Not Perfect, But Chosen

By Vivian Monique

Performing for love was never my intention. Growing up in an environment where love from my father was hard to attain, made it second nature. I danced, I studied harder, I did all the things to get his attention. It was all in vain.

With my Daddy issues, I turned into Little Miss Perfect, striving to be chosen in all my romanti

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vivian Monique Publishing
• Release date: May 11, 2024
• ISBN: 9798218401238

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Copyright © 2024 Vivian Monique

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN: 979-8-218-40123-8

All rights reserved solely by the author. The author guarantees all contents are original and do not infringe upon the legal rights of any other person or work. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without expressed written permission of the author.

Scripture quotations marked (NLT) are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright ©1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked (NIV) are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

Published by Vivian Monique

Instagram: @vivian_monique_official

Cover design and page formatting: Lisa Pearson

Cover photo courtesy of Vivian Monique & Joshua Tyson

Photography

Table of Contents

Dedication 5

Acknowledgements 6

Part I THE SEEDS 8

Never Enough 9

My First Love 14

A Teenage Love Affair 19

On Again, Off Again 23

Homeless, Not Hopeless 28

Graduation 36

New Life, Who This? 41

Wedding Bells & Baby Blues 45

Hey Mr. DJ 51

Baby Makes Three 54

Betrayals 60

Something Old, Something New 65

Meet Me at the Altar 68

Homecoming 71

Stranger Danger 74

A Light at the End of the Tunnel 80

The End of the Road 85

Life Support 92

Part II Uprooting & Overcoming 99

Bankruptcy and Favor 99

Know Your Worth and Add Tax 103

An Ex-Husband Scorned 111

Hot Girl Summer 115

Everything’s Gucci, Maybe? 124

Summertime Cooldown 131

It Goes Down in the DM’s 138

A New Commitment 156

The Aftermath 161

Promotion 165

Not My Last Rodeo 167

Meet the Author 172

Dedication

To my son and my daughter: The two of you have saved my life more than you’ll ever know. I love you both more than words can express.

To Miriam Knox, my beautiful friend, sister, and spiritual mentor: May you forever rest in peace. You prayed me through many near nervous breakdowns. Continue to be my guardian angel.

To you, __________________________:

(insert your name here)

Thank you, you courageous survivor who made it out, courageous warrior who is in the midst of it now, and courageous one who is gathering the willpower to take the first step of healing. You are the inspiration for this book. This is a breath-by-breath, moment-by-moment journey that no one is prepared for. Because God brought me through, I know He will do it for you.

Acknowledgements

I’d like to start by thanking God who is the head of my life.

I’d like to acknowledge:

My mom, for always supporting me on my emotional and spiritual healing journey. And my dad, for loving me the best way you could. I understand you both couldn’t give me what you didn’t have so today I thank you for giving all that you do have and I pray your continued growth, strength, and healing.

My wonderful Pastors Josh and Serena: Thank you for your instruction, covering, patience, wisdom, cultivation, love and correction. Thank you for your dedication and commitment to God’s work.

My aunt Margaret for introducing me to God as a child and keeping me in church. Your faithfulness to God set the foundation for me.

My best friends Taniqua and Lanya for your love, patience, and forgiveness when I’m wrong and your protection when I’m done wrong. The two of you are truly the definition of ride or die. I could not imagine my life without you two, especially the past 4 years. We pour into each other daily. I love that for me!

My mentees, Tasheka, Laura and Bri: Thank you for trusting the God in me as you navigate your spiritual journey and this thing called life.

My sisters in dance, Octavia and Bri: Thank you for laboring in the ministry of dance with me. Thank you both for sharing your years of experience and pushing me to grow.

My children’s fathers: Thank you for loving our children despite our challenges.

Last, but not least, thank you to a host of friends and family: my brother, my sister, my aunt, and my newest sister, Tesha. (Thank you for loving my mother. I love you, Boo.); my Made Whole Nation family, Brittany, Kelly, Shaunie, Jalanna, Jazz, Ciara, Jade, Tonya, Sharne, Shannae, Miss Marylou, and Dr. Lisa.

Part I THE SEEDS

Never Enough

I knew you before I formed you in your mother’s womb. Before you were born I set you apart and appointed you as my prophet to the nations.

Jeremiah 1:5, NLT

Growing up, I never felt like I was enough.

Maybe a lot of kids feel this way, I don’t know. But before I get into why I felt this way, let me first say that my mother was wonderful to a point. She had some things she, too, was battling. When we were younger, my mother was our primary caregiver for the most part. Both of my parents worked, but because my father got home first, he would pick us up from the babysitter. He was the disciplinarian and the one who provided structure. He made sure we did our homework, did laundry, made sure our rooms were clean, and he cooked dinner. A father is supposed to be his daughter’s first love; the example of how a man is supposed to treat her. There may or may not be some truth to that.

When my parents went to work, my father’s best friend, Bob*, was the one who used to babysit us after school. Bob lived across the street from us in Long Beach, NY. Like my father, he was an alcoholic. Bob was also my godfather and his wife was my godmother. One day after school, my little brother Timmy got sick. I searched the house for the thermometer. I should mention that I was about nine or ten years old at the time. Anyway, I searched the drawers in the house and looked (what I believed to be) everywhere. The only thermometer I could find was the rectal thermometer. So I went to my brother and took his temperature. Then I went to Bob and told him Timmy’s temperature. When Bob asked how I took his temperature, I told him I used the rectal thermometer. When he asked Timmy, Timmy told him I put the thermometer in his butt. Bob could not wait for my father to get home! He said his favorite thing to say about me: Vivian is out here thinking she’s the Momma again. He insinuated that I was trying to make Timmy into a punk. I didn’t even know what I was doing. When my father asked why I did that, I told him I couldn’t find the regular (oral) thermometer. Kids are notorious for not finding things. So, of course, my father found the oral thermometer immediately. I was in trouble again. Ratting me out was the norm for Bob. For whatever reason he would lie to my father and say I did things to my brother. If it wasn’t pertaining to my brother, he would lie and say I ate this or moved that. Whatever little grievance he had about me, he made known to my dad. That was bad. But the worst part was that my father was always ready to chastise. There was no grace. There was a psychological thing that was also happening between us. When my father would call me to get on me about the day’s transgression, I would deny it. At that point my father would ask, So was Bob lying? I didn’t want to say a grown up was lying. Honestly, I was too scared to say yes and didn’t want to say no because he was actually lying on me. So I wouldn’t say anything. Then I’d get a beating for not answering.

Are you saying he was lying? my father would shout, demanding a response.

I’m not saying he was lying, I’d say while crying. Then I’d get a beating for lying. I couldn’t win. I always felt my father loved my brother and siblings more than me. Certain rules were set for my brother and me, but only applied to me. I would be really good and lay it on thick because I was afraid of getting beat. My father would interpret my behavior as me being happy that Timmy was getting beaten so he made a new rule: If Timmy gets beat, you get beat, too. This was not equitable. So one day I was getting in trouble for something and I was bold enough to bring up the rule. He would say, That’s your goal all the time. You like when your brother gets beat.

That wasn’t true at all. I wanted my father to be fair. What I really wanted was for him to love me. So I overcompensated to get his attention in ways unrelated to Timmy. When I was doing something, I’d say, Hey Daddy, look! I became an overachiever. I became Little Miss Perfect. I excelled in school and in dance. I wanted his love so badly and didn’t feel it. If I did well enough, maybe I would get it. But I didn’t get the loving dad, I got the controlling, abusive, and manipulative dad who hated women because his mother was abusive. He was broken. So I got the dad I couldn’t please. It took some time before I finally realized this. I was just a baby when this began. I really thought I could change how he saw and treated me.

In his defense, my dad had some good qualities. He cooked and taught my mother how to cook. He paid bills in the house - he was a provider. He taught my mother about hygiene. He taught her things her mother did not. However, I should also mention that he was ten years older than my mother at the time that they met, that she was sixteen when she got pregnant with me, seventeen when she gave birth to me, and that he was married to someone else when he met her and pretty much throughout the entire time they were together. He never committed to her. But I want to give you a better understanding of the kind of audacity and toxicity that my father had. My father lived in the house with my mother and with us. He and his first wife divorced, then he skipped over marrying my mother and married my sister’s mother while he still lived with us.

In the midst of all of this happening, I never felt like I was enough. Or like there was enough love left over for me. I was always auditioning for my father’s love, attention, and affection. It didn’t stop. There was, however, a positive attribute that I acquired from my auditions. I got the drive and determination that has helped me achieve some things in life. But the drive (that may have already been in me to a certain degree) was born from that negativity of trying to prove myself as worthy through performance. Unbeknownst to me, these were spiritual seeds that my first love planted very early in my life. They grew deep roots that sprouted vines around me and shaped relationships in my life that caused me so much sorrow.

But God.

My First Love

I grew up in church. My great aunt, Terra, lived down the block from us. When her sister, my paternal grandmother,