Blissfully Single Bean
The name on my birth certificate is Sabine but depending on who you talk to, I’m Bean, Beans, Beanie or even Banyé (Ginger & Neal – What Up Though??). My story, in a nutshell is this: I’m finally living the blissful life that God intended for me to lead and that didn’t happen until I was single again: Blissfully Single Bean.
Bean’s Story
I spent years dead inside. Withdrawn and depressed, I felt a dark cloud of failure follow me at every turn. This couldn’t be my life. A girl raised in the church, I’ve always done my best to do the “right” thing – to conform to a set of rules that should have guaranteed a successful life. Yet here I was, sad and unable to make sense of how the charmed life turned into a Nightmare on Elm street. Where the hell was Freddy? I needed a violent wake up.
The memories are vivid and even with time, cannot be erased. A post-natal Beans, breasts large and hard as bricks; full of milk from not pumping or feeding my four-month-old for several hours. I thought for sure I’d catch a nasty breast infection. I’m sitting in a cold jail cell handcuffed to a bench thinking of the several hours I’ve got left to see a judge. I was scared, yet this wasn’t my first rodeo in jail dealing with him. My emotional nature has always gotten the best of me; and here I was, in trouble – again.
When I was finally released by the court on my own recognizance; defeated, but grateful to be free – I climbed into the backseat of my cousin P’s car. My brother was on the passenger side. Before neither of them could talk and break the deafening awkwardness, I said, “Just fucking drive.” I sobbed the whole way back home.
This sort of turmoil in my life lasted 7 years.
Redemption Song
I can’t blame a bad relationship and I wouldn’t dare blame God. My unhappiness was a product of my own mental slavery. I was locked in a poisonous mindset: make it work, no matter what. I was unwed with two children, living with a man who didn’t love me.
Instead of being courageous enough to make the decision that was right for the both of us, I couldn’t – or I wouldn’t end things. As unhappy as I was and as horribly as we fought – I refused to carry the stereotypical baby mother label. The expectations I set for myself, kept me in a volatile situation for much longer than I should have been.
My song of freedom came when I truly saw our goals weren’t aligned. It took close to a decade for me to realize a simple concept:
We don’t want the same things.
I wanted a family and a home. In retrospect, I’m not sure what he wanted, what I was certain of, is that he didn’t want me. A waste of time, our relationship was unfulfilled potential. We both could be better people for others who shared our own visions that mirrored what we actually wanted from life.
The last fight happened; and it was violent. I had to end things and my heart finally, finally closed. The next evening, I went to the beach and I was at total peace. That was four years ago, and every day since then, though far from perfect, has been its own lesson in bliss.
Follow me. Let’s share experiences.
Blissfully Yours,
