfish one, selfish for wanting everything to remain the same, selfish for wanting for everyone to be happy not understanding that may mean happy without me. Maybe that's the real reason I am mad (angry not crazy) for hanging onto that which was never meant to be: Love.

As the New Year quickly approaches, I decided to enter with a new "selfish" attitude. One that will allow my no longer to be hurt or angry. My resolutions: I will not try to control others actions, just let them be; I will not try to heal the world, just myself; I will not love any longer, just be. As I enter into the next 1/3 of my life, I realized that it is not advantageous to carry in the old. No more doormat, patsy or lover. I will just enjoy the people of temporary moment and then pass it by never seeking or wanting or expecting more than that day.

Peace, Love and Bliss

Angelah

In A Dream

Welcome and Thank you for visiting the site! Preview my first novel, I hope you enjoy!

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Prologue

She awoke this morning with the sun slightly kissing her face and her stomach all tied into little knots. Celeste could not believe that today finally had arrived, it seemed to take a lifetime to get to this point. She rose in the luxurious plush bed and gently folded down the 1500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, beneath the poly satin embroidered comforter. If this is Heaven, she thought, I don't ever wanna leave. A faint knock upon the door interrupted Celeste's dreamy thoughts. As she faded into the reality of today, she wiped away the previous night's sleep from her heavy, laden eyes. Not heavy due to girls' gone wild partying, stress, or worrying; but heavy from the sheer happiness of her today and tomorrow.

Celeste rose from her sanctuary, allowing the left shoulder strap of her satin sheer black nightgown to gracefully fall down her arm. She put on her matching robe, slipped into her padded flats and headed to the front door of her suite. A pristine maid entered the suite wearing a finely tailored, linen black and white dress suit, her flesh tone stockings led to perfectly shined, round toed, orthopedic platform shoes.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle." Her mocha hair was twisted in a small coiffure revealing small silver stud earrings, and her immaculately French manicured hands carried a wicker basket filled with spa related toiletries.

"Morning," Celeste responded in astonishment that anyone could be so put together that early in the morning. "I don't recall asking for a service this morning."

The maid gently set her goody basket upon the deep, rich mahogany coffee table and proceeded to the window. As she swung back the golden tapestry curtains to allow the room's full luminous reception of the sun. She turned ever so slightly to answer "We were instructed by management to bring forth a full pampered treatment for your special day."

Returning to the windows in her slow, meticulous and calculating movement she opened the windows allowing the fresh, crisp air to circulate. The maid picked up her basket and proceeded to the powder room to begin the whirlpool bath, filling it with delicious aromatherapy scents of vanilla, lavender and mint.

Forgetting herself, lost in the moment of a foolish gawk at the maid service, Celeste closed the entrance door and leaned against it letting out an exhaling sigh of relief. As she listened to the raging waters gushing into the tub, she wondered who could have possibly arranged this little piece of wonderful. Of course only a select few might be equated to such an extraordinary patronage, especially after last night's festivities. The affair that was held in the hotel's conservatory rang in a tasteful, classy smorgasbord of socialites, debutantes and women's committee heads, wrapped in a catered spread of meatless sandwiches, exotic fruit and herbal teas.

The firm instructions of the "Queen Bee," Mrs. Walker, still permeated Celeste's mind, "Now ladies, we shall not gorge ourselves tonight otherwise an appearance of unsightly blemishes and bulges will arrive upon our bodies." Bitch. Celeste shook her head at the thought of "queen bee's" orders for the participants to conduct themselves in an appropriate and respectful manner at all times. She could not really complain over the function, after all, the gifts received were amazing: state of the art small kitchen appliances, a complete Lenox china set, fine crystal, Wallace silver flatware, items from Tiffany's and Bergdorf Goodman, and a total design package from the country's master interior designer Sharon Crete.

During the course of the evening, the guests made it their mission to dig into Celeste as being a less than adequate choice for initiation into high society. They continued to slew at the necessity of being perfect at all times; perfect body, perfect attire, perfect makeup, perfect demeanor. Perfect Bitches, Celeste thought, Virginia's elite did not concern themselves with love or happiness which was probably why those who were married had trouble and those who were single remained. "Uh uh not me, those uptight heffas ain't getting between me and my groove." Celeste chuckled at how the elite would gasp at her broken English.

Thank God her best friend, Tracey, attended the gala otherwise she would have never survived. She knew the strain the women had placed upon Celeste. After the soiree in the midst of undetected viewing, Tracey snuck over to Celeste's room with a bucket of chicken, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, green beans and Celeste's favorite dessert double chocolate cake straight from KFC. They laughed most the night away at the socialites' expense and by night's end Tracey assured Celeste that she was exactly where she was supposed to be regardless of others thoughts, feelings or comments.

Celeste walked into the suite's bedroom and sat on the bed, completely breathless about embarking on her new life's journey.

The maid quietly emerged from the bathroom "Excuse me mademoiselle, your bath is ready."

Celeste slowly lifted up her head snapping from her trance. She smiled appreciatively, Thank you."

"Is there anything else you need mademoiselle?"

"No. That will be all, merci."

The maid nodded her head and exited the room. Celeste got up from the bed and entered the enormous bathroom. Its combination of vintage detail integrated with innovative technology captured exquisiteness only few hotels could stylishly construct. The marble countertops atop the cherry wood base, stainless faucets showering aqua into frosted glass sink bowls. A pulsating sauna shower emitting therapeutic light, and a freestanding, acrylic whirlpool tub deep enough to cover one's body like a cocoon. Yes this room is definitely amazing, but even more so with low flickering candles and the subtle aroma permeating the air.

Celeste approached the sink to wash her face, splashing cool water to stimulate her senses. She examined the chiseled features upon her face; the high cheekbones, sable eyes, and pouty lips. In her examination of the slightly distorted reflection, Celeste saw another feature, one which was subtle yet illuminating. She viewed an aura, a spirit of happy, no not happy but bliss. That was the only word which could describe her emotion: raw, pure, unadulterated bliss.

Her disbelief at the truth of real love made her think, could this only be a dream? The night gown slowly fell from her finely sculpted body and pooled around her feet unleashing the bondage of confinement. As she slowly stepped into the depths of the hot steamy aroma, the beads of sweat enveloped her body permeating her skin with luscious relaxation. She laid her head against the cushioned pillow, closed her eyes and mentally prepared for her event. Huh an event, Celeste never thought she would refer to this particular day as an "event." Of course she seen them on television, grandiose affairs filled with all kinds of drama filled moments consumed by over-indulged, spoiled brats. Now after a year of preparation, here she is starring in her own reality show, yeah right reality show, at least that how it felt. Since the announcement, there had been an endless barrage of dress designers, printers, decorators, caterers, florists, photographers, videographers, journalists, production crews, and over 500 people all unbeknownst to Celeste. That was the direction her life had turned, social circles, women's clubs, garden parties, OH MY!! Am I really ready for all of this, she thought, sure I am? I can handle it, no problem?

Celeste took a deep, relaxing, meditative breath and redirected her focus on her luxurious bath. Grabbing a loofah sponge from the basket, she squeezed some rose scented bath gel and began the process of buffing and polishing the most intricate, unmentionable parts of her body along with her fears and insecurities. To some the spa experience alone would have been the best moment, but to Celeste her best was about to occur at sunset. Upon finishing her ritual, she gently laid back once more to close her eyes and revel in the quietness and solitude. A feeling Celeste had not experienced in a long while. That feeling that was quickly interrupted by Tracey.

"Celeste," she yelled "Girl where the hell are you?"

Celeste opened her eyes to the Heavens and shook her head, Tracey, that girl will never change. She chuckled at her friend's frankness.

Tracey and Celeste met at a homeless shelter where Celeste volunteered five years ago. She could still remember the first time she saw Tracey coming in all battered and bruised, make up running together, wearing a fiery red bustier, black miniskirt, knee length high-heeled boots and torn flesh colored stockings. Tracey held a scowl on her face and the attitude to match; qualities all which did not faze Celeste in the least bit. She had come across that type before, younger and looking much worst. She could tell at first glance that Tracey could definitely hold her own. He might have won this round but Celeste knew whoever the pimp or John was, she didn't go down without a fight.

Celeste fixed Tracey a plate of food and sat down next to her asking if she wished to report the incident to the proper authorities or just talk. Tracey declined both in non speaking protest, but after a few hours the throes of hunger pains won. Celeste being ever observant brought a fresh plate of food and extended her listening ear. As she heard Tracey's story, she was reminded of her own; absentee parents, trouble with school, finding comfort in the wrong men, just trying to find a place to belong. Celeste not only wept for Tracey but for every woman and girl who feels alone and frightened in a world that rejects them for not being enough: Not enough looks, not enough smarts, not enough money, not enough personality, just not enough.

After several weeks of living at the shelter, Celeste and Tracey became old friends. Within a month's time, Tracey was liberated finding herself steady employment and taking adult education courses to secure her high school equivalency aptitude. Tracey moved into Celeste's home and they had been inseparable ever since. Now five years later, the two kindred souls were getting ready to embark on another journey separately but still together in each other hearts and minds.

"Celeste, girl what are you doin? Don't you know there's a lot to do today…? I mean you are gettin' married."

Celeste raised her head up, "Yes I know Trace, but someone ordered this relaxation for me and I want to enjoy every breathtaking moment."

"I know, that's why I'm kidnapping you now, so get dressed."

"Um I thought you told the concierges to create this in suite spa."

"Are you crazy, first of all I don't know what a concierge is or where it goes. All I know is if we don't bounce soon you won't have it so relaxin."

Celeste rose up from the tub disappointed at leaving her little spa paradise.

"Ew full frontal," Tracey turned her back to Celeste and threw a towel. "Now cover up and hurry up."

"All right all right I'll be out in a minute."

As Celeste was drying off, Tracey went back into the bedroom and frantically searched out clothes for her to wear. She scurried along grabbing shoes, purse and a sundress. Celeste emerged from the powder room tying the belt of her silk bathrobe.

"So where are you kidnapping me to?"

Tracey stopped hurrying to turn and speak in excitement "Girl, we got an all day spa treatment at La Crux, La Crox, you know what the hell I'm talkin 'bout.

"Uh yea, it's La Croix and Trace you know you can't afford that," Celeste stated in a mature, sensible tone.

"Look don't worry 'bout what I can do, I got this, now get your bourgie ass dress." She threw the sundress at Celeste. Another knock came across the door as Tracey's eyes became hardened.

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