Yes, I know, I said I was finished blogging for Babz. But I need(ed) to blog about Babz. My sister thinks I am very smart and extremely talented…which is true. I’m not boasting, but I’ve long since acknowledged my talents and strengths, and am the first to identify my challenges (read weaknesses to others). However, I recognize my source of strength, or rather the foundation by which my talents and intellect were born and nurtured. My mother, brothers, sister, 6th grade teacher and my father have had the most significant impact on my life. I included my father, because the level of brutality, mean-spiritedness, and abusive behavior forms the crux of how I interact with men specifically, and people in general.
Anyway…. my sister was one of my heroes before I knew what that really meant. I couldn’t verbalize her significance in my pubescence, but began to clearly understand her impact when I reached high-school. With college, I could appreciate what having Babz for a sister was worth, and by the time I moved to NJ, knew that we were not just great sisters, but she is a best friend. Now, I don’t use the word friend lightly. I only have a few, and four of them I’ve already mentioned. My rule is, if I have more friends than fingers, I’ve got too many friends. Not that I don’t care about people, and I want them to care about me. But, I only have a few people that I know will go to battle w/ me no questions asked, or if they do ask, they ask the questions that matter, not what did I do, but what do I need now.
My Mom taught me what unconditional love looks like, feels like. If I don’t feel that, you can’t be my friend. I know some will say that’s harsh, but I don’t take friendship lightly. If you’re my friend, it’s for life. I didn’t get to choose my brothers and sister, aunts or uncles. But, I do/did get to choose my posse, my ride or die partners, my I-got-your-back-no-matter-what crew. Enough said about friendship. Now, Babz has had this episode that I think has shaken her to her core and made her doubt her capabilities. I post this for all to see. Babz is not a survivor, she is a warrior. We are warriors. Survivors… survive. Warriors survive and conquer. So, let’s kick some ass Babz. Yes, my cage has been rattled, and I want Babz and whoever else reads this blog to know this: this episode was one moment in time, one episode in the life of Babz. An anomaly. The good times are coming back around. But, I want my sister to know I love her, I adore her. I know you.
Babz, I’m sorry your marriage is ending. But it is. Let’s keep it moving. To Babz’ husband if he’s reading: too bad for you. I don’t wish you any ill will, but too bad for you. I’m sorry for the kids. I’m really pissed that the concerns you had for your marriage weren’t important enough for you to check that shit before now, before the marriage, before the kids were adopted, before the house. I have said to Babz frequently, you set the bar to high for him and now you’re tripping, not him, over the bar. So, in closing, Babz, I’ve got your back. I think you can save the house, reinvent yourself, and make six figures. Yes, I believe, because I know you. Fuck the husband, the media, and the naysayers. They don’t exist in my world and they shouldn’t exist in yours. Because at the end of the day (my favorite saying), it’s only about you…Babz. Be who you are, better yet, be the woman you want to be.
Warriors, come out and play…...