Is your energy holding you back from love?

Can you believe this was the subject of one of the emails in my mailbox?  I was in the process of deleting some Brand-X ones cluttering my inbox but this one caught my attention. 

Dear Friend,

Have you ever wondered if your "energy" was holding

you back from attracting love?

According to our friend, energy expert Christie Sheldon,
your vibrations influence the quality of people and
relationships you'll attract into your life.

As I read more, I became aware that this Christie person was more of a spiritualist who does energy work.  It had that kind of psychic vibe to it.  Not quite the direction I wanted to explore but I couldn't deny the gravity of that question. 

I am currently in a relationship.  What’s different about the Suzette now versus the Suzette then?  The one who was the poster child for attracting unavailable men.   Hummmm, let me ponder this for a sec.

When I consider the energy I had right before I met my now-boyfriend, one thing comes to mind almost immediately.  I didn’t leave it to chance.  I know, I know, most relationship books tell you to get busy.  To fill your life with the things you enjoy and be about living.  They tell you to focus on yourself and by doing so, you’ll attract Mr. Right.  Weeeeell, that might work for some folks—and I did do all those things--but it still didn’t stop the ache in my heart. 

I listened to  my heart.  I stopped trying to avoid what whispered in my ear loudest when I came home to an empty apartment or after watching a love story or when laying in bed starring out into the darkness.    “I want a man in my life.”  Up until this point, I had been trying to adopt the happy single woman lifestyle.  My son was now in college.  Now was the time to do all the things I couldn’t do as a single parent.   Jump starting my life with www.meetup.com, I did some fun things and met some great people but there was still this aching in my heart for a deeper, more intimate connection. 

I remember laying in bed after I finished grieving yet another false-start to the tune of a nine-month relationship.  “I don’t want to feel lonely and desperate again,” my heart anguished.  I knew what the statistics said about dating over 40.  I was now 51!  I also knew that things looked even more grim if you were an African American woman in her 50’s, but I still had to admit that I couldn’t see myself growing old alone.  I just couldn’t go out like that.  Soooo, I decided to stop trying.  No more psyching myself up otherwise.  No more rationalizing.  No more trying to live up to the 21^st century single woman ideal. 

The next thing I remember doing was detoxing.  I think that’s a good way of putting it.  I’m sure Christie would say that my energy pulse was low because I had come out of a previous relationship.  She’d probably be right.  But in my mind at the time, I knew I had to work through some things.  Shed some baggage that was no longer serving a purpose in my life.  I sought a therapist.  It’s not that I felt I had some mental issues.  Not at all.  I just knew that I had to focus on reclaiming my best self.  I had to get the smell of relationships past out of my skin.  I had hair-trigger reactions to things grounded in what counselors call “anger distortions.”

Anger distortions are our intense reactions over what we hear or perceive.  I’ve often heard them referred to as triggers.  I called mine landmines.  Something hidden just underneath the ground.  You’re walking along, minding your own business, then you unknowingly or unsuspectingly step on one.  KABLAMMMM.  Such was my emotional trigger.  If I felt a man was being condescending, if he told me he would do something and didn’t, or if I felt he was playing me, KABLAMMMM.  Now here’s the thing.  It was merely a perception.  I had to learn that.  It was a mistrust created by some disappointment in my life that left a wound that never healed.  With the help of a relationship coach, working through those anger distortions changed the way I saw things.  It changed how I saw people, especially men.  And it changed how I saw myself. 

Now that I had let go of some emotional weights, I knew I couldn’t remain on the sidelines.  I had to get back in the game.  Sooooooo, I dusted off my little black book aka my favored online dating site.  I updated my profile.  Remembering Dr. Michelle Callahan’s advice in her book, MS. TYPED, I predetermined that I was going to bring my real self to dating.  Not the mistrusting shadow of me, but the happy, genuine me.  Sidebar:  I strongly recommend you read her book.  It changed my approach to dating for the better. 

Finding Mr. Right wasn’t immediate.  I had to date a few might be’s, wannabes, and possiblys.  In fact, I threw back my diamond.   You see, I had read that if a man didn’t call you back within 48 hours of going out with you, he “just wasn’t that into you.”  Well, my diamond didn’t read that book.  He read if you don’t give her space, she’ll feel you are desperate and it’ll turn her off.   So you can imagine how that went.  I chuckle when I think about it.  Anyway, my point here is context.   Most of us don’t take relationship advice in context.  And my next point, Thank God I had the good sense to admit--to him--that I had made a mistake. 

Well, that’s my energetic recount.  I’m not saying everyone is like me, so I won’t assume that you aren’t happy being single.  If you aren’t though.  Is your energy holding you back from love?    

Related articles

• The Single Black Woman Conundrum Pt. 5a : How much of the problem is us ? (anjanettepotter.wordpress.com)
• Let's.just.be.friends........m'kay? (afrodoll.wordpress.com)

On The Heels of Death: The Day After

What a whirlwind week this has been.  The execution of Lawrence Russell Brewer.  The execution of Troy Davis.  So many emotions.  Highs when Troy’s case was appealed to the Supreme Court.  Lows when his appeal was denied just hours later.  Is it a coincidence that on the heels of all this Kenneth Kagonyera and Robert Wilcoxson, two Black men who pled guilty to murder charges, were released from jail in Asheville, North Carolina? 

True, there are questions looming about disparities in the judicial system for the poor and for people of color.  Nevertheless, I gotta marvel at the irony.  In the cases of Brewer and Davis, both men claimed they were innocent of murder yet were executed while the latter two men pled guilty to murder and were released.  I am scratching my head, shaking my head, bumping my head…well, not bumping my head.  What happened differently?  I’ve read accounts of multiple reports since yesterday trying to figure this out and I’m still baffled.  Though race is indicated, nothing about this is exactly Black and White.

Take Troy Davis, for example.  From the moment he was accused, found guilty and sentenced of killing a white off-duty officer, his response has been consistent – “I’m innocent.”  Even during the moments preceding his execution, he declared his innocence.  Not only that.  According to the Christian Science Monitor, the murder weapon was never found.  And get this, seven of the nine witnesses testifying for the prosecution either recanted or changed their testimonies.  I don’t know whether this young man committed the crime, but I am not conflicted that it does suggest reasonable doubt.

Then there’s Lawrence Russell Brewer.  A man who was a walking poster child for hate.  Though he denied affiliation with a White supremacist gang, he did confess boldly to being a separatist.  Whites on one side, Blacks on the other and n’er the twain shall meet.  The full account is reported by Linda Kovacevich of KFDM News.  He touts of how the tattoos on his arms show his loyalty to the Confederate Knights of America.  But get this.  He admitted to assaulting James Byrd but not to dragging him or driving the truck.  He even claimed that Mr. Byrd was dead before any of this took place.  I gotta take a break and have a Suzette moment here:  Are you kidding me?  This is like saying ‘I didn’t drown the baby, I just turned on the water faucet.  My friend held him down.’  Oh Lord, shaking my head again.  Okay, okay I got it out. Whew!

Kenneth Kagonyera and Robert Wilcoxson?  To me, this is the biggest irony of all.  Here you have two Black men who confessed to the murder of Walter Bowman during a house robbery gone wrong.  I’ll say it again, they confessed to the murder.  So why were they released?   USA Today reports both men said they felt coerced to accept a plea deal so they wouldn’t face the death penalty or life in prison.  For one, the idea of not seeing his child was more than he could stand.  It gets better.  A prisoner confessed to the murder.  This led to DNA testing and so on and so on.  Possibly the greatest impetus was that of the North Carolina Innocence Inquiry Commission.  Or maybe, just maybe, the death of Troy Davis brought a raised consciousness and a blaring light to the multiple miscarriages of justice. 

American Civil Liberties Union 2003 statistics state “People of color have accounted for a disproportionate 43 % of total executions since 1976 and 55 % of those currently awaiting execution.   And our own University of North Carolina’s findings were in all homicide cases in North Carolina between 1993 and 1997 “the odds of getting a death sentence increased three and a half times if the victim was white rather than black.” Wondering if there was more current data, I searched US Bureau of Justice Statistics.  Didn’t find much regarding executions but, as we are all aware, the numbers of incarcerated individuals for non-Whites are significantly higher.  Thank God there are folks out there advocating for our men and women.

To find out more about North Carolina Innocence Inquiry Commission and the cases they take, call 919-890-1580 or email nciic@nccourts.org.  

Before You Fill Yet Another Prescription, Flip The Script

In 2006, I was inspired to write, Automotive Tip-Before You Replace the Brakes, Check Your Tires.  Now, some five years later, I feel inspired once again.  This time, however, it’s not about tires.

For the past several months, I’ve battled with a nagging sore throat.  Pain, pain, pain.  Day-after-day, I felt some degree of discomfort.  To function, I took pain relievers; but I’m not the kind of person who likes to take meds for long periods of time.  After all, most medications, or shall I say pharmaceuticals, treat symptoms not problems.  Don’t get me wrong.  I couldn’t have made it this long without relief.  But I have a point to make here.

It started as hoarseness.  I was asked to sing at a friend’s ordination service.  He was being ordained as Bishop in his church body and I was asked to participate.  I remember being slightly hoarse but didn’t pay it any attention.  I felt it would pass with rest.  Well, that small bit of hoarseness turned into full blown laryngitis.  Still, I wasn’t worried.  I had sung hard before and reasoned that all I needed to do was rest my voice and all would be well.  This was back in May.

Fast-forward to now, almost four months later.  The hoarseness has morphed into a nagging sore throat.  The kind that greets you with a toothy grin in the morning, flirts with you throughout the day and gets in bed with you every night.  Ummmmm, I thought.  Wonder if it’s silent reflux?  You see, silent reflux was the diagnosis I got from an ENT doctor when I had a bout with throat pain last Fall.  He stuck a tube down my nose, wiggled it around, had me cough and told me I had silent reflux. Yikes!  He prescribed Prilosec.  “Well, I already have a prescription for Nexium,” I told him.  This I had from my GI doctor. 

This journey has taken me from doctor to doctor.  From prescription to prescription.  From hope to disappointment.  All the while, my hoarseness and throat pain have flip-flopped in intensity. 

I believe that Life speaks to us.  True, it is frustrating as heck to deal with one dead-end after another.  And your internal dialogue can catastrophize every symptom.  Mine kept threatening cancer.  Someway, somehow you have to silence those thoughts of dread so you can be open to answers.  In fact, I was so stuck on thinking my symptoms were acid reflux that I minimized what the Universe kept interjecting– allergies. 

I made an appointment to see my GI doctor.  He didn’t want to do another Upper GI Endoscopy so soon.  Rather, he recommended that I see an ENT doctor.  “It’s a throat issue,” he said.  “Yeah, but the last time I went, he said it was silent reflux,” I argued. Arggghhh.  I felt like a ping pong ball.  Not ready to get another endoscope put down my nose, I decided to try something else.  I read about some natural remedies:  Licorice Extract, Slippery Elm, Raw Apple Cider Vinegar and went to The Vitamin Shoppe to pick them up.  While there, the salesperson told me that my problems could be allergy related.  That struck a chord.  I even took a Zyrtec tablet, but when it didn’t work, I felt that was proof in favor of reflux.  The herbal remedies helped for a day but the problem persisted. 

I broke down and made an appointment with the ENT doctor. I promised myself that I wouldn’t have that endoscope put down my nose unless it was absolutely necessary.  Yep, I had a tude (attitude). With a tongue depresser and some weird head gear, the doctor looked at my throat.  He felt my neck.  No swollen lymph nodes.  I sighed with relief.  He suggested that we rule out thyroid issues.  Thyroid?  What?  To my surprise, he told me that thyroid issues could yield the same symptoms.  In the meantime, he gave me a prescription for Aciphex. “If it doesn’t work and your thyroid test is negative, you’ll need to come back and do the scope.” 

Not wanting to fill the prescription, I decided to seek a homeopathic doctor.  “This sounds like an allergy, not like the kind that causes anaphylaxis, but like being allergic to Tide Laundry Detergent.”  This was the response of Dr. Delaney, a Naturopathic Doctor with the Wellness Alliance in Chapel Hill, North Carolina.  It made sense at the time.   Her treatment regimen even brought relief within 24 hours of implementation.  After a week of significant improvement, the symptoms returned.  I panicked.  It felt like someone had thrown a bunch of marbles underneath my feet and I couldn’t get my balance. I broke down and filled the prescription for Aciphex.

Throughout all of this, I did a lot of praying.  Who wants to be a slave to a pill with side effects of headache, stomach discomfort or worse?  Who wants to take meds that take Calcium from your bones?  So I prayed.  I prayed for direction.  For illumination.  For God to leave breadcrumbs for me to follow.  Then one day it happened.  Casually flipping through the Encyclopedia of Natural Medicine, I read these words: 

Another significant cause of chronic sore throat is food allergy.  Typical upper-respiratory-tract symptoms of chronic delayed food allergy include chronic sore throat, runny nose, sinusitis, tonsillitis, and laryngitis.

Eureka!  There was that whisper again – allergy.  More like a shout this time.  Chronic delayed food allergy literally leaped off the page.  I contacted my ND and we tossed around common troublesome foods.  By deductive reasoning, I figured it had to be grain related.  I recalled how I had upped my intake of grains after my yearly physical last year where my doctor told me I was pre-diabetic.  I tossed potato bread for multi-grain breads.  Carb-heavy breakfasts were replaced by oat and honey cereals, and my all-time favorite, bran muffins. 

My conclusion is this.  Doctors don’t have all the answers.  Quite the contrary.  The whole reason I have stomach problems anyway is because I was prescribed Naproxen for menstrual cramps.  It was too strong despite taking it with food and milk as prescribed.  In this day and time, it is necessary for you to turn the tables.  Do your homework.  Become more active in your health.  And require more of your doctors else you’ll get lots of medication but little quality treatment.  Heck, the ENT doctor automatically assumed silent reflux because that is what he determined a year ago.  When I pressed for more, he touted that he had treated hundreds of patients and 99% of the time it was reflux.  Before you go to a medical doctor--even a specialist--and fill yet another prescription, know that medicine is a practice.  It is.  Instead of letting them practice on you, flip the script.  Practice on them. 

Since my tyrade this morning, I've had a chance to calm.  Still feelin down, but I know that I must stay open in order to sense, to feel, to recognize the answers to my condition.  I truly believe that if we keep asking, seeking and knocking, what we wish to know will be revealed.  Soooo, I've been attentive to my body.  Maybe a little hypervigilant but I prefer to call it attentive.

That hot feeling to my throat has persisted through early evening.  It's 2:17pm now.  I have noticed some things.  First, I notice that when I drink water, there is no discomfort.  My throat feels just fine.  It's not swollen.  Not hard to swallow.  Water actually feels good going across my throat.

My second revelation is a bit more lengthy.  I'll try not to be too wordy.  I'll give you the cliff-note version.  I ate turkey sausage, a fried egg and a bran muffin for breakfast.  Zero in on bran muffin.  Maybe I have too much fiber in my diet.  I do recall my GI doctor saying that eating cooked food might be best for a while.  Passing thought.  Anyway, as I sought to follow this lead, I read that some people are sensitive to barley, wheat and certain other grains.  As I reflect, my throat discomfort worsened as I ate that multi-grain bread this morning.  Dang, that bran muffin probably didn't help.  I'll ask my ND what her thoughts are when we have our session tomorrow. 

Lastly, and quite bizarrely, I notice that my hoarseness is not as bad.  When I answered the telephone this morning with my normal, "Good afternoon, this is Mi-Co," my voice was stronger.  Not as raspy.  Not breaking up like a bad phone connection.  This too, I will talk with my ND about.

Throat burn, less hoarseness.  No throat burn, increased hoarseness.  Things that make you go ummmmmm.

There you are again. That welling moisture that trickles slowly and unsuspectingly up my esophagus. I taste you. Though you're extremely bland, like the metallic aftertaste of a fish oil pill you have quite a bite to you. I feel your burn. It's a hot, lingering hot feeling. You know that feeling you have in your throat after you've hollered too much at a football game. Or after you have gargled with salt water and you used too much salt. OUCH!!!

I roll over. Can't quite see what time it is. Normally, I don't want to even know. But this morning, this morning, I want to know. Has there been any improvement? It's a little chilly. I'll just let one arm from underneath the covers to feel around on my nightstand. I don't want to cut on the light. If I do, I'll wake up too much and I won't be able to go back to sleep. Okay, okay, let me maneuver. If I hold the clock next to my laptop, the light from the monitor will reveal the time. Argggh, 4:30? You got to be freakin kidding me! I just went to sleep at 12 midnight so that I could give my bloody coleslaw time to digest and give my Aciphex a chance to start working.  Sidebar: bloody in this context is an English CUSS WORD!

I don't want to get up! My throat feels like someone is holding a torch to it, but I don't want to get up. How could I have had such a good night last night and wake up tonight as if there has been no progress. Has there been no progress? Please tell me that it's something I did. Perhaps it was the crescent roll and cup of applesauce I had at 7:30pm. Something told me not to. Why did I have to do that? Why? It wasn't like I was really that hungry. I could have just eaten my coleslaw and been done with it. Maybe it was the coleslaw!  Unlike the coleslaw I ate from Smithfield Barbecue, this did have a slight kick to it. Maybe I should have just used mayonnaise and not used that coleslaw mixture. All these damn maybe's. I really need to stop all this damn cussin, dammit!  Get your ass up, girl!

God,  I'm so sorry.  I just feel frustrated.

What to do? What to do? Shall I take a tablespoon of mustard again. I don't want to. Adds to the bite.  "Give the acid something to work on." I recall my friend Meshelle said that's what she does. Maybe I should try that tonight. Where's my housecoat. Wouldn't you know it? It's in the damn closet! Oh goodness, is that the second damn I've said tonight. Lord Lord Looooord, the saints would shake their heads if they heard me. I'm trying to be brave. I am. I'm so tired of this.

I just grabbed my stack of pillows: the neck roll, the 2 decorative pillows and my regular one. Let me prop myself up while I eat and possibly fall back to sleep. I just got to cut my light on. I don't want crumbs in my bed. OH, it's not 4:30, it's 5:45. Yay! That means I woke up at 5:30, not 4:30. That is a victory! Alrighty then. Back to my mental game of what could it be? What did I do? What did I eat?

Last time I felt this throat burn, my ND said that it was an allergy. Not a food allergy, like the allergic reaction to peanuts. I'd be in the hospital if that were the case. More like being allergic to, say, Tide Laundry Detergent. She thinks it is manifesting by my having a persistent burning throat. Hummm. What did I do differently last night? Well, I took some Magnesium. I wanted to get some sleep. Can't a girl get some sleep?  I'm sorry.  I digress.  Magnesium relaxes you, so I've heard. Well, my throat is burnin hotter and I'm sitting straight up. How long is it suppose to take before this piece of bread lures this acid in my throat back down to my stomach? Back to my ND's theory. Is this burning throat because of something I'm allergic to? Is it some ingredient that sets my neck a-blaze? Must be. That piece of bread has not helped. Though I am sitting straight up in hopes that gravity will be in my favor, that burning is intensifying. Hummm, this is a multigrain piece of bread. She might have a point cause eating that piece of bread seemed to only turn up the heat.

I've noticed that not only is my throat tingling but my upper arms are tingling too. Just a few moments ago, I sneezed. Gosh, I sound like a hypochondriac.  I would start laughing if I wasn't feelin so bad. Could I be allergic to something in the food. Or possibly something in the air? I did open my windows for a while yesterday. That was different than normal. Lemme do a test. I bought some organic honey at Earthfare the other day. I heard that if you get honey produced locally, it's better because it's from flowers and plants common to the area. Makes perfect sense to me. My friend who went to a natural hair event told me about that. Soooooo, I'm gonna trapes right back down those stairs and take a tablespoon of the honey. Let's see if that helps.

I also brought the air purifier into my bedroom. If there is any ragweed in the air, it should remove it. Come to think of it, I've been having itchy eyes for the last couple of days.

It's now 7:05. Lord knows, I don't want to be up. I want to roll back over and go to sleep. Not with this throat burning though.

It's 7:42. I feel sad and bout to start crying. This sucks!

I’ve got a confession. I’m a google-maniac. Whenever I have a question about any topic, what do I do? I google it. Another confession. I love reading about relationship stuff. Stuff like signs that he loves you, how to know if he’s available, the difference between quirks and character defects to name my recent searches. Tonight, I decided to google signs that he is a keeper.

I'll admit that the searches always evoked personal reflection.  I’d find some tidbit and see if my current relationship measured up or fell short.  Sometimes denial. Seeking to find someway to soothe my alarm, I'd keep searching in hopes of finding something to cast my relationship more favorably.  Who wants to admit that yet another potential man is not Mr. Right, right? 

When you’ve never had the complete package in a relationship, you tend to censor what you read.  You compensate for what he lacks and magnify the smallest good thing.  You reason that at least he texts you every day.  That's a good thing, right?  Yet you minimize the fact that he has yet to return one of your phone calls.  I can remember a time when I would have read, “He’s not the type to blame others, or circumstances for life situations. He accepts accountability for his actions and is willing to self-examine, take responsibility and grow personally,” and put a twist on it.  No man does that, I'd reason.  I'd even hold up the White card.  You know the one.  They have to be talking about a White man.  How many men period are willing to admit when they are wrong. Somehow it sounds too lofty, too ideological, not very grounded in the day-to-day reality of the men we date. De-ni-al.

Until now. This time, when I read about the qualities of a good man, my insides nodded in agreement.  He is kind. Check. He is consistent. Check. He listens to hear not to speak. Check. He shows up. Check. He thinks your quirks are adorable. Check. I could go on and on but then you’ll probably want to gag. I can’t help it though. I’ve waited 51 years of my life to meet someone like this.  Who could see me, see my heart, get it, get me and love me. Not love how I make them feel. Even my parents doled out affection based on performance. My heart wasn’t most important. My compliance was. So imagine how stoked I am to finally have someone in my life – a man, an available man – who sees me and loves me for me.

There is another layer to this that is just as key.  I see him.  I love him for who he is.  Last night, we met at a local coffee shop.  It was raining cats and dogs but it was worth it. We talked alot.  Some about the relationship challenges of others and some about where we see ourselves in five, ten years. As I reflected on parts of the conversation, I started to feel anxious.  I started feeling myself catastrophize the part that rang my insecurity bell.  In response, my Ego started echoing what ought to happen and what should be.  Then something unexpected happened.  "I won't ask him to do that!"  I heard myself say out loud.  It's too important to him. My eyes filled with tears.  In that moment my heart opened up.  I realized that my regard for him had shifted from selfish to selfless.  That's the true test of love.

Everyone has quirks. You know, some oddity or peculiar way of acting. Some people snort when they laugh, wear sandals in the winter time, or go through some weird ritual on game day. Different from being unique, a quirk is something that’s strangely different. I remember a Dr. Phil episode where a wife complained that her husband cried too much. She found it weird and quite unmasculine. When asked more probing questions, it became apparent there was nothing wrong with her husband. He was simply more emotional than what his wife was use to. When he felt something deeply, he cried. Dr. Phil asked if her husband was wimpy in the bedroom. She grinned and said, “No, not at all.” “Do you feel your husband is a bad father?” asked Dr. Phil. “No, he’s a great dad,” she responded. “Then, lighten up. You have a caring husband and loving father."


How can you tell whether something is a quirk or a defect? I suppose if I were to use the Dr. Phil episode, I’d guess it might be a defect if the father’s emotional response was unhealthy in some way. Perhaps if he was coddling the boys or not providing an environment for their healthy growth and development or if he was stuck in a phase of grief, this might be seen as something needing intervention. It was evident that the husband wasn’t harming anyone though. He was just different.

Many couples waste so much time arguing about or criticizing each other. What difference does it make whether the toilet paper is above the roll or pulled from underneath? What difference does it make whether the toothpaste is squeezed from the bottom or from the middle? None of those things is important. Perhaps your wife has a touch of OCD and has to squeegee the shower doors after every shower. Perhaps your husband pours vinegar over his ice cream. It might be interesting, even annoying, but is it hurting anyone? All I’m saying is, maybe we shouldn't major on what's minor and leave what’s major unattended.

The Socially Lonely

Parked under a shade tree, toes dangling out the window and bucket seat reclined, I rummaged through my bag and pulled out my AARP Magazine.  I threw it to the side to dig back inside for Terry MacMillan’s Getting to Happy; but the caption caught my attention-- Why Loneliness is on the Rise.  As I read the article, my mind went to a time when I was really struggling.  Just January of this year, in fact. 

I remember getting into bed, cutting the lights off and crying silently.  I had tried to be a 21^st century woman and embrace singleness.  I even had a daliance with a guy out of pure lust.  Didn’t work.  Though I didn’t suffer hurt, it only left me longing for something real.  My whispers to God in the dark went something like, “God, it’s me again.  I hate coming home to an empty apartment but I can't stomach one more apathetic, unavailable man.  Lord, you gotta help me!”

Silent frustration is not just the ill of those who hail from the 50 year old club.  Quite the contrary.   I’m beginning to hear the cries of frustration in the busyness, or as the article termed it the “frantic busyness,” of those around me.  “Loneliness has increased in America over the past decade, “ says the AARP article.  “Today more than 44 million adults over age 45 suffer from chronic loneliness.”   I went to my yahoo page and searched for the television special that Michael Baisden cited when discussing why so many African American women are single.  I came across a blog called Diary of a Content Black Woman.   While skimming for information, I read a comment from an Anonymous subscriber.  "I have considered suicide.  I am a black woman living in the SW USA.  I am tired of being lonely." 

I wonder if the man surrounded by his buddies at the sports bar watching the game or the woman who is laughing and tapping her toe to the music at the club are secretly lonely.  On the real, would they tell you they wish they had someone special to share their lives with?  Would they tell you that they stay busy because they are tired of eating alone, watching TV alone, sleeping alone and waking up alone?  Did they forego marriage and starting families to achieve certain education or career milestones?  "We got the degree.  We landed the job.  Now, I’m ready for love,” we told ourselves.  But then it seemed there were slim pickings. 

Here we are.  We go on date after date but nothing seems to take.  To cope, we busy ourselves. We work extra long hours.  We enroll in yet another degree program.  All are good things, but not if we do them for the wrong reasons.  To avoid the silence of my apartment, I would sometimes drive home from work, eat and go to bed. 

Loneliness is no fun at all, but I soon learned that avoidance only intensifies its grip.  We avoid it by retreating into familiar isolating behaviors.  We date out of boredom.  Tolerate out of desperation.  Here lies the deception.  We think we are being proactive; not just sulking.  At least we are making an effort.  I can't speak for anyone else but it didn't do anything but make me feel worse. 

What to do?  What to do?   I wish I had some words of wisdom.  I don't.  All I know is that I got to a point where I couldn't put lipstick on it anymore.  Loneliness sucked and I prayed every night for God to give me a loving man.  Perhaps he intensified the pangs so that I would get serious and stop trying to avoid it.  I knew that I couldn't fathom spending age 51 lonely.  No more busyness!  I'm so glad God heard my prayer and sent me a wonderful man. 

Related articles

• Like a Cold, Loneliness Can Spread (fitsugar.com)
• listening to the still small voice... (lastingimages.wordpress.com)
• The Denial of Loneliness (dangerouslee.biz)
• A season of loneliness. (kellieckdahl.wordpress.com)
• Beyond Existential Loneliness (studiowithoutwalls.org)
• Why Loneliness Matters (webmd.com)
• Loneliness Has A Purpose (psychologytoday.com)