A “Little” Dehumanization, Part 1

On a daily basis I take notice of the “little” ways we humans dehumanize one another in this modern society that we live in. In the News we watch other countries deal with war, genocide, famine etc. and that has desensitized us to the way we dehumanize each other in “little” ways daily.

I’ve held detailed conversations with strangers regarding this issue. Many of the people happened to be “on the clock” at work, and as I’m receiving service, friendly banter turns into a deep conversation. I’m curious by nature, so I ask questions in order to gain a better understanding of how they feel, and the way their day is affected by it. We’ve all been a victim of this in some way, been made to feel a “little” dehumanized in our day.

I remember a conversation that I had with a taxi driver last summer. I greeted him politely and he began to explain his lateness, I excused him. He told me that he’s been yelled at, cursed out, and spoken to like a “dog” by passengers, his exact words. I told him that I  know his lateness was not intentional and when it comes to transportation, traffic is unpredictable, and car accidents, construction and other things can delay travel, which is beyond our control. Yelling at the driver won’t get you to your destination any faster, and it is disrespectful. He graciously Thanked me for  understanding, and I responded, “While I’m in your vehicle, my life is in your hands…… .” He said my words made his day, and he began to talk about his life, his job, and how hard he works to support his children so they can have a better life, and attend the best schools. I was touched……

Dealing  with verbal abuse on a daily basis because of your occupation, is wrong. It is a form of dehumanization that goes under the rug in our society.

I will be posting a few more stories about strangers I’ve encountered on the job, and how their day was affected by a “little” dehumanization.

Love&Respect,

~Dawn Lovely

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My Birthday & Growing Older…..

The fun part about getting older is looking back at all the things you thought you  knew when you were younger and matching it with what you  know to be true at the age you are now. I’ve embraced growing older, I reflect back on what I learned from that year, and how much I’ve improved as a person. It takes away the pressure of the actual number of your  age, which we tend to get hung up on.

Today is my birthday, that I share with my twin sister. I’m up at 3:00 am drinking tea and writing before I start my day, I’d like to share this with you…….

Last night my father gave me a pre-birthday call, he usually does that every year because he wants to make sure he wishes me a Happy Birthday in case he’s not able to get through on the actual day due to phone connection issues. It’s nice to get that call and I look forward to it. I allow my father to express his fatherly side since he hasn’t been around to do it. I  could sense he was uneasy when I reminded him how old I’m turning because he missed so many years. He becomes silent and I have to bear it, I’ve noticed over the last few years he does this. He will trail of when we are speaking and go into the story about the picture that his friend drew of me when I was a child, a large sketched portrait, black and white, my hair braided, I was five years old…..I’ve never seen that picture before, but I know the story behind it because I’ve heard it many times. I remember hearing this story as a child, he told me that while he was incarcerated, there was a talented inmate who would draw portraits from photographs, and he  would match the images to a tee……I neglected to tell my father that I remember meeting that man at a jail visit in the room designated for wives and children. I remember that man had a beard and looked gruff…..He had a few of his children sitting with him, but we didn’t interact….I remember my father introducing him to us, while holding a large portrait and telling us that he was the one who drew it. I was taking in the atmosphere around me, as I usually did, I was a very observant child. I remember thinking to myself, how can a man who can draw this beautiful picture be in jail???. There were so many wives and children in the visiting room and I thought we were the only ones that lived like this, until that day……..

Every time my father trails off and tells that story I think to myself, wow, he’s stuck in time, he still associates me with that portrait when I was a little innocent child. I am in my thirty’s yet that is still his point of reference when it comes to me. He doesn’t even realize he is doing it. He does this practically every time we speak, and the older I grow the more he does it. Our conversations go off track when he does that, but I listen without interruption. I leave him to be at peace with his story. It’s a special memory for him and I don’t want to mar it. I do want him to know that I DO remember the jail visit where I met the artist who drew that picture of me, but that would also remind him of jail,. I’d rather him keep that memory about me as a little girl than about him being locked up, and me seeing him  in that way…..

I’m thankful for simply being alive and having the opportunity to share my thoughts with you on my Birthday.

Love&Respect,

~Dawn Lovely

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My take on “Luck”…Do you believe in Luck?

I’ve always questioned this thing called “luck,” and I’ve heard that some people are just lucky and some aren’t. Depending on your belief system, religion/faith, and life experiences, luck may mean something different to you. I’ve heard some replace the word “lucky” with “blessed.” I guess they have the same meaning?

I’ve never thought of myself as “lucky,” maybe blessed to a degree, but then again if I am blessed, then wouldn’t I be blessed in all aspects of life? I wouldn’t have had to go through certain things. If a person is “lucky,” then wouldn’t that luck apply to all areas of their life? I’ve always wondered that. If you are lucky in winning prizes from contests, then shouldn’t you be lucky in other areas of your life that are more important?.

My cousin works for a casino/racetrack and she’s told me stories about people basing their luck off of her. A patron will come to “cash out” at her terminal and credit their win to her touching and counting out their money. Some have told her that it is she who is bringing them “good luck.” She always tells them not to base their luck off of her, that she isn’t doing anything to make them win. She doesn’t want to be held responsible for them winning or losing, while inadvertently encouraging them to gamble. I completely understand her reasons for telling her patrons not to base their win off of her, although it is a compliment. Basing your luck off of somebody or something can be damaging to your confidence, and put a high level of expectation on a person who may be unable to give you what you need. If you have a “good luck charm” and you lose it, does that mean your luck has run out for the rest of your life?.

To those who consider themselves “unlucky,” this blog may help you look at luck in a different way. Perhaps you’re luckier than you think, or allow yourself to be. I chose to give myself a new definition of luck in order to make my life easier. I don’t depend on luck in my life, rather I simply credit myself for effort I put into areas of my life that I wish to be lucky in. That helps me maintain a feeling of some type of control over reality that may fail me in ways that I have no control over. There are things in life we know that we have no control over, so I try on a daily basis to allow my intent to lead me closer to “luck.”

In the past I’ve won the same amount of money on a scratch ticket that I had  recently given to person in need. I don’t consider that “luck” because I did that from my heart with no strings attached. Some may say it’s “karma,” but my intent was loud and clear so I give my intent the credit!.

So Good luck in life, if you believe in luck! 😉

Love&Respect,

~Dawn Lovely

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What I’ve learned about being “Too Nice”………..

I’m at the point in my life where I’m 100% sure that being “nice” and  doing the “right” thing does not always produce the results that I expect. I am not a pessimist, but when I do a “good deed” I do not expect “good” back in return. When I was younger I thought the saying, “No good deed goes unpunished” sounded strange, because why would a good deed be associated with being punishable???. Now that I am a grown woman, I do 100% understand why that saying is used so often in our society……..

I remember on numerous occasions when my father was around, I witnessed him giving to people. Just like my mother, my father was raised to be a giving, charitable person. He was giving to point that we were deprived of what we needed in order to help others. It’s unfortunate, but I’ve grown to understand that some people are giving to a “fault”. This was a life experience that has affected my character, and I inherited that trait from my parents, but I’ve decided not to allow niceness/kindness to be a vice.

An incident that remains in my memory is the time when we were walking to the neighborhood plaza and my father gave money to a panhandler who stands outside of the store everyday. I was four or five years old, I didn’t understand why the panhandler was standing there every single day. People would walk by him as if he wasn’t even there. Seeing my father acknowledge his existence and hand money to him, taught me the reason why he was standing there. I thought my father was a good person for doing so but the next day he didn’t give the man any money and I wondered why. In my innocent mind I thought, what makes today different from before? The man needs help, he needs money today too, right? So why didn’t my father give him any money?……….

The reality that you can’t always be “nice” and help everybody, always, everyday, is a truth that I still have issues accepting. It has hurt me in a few ways in life, people have tried to take advantage etc. I check myself when I start to feel guilt when I’m unable to help a person. I trust my gut when I feel I’m being taken for a fool. I’ve been told by many people that not everybody appreciates “nice” people. It’s the truth. Most nice/kind people end up being drained and pushed to a point of no return due to stress, which can eventually lead to death. My mother was one of those people, and I can’t deny that.

You can give of yourself and be left with virtually nothing, or you can give and allow yourself to be left with yourself, the self that you had before you chose to give in the first place. As I stated at the start of my blog, not expecting the same in return when you give, takes away any potential disappointment that you may be feel for doing what you felt was right and simply being being “nice.”

Love&Respect,

~Dawn Lovely

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The Value of Friendship….How much do you care?

I was thrown off by some very unsettling news recently, so I had to put my writing on hold. I received a very upsetting phone call the other night, It was my ex, we have been in contact for years,  and have remained friends from afar. Every so often he will  phone me, or vise versa,  just to say hi, we call it, “Just, calling to see if your alive.”

Before I start, I would like you to know that I told him that I would be writing about him, and sharing this experience. I’ve known him for over 15 years, he’s been a friend/friend of the family, and has been a long time supporter of my writing, so he didn’t mind. He was the first person to purchase my self-published book that I wrote years ago, and has always encouraged me to express myself through my writing.

I remember in high school, I always looked up to him, I considered him to be very funny, intelligent, charismatic….. His wit, and high energy drew people to him. I failed to notice the fact that most of the times that I saw him or was around him, he was drinking alcohol. At that time in my life everyone around me smoke and drank to some degree, so it wasn’t unusual, however I found out very quickly that there was more reasons for his drinking than meets the eye……He was alienated in his household because he was “different” from the rest. He didn’t believe in the religion he was raised in,  and he chose to question everything, this was one of the things that made him the “black sheep” of the family. He was also  labelled a “nerd” for his avid reading,  interest in books, and constant quest to seek knowledge.

One night he took off his glasses, looked me in the eye, and told me that he felt out-of-place in this world. That nobody understands him, that he feels like an “alien,” and that he only feels “safe” or “comfortable” when he’s drinking. He confessed that he was drinking to cover up his pain. Now it all made sense to me……

As the years went by his drinking problem became worse, and I would constantly confront him about it. I tried to be as understanding as possible, and suggested things he could do to help him “cut down” on the liquor. There were a few people around him, who would try to talk to him about it, but he would dismiss them, as he did me. We grew further and further apart. I noticed the changes in his personality, the moodiness, the change in temperament, but I would still visit from time to time. I tried to help him in any way I could. I would even be an “ear” for him if he wanted to talk. I never referred to him as an “alcoholic” but everybody else did. My eyes finally opened up to the reality that he had a substance abuse problem, that is causing irreversible damage, and that could eventually end his life………

I made one last attempt at helping him, we discussed options, possible doctor/specialist visits, me accompanying him for support, even meetings, whatever would help him pass the first steps of recovery. He said he tried already and refused my help and I realized there’s nothing more I can do….I told him that I fear for his health being damaged to a point of no return by his late thirty’s. My influence didn’t seem to mean much, we were getting into arguments and I found myself saying very harsh things to him out of frustration and anger. I felt unappreciated and insignificant, so I made a conscious decision to separate myself from him in life. Not to call or speak to him ever again. I stuck by that decision, until I answered a call from an unusual phone number, it was him….He proceeded to tell me that he wants me to know that he went through a traumatizing incident recently, he was rushed to the hospital emergency unit due to a severe anxiety attack,  his heart was beating DOUBLE times it’s normal rate. After being checked out, the doctor informed him that he has two blood clots, one on his lung, that almost went undetected had he not been rushed to the emergency room. He spared me the details, and I didn’t want to pry, but he summed it up as “being close to death,” he’s taking medication, and he’s “okay.” Of course when I said I was worried, he told me “Not to worry.”

In conclusion, I was disappointed that it took this incident to wake him up. I could tell he was reluctant to tell me the details.  I had said this was my biggest concern and maybe he thought I’d say, “I told you so.” I did not say that. As a matter of fact, I asked him what he needs from me at this point. There is no sense in being “friends” with a person if you are going to throw their hardships in their face. I do not know if we will maintain contact at this point, but I’m 100% sure he learned his lesson, and for that I am Thankful. I hope he monitors his health and I wish him the best.

Love&Respect,

~Dawn Lovely

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Healthy Mourning, Coping with my Mother’s death…….

Last month August 30th, marked the four year anniversary of the passing of my mother. She died suddenly of a brain aneurysm two days after her birthday. There were issues with her overall health over the years that lead up to her untimely death, she suffered with immense amounts of stress being a single parent to the six children she had with my father. The last time I spoke to her, I could sense she was very tired, and my intuition told me prepare for the worst but you can  never fully prepare for losing a loved one. Every year as soon as August hits, a feeling comes over me that I have difficulty acknowledging…..It’s not that I don’t have closure with her passing,  it’s the memories of how my closure came about that still haunt me.025

I have the  tendency to “intellectualize” my feelings when it comes to death, partly because I haven’t had much experience dealing with death in my life, it wasn’t discussed in my household growing up. I had never even been to a “Wake” before or even a funeral, believe it or not. I always wondered how people were able to cope with the death of a loved one, especially a relative or a parent. I’ve heard stories from friends about family members “acting out,” or acting “crazy,” and drama ensuing for years after a relative’s death. I tried to imagine what it would be like to deal with, but I just couldn’t picture it happening in my life.

The news of my mother’s death was painful to hear, but a light bulb went on in my head,  it’s hard to explain in words. My focus became doing right by her and putting my emotions second, even if that meant taking blows for not  “going along” with my siblings. I knew standing on my own would have consequences. Since I’ve always been the “quiet one,” my speaking up had already caused some friction among us, which overlapped this tragic situation.

While at the scene on that day,  looking at the house I grew up in, police and ambulance workers scattered about, my siblings all different, some angry, some crying, some ignoring me as I attempted to calm them down,  I knew I had to keep it together. I accepted the fact that the only control I had, was the  control I have over my emotions. I had to exercise all the lessons, the logic  my mother taught me  since she was not around to speak for herself. I felt my main priority was to represent for her, and do what was best for her, and her loved ones that knew her before I did.

I chose to cry at home and let out all my pain and frustration in private. This angered some of my siblings because  they felt I should be with them. They lashed out at me and questioned why I did this, which was very draining to me, this was the most challenging and difficult part of my grieving. I felt as though I was at war.

My mother’s death for me, was about protecting her legacy, and representing her the best way I could. I called  all of  her siblings and spoke to them, because I knew they were distraught and I wanted to remind them not to worry, as mom wouldn’t want them to, that was just her way. One of my aunts told me I helped her feel better, and that made me feel great.  At the Wake, I looked after all the guests and  I tried to uplift the people who were very sad. Some people that I hadn’t seen in ages were crying so hard, I felt bad for them! I listened to their stories about my mother and I realized how much of a positive effect my mom had on everybody she met.

After the funeral, I was ready to deal with the aftermath, the organizing of her belongings, the paperwork, etc. I had no problem working with my siblings as I’ve always been co-operative and easy going when it comes to team work, but some of them would not allow me to lead, which was disappointing. I wanted to lead by example and make things easier for all of us. I went ahead and did some tasks alone, or with my youngest auntie, Auntie G, who’s always been supportive of me, and now our bond is even stronger.

Unfortunately, there is still unfinished business regarding mom’s passing,  and my relationships with my siblings will never be the same, but if I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing, mom deserved it.

R.I.P. MOMMY.

Love&Respect,

~Dawn Lovely

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This is personal: Forgiveness and my Father……

So “Father’s Day”  just passed, and since my father lives in Jamaica, I called him long distance to say, “Happy Father’s Day,” but unfortunately his phone was out of the service area. Maybe he was travelling to his other home land, Cuba, as my father is of both Jamaican/Cuban descent. My father and I have always maintained contact no matter where he is. I tried my best to reach him, I even called in the evening time, I wanted to make sure he heard my voice, and knew that I acknowledged him and appreciate him being my father. To be honest,  yesterday was my first time in my life I actually called my father for “Father’s Day.”

When I was a child, my father was in and out of my life. There were times he’d be gone for long periods and there was never an explanation given by my mother.  I grew accustomed to it, along with my five siblings. My mother did not speak a bad word about my father, ever, nothing was ever said, but I observed and witnessed many things that helped me understand that even though he loved me, we were not his first priority. I was unable to express my feelings to my father when he was around,  I was very young and also shy, but I was attentive to his words and actions. I always remembered the lessons he taught me, and applied them to my life. Every single time he took me aside and spoke to me about anything, I remembered the moral of the story. I took his words to heart&soul, and knew he was telling me for a reason, to help shape my moral code and inner strength. He even told me about his downfalls, pain and weaknesses, and told me NOT to be like him, because I was “strong.”

Dad made a lot of mistakes, got caught up with the law on numerous occasions which eventually landed him in prison for years. After his prison sentence was over, he was deported back to Jamaica. There were numerous events that lead up to this, and of course, we were affected the most by it in drastic ways, but I will share those stories in another blog.

After mom passed away in 2011, I knew my father was deeply hurt. He and my mother knew each other since they were children. It is said that my parents were “soul mates,” and they had a friendship that was never marred by the ups&downs  in their relationship. I admired my mother for being able to forgive my father and maintain a civil relationship with him. My mother lead by example, and taught me that I can communicate with my father even if he doesn’t always give me what I expect in return. She encouraged me to have a relationship with my father regardless of the circumstances, so after she died, I made a point of telling my father that he should focus on changing and forgiving himself for his mistakes, so he can move forward in his life and heal. He thanked me when I said this to him, and told me I helped him feel “better.” I told him, “Dad, when I was little I ALWAYS listened to you, your advice, your lessons…..and now I just want you to listen to me.” I  am proud of myself for having an affect on my father that will help him in life. He is more open and comfortable talking with me, as an adult.  I am planning to travel to see him for the first time in person in 26 years, and he is waiting patiently for my arrival. He’s excited to show me more about my other side, my Cuban heritage, and I’m excited too.

Forgiving my father has helped me grow as a woman and I recommend if your father is available, and receptive to you, have a conversation with him. You never know how much it will mean to him. But even if he doesn’t change, it will change YOU…..for the better.

Love&Respect, ~Dawn Lovely    Follow me @ : https://twitter.com/iamdawnlovely Subscribe to Blog and it will be sent to your email, click on Follow button.

It’s a New Day! Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday, if it’s your birthday today :), But if today is just another day for you, the words I’m about to say may help you make the most of your day, even though it’s not your Birthday.

Have you ever had a day where a person in your daily life wronged you in some way that caused you to feel they “ruined” your day? Or things are just not going the way you’d like them to go, and it starts to put a “damper” on your mood&ruin your day? Well of course you have! I know I have….It could be your sister, brother, significant other, boss, the bus driver, a store clerk, or even a stranger who cuts you off while your driving in traffic! Oh you go the whole day telling everyone&anyone that common phrase, “I’m having a BAD day.”

Now, I have been guilty of saying that phrase in the past, however, as I’ve grown and matured as a woman into my 30’s, I’ve learned that “BAD” days are not as “BAD” as we sometimes  make them out to be. A “BAD” day is usually a few occurrences that happened in the day that you didn’t expect to happen, and you had to get through them to complete your day, which actually is “LIFE.”

So when I have a “BAD” day, I remind myself that I’m still alive& kicking and I am surviving the “BAD” day so I’ll be able to move on to the NEXT day, which will most likely be better than that”BAD” day I had yesterday lol….It’s not about being  “Optimistic” but REALISTIC 😉 If you practice this way of thinking everyday, then you will feel like everyday is your Birthday, you’ll appreciate and make the most of your day, EVERYDAY!

Much Love&Respect,

~Dawn Lovely

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