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.

My Natural Hair Anniversary: I AM ENOUGH

It was September 19, 2009 when I did it.  I did the Big Chop.  Little did I know how something so simple as cutting my hair would be the pathway to freedom. 

I never intended to have a TWA (teenie weenie afro).  Quite the contrary.  My reasons for going natural was pure vanity.  My sister had been getting her hair silkened and I wanted mine to have the thickness and movement she was enjoying.  Moreover, my hair had been over processed and my healthy relaxed hair was becoming nothing more than lifeless strings.  Because I spoke with my sister's hairdresser, I thought transitioning would be simple.  It wasn't.

In the weeks leading up to my decision, I had been getting up every morning and rod-setting my hair.  A curly fro seemed to be the only style that I felt comfortable with.  I was the only person of color at my company and feared that if I did anything dramatic, everyone would be stunned and uncomfortable.  Perhaps that is why I kept hearing Don Imus' voice saying "nappy-headed hoe."  It taunted me throughout, rendering me fearful of doing the big chop.

It wasn't until I went on youtube.com and found some short natural hair styles, that I found peace about cutting off my hair.  I searched website after website.  Watched video after video.  Finally, I saw this cute short do with a nicely shaped hairline.  I knew that my hair texture would not be as curly, so, with the aid of gel and shaping cream, I achieved a look I could be proud of with my 4b spongy, kinky coily texture.

It was a quite a bold move.  I was daring to transform in front of my own eyes.  I cut away the hair color.  I cut away the signature relaxed look I had grown accustomed to.  As a child, I hated my hair.  I wanted the long, silky hair of my Crissy doll.  I even put old T-shirts and stocking caps on my head, tied to swing like ponytails, to have the movement and length that I envied.  I was bare.  I had nothing to hide behind.  I looked in the mirror and it was me.  Nothing but me.  I see me. 

Day 1

The day after, I decided to take my new look for a spin.  I had prepared myself for the stares and even for men not even looking my way.  After all, brothers preferred the long, straight hair, right?  Rather than carry an aura of discomfort or lack of confidence though, I squared my shoulders and sported my new look.  I even decided to wear no large earrings and no makeup.  I was going to be bare.  Just me.  To my surprise, a man - a brother, even - motioned for me to roll my car window down.  After I parked my car, I noticed the gentleman had pulled up right beside me and still motioned for me to roll down my window.  I did.  He said, "I just had to tell you that I LOVE your hair."   I grinned from ear-to-ear. Yes!  As he and I walked and talked, I became aware of a surge of confidence.  I felt powerful.  I felt more in touch with myself and the world around me.  I took of my shoes and felt the sand between my toes as we walked up and down the beach.  I felt more alive.  I felt more girly.  But most of all, I felt such joy. 


  

Day 365

As the months have passed, that joy has grown.  I feel more in touch with my heritage amongst the kinkyfied.  I feel more soulful.  I feel more loving.  I feel a profound connection with everyone but even more with my natural sisters.  It's not clique-ish or condescending.  It's a shared freedom.  Instead of my world getting smaller, it is growing.  I find myself more welcoming of different cultures.  Welcoming of committed love.   But more than anything, I feel an abiding truthfulness about me.  I am who I am.  No bells.  No whistles.  Just me.  Resounding in the depths of my soul is this one thing:  I...AM...ENOUGH!

FREEDOM TO CHOOSE

It has always baffled me why, after giving mankind the gift of free will, God didn't take it away when man disobeyed him. For those of you who haven't a clue of what I am talking about, I'll give you the cliff-note version. Based on the Bible or Creationist theory, God created mankind. He gave man free reign over everything but one: the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. In short, man ate of the tree.

Despite detailing the losses resulting from their disobedience, one thing God did not take away: the gift of free will. Throughout Biblical history, despite man often choosing paths of degradation, God did not take away this gift. Man had a choice then and man has a choice now.

I LOVE blogging. I love comments. Doesn't matter to me what the opinion is as long as there are comments. One such posting was about Oprah's Wildest Dreams Come True show. One of the comments was about her relationship with Jesus and the hope that she would one day get to know Him. I won't put this dear sister on the spot because I've heard lots of criticism of Oprah throughout the years. What she wrote was a blessing. It encouraged me to dig a little deeper into my faith. Criticism or a different opinion can either give strength to what I believe or expand my consciousness to a bigger truth – some call it the universal truth, a Higher Truth, but I call it the God's Truth.

YOU KNOW A TREE BY THE FRUIT IT BEARS. This, like day and night, seedtime and harvest, are burned into the fabric of our Earthly existence. There are certain laws. What goes up must come down. For every cause there is an effect. These are just the natural laws that are in place. Regardless to whether you are Black or White, rich or poor, believer or agnostic, sick or well, these laws apply.

DO NOT JUDGE DOESN'T MEAN YOU CAN'T CALL FRUIT WHAT IT IS. We are admonished also not to judge others. "Judge not that you be not judged." In short, you can judge if you choose to, but just be prepared for those very words biting you in the butt. As my grandmother use to say, "when you point your finger at somebody else, just notice that three fingers are pointing back at you." Dr. Phil said that his dad use to say, "I hate in you what's just like me."

Judgment is subjective. Judgment is arrogant. Judgment is egoic. But fruit is neither. Fruit is just fruit. And you recognize trees by their fruit. A good tree yields good fruit. A bad tree, bad. So if you really wish to decide about somebody, check out the fruit of their lives. The byproduct of parental involvement is different from that of parental neglect. Sure, there are exceptions to every rule; but the fruit is pretty easy to detect.

I've been accused of some pretty bad stuff. I've been called an attention hog. I've been deemed controlling. I've been told I'm stubborn. I've been accused of being stuck on myself. I've been told that I'm a fake. I remember being told that because I am a direct and straightforward, I'd not have a man. "Most men can't take a woman like you," I was told. I've been blamed for the shortcomings of other people. But there is one thing in my life that I believe with every ounce of strength in me, I did right. I raised an exceptional son. When I say that, I'm not boasting in myself, but I am boasting in the God consciousness that illuminated my parenting. I invested the truth of who I am in him. And I know that Light will illuminate any dark place he encounters in life.

On today's Oprah Show, she interviewed Ingrid Betancourt. Ms. Betancourt was running for the Senate of her beloved native land, Colombia South America. During this time, she met with the leaders of a terrorist group, FARC, and demanded that they cease their terrorist activities. Well, while campaigning in hostile territory, she was abducted by the terrorist and held captive in the Jungle for 6 ½ years before a heroic rescue mission freed her. "Did your faith get you through?," Oprah asked. "I found a Bible," Ingrid answers. "Prior to this, I thought the Bible was boring." "Until you met Jesus," Oprah interjected. "Until I met Jesus," Ingrid said. Looking around to the audience, Oprah finishes, "When you meet Jesus, you say, 'I LIKE THIS BOOK!'"

When asked what was the main thing she took away from her harrowing experience, Ingrid Betancourt said, "I had the freedom to choose what kind of person I want to be. " Ingrid admitted that her behavior was suspect to those imprisoned with her. But she said that that wasn't her intent. She just refused to take on the persona of a dog, an animal, like she was being treated. While everyone else gave a number count, when prompted by the guards, she gave her name instead. She had to hold to a sense of identify despite threat of torture by terrorists or criticism by fellow prisoners.

When you make a stand to live authentically, it always subjects you to criticism. Persecution is the cost of following Christ, but not just in the way you would expect. Most folks feel that persecution is when you stand on the street corner and tell people if they don't accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior, they will go to hell. Or that you're persecuted when you speak out against homosexuality or abortion. But I have experienced a different type of persecution. And this persecution comes from standing in your own sense of self. When you dare not to follow the collective and embrace your God-given identity, when you are authentic, it subjects you to criticism.

One pastor whom I have much regard for said to me, "Suzette, most people live in a box. You think outside the box. It can be both a blessing and a curse. For yes, you will endure great loneliness. But it also gives you access to great power." I didn't understand it then, but I do now. God lives outside the box too.

My takeaway from my life thus far is this. When you abandon yourself, you give away your power. God gave me a precious gift of free will: The freedom to choose who I will be. Don't let your family, your spouse, your children, your friends, your pastor, your Rabbi….or even your history, take that from you. Their job is not to create you or to judge you. Their job, whether executed well or poorly, is to inspire you. To hold up a mirror. To launch you into your destiny. And in whatever areas they fail, we have a Divine Gardener.

When I would hate, the Gardener comes and shines Light on my heart. He waters me with Truth. He takes a hoe and breaks up my resistance. He prunes away my anger, my offense, my intimidation, my sense of entitlement. He fertilizes me with who He is and pours Himself into me like water until I am whole. And the fruit? Forgiveness. Humility. Kindness. Temperance. Patience. God is still working on self-control though…lol. My point is I live as an awakened soul, set free from the bondages of a sin conscious, a fighting-the- devil conscious, shame, blame and most of all, the bondage of codependency (seeking or requiring validation from people). What freedom that is!

Who Else But Oprah

On last week, I watched Oprah’s Wildest Dreams Come True Show.  As God is my witness, at the end of this her final season, if they offer a commemorative DVD collection, I’m going to run not walk to get it.  I sat and cried crocodile tears as I watched audience members be blessed beyond their wildest imaginings.

I don’t know if you saw the original show where she interviewed the woman who lost her limbs due to a flesh-eating bacteria.  Well, in grand Oprah style, she brought this woman and her family back to the show.  They had been living in a small rental apartment with a little bathtub.  Hardly the accommodations anyone would wish for but even more challenging for this woman with her unique needs.  As if her struggle wasn’t enough, her husband lost his job.  It was amazing to me that she showed no signs of stress when discussing her handicap, but her eyes filled with tears and her eyes showed such fear of not knowing what would happen to them when she talked about her husband’s misfortune. 

Oprah apologized to her.  Evidently, when the camera crew came to her house, one of the cameramen broke one of her chairs.  This dear lady was more concerned for the cameraman.  “He got hurt,” she said.  Little did she know that her life was about to change.  Oprah offered to replace the chair and said she had found a friend to help her.  This is when she called out, “Nate Berkus!”  He came onto the stage to loud applause carrying her replacement chair. 

Oprah hugged her, as she often does her audience members, told the woman that the show as about Wildest Dreams.  Her eyes grew larger and so did those of her family.  None of them knew the real reason they were there.  They probably thought it was simply a follow up story about her condition to inspire other people who struggled with handicap.  Oprah continued to unravel for her the true purpose for her and her family being guests on the show.  She announced that she and Nate were teaming up to buy them a home.  The audience erupted while her oldest daughter's eyes filled with tears.  Annnnnnnnnnd, the home would be fully accessible for her special needs.  In short she wouldn’t have to ask her younger daughter to open the “child-proof” kitchen cabinets.  The lady leaned on Oprah as if she was about to fall.  Annnnnnnnd, Nate and the good friends at Lowe’s were going to completely decorate the home from top to bottom.  In Oprah’s words, “There will be beauty in the house.  For I believe your house should rise to meet you, when you enter it.”  Tears, tears and more tears of joy!

This was only one of the mouth-dropping, eye-bulging, heart-pounding dreams come true that Oprah and her connection of friends gave to those attending today’s show.   What a WONDERFUL gift God has granted Oprah Winfrey.  The gift of joyous, uninhibited giving!

And to those naysayers that complain about Oprah being a sell out or choosing to bless people of a different race rather than her own, I say “shame on you!”  In my opinion, it is very small minded to typecast or box someone’s calling in life to fit one's own preferences.   She has God's favor and favor ain’t fair.  Even Jesus didn’t heal everybody.  I admire her very much and appreciate that she is showing America how to extend kindness with connection!  Who else but Oprah would make her farewell season a celebration of giving.  Who else but Oprah would make the viewers and the audience her chief concern.  Who else but Oprah! 

Terry McMillan Graces Quail Ridge Books & Music

Upon entering the bookstore, I was in awe of the crowd.  It was Monday evening and many avid readers had gathered at Quail Ridge Books & Music.  Some sitting.  Some standing.  But all filled with anticipation, anxiously awaiting the author of the book they held tightly in their hands. 

I nodded and smiled as I passed in between the people standing and stopped to hug sister friends I had not seen in a while.  I looked around for a seat, but there was not one, single solitary seat to be had.  I noticed some people sitting on the floor space directly in front of the row of chairs.  I joined them. 

The place was buzzing.  People were laughing, talking, hugging and all clasping a book or two or even a stack of em.  Everyone was there for one purpose and one purpose only - Terry McMillan.  I had never been to a book signing before no less one involving such a renowned author.  How exciting it was to be in the space.  Who hasn't seen the movie, Waiting to Exhale, or heard one of the title cuts from the soundtrack on the radio.  Even Oprah gave the movie rave reviews as she interviewed the cast on her show years ago when it first came out.  I joined in as Whitney Houston sang, "Everyone falls.  In love sometimes.  Sometimes it's wrong.  And sometimes it's right.  For every win.  Someone must fail.  But there comes a point when, when we exhale..eh..eh..eh...shoop shoop shoop shooba doop shoop shoop..."  I bet you're even closing your eyes and nodding to the music you hear in your head right now.  Aren't you?

Introductions made.  Hearts pounding.  Anticipation heightened.  Everyone looking around to catch a glimpse.  She enters.  The room erupts into cheers, hand claps and whistles as our sister, Terry, walked through the narrow pathway amongst legs and feet to the podium.  While walking, she is looking around with her mouth opened.  She is completely blown away.  She grabs her auburn colored mane from the back and blinks in disbelief.  This only rouses more thunderous applause!   The whistles and yells get louder.  I can't describe the feeling!

I must admit I expected to see her with long braids or locs, a floor length dashiki and sandals.  Was I ever wrong!  She had a large fro that she pulled on nervously, apologizing for it "looking a mess."  Though her raw honesty was endearing, I strained to see what was wrong.  In my eyes she was flawless.  Fitted white cotton blouse hanging over black leggings with stylish heels.  Even dressed casually, she had an air of sophistication.  When she spoke, I couldn't help but compare the tone of her voice to Cher with an urban sassy mystique.  I chuckle when I think about it. 

In a word?  Inspiring!  I was transported to the home of Savannah, 15 years later, as she read Chapter One from her new book, Getting to Happy.  She read with such a knowledge of the character until you felt you were a fly on the wall, observing her every thought and movement.  But what was even more inspiring was her response during the Q & A when she was asked what writer she most admired or emulated.  With sharp frankness, she said that she emulated no one.  She had her own voice.  When she said that, I felt something deep inside agree.  She said that she wasn't like anybody else.  This reinforced for me the reality that my effectiveness is tied to my voice. 

A close second was when she said she was 59 years old.  My mouth dropped and all I could think was Ohhhhhh Myyyyyy God.  She gave kudos to Mac Cosmetics.  Man, I need to check that out, I thought.  I took in her energy, candor, wit, no nonsense, infectious spirit but most of all was her comfort in her own skin.  Oh how I want that.  She also looked like she took care of herself.  Gurlfriend was fit!  She had pep in her step and flexibly did backward leg curls while reading.  Impressive.  I might not be able to manage 4 inch heels but I certainly can catch the deeper wisdom.  Being 50 doesn't minimize my purpose or potential.  Here, this woman was promoting what I'm certain will be another best seller at age 59 and inspiring women of all ages and stages to release the past and get to happy.