What Do I Believe?

It was in the 1990’s.  It was a hot summer day.  I was walking from my car to the Burroughs Wellcome building that was now part of Glaxo Wellcome, Inc.  It was a stone walkway littered with duck feathers and duck poop.  I had made this walk day after day for several months to a job I had grown to hate.  But there was something different about today’s walk.  As I walked, trying to dodge the poop for the umpteenth time, I heard a voice.  It wasn’t like that big God voice.  Rather, it was a knowing that pulsated from someone deep within me and it rang in my consciousness.  “One day, you will be making this walk for the last time.”  That’s what I heard.  It didn’t come from my discontent with a horrible job.  It came from a Wiser place inside of me that knew before I did that I would be leaving and told me so.

This doesn’t happen often, but it has happened at pivotal times in my life.  It’s like something inside stands up in me despite how I am feeling or the load I am carrying and declares something bigger than that moment.  Oprah often says that God’s dream for you is always bigger than the one you have for yourself.  As I reflect on my life, that has been true time and time again.  I hear something rising up in me again.  It is a voice within my voice and it’s speaking to my very existence.  Another leaving is on the horizon.

I believe that I am a writer.  I AM a writer.  When Oprah, in Lesson 3 of her Life Class spoke about being a writer, it sounded like she was talking directly to the purpose within me.  I have a voice that is amplified when I write.  I need to write.  It’s bigger than me.  It’s bigger than being a New York Times Bestseller.  It’s bigger than becoming a household name.  My gift is to edify.  Everything I do, everything I say, my very approach to life, my very heart beats freedom.  Freedom from every bondage.  Freedom from every box that constricts who we really are.  Freedom from every lie that distorts our true value.  Freedom from ego, from anger, from fear that says you can’t be, you can’t have, you can’t do.  Freedom to be the image of God that exists in all humanity.    

I know that most folks reminisce about the Randolph Sisters.  I’m humbled and extremely reverent when someone I don’t know was paying attention remembers when we use to sing together as a girl group or when we played for a church choir or when I led praise and worship at Freedom Temple Church.  Those were days that I remember with fondness.  I am grateful that so many people were encouraged, touched and changed by our music and the presence of God that flowed through it.  But one has to know when a season is over and let go.  If I were moving in ego, I would be lamenting that those days are over.  I would limit God to one mode, one movement, one expression.  I would long for the attention and even the celebrity that it brought me in my community and my church affiliation.  Writing, on the other hand, is not born of that.  I don’t do it for the paycheck or for the attention.  I don’t do it for the validation.  Writing is my heart song.

What I hear in that knowing place is that I must write.  It is not an option; it is a calling.  First of all, writing liberates my spirit.  It helps me to get centered and to gain perspective.  One could say that I need to write for myself just as much as others need to read what I write.  It’s therapeutic.  It’s illuminating.  There are times that I write my own answer, liberate my own heart, get direction for my own life as I write. 

Many people don’t know that I lost myself.  I went from a outspoken youth to a scared shadow of myself.  I was too codependent to speak out my feelings and perceptions freely.  I was so afraid of being wrong that I’d often accept someone else’s truth as more important than my own.  If someone objected or had a stronger opinion, my sense of self diminished and I became disoriented and lose my way.  I’m sooooo glad that the God of all grace wouldn’t let me stay in that state.  He brought me answers through books and allowed me to express my own thoughts through journaling.   He made room for me.

I know it’ll surprise some people that it wasn’t my upbringing or my religious beliefs that freed me.  It wasn’t saying the sinners prayer at the age of 7 years old.  It wasn't being in deliverance worship services or having hands laid on me.  Because I experienced so much dysfunction in a “Christian” atmosphere, the church, for me, inflicted more suffering than freedom from suffering.  More bondage.   More confusion.   I lamented that I wasn’t good enough.  I spent countless hours on the altar, repenting for being me.  Repenting that I wasn’t like those around me who told me I should be like them.  In hindsight, my suffering wasn’t due to God’s opinion but more the opinions of the church community who couldn’t accept me as me.  Lest I should throw out the baby with the bathwater, I must clarify that the organized church is a place where I can still find refuge and draw strength.  But the saving of my lost soul didn’t happen in a church.  It happened while I was alone:  reading Love Is A Choice, Finding My Way Home, Adult Children of Alcoholics, Codependent No More, Feel The Fear and Do It Anyway.   It happened as I talked with God about the principles that rang true for me.  It was reinforced when I’d hear Oprah and Iyanla and other fellow seekers singing my heart song.  I realized that I wasn’t tainted or marred.  There was someone else in the world who saw things as I did and I no longer felt like an alien.  Slowly and surely, I began to see my own North Star.  And I began to follow that star home.  Home to my authentic soul.  Home to God’s Image inside me as me. 

I don’t know where writing will lead or the doors it will open.  All I know is that I sense a shift coming.  I have something valuable to offer to others.  I am convinced of it.  My Wise Self is saying the same words that Peter said to the lame man in Acts 3:6: “Silver and gold have I none; but such that I have give I thee: In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth rise up and walk.”  Someone out there has been crippled by life and is waiting to receive strength in their ankles.  I don’t have a nationally syndicated talk show like Oprah.  I don’t have a string of New York Best Sellers like Iyanla.  But I do have that “such that I have.”  And my purpose is to share it.

Heavenly Touch Salon & Spa: One of Raleigh’s Best Kept Secrets

Y’all I’ve found a treasure!  Her name?  Renee Watts of Heavenly Touch Salon and Spa! 

Interestingly, this was a woman I had never ever met face-to-face.  She was a Facebook friend who had relocated from New Jersey to North Carolina.  Her specialty was natural hair and she was trying to get established.  It’s a known fact that we natural sisters are a tight-knit group, so I welcomed Renee into my online natural sister circle with open arms. 

 

I did my second big chop, I’d say a month ago.  I was frustrated with the work required to continue to maintain my natural hair.  It had grown from a Big Chop with less than a ½ inch of hair to shoulder length.  Seemed the longer my hair grew, the more prone to knotting, matting and breakage no matter what I had tried.  Type 4 sistahs, you know what I'm talking about.  We're the kinky, tightly coiled curly pattern subject to shrinkage.  Well, when I was just about to get a chemical put in my hair to make it more manageable, God sent me an angel.  She talked me down, giving me some great pointers about product and proper care of my longer hair.  Her tips enhanced my curl pattern and made my natural hair more manageable.  I promised her that if and when I ever decided to have my hair professionally cared for I’d come to her. 

Here I am almost a year later and I felt compelled to find Renee.  The urge was so strong that I searched her Facebook page for contact information.  I found her phone number on one of her websites, booked an appointment and drove to 142 Wind Chime Court in Raleigh to see her--same day. 

Her warmth and welcoming attitude struck me as I walked back to her hair station.  I explained that I had attempted to cut my hair and it was a mess.  Frustration will make you do some strange things!  Thank God no one could tell how gapped and uneven it was.  Thank God for shrinkage!  What I liked was how she and her fellow stylist, Ms. Theresa, worked together. You see, I had fallen in love with Jill Scott’s new short hair cut (the one she dons on the "Still In Love" video with Anthony Hamilton) and I wanted to rock it natural style.  Not only did I get a boss classy hair cut but the color and styling to compliment it. 

For those in the natural hair community who are looking for an absolutely gifted stylist who knows how to create beautiful natural styles while maintaining healthy hair--without breaking the bank--Renee is the one.  Her work is meticulous!   

If you’d like to get in touch with Renee, go to Natural Hair By Renee' or Heavenly Touch Salon and Spa on Facebook.  Tell her I sent you. 

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!