Author: The Unconventional Life

I have been in love with words since a child. I love the imagery one can make with words. This is my first blog and I'm excited about exploring infinite creative possibilities.

TKIT2GOD

by The Unconventional Life, posted in christianity, depression, Faith, Hope, Inspiration, Marriage, mental health, Relationships, Separation, Spirituality

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My friend said my life is like a Tyler Perry movie.  I must say I think he’s right because you can’t even make up the stuff that happens to me. In spite of it all I chose to smile today. I took the dog that my husband walked out on for two walks. I did yard work and some yoga. Most importantly I prayed.

There are a few people in my life that are sticking with me through the craziness.  I love and appreciate them so much! Today’s events were borderline crazy as far as marriage drama. What’s done in the dark always comes to light.

Yesterday the Holy Spirit told me I would see my husband at the library. Today it happened. I must again reflect on God’s love for me even through the pure hell I’m going through I know this love.  My husband doesn’t want me to know his address. I also endured this during the first separation.  I cried for weeks driving up and down streets of multiple cities,  but God kept me. He kept me from completely falling apart.

I watched my husband drive away with my staff through library windows. I’ll spare the Internet the crazy details.  I decided to drive to my office rather than drive up and down streets. I pulled up behind a car with a license plate of TKIT2GOD.  Take it to God. I just began to laugh. God is trying so hard to move me beyond worrying.  I think I’ll just free fall into grace and peace.

I started my day with prayer and exercise. I felt myself coming out of the fog of depression that overshadows me. It changed my day.

There is a song by Kurt Carr called God Kept Me. It’s my testimony. Joy is sometimes so very hard to find, which makes it even more precious.

So I’m here today because he kept me. I’m alive today only because of his grace. God kept me. He kept me. God’s mercy held me close so I wouldn’t let go.

May the joy of the Lord be my strength and yours in abundance.  Amen

Lord If You Had Been Here

by The Unconventional Life, posted in christianity, Faith, Inspiration, Relationships, Separation, Spirituality

March 30, 2015 was the beginning of my second separation. It sent me reeling. It’s May 26, 2015 and I still don’t know exactly why I’m separated.

I was so happy in October to have my husband back. He seemed just as happy as I was. Oddly enough we both realized 30 days into coming back together nothing changed, but it was for different reasons. I was the only one who had spent the time apart to grow into a better person. I had wanted to be a better wife with all my heart. He was the same if not worse. He did not honor our contracts.  He was still secretive and manipulative.  I was trying so hard to not have the same marriage,  but because of his terms and me trying to demonstrate I could follow as a wife I crashed in the same train wreck all over again.

John 11:32 – “Lord if you had been here my brother would not have died.”

This scripture has been swirling in my head for two days. This is Martha’s reaction to the death of her brother Lazarus. This is my reaction to my marriage. Jesus if you had just done something to help me I wouldn’t be separated.

Martha’s response caused Jesus to weep. I’m sure it was her disbelief.  I’m trying so hard to believe in God’s power to perform miracles right now. I spent all of Friday distraught because I could not think of a single person to help me. To say on my behalf that I am a good woman with a kind heart. When my brain can’t produce a solution anxiety kicks in.

As I journaled a prayer this evening I asked God if he had any good plans for me as written in scripture. I’ve suffered so much trying to give love. Most of my life my love has been regarded as nothing. No value to it at all.

I wonder what happened to the man I married. The one who assured me everything would be ok. The one who would email me scriptures. The only one I ever gave full access to myself. I was so comfortable growing into myself with him. I wonder what happened to us. The two who never ran out of words to speak. The two whose love spanned an ocean. The two who found everything in each other
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Jesus if you had only been there my life would not be falling apart. I’d rather be a Mary than a Martha, but it’s really hard. No one understands you when you just can’t seem to find a way to kill the love in your heart for a person who treats you so bad. My heart broke every day he denied having a wife. I kept asking myself what was wrong with me that he should deny me.

Jesus if you had just come sooner his heart would not be consumed in bitterness and mine wouldn’t be shattered.  Where were you when the warning signs were flashing bright red all around me? Where were you while I was trying not to lose myself and love him at the same time. Where were you when he didn’t come home and I had to ask another woman why? Jesus if only you’d come sooner he would honor his vows to love only me.

Cherish your spouse. Let love and forgiveness rule your heart. Do not be consumed with bitterness and deceit. I’ve learned that staying married is extremely hard work.

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Jesus didn’t come into my situation sooner he came later. I recently attended a training class in Los Angeles. I flew from the east coast and he sent a woman from Nigeria to my same class. Only God does things like that. I got to talk to her about my marriage woes and she hugged me and instantly became my sister.  I’ve been needing someone to talk to for weeks. I realized how much God must love me to send a woman from Nigeria to spend time with me. Miracles like that are easy to recognize.  Others not so much.

I’ve decided to once again grow as a person. It seems everyone can see my heart , but my husband. He no longer has spiritual eyes. If he did perhaps we’d be in marriage counseling.  I hope to become a Mary one day, but I know God loves me as a Martha and he will never abandon me.

What Hurts The Most

by The Unconventional Life, posted in depression, Marriage, Separation, Spirituality

It’s been almost two weeks since my first therapy session after the second separation. I scheduled the session because of feeling consuming rage. It was constant and in direct conflict with my yoga practice and spiritual beliefs, which have love at the center of actions. Breaking car windows and spray painting liar/cheater was what I wanted to do. I wanted to set his belongings he left behind on fire in the front yard. My mother kept pleading with me not to do things that would land me in jail. I conceded she was right, but I couldn’t shift the anger out of my spirit with scriptures or asanas.

So there I sat on the couch over looking the lake again wondering how the whole person I had become months earlier was now this shattered being. I remembered what whole felt like; good, peaceful, happy. My present was total despair. Why had my husband even bothered to come back to do the same thing to me all over again?

As I sat sipping ginger tea overlooking the lake my therapist said rage is caused by hurt. He gave me a moment before asking what was causing the hurt. I didn’t have an answer and we agreed to pray about it in the next session.
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Abandonment hurts like hell. Your husband demanding that you remain faithful while he dates and takes late night calls and texts hurts like hell. When you’re called a murderer because you had a miscarriage that hurts like hell. When you’re told that his spiritual mentor has told him something remarkable and it compares you to the stench of a dead, rotten seed that hurts like hell. Every other pastor I come into contact with calls me a gift and daughter of God.

I had asked for quality time and support, small things, and never received them. I really shouldn’t have been blindsided. I was standing right in front of his face when he told her he’d call her back. I was shifting in the bed as he answered the middle of the night IMs . “It’s from Africa,” he said. I watched him iron clothes hours before he was to meet her, but he only took minutes to prepare for our anniversary dinner.

What hurts the most? Shame. Shame hurts like hell. I have two sons watching me go through this. It’s embarrassing to be treated this way in front of them. My entire family knows my husband left again. They are trying to very politely say we told you so. We told you he was just using you. Everything negative, we told you so. “Move on Kathryn. You’re pretty and smart. What is wrong with you?”

I don’t really know. I think the solemnity of vows has something to do with it. I keep apologizing to God for having to break a promise. Promises mean something to me.

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If I were a boy…..songs can really express pieces of feelings you’re trying to connect. I married a manipulator who never takes responsibility for his actions. Colleagues that have taken the time to pray for me ask me why did I tolerate emotional abuse. I don’t know really. I just loved my husband, but he will accuse me of never having done so. Even now as I sit listening to a snoring puppy that he abandoned me with. He will say I added no value to his life, that he wasted nine years.

Everything hurts. A broken marriage, my oldest son’s rebellion, being overworked. I feel like everyone is always demanding something of me, but very seldom do I get anything in return.

I went to church last weekend looking for Jesus. It was a desperate search. Even if he didn’t say anything profound I just needed to know he hadn’t abandoned me too since I had sacrificed our relationship trying to be one with my husband. There is a reason to heed the warning of being unequally yoked. You eventually lose yourself and your identity. But God. He did have a word for me through his prophets that evening. It was not what I expected.

Isaiah 61:1-3 is my hope right now. God gives beauty for ashes and the oil of joy for mourning. May he comfort all those who weep from broken hearts.
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When All You Have Is Belief

by The Unconventional Life, posted in Faith, Hope, Inspiration, Spirituality, youth

Faith. I think the biblical definition is the substance of things hoped for even if you don’t know how those things will come about. Faith has been one of the hardest struggles of my relationship walk.
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I am fiercely independent and self-reliant. I’ve had to be that way most of my life. Long-term behavioral patterns are very hard to break. That was one reason I chose to stay in therapy over a year during my separation. The day I could look in the mirror and declare myself a whole person whom I liked was amazing. I credit that to me finding peace and joy in some very intense prophetic sessions. People don’t give prophets enough credit they’d rather seek out psychics. I know because this is my spiritual gift. I used to hate it, but I’ve learned to embrace it.

Huge irony that this would be my gift due to my serious struggle with faith. I do pray about my concerns, but often declare God is taking too long to fix things. I tend to roll up my sleeves and try to fix the problem eventually. Most times if not always I make it worse. Then you have to take the same spiritual test over and over due to a failing grade. That’s what happens when God needs you to grow as a person. You find yourself in different situations facing the same personal growth issues. If you’re determined to grow you eventually pass and move on to the next thing.

Six days ago I launched an Indiegogo campaign to raise money for kids in the public housing communities in which I work. This was insane on my part. My team is slammed. The three of us work like an army. Every day I have the responsibility of hundreds of lives resting on my shoulders. At times it’s overwhelming, but I know my job is more of a spiritual assignment.

Many call themselves Christians I guess for the hell of it or because they were born into the faith. It’s not a lifestyle. Yes their faith is kept inside the confines of the church structures. What about helping the poor? Loving the abandoned? Giving hope to those that have very little reason to hope?

For the past few months I’ve watched luxury cars with out of state tags drive in and out of the community I work in. I myself drove up on a drug deal about to go down in front of lots of children playing. I blocked the addict in his parking space by pretending to be meeting with my staff. My heart broke for him. I knew he needed those drugs and it had my stomach in knots. I would likely save all the broken people on the planet if I could. I looked at each child in sadness. This dysfunctional environment is their norm.

In January my seventh grader won a statewide essay contest sponsored by the Virginia Municipal League. I was his editor and I was so proud. The essay reflected on lack of activities for youth and the problems this causes. Na’Seem had too much on his mind to be 12 and it brought everyone to tears during the awards ceremony. It created in some an even greater determination to bring about change.

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Na'Seem with Governor Terry McAuliffe and Mayor Brenda Pelham

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Na'Seem and I at the VML ceremony

And then several of us jumped off the cliff and launched our fundraising campaign. $30,000 in 30 days. Guess whose bright idea it was lol. I think by Wednesday I was questioning why everyone had allowed me to talk them into this. Panic was setting in. You may have read about my struggle with anxiety. Side effect of being a reformed control freak. But seriously how do I raise this much money in a month?
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I found myself unable to sleep one night so I began to pray, then plead, then cry and so on and so forth. Jesus what have I done? I have created an impossible situation, but with good intentions, because you placed me in an environment filled with poverty, lack of education and those depressing statistics Jennifer is always quoting. I can’t raise 30 in 30! I’m so glad I know I’m loved. It caused a shift.

I ignored logic and decided to have insane faith for the first time ever. “God you are not broke. You can do what I can’t and for some reason I’m crazy enough to believe in you right now. Jesus please make it rain.” Yes I used rap lyrics don’t judge my Gen X prayers. One week down and we’ve raised one percent of our goal.

Perhaps raising the money for my youth programs will not be my greatest blessing in all of this. Maybe I finally stumbled across the one needed mustard seed that will move me along on my journey. I will give this campaign all I have, but I also have enough faith in God to know that any miracle will not be the result of my work. I gave this to him in the middle of the night and I haven’t backed out of the deal. Proud moment! It’s not about me, but all about his glory.

To donate visit http://igg.me/at/HopewellStory/x. Miracles happen through ordinary acts of every day people.

Closing the book

by The Unconventional Life, posted in Uncategorized

chanyado's avatarchanyado

You get married and you think this is the man you will spend the rest of your life with.

Then life happens.

You separate, and for the next three years you don’t see him. You don’t hear his voice. The soft lilt in his Rs. You don’t see him ruffled up in the morning before he puts on his armour to face the world. You don’t smell him in the corridor before you leave the house. You don’t see his name pop up on your phone. You don’t know what song he belts out as he drives with the window down and Bluetooth earpiece on. You don’t know what person he thinks is a complete muppet. You don’t hear the word muppet anymore. You never have to put the toilet seat down.

You begin to wonder if you dreamed the whole thing up.

The waves now wash over you once every…

View original post 1,135 more words

My Grown Up Sorrows

by The Unconventional Life, posted in christianity, depression, Inspiration, Relationships, Spirituality

 

See what this sorrow—the sorrow God wanted you to have—has done to you: It has made you very serious. It made you want to restore yourselves. – 2 Corinthians 7:11

I can’t remember the last time I tried to form sentences to compose a blog. My job has been like an all consuming inferno. It feels like I’m battling a wildfire with a single hose sometimes. In addition families have assigned roles and responsibilities.

For about the last month or so it has been tense and stressful. I felt like
I had no place to rest other than the yoga studio. It was very challenging to feel this way and have no one notice that I was struggling so much. I literally had a brief meltdown at a stop light. It’s not cool to do this because other drivers are likely to notice. I was simply overwhelmed with the thought of having to give everyone in my life too much of myself and when I compared what I was getting in return it just shattered something in me.

Givers are often taken advantage of. Givers neglect themselves because someone will always need something. I can easily find myself existing on fumes because not only am I a giver, but I am an introvert. Introverts need time to themselves to replenish what they give out. Not taking this time leads to very serious problems. I know better, but there was no time for me or my needs. There was no time for prayer or worship. No time for exercise or yoga. Do you know exercise can have drastic positive effects for depression? I do. That was my 2013 – 2014 truth. My biggest sorrow though is extreme business causes me to neglect my relationship with God.

It’s not that he forgets about me. I’m the one who generally neglects the relationship. Then I freak out if I can’t hear his voice. I don’t know about me sometimes.

Marriage got a little hard, but we navigated out of choppy waters. I’m beginning to wonder if we just need occasional drama. Possible side effect of dysfunction as a normality.

I had to do something cause sleeping on couch rotations get old quick. I had to restore my own vessel rather than remaining empty. I had to go crawling back to God with one more I’m sorry I haven’t spoken to you in weeks please help me speeches. It’s likely not my last so don’t judge me. As I began to sing in worship I felt God hold my hands. It had been awhile and I just began to weep because he never forgets about me. I took a few minutes to pray. I did yoga and a workout. I found a way to balance my scales.

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On my all about me day

This is a serious battle for me, but I must win. My well being depends on this victory. I can’t give to others if I myself am empty.

Today is my birthday and I spent most of it in quiet reflection.

I stumbled across a really cool quote that resonated with me. The people in my life are not likely to change, but I can change myself. I can find greatness in my every day life. Isn’t that what makes it unconventional? Be good to yourselves always. There is only one you.

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Welcome to Baga

by The Unconventional Life, posted in Uncategorized

Pray for Nigeria. My husband thinks civil war will break out soon. I hope he’s wrong.

Olamide Oti-Akappo's avatar

Welcome to Baga
where nightmares live
and dreams go to die
I had heard the men talk in low tones about what they did to Chibok
and how the nation stood still for a day and moved on

Mama never thought they would come
we have soldiers here, she would brag
oh but you see, they did
last night while men slept, they crept in on us 
plundered our lands and set our homes on fire

It burned so beautifully that it reminded me of the fireworks last Christmas 
mama and papa were taken away in that van
perhaps they will be back tomorrow 

my shoes were left behind
the ones mama bought me for school
but my life is worth more
and so I ran through the forest until I came to a temporary place of solace
where a million other children dwelt

Every night since Baga
I wake…

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Me Complaining? No way!

by The Unconventional Life, posted in Marriage, Relationships, Spirituality

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I would like to introduce you to my dog Bruno. This is the cute little face my husband came up the steps with when he returned in October.

The back story is that everyone had wanted a pet for the last four years, but no consensus had been reached. I being the only source of estrogen in the house wanted a small dog or an independent cat who required little care. My three men as I call them wanted a large dog, a pit bull. So we argued and argued and I ended each argument by putting my foot down with a vehement no.

And then there was Bruno, a pit/lab mix. This was my husband’s way of saying I am the man, head of household, running the show up in here up in here spouse. This is our new order. He of course will never admit this lol. I took the cute little puppy and gave the hubby my list of I will nots.

Slowly but surely my husband slacked on his puppy duties. Bruno was not house trained and that was my first I will not. Hubby got tired of constant clean up and protested. “Y’all play with the dog, but you won’t help me clean up after him. That’s not right.” I am now realizing my Nigerian husband is using southern terms like y’all, which is very amusing. He also argues like an African. This can mean very long debates. He finds these amusing as we suffer through them and we all begin to yell like banshees  just to drown him out.

He said to me on a Friday night, you get to sleep in on Saturday while I have to go to work. Screech, back up! What? I informed him that he had single handedly taken away all my sleeping in by deciding to get a dog all by himself. The extra responsibility was too much. That I had no me time cause even the dog looks to me for food when I get home and that because of his male ego he had altered my life without my permission. Did I mention you don’t accuse a proud African of having ego issues? Yeah definitely not supposed to do that. He took Bruno to go sleep on the couch, which was not nice because they are my source of warmth at night lol.  He texts me from the basement he had put my puppy up for adoption on Craigslist.

Exclusive ownership of Bruno can shift depending on the situation. Since we weren’t sure of Bruno’s fate, I packed a back pack with snacks for both of us and rolled out. Dogs on hikes can’t be adopted.. We sat by a beautiful lake, ate our snacks and made our way home.

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I came in my room to pray. Arguing over stupid stuff was becoming annoying. Of course I was pointing the finger at the husband who had accused me of complaining too much. I was like Jesus does he know my struggle? I’m tired, always on, cleaning, cooking…… I am American! I have a job too! As I flipped through my normal chapters for encouraging words I found none. Isaiah,  psalms, proverbs…..nothing. So I started reading chapters you never hear about Jude, Philemon….nothing. Let me show you where I end up.

Philippians 2:14 – Do everything without complaining or arguing.

I exhaled. Why was I in trouble? Is this seriously the verse you want me to focus on? I was not the only one guilty. I took another breath and accepted the correction.  My actions had not been the greatest. I shifted my focus.

The greatest gift to a relationship is to focus on improving yourself. You can’t force the other to change, they have to want change. I shifted my focus to being grateful. My list of to dos has not gotten shorter, but that is no longer my focus. Arguing over stupid stuff caused a separation and the worst year. A year we can’t get back. As I went through that struggle I decided I wanted to change me. I wanted others to be happy to be in my life.

As I sit typing this blog my husband is washing my car for me. He fixes anything that is broken. We all have food and shelter. We are a family. There is laughter, peace and love flowing through my home. There used to be so much strife. We have a family pet who loves walks, runs and hikes.

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Nope I won’t complain.

If I Had Wishes For Falling Stars

by The Unconventional Life, posted in christianity, Faith, Hope, Inspiration, Relationships, Spirituality, Yoga

Jude 1:2 – Mercy, peace and love be yours in abundance.

I am the color of peanut butter. Native, African and European collided to make me. Sometimes I feel as if I don’t belong to any particular people group. White doesn’t claim me. Black says I’m not black enough. Native doesn’t know me and refuses to historically accept me and those like me in some tribes. What is my identity?

My husband very proudly declares he is African. He is in love with his blackness. He looks at me and shrugs lol. He along with everyone else in my family thinks I’m not black enough. If one more person asks if we’re having black food for Thanksgiving we will be in a drive through! Is it too much to ask that my gourmet palette be indulged for one day?

My life experience has been very different. Black girls hated me growing up and I could never understand why. I just wanted friends. The white girls took me in and were my best friends. They taught me about shaving legs and wearing eyeliner in elementary school. My mother hit the roof. Her black child was not supposed to do those things! I snuck and did both and my sister made sure to sing like a canary. I belonged to a group so I didn’t care and I very proudly lifted up my aqua net bangs with my friends. She messed up my census paperwork anyways. I was supposed to be an other lol.

Middle and high school were different. Leaving West Virginia for Northern Virginia was culture shock indeed. There was such diversity! It was awesome! I am the color of peanut butter and I sounded like a country hick/redneck. Black kids demanded I be quiet or go back to wherever there were people with my accent. My sister tried to work with me for days. I will never know how she mastered the accent of the hood that we’d never been to. Exasperated she gave up and begged me to say I was adopted. No one wanted me to answer the phone, it confused whoever was calling. I sang John Denver’s Country Roads every single day. Ahh sweet childhood memories. Luckily the asian, white and hispanic kids were ready to befriend me. I was in honors, you only needed to be intelligent. I also landed two black friends.
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So this is the back story to what exactly? A grand jury verdict I suppose. I don’t know how to feel due to my life experience. Should I be enraged, mournful or anxious? I keep asking my husband if perhaps we should try Canada? He’s enraged. I’m thoughtful. Last night we were watching his black history DVDs followed by a sermon in a black church by a black man. “Kathryn you hear that,” he asks. I reply yes. I want to understand a black man’s experience in America, but is that even possible?

Five days a week I am surrounded by black children because I work in public housing. My sons are black teenagers. At times I am concerned about their existence in this country.

I asked God to show me something after my yoga class on Sunday and we made a few stops, but this verse in Jude stuck with me. It is the focus of my yoga practice. Yoga has no color. I belong to a people group again. The instagram yoga community is amazing! I find more of myself with each pose. I do headstand when I am overwhelmed. I call it changing my perspective. I have been balanced on my head quite a lot for months. My husband thinks I’m crazy, but last night he was balanced on his head as well. He keeps asking me why I spend so much time on my head and in yoga poses. I always give the same response. “I’m looking for Jesus. We meet on my yoga mat.” I then listen to very long speeches on mixing religions. He doesn’t realize I left religion for relationship a long time ago. People do evil things behind religion. I just want to emulate the heart of God.

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So if I had wishes for falling stars. I would wish all human life mattered not it’s origin. I would wish that none of the public housing children would fall into doomed generational statistics. That children sold into sex trafficking would be set free and their souls healed. That child soldiers would lay down weapons for toys. That young girls would not have to be mutilated or become child brides. That diversity would be appreciated. That the heart of yoga would flow through more people. That my son would pull his damn pants up! That I would be accepted for myself because peanut butter is freaking awesome! Above all I pray that mercy, peace and love be your covering.
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Namaste.

Prodigal Challenges

by The Unconventional Life, posted in christianity, Faith, Inspiration, mental health, parenting, Relationships, Spirituality

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I was groggy when I dropped my son off this morning at the jail to begin his community service. I drove like a bat out of hell trying to get him there by 7:45. I am sick and tired literally.

I watched strange youth line up. So many of them. I just sat for a moment as I tried to absorb statistics against a grey sky accompanied by a brisk wind. My son didn’t wear a coat like the others. He wasn’t prepared. Neither was I. I haven’t quite figured out how to cope  with this set of circumstances.

I have retraced all my motherhood steps. I have yet to find the misstep. I have asked my son multiple times to help me, but he simply says, “You were a good mom.”

Hours later he calls and says he is not being released. The spin of the tornado begins again. I lose it because I am sick and I just want to rest. I don’t want to have to deal with a rebellious son entangled in the criminal justice system. “I’m sick of your fucking lifestyle. If you had better friends I wouldn’t be dealing with this shit.” He hangs up. He calls back. I am still in an exasperated panic. I shut him down with anger. Epic fail again.

I call my mom who joins me in the whipping winds of an unwanted emergency. The unpaid court fines do not belong to us, but once again we absorb another burden. My mother insists we can’t give up on him.

“Jesus this isn’t fair. You didn’t ask me if I wanted to experience this. I would have vehemently said no thank you.” I think about the emotional and financial drain this puts on me. I simply don’t feel like it.

I am baffled by the disappearance of my son. It’s hard to hold eye contact with who he is. My shoulders slump in disappointment. My eyes are tired from crying. It’s hard to focus.

After repenting for cussing like a sailor, I can only pray for mercy. I don’t understand why this is happening. I paused almost my entire adulthood to raise my sons. I went to churches and parks instead of clubs. I tried so hard, which makes feeling like a failure even worse.

My husband reads the parable of the prodigal son very loudly. He asks if I understand that I can’t love my son more than God does. I nod yes. He asks why am I crying when God is at peace. I just stare blankly at him. “You see Kathryn, God will use whatever circumstance that is necessary to draw us to him. You still do not understand his love,” he says. The tension between us is now gone.

My son is an unknown number to me for the next several days. I named him Christian so that he would know to whom he belonged. No judicial system can ever erase or replace that.