Fantabolous Emancipation

Originally published February 10, 2020

“It’s really simple‚ I’m feeling good
I feel myself and I’m feeling understood” -Sofi Tukker

Saturday night I had a dream that felt like a horror film. One of those dreams that you awake from and still feel a sense of dread. In it, an ex of mine was stalking me. He kept showing up places when I least expected him to. I kept trying to tell people that I was afraid but no one would listen. Then he showed up at a client’s house demanding to talk to me. I was terrified. I worried about my safety. My client’s safety. My job security. My ex was holding a bag containing something that was extremely important to me. My client and I wrestled it out of his hands. He disappeared only to reappear someplace else he shouldn’t have been able to find. In my dream, I deduced that he had somehow hacked my phone and was tracking me through GPS searches. I didn’t know how to get help. Was my laptop corrupted? Had he bugged my home? And what did he want? It seemed as if he only wanted me to be afraid. And for me to know he was in control.

When I woke up I tried to shrug it off as a silly bad dream. But, upon further review, I realized that the dream was actually a collection of bad memories. This shit (most of it) really happened. I really did have an ex slam me against a wall and choke me leaving bruises on my neck because I tried to grab a piece of my jewelry out of his hand. And then, because I left a mark on him while trying to pry his fingers off of my neck, he had me kicked out of our home because he “didn’t feel safe.” Why be half of a dick when you can be a total one? This ex also showed up at my job unannounced. I remembered I thought that he was going to bring drama and cost me my job.

I also had a couple of other exes who should have formed a cyber espionage club. One, under the guise of helping my mother with her computer, secretly got into my emails and read them. The other, found a way to hack the old Bluetooth hands-free speaker I used while driving. I don’t understand how, but he was able to listen to my conversations. He’d question me about things I know we never talked about. He also took my phone SIM card and read the dream journal I kept in the notes app. It took me a long time to write uninhibited after that.

There are other such real-life events in my past. My memories are actually worse than that dream. I have come so far to break free. It was a messy, painful, financially draining road that I wouldn’t have been able to travel alone. Thank goodness for insightful therapists, understanding support groups, and a badass women’s group. And, thank goodness for me. Yeah, I said it. Check the lyric above. “I feel myself and I’m feeling understood.” Emancipation from bad relationships is not about being free to find and love a better partner. It’s about being free enough to find and love yourself. I found me and, today at least, I love me.

I don’t always see movies on their opening weekend. But when I do, it’s usually a superhero or comic book movie because #BlackNerdsRock. This past weekend I went to see Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn). Harley breaks up with the Joker and breaks free from his shadow becoming her own thing. It was just the movie I needed after feeling the ghosts of relationships past creeping up on me. It was a reminder that freedom means that I get to define myself. That I’m a badass (literally) and I kick ass (figuratively). Now I just need my ragtag crew to come up on some riches. That’s all I’ll say on the movie. I’m not going to spoil it or anything. Just see it. It was dope. Support women writers, directors, and casts. And sistas, stay free.

Categories: : Wellness