Rebuilding My Confidence

For the last couple of hours, I've been browsing profiles of available men on a Christian Dating Site.  I felt it was time for me to own where I am.  I'm no longer part of a couple.  I am single and available.  It's not that I feel ready to re-enter the dating world, per se, but I need to create some forward movement.  I need to create some emotional distance between me and my last relationship.  But more important, I need to take my heart out of the past and help it to get strong again.   

I know that you need to heal so that you don't take unfinished business into a new relationship.  It's only been two months but I've used the time wisely, I think.  Yet, I have to wonder if sometimes the heart must be shaken from complacency.  Reminds me of how a heart attack victim heals.  Though it hurts, I've heard a patient is told to cough.  Deep coughing helps prevent complications after heart surgery, I've read.  Another thing cardiac patients are encouraged to do is exercise.  It gets that blood pumping and strengthens the heart. This tells me that healing doesn't just happen; it takes work.

Even with emotional issues, such as loneliness or depression, it is advised that you not isolate yourself.  Instead, you should make yourself get up and out.  There is something therapeutic about being active and getting around others.  I think that's why, after being indoors for a while, I have to get out.  Reminds me of why I love shopping on Christmas Eve.  There is something electric about it.  Likewise, now that I've taken time post-breakup to disconnect, reflect and heal, I figure that it's time to get my heart in motion.  It's time to rebuild up my confidence.

Towards this end, I looked at several profiles.  Most were pretty typical.  Some were a blaring NO.  Nothing jumped out at me; but at least I made the effort.  I can be proud of that.  I believe God to honor my efforts.

Happy Birthday To Me!

What a beautiful day!  Upon logging on to Facebook, I was overwhelmed by the outpouring of well-wishes on my wall.  I was moved to tears as I read all the "Happy Birthday's" I received.  And intermittently were comments that moved me as folks talked about how much I have touched their lives.

 

In comparison to last year's birthday - the big 5-0 - by all appearances this birthday has been pretty low-key.  No hoopla, birthday party or going out on the town.  I've not left the house. Yet, all day I've felt overwhelming gratitude.

May I be very transaparent?  My 50th birthday was ridden with anxiety about growing or looking old.  I needed fanfare.  I needed smiling faces, gifts and much ado made over me.  I needed to look good in my form-fitting jeans and fashionable boots.  I needed to feel like I still had it.  That I wasn't ready for sensible shoes.  I kept looking in the bathroom mirror, or any mirror for that matter, to make sure I didn't have a sprouting of fine lines around my eyes or more furrows on my forehead.

Age 51 feels more emotionally stable.  I feel like a wiser graciousness is coming up from my toes, flowing upward and filling me with a deeper understanding of who I am becoming.  No more perplexity about where I fit or how I fit.  I don't feel anxiety about where I'm going or growing.  Authenticity no longer feels like something I am pursuing; rather, something I embody.  Authenticity is a reservoir, springing up and flooding my soul.  With it, the revelation that God dwells in me as me.  Thanks Elizabeth Gilbert for sharing that simple yet powerful truth!

Love Is

When I first read the book Love Is A Choice, I was twelve years into a heart sickness that I could not overcome.  Year after year, new love interest after new love interest, yet I was still hung up on one man.  I named him the one who got away.  Reading this book taught me about codependency, love hunger and empty love tanks.  Codependency is when one person needs the other person to be unhealthy and oftentimes enable them to remain that way.  An empty love tank was an emptiness of the soul that seeks to be filled.  If you were raised in a household where love wasn't flowing freely, namely your parents or authority figures were not emotionally available, it created a hunger for what you didn't receive.  A love hunger.  Some filled that hunger with drugs, others with alcohol.  Me?  I fed it with romantic relationships. Years of watching The Wonderful World of Disney and soap operas offered me relief from that insatiable hunger.  All I needed to do was find The Handsome Prince.  This man would rescue me from my longing and loneliness and finally cure me of the aching deep inside. As I approach age 51, Life has offered me years of experiences, yet that fantasy of a true love has remained.  After years of false starts, a date here and there, or a rebound with an unavailable person, here I stand.  I am soooo grateful that God in His Infinite Wisdom didn't allow that to steal my capacity for a loving relationship.  Nevertheless, I'll not make this blog post about that relationship; rather, I prefer to make this about an emerging knowing in its aftermath. I've been pondering this very subject for the past few days during the Christmas holidays.  You can't watch a Christmas movie on Fa La La La Lifetime, the Family Channel or Hallmark without seeing a romantic story unfolding: a man and woman who are brought together during the Yuletide season.  Lives are touched by the spirit of Christmas and hearts choose Love over isolation.  Ahhhhhh, romance, true love, Christmas magic.  The source of great joy for the lovers but the source of great torment for those who are eating a pint of Haagan Daas and wiping away lonely tears. Could it be that Love is much bigger, broader, and richer than the films we watch?  Perhaps Love isn't an ideal that ebbs and flows with the beginning and ending of a romance.  Perhaps Love is more spiritual than we've been taught to recognize.  From birth until now, Love has taken many forms and assumed many postures.  I just didn't recognize it.  During the times of longing, I've dismissed Love because it didn't come in the form I wanted.  Rather than be filled with gratitude for the love of family, the love of friends, the love of worshippers, the love of humanity, the love of beauty, I'd envy couples walking hand in hand or people exchanging wedding vows.  So much of my life has been spent grieving one form all the while surrounded by Love. Love exists.  Whether we acknowledge it or not, Love is.  And we have the choice to honor it, whatever the form, or to dismiss it.  Have you ever had a friend whom you truly cared about dismiss you when a man or woman came into their lives?  Nobody likes to feel like they are being loved by default.  That meantime thinking that says, I'll love you or hang with you because I don't have anything better to do or....because I don't have a romantic interest. Lord, open my eyes so that I can recognize and appreciate your Love in whatever form You provide.       I truly hope that, though I am ever-learning, with age is coming increasing clarity.  Love is Love.  It's just as equally Love when it's between comrades as it is when it's between a man and a woman.  Love is just as sacred, wonderful and of value.  The love a parent feels when they hold their newborn child in their arms for the first time.  The love of a soldier who throws himself on a grenade to save people he doesn't even know.  Love is powerful.  So powerful in fact that a heart can be inspired to keep beating against all odds because of Love.  Love is. I use to wonder how two people who experienced a romantic relationship could continue to keep company or be fixtures in each others' lives.  As I get older, I believe that those who are healthy and open understand that Love is Love.  So what if the romantic love ceases, they are open to Love's other forms.  It's not moving backward but taking a new path as you move forward.  For this reason, they don't throw the person away just because loving them requires an ending of one form and a beginning of another.  Love is only painful when we try to hold on, says an article I read in an old issue of O Magazine.  When you won't let go, it exposes you to much inner suffering.  There's got to be some truth in that.  With age comes the reality that my days on this earth are shortening.  Unless I have purpose that will allow me to see 100 years old, most of my life has been lived.  Because of this, I don't have the time to spend on folly.  Everything isn't a dealbreaker, as it was in my youth.  Hence, the illumination.  Love doesn't go away, it just changes forms.  There are some people who still have a place in your future.  The key is letting go of the old and embracing the new.  It's forgiving and releasing.  It's understanding that Love is necessary.   An old flame sent me a text message the day before Christmas.  My first thought was "he's still thinking about me."  My Ego wanted to take it in a direction that was familiarly self-serving.  But the part of me that is ever-growing into my best self responded with a spirit of gratitude.  You see, real Love doesn't require anything else.  It's open and willing but entertains no other agenda except expression.  Understand, it is not ignorant or unwise; it is loyal only to itself.  It is with this understanding that I pray--as I cross into another year--that the Love of God, who is the author of Love, find an expanded residence in me.

Solitary No Confinement

Just as it takes a village to raise a child, I am discovering it takes a diverse group of friends to keep you balanced.  I've often marveled at girlfriend friendships.  In fact, there were times I'd watch sitcoms like Girlfriends.  Movies like Waiting to Exhale or Sex In the City and envy the closeness between those women.  Through ups, downs, boyfriends, breakups, husbands, ex-husbands, times of plenty and hardship, the relationships had the resilience to remain against all odds.  Well, at least for the most part.  For there were times when the friends were at odds.  Truly upset with one another.  Not speaking.  Not getting together.  And it forced the other girlfriends to manage times with one and times with the other.  Drama, drama, drama, yes.  Emotional overload, I'd prefer to call it.  Maybe that's the order of the day when you get more than one woman in a room for too long.

Sadly, our society has become so uncomfortable with intimacy and true friendship until innocent caring between two people is seen as something weird or perverted.  I've sat back with puzzlement at the questions about Oprah and Gayle King's relationship.  Maybe it's rare that people of the same sex can be soulmates without lesbian tendencies.  Heck, if you saw me with my friends Gret, Debbie or Sharon, you'd swear out we were too.  We hug, kiss, touch each other and are very comfortable with public showerings of affection.  And two of them are happily married!  Go figure!  And if we want to go Bible, I bet our society would have had a field day if they had observed John, the beloved disciple, resting his head on Jesus' chest. Scandalous! Yet, for all the screwed up political, social and spiritual views of Old and New Testament characters, there is no inference of homosexual tendency in that relationship.
 

The more my mind and heart clears, I am finding myself taking stock of my surroundings.  This includes my friendships.  I am blessed to have long-time friendships with my sister and college chums.  Though I seldom have conversations with my college chums there is a depth to our friendship that has not been duplicated in these 28 years.  Then, there are friends I sustained during my single-parent phase of life.  They were there to listen and to help. 

Since that time, my friendships have expanded.  A rainbow coalition of sorts.  I have my friends who nurture my authenticity.  They are the ones who truly get me.  My soul finds rest in them.  But if anything woos me to not be real, they won't let me get away with it. They know how to probe gently yet persistently.  Ironically very different, there are friends whose interaction with me is solely church related.  We worship together.  We sing together.  We experience the corporate experience.  Then there are my hanging buddies.  The ones who are like my Sex In The City girlfriends.  They make sure the fun-loving Suzette comes out to play.  We share, we eat, we argue, we shop, we laugh, we hang out.  I have biological sisters whom I adore, yet still there is a sisterly accessibility that they bring to my life that I have been missing.  

Under normal circumstances, I could easily fall right back in step with things.  But right now, I feel awkward.  Furthermore, my emotions betray me. It feels the same as when a wound heals on the outside, but when you bump up against it it still smarts!  Ouch!  Some situations feel like fingernails being scrapped down a chalkboard!  It is true that I feel the zest returning.  Maybe I just need something new.  Or maybe I need to better manage my life.  Discern when I'm ready for what and how much I can take at that moment.  My heart is open but it's not strong yet.  It's not aching but anything too intrusive is draining.  Zaps the energy right out of me.  Right now, I need lots of warmth, coziness and TLC.  

  

So today, I enjoy my alone time with my Boys To Men CD.  It's raining out which is the perfect backdrop for my cozy day.  No claps of thunder, no flashes of lightning, just smooth, steady droplets of water.  I write.  I listen to music.  I watch movies.  I eat.  I pray.  I breathe.  Selah.  

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Yay!

Thank you, Jesus!!!!!  I woke up this morning with absolute joy.  For the past few days, I've awakened sad and teary.  Maybe part of it is that I been dreaming about my ex.  Caught me completely off guard.  It's been happening Every. Single. Night.  And if I didn't see his face in my dreams, his presence was alluded to.  Dang the subconscious!!  But today...I repeat, today....I don't feel sadness.  Ahhhhhhhhhhh, Suzette is coming back!  It's not just a hope, a prayer, a goal, but I feel it.  Yay!

If that wasn't enough evidence, here's something else quite telling.  I just finished listening to Brian McKnight's Christmas CD.  If that thang ain't sexy?!  And you know the vibe, it's all about romance.  Normally, listening to something like that would tear at my joy and leave me in a teary depression.  Not today!  None of that residue, experienced or imagined, is on me this morning. 

I actually WANT to go out.  Not to work, mind you.  For the first time in a month and some change, I want to  get out...socially.  You know, BE among others.  I feel like a light has brightened inside and wants to shine.  Before today, I have pushed myself to get together with friends.  Sometimes it was uplifting.  Sometimes, not.  Everytime though, I felt anxiety about leaving my cocoon of an apartment or the comforts of isolation. 

Without a doubt, we females can't help talking about men.  I think it's in our DNA.  Either it's our hopes about men, frustration with not having a man, frustration with the man we have, planning something involving a man.  We are men junkies, I tell you. Normally, I am a card-carrying member of this club.  But after a breakup, you want to cut your card up and bury it. 
Everything's a reminder.  Movies, commercials, billboards.  Romance, sex, relationship is constant chatter.  P-a-i-n-f-u-l....except today!!! Yay!

With none of this emotional angst, I've rechecked my emails for upcoming meetups, social gatherings and invites.  I'm looking forward to this weekend.  I feel like putting on my makeup, throwing on something striking, putting on some sexy shoes and just strutting.  So much coming up!  I feel like I'm breathing again.  I feel that glow from the inside.

Okay, okay.....doooooown gurl.  Take it easy.  Wisdom says enjoy yourself but ease into it lest you should have a mad adrenalin rush and crash afterwards thereby plummeting back into depletion and sadness.  Okay, I hear you, God.  I'll just smile a lot, strut alot and breathe alot for now!

R.I.P. William McKinley Randolph

For the first time in about a week, I didn't feel sad when I woke up.  I laid in bed and pondered that for a while, praying intermittently.  Feeling a familiar bathroom urge, I got up.  Knowing that it required a little reading, I grabbed my book, EAT PRAY LOVE. 

Chapter 28.  "It is this happiness, I suppose (which is really a few months old by now), that gets me to thinking upon my return to Rome that I need to do something about David.  That maybe it's time for us to end our story forever."  Time to end our story forever.  I continued reading.  "Last spring David had offered this crazy solution to our woes...we could spend our lives together -- in misery, but happy to not be apart."  Being apart.  How I hate the being apart.  Maybe that's why I clung so hard emotionally.  Being apart has been terrifying for me for as long as I can remember.

My dad use to work out of town in a place called Nashville when I was, ummmm had to be 3 or 4 years old.  I know now that it was Nashville North Carolina, not Nashville Tennessee, though it felt like the latter.  Waiting for him to come home was e-x-c-r-u-c-i-a-t-i-n-g.  I remember the anguish of my little heart who missed her daddy and couldn't wait to hear his big voice.  Somehow, I equated him being home with peace and all things being right again.  "Alice Lee!" I heard.  It's him!!!!!  I rushed towards him and jumped into his arms.  That's the day he gave me my new tennis shoes.  I swear I walked in those shoes for the rest of the day and would have slept in em had my mom not taken them off.
   

Before I met my guy, I felt that same anguish.  Unknown to anyone, I would whisper to God nightly to please send me someone.  I had read somewhere that women tend to choose men like their fathers.  In fact, while writing this blog, I did my infamous Google search on the subject.  I scrolled down until there it was--tah daaah!--an article in CNN Living entitled "Why you're likely to marry your parent."  Comfort in familiarity, I read.  That sounds about right.  For you see, my prayer went something like this.  "God, I realize that I can't help being attracted to men like my father. Despite everything I've done to educate myself otherwise, I keep picking unavailable men.  I don't trust myself.  So, would you please pick for me?  An available man this time...who prefers me.  Who ain't gettin over nobody.  Who WANTS to be in a relationship.  Who ain't heavin and hoeing about the costs.  But most of all, who  has character.  Somebody I can respect who WANTS to be with me....Amen."

Let's see, dad died December 29, 1996 (or was it 1997).  I get confused because he died the end of one year and we had the funeral on January 1st of the next year.  I miss my dad more than words can say.  It doesn't hurt as much or as often, but oh how I miss him.  Maybe that is why I was so fascinated with my guy.  He was just like my dad!  Honest!  So similar until it was almost scary.  A man's man.  Self-determined, forthcoming, highly opinionated and yeah, a bad ass of sorts...lol.  Underneath all that gruffness though, it hurt him if there was a need and he couldn't help. He pondered and felt things deeply which made it difficult for him to release hurts.  He didn't need alot.  Just knowing that his family was okay was enough for him.  He LOVED working. Good, hard, physical work didn't scare him at all.  Very protective, faithful, consistent, true.  When my dad walked in, everything wrong got right - quick - cause my dad won't having no mess.  He and my dad were twin souls, I tell ya.  Maybe that's why I was so drawn to him that I couldn't walk away, even when he infuriated me.
 

When I'd see my guy with his children, I saw how my life would have been had my dad been available.  Sadly, he spent most of his life struggling with alcohol and fighting his demons.  When I met my guy's daughter and saw them interact, I saw me.  The giving, secure, compassionate woman I could have been had my dad been emotionally accessible.  I guess subconsciously something inside of me needed a do-over.  A righting old wrongs, the article called it. 

Now that it's been a month since my breakup and some of that emotional smoke has cleared, I ponder.  My agenda for my relationship was someone to do things with and go places with.  As it progressed into a relationship, my desire was for it to be healthy.  I told my guy that I wanted us both to have a good experience regardless of the outcome.  Could it be that the past nine months haven't been about that at all?
 

Grief has so many nuances.  Mourning a loss is  so intense at first but ultimately, according to Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, one comes to a place of acceptance.  A counselor friend of mine would call it that point when you say, "I hate that you died, but I will live on."  Conversely, there is something called complicated grief.  It's when grief is severe or prolonged.  For me, my dad was the first death that hit so close.  It was so unbelievable that even after the funeral, I would feel this overwhelming need to run down anybody who reminded me of him.  I recall such an incidence where an old man who wore his hat and clothes just like my dad walked into a room where I was sitting.  I lost it.  I cried uncontrollably and even asked this elderly man if I could hug him.  He was very kind to me as I explained that my father had died and he reminded me of him.  Though I don't have those impulses anymore, it's still hard.  Since his death, our family has not been the same.  It wasn't until he was gone that I realized he was the glue that held us all together.  When he died, everything fell apart.
   

God, once again, you heard not only my prayer but the unresolved pain in my heart.  You sent me my guy and I thank you.  With his help, you've gently brought me to this profound moment.  A moment of enlightenment and clarity.  There is one thing still to do.  I have to go back and bury my father.  So here we stand, You and I.  You're holding my hand as I bend down and kiss my dad for the last time.  Ashes to ashes.  Dust to dust.  We stand together as I watch him being lowered into the ground.  Goodbye.  Rest in peace, William McKinley Randolph.  Your kneebaby is okay now. 

Stamina To Wait

"Hope deferred maketh the heart sick." (Proverbs 13:12) As Pastor Stepney said these words today, a light came on.  Like a child who is told to wait when he asks for a cookie, our enthusiasm wanes when what we hope for is delayed.  A woman can have the greatest of self esteem but if she wants a long-term relationship and keeps having false starts, she either starts demonizing men or begins to question her own value and her own worth.   We're in an age where ladies are exhorted to "be successful."  We're told not to wait but to go for what we want.  We tell our daughters to pursue an education and a career - first.  "Men can wait," we tell them.  "Don't get involved with a man.  He'll only hinder you from where you want to go."  Do everything that you dream of doing now because when you get married, it'll be too late.  Though I'm all for self-actualization and girl power, I wonder if we are leaving out something just as important.  For once they've attained success and are ready to get married and have kids, they can't find anybody. Nobody told them that you can't set relationship goals like you do other goals.  You can achieve education and a career independently, but you can't have a relationship without the other's consent.  Men are not subject to our timeframe or our biological clock.  Oh, how it makes the heart sick!    When my relationship ended, the first question on everyone's lips was "what happened?" I think I had a different response to this question with each person who asked.  My responses changed with my contemplations.  And though I pride myself for handling the break up maturely, I still was left with the same questions that countless women ask themselves.  Why wasn't I enough?  Is there something wrong with me?  Should I have done this differently?  Comparisonwise, I don't know what's worse.  Having a man who treated you like his queen and the relationship ends or having a shiftless man and the relationship ends.  Let's face it.  If you had hopes that weren't met, it makes the heart sick. "They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.  They shall mount up on wings as eagles.  They shall run and not be weary.  They shall walk and not faint." (Isaiah 40:31) The sermon today offered us a remedy.  Stamina to wait was the subject.  Pastor Stepney said that when hope is deferred we need strength to wait.  Waiting on the Lord offers strength in four areas:  inner strength, upward strength, outer strength and onward strength.  Inner strength speaks of our emotions, our mind, our thoughts.  It strengthens our heart. It helps us to support ourselves, not turn on ourselves or others. Upward strength allows us to soar above your circumstance.  Like the eagle, you see your surroundings from a higher vantage point.  Stamina suggests outward strength.  The waiting is parallel to a runner who is training.   At first, he might only be able to run for a little while before resting.  The more he runs though, he builds stamina that allows him to run further, longer, easier.  Lastly, God gives strength to move forward.  I was inspired most by this onward strength. Part of grieving a breakup is revisiting and replaying what led up it.  To magnify what they did, said, how they acted, all that is normal.  Remaining in that pondering state, however, can make the heart sick.  Perhaps, we need the onward strength to get us unstuck.  It's not that you excuse the other person, their contribution or their contamination of the relationship--or yourself, for that matter.  Onward strength, to me, allows you to put all to rest so that you can accept your now and move on. It takes time, yes.  I believe it also takes work.  In my case, I'm seeing a relationship coach.  And though anger triggers was my main reason, we are finding out that everything is interconnected.  I am challenged to examine my values, my lifestyle, my boundaries and areas where there are incongruities.    Soooooooooo, rather than blaming the other person and closing my heart, I am inviting my friends and my God to support me.  I want my heart to remain open and pliable.  One of the members of the church said something that resonated with me.  She said that both "Taps" and "Reveille" are military bugle calls where the same third notes are played.  One could say, they are the same song just played differently.  Taps is played at military funerals.  It is also a bugle call at night signifying "light's out."  Reveille is played to wake up the troops and inspire them to action.  "It's your choice," she said.  You can look at your life and hear Taps, grieve and be sad.  Or you can hear Reveille, a call to something new.    I don't feel Reveille yet.  I must be honest.  But I'm doing the work.  I'm putting myself in a space that supports me, heals me and inspires me to move on.

A Wound-Free Heart

In September 2006, I wrote this article.  Little did I know that it would help me at this time in my life.

"Some lofty soul once said, "the best way to get over one man is to get under another." In fact, it was one of the characters of the romantic comedy, DELIVER US FROM EVA. Though that was a Hollywood production, it's surprising how many people really believe this is the answer. Society even confuses a new relationship as evidence that a person has moved on. But, it's not that easy...READ MORE

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My Joy Remains

As I sit here at my computer, watching Oprah, I am amazed at the joy I still feel.  I woke up and felt such joy until I asked God if I was Bipolar.  Really, I did.  I didn't know if I needed to prepare myself for the crash to despair. 

As I ponder this, I remember the last time I felt grief was Sunday at church.  A spirit of praise ignited in morning worship and while everyone was dancing around me, all I could do was walk and cry.  I felt such sadness.  The tears running down my cheeks and a lump in my throat but there was a yet praise.  A yet praise is being thankful regardless of what you're going through.  I remember saying "thank you" and though I was in pain, there was gratitude in my heart.

I didn't feel relief immediately.  I still felt choked up at times.  Monday came.  I felt a little better.  By the end of the day, I was almost prancing cause I was sooooo happy to be on vacation.  My joy remains.

Every single moment of Days 1 and 2 of my vacation have been full of gratitude and joy.  It's like the weight has been lifted and I am just...glad.  Today, I feel on the other side of grief.  I can recall fond memories without feeling sad.  I grin and even catch myself giggling.  There's a song I've heard a gospel quarter sing that says "Jesus tooka my burden.  I could no longer bear.  Jesus tooka my burden in answer to my prayer.  Anger and fear subsided.  My spirit was made strong.  Jesus tooka my burden and He left me with a song."

I'm stepping out of my corner. Stepping out of my sadness.  Not only stepping into the Light but being filled with that Light. Thank you, God! 

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Today I Smiled

Today I smiled
Thoughts of you filled my heart
With the rising of the sun a brand new start 
Tears of yesterday done
No cleaving
No grieving
Just joy
Unexplainable joy

Today I smiled
Stumbling, standing, growing, landing
At my destined place is where I'm standing
Cares of today none
No debating
No hesitating
Just free
Undeniably free

Today I smiled 
Stronger, happier, I now see
Forever changed by you and me
Fears of my future gone
No hiding
No denying
Just me
Unapologetically me

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Baby Steps

I've had  Leona Lewis' most current CD playing in the background for about an hour.  Wasn't a problem while I was preparing my meal but now that I've fixed my plate and sat down to eat, I've got to turn her off.  I love her voice, I truly do, but her CD is a compilation of pulsating and sometimes heart-wrenching love themes.  Some about passionately loving someone and the joy.  Others about how she's broken.  Still others lamenting that her man doesn't love her anymore.  I'm done.  I hit the stop button - click-up!

As I sit here eating, I have a chance to ponder my day.  I am grateful to have my energy back.  It's not because it's forced.  I'm not trying to make myself be anything that I'm not.  The energy is flowing on its own.  Thank you Jesus!!!!  Typically, I am not a sullen personality.  I am a high energy, optimistic, joyful spirit.  Being in social situations and surrounded by friends makes me as happy as a clam.  Feeling sad and temperamental is just not me.  Today was a good day.  Here lies the deception.  You think you are better.  So you start getting back into the swing of things.  Listening to the same music, watching the same TV programs, engaging in the same conversations with friends.  But you aren't okay yet. 

Reminds me of my tooth. Not the tooth again!  Okay, okay, I hear you.  I'll use another example.  It's like getting over the flu.  You start feeling better and, because you've been couped up and feelin so terribly, you are bursting at the seams to get out again.  You are so happy you overdo it.  Then you wake up the next morning feelin like... well...h-o-r-r-i-b-l-e!

Last night, I ate something crunchy.  I could chew on my left side.  Yeah!  Wow, I thought to myself, my tooth is healed.  So I ate as if everything was fine.  But today, it throbbed almost all day long!  Sorry, I couldn't help it, I had to slip that tooth thing in cause that's where I am. 

So it is with my heart.  I was just on the phone with a girlfriend.  I was energetic and she even commented that I sounded better.  But by the end of the conversation my energy had waned.  It's funny how men, relationships and the like are a commonplace discussion for us ladies.  Normally, the conversation would have been thought-provoking, discussion-worthy and would leave me feeling energized by the adrenaline-rush I often feel.  Relationships are my thing.  I read relationship books.  I write about relationships.  Even hope to have another one one day.  Having men and women in a room and listening to them talk about relationships is absolute heaven....normally.  Not this time.   

I've learned something very valuable tonight. For now, discussions about relationships, men, folks losing someone they love, dating experiences are not a good idea.   I'm still very sensitive.  I'm gonna have to take it easy.  Baby steps.

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An Excuse To Start Living

Sometimes all you need is an excuse to start living.  As I reflect on the last couple of weeks, the last nine months, and the time before then, I've become aware of one thing.  I've not even tapped the surface of what it means to live life to its fullest.  I've always had trouble allowing myself to do things that weren't deemed practical, sensible or responsible.  Most of my life has been about helping others get to where they want to go.  However, I find it puzzling that doing something for myself evokes fear and guilt. 

My sister and I often talk about one image that concerns us both.  It is of my mom sitting in a corner eating her food alone.  There were always people in my mom and dad's home.  They were always feeding somebody or preparing plates to take to the sick.  When my older sister would come home and bring her friends, it was so exciting cause mom would cook as if she was preparing for a king.  My dad's big voice would boom over everyone else's as he welcomed our guests and told them not to be shy about eating.  I LOVED those sounds!  Everyone would gather around the table, talking, laughing, enjoying their meal and my mom would gladly serve.  We would tell mom to stop serving and come and join the rest of us but she would say she was fine. You can't imagine how I felt when I'd go into the kitchen and find my dear sweet mother, eating her meal in a corner.  This didn't happen just once.  It was the norm.

I shared with my sister my inner struggle with that corner thing sometimes.  It's like a scared little mouse running along the floorboards, afraid to come to the middle of the floor.  I see my friends traveling, buying houses, going back to school and getting promotions.  Even in this economy they are getting new jobs, moving to other states and making their dreams happen.  Some people are using their lay-offs to finally do what they've only dreamed of.  While stock prices are low, investors are buying them up so that when the market improves they will make millions.  "I don't want to live my life in a corner," I said. "I don't want to look up one day and see that I didn't allow myself to live life to the fullest."

When I filled out my online profile, one of the things I wanted was someone to do things with.  Things that I'd always wanted to do. Things that I enjoyed doing but didn't do often enough.  I needed an excuse.  Maybe an excuse would override the gravitational pull of the corner.  An excuse to go to concerts that I'd long to go to but not permit myself to go to.  An excuse to not just limit my beach trip to a day but to stay the whole weekend.  An excuse to actually go to a sports event rather than just watch it on TV.  Maybe with the help of a partner, I would stop reverting back to sitting in the kitchen in the corner and actually give myself permission to live.  Not just live in spurts, but to live fuller, richer.  And I did!  I went to Myrtle Beach, Virginia Beach, Charleston SC.  I went to the Chrisette Michelle/ Laura Izibor concert.  Went on my first picnic.  Drove a Ford Ranger for the first time.  Let my inner kid out at Adventure Landing.  I had never done that before.  

"I don't want to go back," has been my heart's cry since my relationship ended for most of these things I experienced were with my guy.  Now that the relationship is over, it's just me.  I had already decided that didn't want to go back to settling.  Settling for busyness just so I don't have to spend another day alone in my apartment.  Settling for unavailable men or Mr. Right Now out of boredom or loneliness or desperation. What I experienced in my relationship with King disspelled fears of abandonment, allowed me to experience what real coupledom feels like, and lifted me to new consciousness about life and love.  I am forever changed.  I can't go back.

So what's next for Suzette?  Teaching my heart to breathe again. To trust again.  Dismantling those triggers that cause me to go off - you know that angry with your hand on your hip, your finger pointed and your neck rolling.  Traveling by myself to places I've never been.  Just me and my camera are enough.  Discovering new, tasty dishes that are low carb.  Gots to reverse this pre-diabetic diagnosis.  Learning to swim.  I made progress with King's coaching but it's time to go the rest of the way.  Reading more fiction.  I've been a non-fiction buff but since reading Terry McMillan's Getting To Happy, I want to read more and even add audio books to my library.  Seeking home ownership.  In a year or so, I'll need the tax deduction.  Besides, the interest rates are so low.  So many incentives out there.  Now's the time.  Publishing more articles.  Sporting a sassy, coming-out hairdo.  Maybe a straw set, I dunno.  But it's got to be bodacious!  Doing some belated Spring cleaning and donating to local charities.  I hear the Food Bank needs nonperishables, especially for the holidays. 

I've given my heart time to grieve.  And I'm proud that God graced me to be confidently vulnerable.  It's the kind of vulnerablility that allows you to be honest and unashamed, not the kind that attracts sharks.  When I went to church today, I knew it was time to let go.  You see, the preacher took his text from the Book of Ruth where Ruth, Naomi and Orpah were at a crossroads.  Naomi was returning to her home country and she admonished her daughters-in-law to stay in their native land.  Though there was love and respect between them, and their hearts were grieved at the thought of parting, their present state forced a decision.  "There are some things that you have to kiss good-bye," the preacher said.  I've done that already, I thought.  But the truth is I had not fully let go.  But I realize that I've got to finish the rest of this Bucket List without him.

I'm ready now, dear Lord.  Attraversiamo.  Let's cross over into deeper and richer experiences together.

I Trust You With My Heart

Hold up!  Is this a coincidence or is the Universe trying to tell me something?  I subscribe to two online relationship newsletters, right?  Well, on yesterday I received the Finding Soulmate Success newsletter from Dr. Ronn Elmore, author of How To Love A Black Man and No-Nonsense Dating.  It was entitled "How To Start Trusting Again."  Then 15 minutes later, I received my routine email from Paige Parker, author of ebook Dating Without Drama.  The title of her newsletter?  "Why You Should Never Regret An Ex."

As you know, I broke up with my boyfriend.  Sunday will make two weeks.  During this time, I've been really grieving the loss.  I decided early on that I would not be stuck in anger or denial.  Might not be the case for others, but for me, anger is a way to avoid sadness and disappointment.  It keeps me from feeling vulnerable and weak.  And denial?  It's a way not to feel like a failure.  

Ours was a different story.  I was treated well.  I have no regrets.   I don't feel like a failure so I don't feel the need for anger or denial.  We were well aware of what bothered us about the other.  But as with other relationships, there was so much potential there that we felt it was worth it to try to work through our differences.  That takes time.  I learned that you cannot truly give a relationship a fighting chance if you aren't 100% in.  So I challenged myself to throw away my exit plan and I am soooo glad I did. 

Both newsletters were about moving on.  Paige's encouraged that you not cheat yourself of the experience by regretting the time you spent in the relationship.  Most powerful was her response to an email from one of her readers.  A young lady had been seriously dating this guy for 4 years and they broke up.  "I am so sorry to hear about the ending of your relationship," Paige writes.  "I suspect that there were problems you just couldn't overcome as a couple."  Simple answer to the why that I struggled with in the dark.

This next part of her response is a little lengthy, but it brought even more perspective:

When you met your ex, you were a different person than you are today. You had certain needs, expectations, beliefs and dreams that drew you toward him. The connection you formed was
based on his needs, expectations, beliefs and dreams as well. You met each other right where you were "at" and formed a bond based on that.

As your relationship progressed, you and your ex began to evolve, but not necessarily in the same ways. Some of your needs, expectations, beliefs and dreams changed, and his did as well.
You may have grown...he may have regressed.

Without me knowing the details of your breakup, suffice it to say that, eventually, you and your ex came to a crossroads and could not meet each other on this new level. You ceased to understand one another like you once did and found it impossible to relate in the ways that you used to.

So you see, at the time you and your ex met, he WAS 'the one' for you...THEN.  You wouldn't have been ready for anyone else - even if the man you're meant to marry was standing right in front of you,
you would have chosen your ex.

That relationship taught you the lessons you needed to learn at this time - and because of it you know more about who you are and what you want and deserve out of life.

You are more evolved now and soon you'll be ready for the next relationship that will challenge you to grow... and ...the relationships that last forever are the ones where two people challenge each other to learn and grow while constantly rising up to meet one another at their new level.

Aw, how rich is that! Although I never felt like my time with my ex was wasted - quite the contrary - I struggled with how it ended.  I struggled with why one day we were saying how much we loved each other and in a moment, we were agreeing that we needed to break up.  When you can answer that question to your own satisfaction, it brings relief.  Peace. Your heart needs nothing more from the past.  It's ready to let go and move on.

This is usually where I stop.  Isn't this where most of us stop?  You feel such relief to the point that you feel you're alright now.  It's all good, you tell yourself.  Truth is, it isn't.  Your heart has to learn to trust again.   If not, your heart will close.  Instead of approaching romantic relationships open, willing and confident, you block true intimacy.  "The truth is, after a break-up, hearts tend to heal slowly. Sometimes, very slowly. It can take more than a minute, but eventually you start feeling (mostly) like yourself again. Then a BIG question comes up that you know you must ask yourself, yet you find it quite difficult to answer: Will I ever be able to trust my judgment about men and love again?” 

I'll be honest.  As I sit here right this minute, this is the furtherest thing from my mind.  I'm so emotionally spent that I don't feel the energy to contemplate it.  It's hard enough to get out of the bed, get dressed for work and go about the day-to-day requirements of life.  I stayed in my jammies all day.  I just wanted to stay in my house, work, write, watch TV and eat. I didn't want to go anywhere where people expect me to put on a happy face. I didn't want to go to another dating site. I don't want to even think about getting into another relationship.

Your Challenge. Your Choice.

Dr. Ronn writes, "Trusting your own judgment, trusting the next man, and trusting love again may seem too complicated and improbable for you to count on ever happening. But, not only CAN you do it—you MUST— if you are ever going to move forward again, toward your relationship goal, instead of staying forever stuck at the crossroads of 'Yes, I can' and ‘No, I can’t.' ”

As I read these words from the good doctor's newsletter, I realize that in order for my heart to be restored, I have to deal with the distrust that is invariably a byproduct of a break up.  If I don't, fear and distrust will be my constant companions.     

Lord help me.  Right now, I find this overwhelming.  The whole idea of moving forward makes me shaky and scared.  Nevertheless, I trust you with the timing.  I trust you with my heart.

Remove the Splinter, Heal the Wound

I contemplated going but I just didn't want to go. I was told that in order to benefit from the group, the participants needed to come to at least 5 meetings. But the idea of being in the room with that facilitator and those people just filled my heart with dread. It's not that I think I'm better or something. It's not even that I minimize my need for intervention. It's just that everyone seemed almost zombie-like.

Does managing your anger mean you cease to have a pulse?  Most of the folks were on medication and boy, you could tell!  Those who participated spoke in monotone.  They didn't look each other in the eye.  And the group was sooooooo structured. They had to read from a book. And if they shared their experience with anger, they had to follow some structured way of presenting. Arggghhhhh!  How can I manage my anger when being with these folks made me want to run down the street screaming like a lunatic?!

I like my passion. I like my animation. I like my voice inflection. I like that I laugh loudly and have a sense of humor. I can't believe that getting control of my temper means I have to go into a coma. I remember thinking to myself, I prefer the other approach to anger that I read before coming to this meeting. "Managing anger does not work and 'trying' not to be angry often ultimately makes the situation worse." I had typed the words "anger issues" in Yahoo search and came upon this website called Divinely Designed. Their belief was that anger is not something to be managed. Instead, find the root cause and remove it.

I remember telling my then-boyfriend that I knew exactly what sets off my temper.  The anger management group called them triggers.  The website referred to them as splinters.  When I am talking and keep getting interrupted, that frustrates me. I even have physiological responses when someone pushes me to do something I don't want to do or when someone uses a condescending tone or goes off on me. I can feel the irritation start at my neck and tighten at the back of my head. If I feel that my feelings are being dismissed or minimized or when an expectation is unmet, I feel my heartbeat get faster and my face become flushed. If I'm lied to or deceived, I not only become angry, I launch a full-scale verbal attack. Nine times out of 10, that's when I'll either throw you out or I'll leave in a huff.

When I really think about this, I have to admit that my anger makes me feel powerful. It's a way to defend myself against some perceived threat to my human rights, honor, value or abilities. As I continued to scroll through the website, something else caught my attention. "While the splinter is still in my finger, that spot is very tender and easily hurt.  But once the splinter is removed, then healing can occur.  When healed, my finger no longer over-reacts to being touched (or poked). In a similar way, there is some wound inside you that causes you to spontaneously, emotionally, react when someone pokes you with a sharp stick. "

If it was simply an external wound caused by a splinter, I could get some tweezers and remove it. I could apply alcohol and in time, the affected area would heal. But when it's an internal wound, it requires a spiritual antidote.  My prayer is Lord show me what the splinters are.  Let your Love get to the root of them and remove them.  Help me to find my power in you.

When God Doesn't Make Sense

St. John Chapter 11 gives an account of Lazarus.  Having been inspired by a sermon some months ago, I have reread this account of what many think is the greatest miracle performed by Jesus.  Although the sermon was about being released for a purpose, I saw something I had never seen before in all my years of hearing this story.

"His [Lazarus] sisters, therefore, sent to him [Jesus], saying; Lord, behold, he whom thou lovest, is sick."  Jesus loved Lazarus.  There was a relationship there that was so close that it was a known fact.  So can you imagine how shocked and disillusioned Lazarus' sisters must have felt when Jesus delayed coming for two days.  Jesus was less than two miles away.  Pastor Stepney really made it plain in his sermon.  Jesus could have easily walked the two miles to see about his friend and returned back to what he was doing.  Yet, Jesus stays put.  His friend is suffering and He stays put.  Lazarus' state is getting worse and Jesus stays put.  His breathing becomes shallow.  Jesus stays put.  The systems of his body are shutting down. Jesus stays put.  Lazarus is pronounced dead.  Jesus stays put.  His body is wrapped and prepared for burial.  Jesus stays put.  They have the funeral. Jesus stays put.  Sunrise, sunset for 3 days, no Jesus.

What do you do when God doesn't make sense?  When I was a little girl, I was told that if I "got saved" my life would be better.  If I lived a holy life, God would bless me.  My prayers would be answered.  God's love would cause the sun to shine and dispel the most dark day.  If I prayed to Him for help, He would come.  I don't know about you, but I can remember praying until I was weak and hoarse but my situation did not change.  In fact, it got worse.  When that happens, we are inclined to ask what we are doing wrong and bargain with God.  You've heard it.  "If you do these things for me, I'll be so careful...."

"And Jesus hearing it, said to them; This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God: that the Son of God may be glorified by it."  Interestingly, Jesus says this in verse 4 of that same Chapter.  Yet in verse 14, Jesus says "Lazarus is dead."  What's up with that?  I'm sure the disciples exchanged puzzled glances.  First Jesus says Larzarus is not going to die and then turns around and says he's dead. 

Didn't I hear from God?  Let me have a show of hands of those who have asked this question.  Okay, okay, that would be all of us church folk who pride ourselves on hearing God tell us to do this or to do that.  You said God told you to marry that man, but the marriage ended.  You said God gave you that job, yet you got laid off.  Who was wrong?  Since God can't make a mistake it had to be you, right? Tell that to the disciples.  If God is faithful.  If God is all-knowing.  Why?  Why would there be inconsistent messages.  When I ponder this, I have to put myself in the disciples' place.  They didn't have the Bible to read.  They didn't know that God had a plan bigger than they could fathom.

Like Lazarus' sisters, I've prayed to a God I knew loved me and had my best interest at heart, but he didn't come.  More than once, I've made specific prayers, thought God answered them, but then the outcome was different from what I expected.  I know that the trial of my faith is more precious than gold, but come on!  What do you do when it doesn't make sense?  

I personally have no answer.  Nevetheless, when Pastor Stepney preached this, he made two points that I think apply really well here.  God wants to reveal himself to you was his first point.  In the story, God reveals himself as The Resurrection.  Death was of no consequence.  To the point, it might look like it's too late; but God's timing is perfect.  Not perfect to you, but perfect to Him.  His second point was God wants to be glorified on Earth.  In short, sometimes what's happening to you isn't for you at all.  It's so that someone else can witness the miracle and be encouraged.  Makes me look at what's happened in my life differently.

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I Am His Strength Made Perfect

Before I could open my eyes good, You were there to greet me. Good morning, God. "You are weak," You said. I had been trying not to deal with it. It wasn't that You called me weak, you were only reminding me what someone else said. And those words had been silently taunting me since they were spoken. Some things roll right off my shoulder but something about that opinion caused me pause. Am I weak? I pondered. What do you believe? You asked.

In times past when faced with these daunting questions about myself, I would automatically start sifting through relics from my past for answers. You know those boxes you keep in storage behind the Christmas tree ornaments and seasonal clothing: how I was parented, what my daddy said to me, my strict upbringing, relationships gone bad. Those were the normal bags I'd pull out of storage and go through. Ah yes, and those boxes closer to the front: what I dealt with in my marriage, post-empty nest singleness.  I call that my "now what" box.

Not this time. What I believe has to do with my now not my then. For I have grown into the Wiser me, much like a 2 year old foot grows into a size 10 shoe. Actually, my shoe size is a 6 1/2, but you get my point.  I've nurtured the wounded child, educated the naieve adult, de-stigmatized the divorcee and become comfortable in my own skin.  So instead, I look in my big gurl closet – the one in my bedroom - for the answer. I look among the clothes that I have hanging now. Yes, those Misses size 6's that fit me perfectly.

This garment is my favorite! When I hold this one up to me, I think I'm my most radiant. The parenting of my son. I raised a fine young man. And though my role has changed, my son still considers me a safe place.  Ummm, I love that Golden color.  Looks good against my skin.  Next outfit. Yes, my favorite work outfit. I have a great job. I work flexible hours, work from home 2 days out of the week and pretty much go and come when I please. It didn't just happen though. I was assertive and it paid off.  On this hanger is compassion. Feels like silk.  It was tested when a family member rejected me and said it was my fault.  I could have pointed out her faults in retaliation  Instead, my Silky Self recognized her pain and responded with empathy. 

Oh yeah, this sweater. As I run my fingers along its fabric, it is a little more coarse than the others. Not my favorite piece cause it doesn't feel very good. It's called admitting when I'm wrong. I don't like this one that much but I've had to wear it a few times. Humility. I put this garment on just this past Tuesday morning, in fact. I admitted that my temper gets the best of me sometimes.  Those hidden triggers that cause me to go on the attack. They've been there for a long time. I've minimized them, even thought I was better, cause normally I'm a pretty cool person. But ooh-we, when someone detonates one of those suckers, KABLAM! That is a problem.  My Wise Self knows that it needs to be dealt with now.  So, after I apologized, I found an anger management session in town and went that same night. 

Now I have to be honest.  When someone you love is critical, even if it's constructive, it doesn't feel good.  I use to take what someone said to me and defer to their opinion of me.  Not any more.  I've learned over the years to appeal to the Spirit of Truth, the Wise Counselor, the All-Knowing God who Created me and makes no mistakes.  What others say might be true, but only His opinion is The Truth. 

When I went to the endodontist and was silently struggling, my Creator sent his answer through two unlikely people.  I couldn't stop crying. I had gotten a needle in my gums and it was as if my heart resounded its pain in response.  It was then that the Asian dental assistant said to me "You cry. You have soft heart. That's good. So many woman trying to be so strong. Keep pain, hurt inside. Not good. Think crying is weakness. Tears are gift. Cleanse soul. Heal heart." She patted me and said, "cry and you will heal."  She wiped my tears. No one in the room but her and me. Then the endodontist came in to check to see if I was numb enough. During the root canal, he exclaimed, "You are a strong woman! With your tooth this inflamed, I don't see how you could have functioned as long as you did. A week? Most folks couldn't have done that." The dental assistant agreed. "You're a tough little cookie!," he said.

In the final analysis, it's the Truth of your words that speak the loudest.  And let's say, worst case scenario, I am weak.  Your strength is made perfect in my weakness.  That's Your answer even for that. Sooooo, I guess you could say I am your strength made perfect.  Perhaps even, this is my anger management: I don't have to retaliate. Simply stand in your strength.

Nothing But A Bag

"Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike."(Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)

It was quarter of 12 noontime. There was a knock at the door. Your knock. I recognized it cause you knock like the police. I was tempted to joke with you about that like normal, but I had to remind myself nothing about this would be normal.  I had lost track of time. Startled yet expecting you to come, I got off the sofa and walked to the door. It's time. Reminded me of the knock on the door when it was time to get into the limousine and go to the church. Not for a wedding but for my dad's funeral. There's that jumpiness when you hear the words, "it's time."  It's like a jolt to your system.

There was finality to this knock. This would be the last time I'd see your face. This would be the last time I'd hear your voice. I opened the door and there you were, bag in hand, looking at me yet not looking at me. I couldn't look into your eyes. There was no entry. I was no longer welcomed. All I could do was take the bag you were holding. My things. My things all neatly placed with the utmost care in a bag.

It amazes me that it all comes down to a bag. A lifeless bag. What of all that we shared.  What of the laughter. What of the dancing. What of the long talks. What of the shared meals. What of our feet touching and legs intertwined.  What of our hopes, dreams for the future. What of the first time you sang to me. What of our first picnic. Our first walk in the park, sitting on the swings like little kids grinning at each other. Our first kiss. Our first of so many firsts that are ever so present in my heart. A bag cannot hold it all, yet this is all you have for me.

Like lifeless forms we stand here facing each other, going through the motions.  I take a look in the bag.  At the bottom, clothing folded neatly. In the middle, my key in a sealed envelope. Good luck written on it. On top of that, my toiletries gently placed in their own separate bag. You were so careful with my things. That's so like you. You were so careful to make sure you cooked enough so I had something to take with me to lunch the next day.  You were careful to make sure I got in the car okay and got home safely.  You were careful to make sure I didn't have to feel alone another day.  I never had to wonder where you were - until now. 

How are you feeling?  Are you hurting as much as I am? Do you want to touch me, hold me, kiss me one last time?  Can I touch you? 

Your manner was quiet as you gave this, my things, back to me. Your manner was so heavy.  You looked so tired. There was no joy in your face.  You didn't come pimping in, like usual, like you owned the place.  Talking junk.  I felt so fidgety as I searched underneath my sink for something to put your things in. Why didn't I already have it prepared? I knew you were coming. Maybe unconsciously I wanted to prolong our final moment.  Much like I did when I had them to open the casket one last time before they lowered my father into the ground, I needed to look at you, be around you just a little while longer. You stood there silently, patiently, barely moving. I thanked you. Without a word, you exited. Without a sigh. Without a look. You left me and the chill of that moment hit my face. I closed the door. Gosh, the sound of the lock turning sounded so loud. So final. I carried my neat bag and sat it on the floor near the kitchen. I fell to the floor. It hurts so bad.  My sobs fill the house and swurl around my head.  I'm heart broken.

It is over.  You are gone.  I am alone.

Attraversiamo

 

I am awake. My laptop monitor is shining in my face, but it seems like it's still night. I close it. I like this time of the morning. That time when day has not fully broken yet you know in a few minutes light is going to glow brighter and brighter outside your window. My body knew. So, rather than roll back over and go to sleep, I laid on my bed starring out into the darkness. "I don't want to do like I usually do," I whispered. "I just want to grieve. Not wondering what or if I could have done anything differently. Not brooding over why this had to end. Rather, I just want to grieve the loss of something that I held dear."

I remember the first day I met him. He was rounding a corner about a block ahead. I was immediately struck by the pep in his step. A black man in jeans is all kinds of sexy. I moved closer thinking to myself that if he wasn't the one I was suppose to meet, would it be absolutely crass if I struck up a conversation and got his number. I started walking a little faster and noticed him slowing his gait and looking back. My heart raced. I so wanted to catch up with this distinguished looking gentleman, who had that Morgan Freeman sexy going for him. It's hard to believe that we've been together for nine months since that day.

Nine months. That's how long it takes to get pregnant, bring the baby to term and give birth. We've given birth to what's been growing underneath our clothes. In our hearts. Did we take care of it? Was its conception just the result of two lustful bodies going through the motions of love or was it conceived out of love? And once it happened, did we take care it? Did we take our prenatal vitamins, get enough sleep, get regular checkups? Did we hear its heart beat for the very first time and smile with excitement of the being we created together? Whether to keep it or not was not even a question or a thought. All the weight gain, morning sickness, fatigue, swollen ankles, back aches and awkwardness was simply what we had to go through to bring to term this being. This extension of you and me.

You think when you embark on a romantic adventure that it's about finding that special someone that your heart has longed for all your life. And truthfully, it is. Is it just me though who has with this encounter discovered that it was more than the happily ever after portrayal that we live for at the end of a good chick flick. Something has brought the couple to a moment of disenchantment. The arms that once held them are now the arms distancing one from the other. Yet some time passes – maybe a week, a month, a year – and fate brings them back together and….and…..the camera moves in for a close up of her eyes as they lock with his. It's obvious from those who have followed their story that there is something magical there but will they see it. Will they get past their differences? Can they get past their differences? Past the I don't like and I can't stand and this isn't working and realize that what they gave birth to is so much bigger than the two of them alone? Or will this be the Casablanca ending where Ingrid Bergman walks away in the fog without Humphrey Bogart? We sit with baited breath, wondering, hoping.

Attraversiamo! This was the word that the main character of the book EAT PRAY LOVE spent her whole journey to claim. At its start, while in Italy learning to rediscover the pleasures of simply eating of life without the usual politically correct restraints, she was asked by her new friends, "what's your word, Liz?" I can't for the life of me remember the context of the question. I've even just thumbed through the book hoping to find that place where in the movie this discussion of words came up in conversation. Nevertheless, at the end of the movie, Liz's bombshell of a lover, Felipe, invites her to attraversiamo with him. This shakes her to her core. For the idea of giving up something she fought so hard to find – her balance, her identity, her lost soul – and to risk it all by taking this man's hand filled her with terror. Like many of us, she ran. Fortunately though, she runs back to Ketut, her Wise Guide I call him. His words penetrated her confusion and got to the heart of the matter. "Losing your balance for love is getting your balance in life" he says. Nonetheless, as she grappled with do I hold on to me or do I hold on to us, Felipe looked her in the eyes and said to her with absolute clarify of heart, soul and spirit, "regardless to whether you come with me or not, I'm getting in this boat." The love they shared helped him to reclaim the part of himself that had been locked away for so long.

So as I lay staring at the ceiling in my bedroom. I know in my heart that life has extended its hand and invited me into its boat with a hearty attraversiamo. Regardless to whether you accept the invitation or not, I'm getting in this boat.

Oh, in case you're wondering what attraversiamo means. It means let's cross over.

At Least Preparation H Helps Undereye Puffiness

Help! Seems like something has taken over my body and wants to take it down! Okay, okay….a little less dramatic. Since turning 50, it seems ails that have been developing over time have crescendoed! I feel like a pure tee hypochondriac. I've gone to the doctor more times this year than EVER! And to think my biggest fear was getting that signature William Randolph under eye bulge. I've had an insidious toothache. My dentist hoped that with a little TLC and drugs, my tooth nerve would settle down. Nothing doing. My tooth has been in a rage ever since my dentist put a temporary crown on it. Since that time, over a week ago, food has not tasted as good. I've felt bad at work. And I've cried almost every night due to fatigue and discomfort.

As if that wasn't enough, I've also had a upsurgence of acid reflux. But get this, it's not the typical GERD. It's raised its game to silent reflux. Yes, silent reflux. I didn't even know that existed. My feelings of a thick throat, coughing, hoarseness and feeling like my esophagus barely had enough room for the pills I continued to swallow prompted me to visit an E-N-T specialist. He sprayed some anesthetic in my nostrils and stuck a long tube down my nose so he could see clear back to my voice box. Unpleasant is an understatement. Silent reflux is what he called my condition. It's when the fluid that refluxes constantly irritates the throat area. It's also called silent because people might not have heartburn with it. It has been absolutely MISERABLE! So, in addition to pain relievers and Amoxicillin, I've been taking Nexium twice a day and intermittently popping Antacids. Seems my silent reflux ain't so silent cause I have had pain in my chest. Now I realize that along with pulled chest muscles, I have heartburn!

Oh, I'm not through. I've also had hand pain. My ulnar nerve is irritated – has shortened, the neurologist said – and as a result my pinky fingers tend to go numb and I have stabbing pain in the middle of my palms. This, they say, happens when you tend to lean your elbows on the table. Since I don't do that, they said that skinny people have this happen more often than others because we don't have enough fat to cushion it. Oh bother!

And the cu-de-gra, at my recent annual physical, I was told I am pre-diabetic! Pre-diabetic? I can't believe it! Me. The person who isn't a health nut, but am a mindful eater. The person who isn't a smoker or a drinker. Me! I am just more than puzzled by this. So, my doctor told me I needed to eat less carbs and up my fruits and veggies. Hopefully, if I raise my game, I can reverse this. So, pray for me y'all. I just didn't expect all this to happen my 50^th year.

I guess there is a bright side. Preparation H does wonders for under eye puffiness.

Change Your Confession

This morning, I awakened with a dream fresh on my mind.  Now, don't laugh.  It involved Lilly Winters from The Young and The Restless.  Somehow, she was always experiencing one trauma after another.  It seemed she couldn't get ahead.  Sounds a lot like her character on the soap opera.  In my dream, nonetheless, her friends and family seemed really puzzled.  It took a while, but I started putting it all together.  I brought to her attention that her condition was linked to what she said.   

I believe that part of being made in the Image of God is having creative potential.  We can take our resources and transform them into something more usable and more powerful.  It is true that as kids, we don't have much say-so over our lives.  However, as adults, if we really look at our lives, I believe we'll see where every consequence was preceded by some action or inaction on our part.  Take money for example.  Many of us are one paycheck from being homeless because of a series of decisions we've made or consented to regarding our finances.  Even those who have chosen to do nothing have still given their consent to their current state.

I've often heard the scripture, "death and life are in the power of the tongue.  In response, many of us have been told to be careful of what we say.  I see it differently.  We speak mindless words all day.  We are greeted all day long with a "Hi!  How ya doing?"  "Fine," we say.  Yet at the end of the day, we feel no better.  Sometimes, we feel even worse.  Maybe the power isn't so much in the words.  Perhaps, the power is in the tongue - the one who is speaking.  After all, if you keep turning the pages, you'll come upon another scripture, "out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks."  Words are just words.  It's the belief behind those words that holds the power.

What do you believe about yourself?  About your situation? 

Several years ago, I remember complaining to my life coach that I felt alone.  "My friends are too busy for me," I whined.  "They are involved with their own families and lives and I'm tired of having to schedule time just to hang out with them."  To this, she said, "If your friends don't have time for you, then it's because you want it that way.  Your reality is exactly what you've made it."  Whut?  I blinked with disbelief and stared at my cell phone.  I couldn't believe she said that.  As much as I dreamed of having the neighbor, like Rhoda on The Mary Tyler Moore Show, who dropped by just because or the unconditional friendship of Joan Clayton (Tracy Ellis Ross) and her sisterfriends on the sitcom, Girlfriends.  She was sooooo way off base, right?  Wrong!  What I said I wanted and my actions were not the same.  I seldom accepted invitations to events or gatherings.  At the time, my standing excuse was being a single parent, or work, or short notice.  "You are teaching your friends that you don't need them," she said.

"Write down who you are.  Write down what you want."  This, she encouraged me to do and asked me read aloud.  "I am a warm, cozy person."  "Okay," she said.  "I want warm, cozy friends"  She interrupted, "who can't wait to spend time with you."  My eyes filled with tears as the real real became clear.  I didn't truly feel worthy of that.  Even though I hated it and complained about it, deep inside, I didn't feel valuable enough to ask for different. "You are a warm, cozy person that e-e-e-everyone wants to be around."  Hearing her say that to me was transforming.  The strength of those words awakened that knowing in my heart.  I felt the change.

She also challenged me to accept some invitations.   To show an interest in what others were doing and to invite them into what I was doing.  Rather than working and coming home, I began to seek people who had a common interest.  Thank God for meetup.com.  The very first group I joined was the Single Parent Group.  I met some wonderful people who welcomed me into their circle and embraced me.  That single action was the portal to greater esteem.  Now, I have a broad and diverse network of warm and cozy people.
The cosmic waiter, as my coach called him, took my order and brought me what I asked for.  To me, God honored my prayer and gave me over and above what I asked.  For he didn't just give me warm, cozy friends.  He helped me see that I deserved them.

From Going to Being

I just noticed something.  I took a picture with a man on Day 1 and picture with a man on Day 365 (see blog post "My Natural Hair Anniversary: I AM ENOUGH").  It's kinda suggestive:  Go Natural. Find Romance.  Now before you run for the scissors or run with scissors, you gotta know it's not that simple. It does however speak volumes about where I was then and where I am now.

Day 1.  It was Sunday morning.  I had done the Big Chop the night before.  Though my intentions were to walk the beach, take in the ocean and its majesty and breath in this new day in my life, I spent time on the beach with a brutha.  He seemed nice and complimentary.  I ain't gon lie.  I enjoyed the attention.  He told me that he admired my confidence to sport my natural hair.  He marveled at how shiny it was.  But it wasn't long before I felt like I was Garfield and he - Odie - was jumping around me, slobbering and ready to play.  You got it.  He was only interested in the packaging.

Being natural for me was brand spanking new.  I had done a simple act, yes.  Nevertheless, it was a big deal. After all, I was cutting away 30+ years of a mindset that said straighter is better.  TV ads of women of color swinging their hair effortlessly.  My self esteem, my feelings of attractiveness were tied to how thick, how fiercely cut, how stylish my hair was.  All of that was dropping to the floor and being swept away as nothing more than trash.  Instead of a caterpillar becoming a beautiful butterfly, I was re-entering the cocoon called nappy, Buckwheat, beady kitchens, Aunt Jemima, bad hair. 

I remember I took that Monday off.  I was standing in front of my mirror with product all around, determined to figure out a style I could go to work in the next day.  I only had 1/2 inch of hair on my head.  What to do? I attempted to recreate the sleek short fro I saw on a natural hair youtube video.  Gurl, you ain't got no baby hair, I thought.  But I DO have me some gel and Queen Helene shaping paste.  Hello!  Hum, cute but not enough.  Sooo, I went shopping for earrings and accessories that would help me to embrace this new look.  I had to wear makeup.  I needed to feel put together.  I needed to feel confident.  I needed to feel classy yet edgy to pull off this short hair.

What a difference a year has made! I am amazed at the transformation. I went from going natural to being natural. I am natural!  It's deeper than I could have imagined.  I have become more comfortable in my own skin.  There's something about being natural that feels more honest.  Sure, I still wear makeup when I get the notion.  It's a girl thang.  Yet, I can rock my Bantu knots or my fat two-strand twists with nothing more than a happy glow that comes from within not from a Mac counter.  Like the God who created me in His Image, I can honestly look at his handiwork and say with heartfelt exuberance, "It IS good."

Day 365.  It is a Sunday morning.  I had hosted my first Supper Club the night before.  I had gone to Ulta, a cosmetics store, to return some product and decided to stop by a brutha's residence nearby.  He answered the door.  "What you doin here, woman?," he asked with a playful smile. I grabbed him and said, "Kiss me, with your ole smart behind!" He wasn't spouting off flattering words or marveling at the packaging - at least not out loud..ha ha ha. He resumed watching the football game from his recliner: talking to me one minute and yelling at the players the next.   I assumed my favorite position on his comfy sofa and breathed in the moment.  I am home.