I ♥ U

3 words.
8 letters.
A world of meaning.
The beginning.
The end.

A lot of things in the real world confuse me (this is the real origin of my dizzydami  pseudonym, btw). Lately, I have been thinking about the big deal everyone makes about saying "I love you". There's so much protocol attached, in my opinion, to something that should be one of the easiest things in the world to do...

Who says it first?
How soon can you say it?
Who can you say it to?
Should you say it back?
What if they don't say it back?
How should you act after you say it?
Like I said, protocol(s)

Yesterday, I picked a couple of random friends and told them in very simple words, I Love You. The reactions ranged from nervous, awkward acceptance to dismissal to disbelief to shock to serious conversations and grave declarations of undying love. To some, I had to explain and issue serious reassurances that I wasn't picking baby names or trying to become the next Mrs. Dude. I was simply telling the people in my life who matter to me right now, that I loved them. Plain and simple... or maybe not.

This is how I sees it:
Love is so multidimensional that none of us have been able to really define it. But for some reason it seems we have limited it to a romantic concept, a weapon between the sexes, something that determines the balance of power in a relationship. But that's bullshit (pardonnez mon français). Saying I love you cannot be that complicated. It does not make you weak, and it should not be a tool to elicit any obligations from the person you say it to. Its quite simple. Three words that tell someone that today, right now, they have a place in your heart. Whether or not it means you cannot live without them (or their famous jerk chicken recipe) or that you will catch grenades and jump in front of speeding trains for them depends on you; and expressing that in real words that they can understand is very important.

I once dated a guy who struggled for weeks to say those words. After a while I started to tally the number of times he said "I Love...." and was never able to complete the phrase. It was all so comical to me, because I said it all the time not caring whether or not he was able to force the words out of his throat. I think the fact that he was so afraid to say it even made me love him a little more (I'm weird like that). But the real tragedy was, even when he did the most horrible things that hurt me, his response to my accusing tears was "But I love you" like the words were a magic balm, a priceless gift that fixed everything, as if just saying those words was the most important thing in the world. Ironically, those were his last words to me, but that's another story.

All I'm trying to say today is, I think that if you love somebody, for any reason, you should just go ahead and tell them. Sure, some people will take it to mean you have enslaved your soul to theirs, but that's really their problem. It saddens me that people, even within very close families, find it hard to express the most basic feelings of love for one another (unless it's a funeral, of course).

Why should you wait until it's too late....?

~ P.S. I LOVE U ~

"Your Boyfriend Will Kill You"

The note was stuck to the front door of my apartment, 2D, and in my rush to rip it off I almost dropped the paper bag full of groceries on the hard floor. I looked around the dark empty hallway frantically, searching for movement, like whoever put it there would still be lurking around. I wondered who else had seen it, this proof of my shame and my fear.

"Your boyfriend will kill you"

I was even more afraid that HE could have seen it. 

In my head I knew it was impossible: 

he was away, doing construction work at that country home,
the kind he says he will build for me...someday

But still I was afraid. 
This would make him really angry.

He told me never to make him mad

Never to tell anyone our business.

And I didn't, I swear I didn't. Not even my Momma.

But I have done something wrong. Someone knows, and it is my fault.

I rushed into my tiny studio apartment and bolted the door, away from their prying eyes.

The groceries forgotten right by the door, I half-ran to my bathroom and knelt by the cleaning cabinet. My heart was pounding as I searched for the old, discarded box of dryer sheets that had been damaged by the leaking faucet, now kept in a dry corner because they contained a secret he must never find. "Someone knows" The others were undiscovered, right there where I hid them beneath the vanilla-scented sheets. I spread them out on the cold bathroom floor.

The pretty white card in the mail on Valentine's day: "Your boyfriend will kill you"

The back of the crumpled block-party invitation under my windshield wipers last month: "Your boyfriend will kill you" 

This lipstick-scrawled note on my apartment door: "Your boyfriend will kill you"

Someone knew. And they were warning me. Get out now.

"You need to get out. Now." Those were the last words my only remaining friend said to me before I threw her out of my apartment and vowed never to speak to her again. Everyone else had long given up on me, frustrated that I would not leave a man they all knew was bad news. She had come to see me, uninvited, and when I wouldn't open the door she used the spare key I had given her long ago. I was crouched in the corner of my kitchen, my lips bleeding, my left eye swollen shut, and holding on to the pieces of my shattered spirit by a tiny thread. Still, I wouldn't tell her. But she knew. She begged me to go to the Police with her, offered me her place to stay so I could be away from him and expressed concern for my safety. But I turned on her. He had told me never to listen to her. She was single, lonely and obviously jealous that someone loved me. So I stuck a knife in the only person who still cared enough for me, I stuck it where it would hurt the most, and I twisted it until she hated me too. And then I was alone.


Now someone else knew. 
I tried to think who it could be. 
The beautiful couple with the cute baby in 3D.
Ms Mae, the sweet old lady down in 1D.
Tara in 2C who used to invite me to drinks with her friends.
Or David, the cute, concerned medical student in 2E.
Any of them could have heard us through the thin walls.
Really, it could be anyone else...


I thought about what they were trying to tell me: I was a victim, and in grave danger.
The first time he hit me, I was so surprised I walked in a daze for days.
I wouldn't speak to him, I swore it was over.
All the books and magazines and TV shows warn that you should leave him at the first hint of violence.
But they don't tell you how you will feel when he shows up at your door with flowers and repentant tears in his eyes... I forgave him instantly. After all, it was only a slap and I had brought it on myself by being too inquisitive about his problems at work.
But then it happened again. 
He had made me jealous by flirting with the sexy bartender all night at my office party and I was not in the mood for lovemaking. He hit me again, over and over, and then he forced himself on me. 


That was four months ago, when he still had his nice job at the bank, before he was fired for suspected fraud. (But it wasn't his fault. He told me everything and I understood and believed him. I became the most important person in his life and he promised that his temper would always be under control.)
Now he hits me all the time. It was hard to tell anyone at the beginning, to admit that I had chosen the wrong man in spite of all their concerns. Now, I can't tell them until I have fixed this problem, somehow.


I am not that girl, you know. The dumb one with low self esteem and all sorts of issues from a bad childhood. I come from a wonderful, stable, loving family. I know I am beautiful, smart, capable of being with any man that I choose. I know that he has no right to treat me like he does. But somehow I am still here, with him, and someone else is concerned for my life... 


I am so tired now. I wish I had the strength to do the right thing for myself, but I am just so tired.
*******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

A few weeks ago I witnessed physical abuse for the first time, between someone really close to me and her boyfriend. She has refused to admit that there is a problem and for now there is little we can do unless we actually see it happen again. But I cannot stop thinking about it... -Dami

Down with Love

I never write about these things when I am feeling them. That is my chief protective tactic. But nothing is more appropriate for tonight and I will worry about how damaging this is for my 'image' or whatever some other time.

When I decided that I would be 'Down with Love' all through February, I got a lot of mixed reactions. Some people assumed I was seeking attention and lining up prospects for Valentine's Day, others thought I had found a new lover or boyfriend and was expressing it in my own little twisted way. Some of my friends thought it was cute, and others just got a little bit more concerned about my sanity. Most people thought it wouldn't last...

So a little disclaimer: February 2011 for me is just a time to embrace the idea of love in all its cheesiness, nothing more. I am not in love with anyone... not anymore.

When I woke up this morning, everything was perfect. I was with that one person that made me happy just by being around, and that was simply enough for me. Add that to a very nice service at church and the promise of Valentine's Day in the air, it was a pretty perfect day. Fast-forward a few hours into the day, and it was any girl's nightmare: Breaking Up the night before Valentine's Day.

I guess this is the part where I try to save face and explain that I was the one who broke it off with him and that he wasn't my boyfriend yet anyway, just someone I was talking to, but nobody really cares about that at this point...but those are the facts, I promise. More importantly, I wanted to immortalize the way I feel right now about Love, especially with the wave of romance that will soon be upon us.

I still believe in love. Madly and completely. And I will still be celebrating Valentine's Day tomorrow because I can't help myself (and because I have to show off my wonderful presents too). And it is not because I am a sucker for punishment or because I have lost touch with reality. It is because of what love really means to me. The way I understand love, it is an internal process. We are helplessly attracted to people for many reasons, but the ones that we truly love are those that we choose to love even after we peel back the layers and see every imperfection that was hidden before. That is what love is to me. And when you love people like that, it is easier to forgive and easier to trust because with every new thing you learn about them you can make a choice: to love or let it go.

Tonight, I let it go. I have loved a lot, trusted a lot, and forgiven a lot. I have given my time, my affection, my loyalty and for every minute that it lasted I was truly happy. 100%, all the time. But tonight I made a new choice, I have decided to fall out of love. He will never love me unconditionally like I have loved him. And I deserve so much more.

So, it is me and Cupid on a journey yet again....

♡♥ Happy Valentine's Day!!! ♥♡

Of Love Songs...

"Strengthen me with raisins, refresh me with apples; for I am faint with love"

- The Bible, Songs of Solomon Chapter 2 Verse 5

I love the Songs of Solomon. It is one place that you find romance and flirtation and sensuality all together in the bible - and it is the perfect combination for me; after all, it IS the bible. The songs of Solomon tell the story of two lovers who share the depth of their love for one another with each other and with their friends and anyone else who is around to listen. They are excited, passionate, deeply slain with love, and completely devoted to one another. Their love is the talk of the town. Solomon's Songs are bursting with so much passion and romance that you almost forget that they were written by the king himself. Not surprising that he had a thousand women, on record anyway. The feeling that he pours into the tale draws you in and brings the lovers to life. For me, their enthusiasm is a welcome break from the reality of today - the secrecy, cynicism, distrust, and fear that better describe our love lives nowadays. For Solomon's lovers, there are no rules, no walls, just love.

With Valentine's Day approaching this month, what better time to indulge in my season of Solomon's Songs? While I have always believed myself to be a romantic, life has sternly taught me to live and love by 'the rules'. I have learned to be practical, invulnerable and in control of all my emotions all the time, and it has become a little stifling. Like Solomon's lovers, I want to feel love with every fiber of my being and not need to hide it out of fear. I want to believe in pure love again and give myself, my trust and my passion to the one(s) I claim to love. So, instead of waiting in vain for a day when love will be like Solomon describes it again, I am giving myself up to Love. Until the 1st day of March when I will allow reality to set in, I have decided to live in an unwavering haze of love and romance. It is time to shout about love from the rooftops, to inhale and exhale and let go off every defense and truly feel, truly live again. I have been drinking from the fountain of love and it is time to infect as many people as I can with my love bug. So please do not be surprised if you catch me with a dreamy smile plastered on my face, or if I cannot seem to stop singing my love songs. I am simply 'faint with love'. And if I surprise you with a poem or steal a kiss, it is my invitation to you to step out from behind your walls and let your heart beat with passion again.

Happy Love Month!!!

Panic

He's leaving. 

I know it. 

Before he says those words that will change our lives 

or offers that weak apology that will make me hate him even more, 

I know he's leaving. 

And all I feel is Panic.

 As much as I want to hate him now the only thing I remember is how good we were 

and how hard it was to find him, 

my fallen angel, 

and how hard it was to feel safe in his arms and 

how deeply I loved him and 

how blindly I trusted 

and I wonder if I will ever breathe again. 

I know I will, of course.....but still I panic....

Spongebob Says...

I'm not a spongebob fan but you wouldn't know that: I have TWO spongebob teddies on my special window sill. One was a gift (or it was stolen, i don't remember) from my Freshman roommate at Howard Lola (lAw-lah not lOw-lah) and the second was a parting gift from my assistant at my Sophomore Internship at Credit Suisse in 2009. My first roommate in college (KNUST in Ghana) was a huge fan though. I remember our room always looking cheery because of those lovely yellow spots....but I digress....

The little inscription up there caught my attention because it is one of those issues that we all try to understand. Girl/Boy loves Boy/Girl (or Girl/Boy) and knows deep down that there is a better person inside of them. So we shower them with all the love we can muster and wait for them to give up their bad boy/femme fatale ways and settle their love on us. We know how this story ends..... but there is hope. I believe that the baddest boy or girl will one day (in their own time and for their own reasons) find that person who makes them want to be different, with minimal effort on the person's part. Until then, be yourself and let love discover you.