Elaboration on my Interactions with Friends

 (This is a continuation post from the last post. I wanted the last post to mostly be about my friend and his diagnosis. Out of respect, I put my conversations with others on this post.)

God is everything. He is everywhere. You cannot hide from him and his works. I have felt his presence before and I know he is real. I know. My displaced friend(s) told me that I shouldn't feel bad when people hurt me, because they're beneath me. That one is a little hard for me to grasp. He said don't worry about people talking shit because not everyone is a good person. And when you're a good person, it shows through who you are. To be honest, I still struggle with people talking shit about me. Because I feel like I don't deserve it and I would hate to make someone else feel that way. But I know, no matter what ANYONE says about me, I know in my heart, my soul, and my spirit that I am a divinely good person. I know that I quietly give more than what I can even afford to give. I know that I extend grace to those who will never deserve that from me. I know who I am and what I give. I think I am getting better at not caring what others say, but it still ultimately hurts. I hate when people call someone prideful. Pride is what moves mountains. Pride is what causes change in your life. Pride is a great thing to possess. When I hear the word pride, I think of my grandma Sadie. She was a civil rights activist. She was the National Secretary of the Universal Negro Improvement Association. My grandma worked directly with Marcus Garvey and she had so much pride in black people. The UNIA is one of the most successful Black organizations in world history. I look up to her and am so gracious that I spent time with her and received so much from her spirit. I still feel her spirit sometimes. People with that much pride make history and make the impossible, possible. Nothing wrong with pride, but don't hurt your loved ones being prideful. You might lose someone who you desperately need...

I don't be wanting to talk about sad shit, but at the same time... This is my fucking blog and this is actually one of the few places to talk about how I truly feel. So, I'm going to say whatever I want. One thing that really made me sad was thinking about living with one of my parents. I had to live with this parent, because my other parent had a stroke and they were in the hospital. When they came out the hospital, they were blind in one eye and was unable to walk. The courts thought it was best that I was removed from that home, and placed in my other parent's home. This parent lied to me and said all these sweet nothings about how life would be while living with them. They said I would have my own room, we'd have more money, and I would be taken care of. Of course, it was all a lie. We were broke as fuck and they started to abuse me. They started calling me a hoe, a bitch, pushing me around, choking me out, and going through my phone everyday to look for things to abuse me about. I was so sad that this is how my life turned out after someone promised that everything would be ok. I honestly didn't have anywhere safe to go, so I was stuck. And plus, they didn't want me to leave. The reason they didn't want me to leave is because they were getting about $1,000 a month if they kept custody of me, and they were addicted to heroin. So, they used my money that the courts appointed to Nicole Spearman, for drugs and alcohol. I swear it felt like I was living in a nightmare that wouldn't end. We had to fight so hard to get the fuck away from this parent and NOBODY (AND WHEN I SAY NOBODY, I MEAN NOBODY) believed that he was abusing me. Everyone thought I was exaggerating and that I was lying. Now look what happened.. Sidney's gone. Because nobody wanted to believe us. But anyways, what really upset me is that this parent smoked cigarettes. I have asthma and sometimes the smoke would bother my breathing. This parent told me that whenever I felt uncomfortable with them smoking around me, to say something. Mostly, the smoke didn't bother me, it's just when we were in the car with the windows up did it bother me. So, one day we're in the car with them in the drivers and me in the passengers, and they start lighting their cigarette up. I ask them if they can please not do that while we're in the car. They ignore me, light the cigarette, take a huge inhalation, and then proceed to grab my face while blowing the cigarette smoke in my nose and eyes. When I tell you I was so fucking upset. So upset. They started laughing and I just sat there. Looking back.... What I should've done was ran out the car and yelled down the street for help and screamed that my parent molested me for 15 years and I need help. I feel like maybe a caring parent would've helped me. Maybe someone who was abused and molested would've heard my cries and someone would've finally got them back in prison. You know... it's so many situations where I should've called for help and ran. Like when I got raped by my ex and his friends or when my ex tried to boil my face in water and spoke death over me because I "cheated" on him. When in reality, I broke up with him like 5 times, and he was cheating on ME the whole time. I went through his imessage and was so fucking embarrassed. Those are moments I should've cried for help but I sat there and took it in silence. I didn't even cry. And that makes my soul weep, I swear. It makes me feel all types of ways on a daily basis. I shouldn't be sad about the past but I can't help it at times.