I Saw Love Personified

Death reveals so much about people. Uncle John, Aunt Beulah, Cousin Mary and dem can make you shake your head in dismay as they argue over who did what for whom or who should get what or who didn’t do this or that. Some clenching their fists while others clutching their Bibles. My mom use to say that she wasn’t gonna leave a lot of life insurance money for family to fight over. Many a family has been torn apart at the death of a loved one. I don’t know all that went on behind the scenes but what I saw at my cousin’s funeral was endearing and impacted me deeply.

I saw love personified. My cousin was an only child and adopted. I think he struggled with that more than I knew. When my cousin’s father died, I was afraid that he would feel orphaned and disconnected. That’s the reason I had to get to him. For various reasons, many of the family I knew couldn’t make it to the wake. I’m glad I did. That within itself was Divine favor as we had driven for three hours all over Roxboro and beyond and were about to give up when an angel in the form of a man at a gas station gave us clear directions.

Since that time, as God would have it, his cousins V and T devoted themselves to his care and provided him with a sense of family and connection that he had longed for since his mother’s death and probably even before. What a gift. It was astounding to me the sacrifices they made even in his death.

They say that love is in the details. Symbolic of it was the fact that his cousins bought him a brand new suit to be buried in. “New clothes for his new home,” V said, "down to his underwear." To most folks this sounds ludicrous. Everyone knows that you can’t take anything material to the other side. But again, it wasn’t about reasoning or rationality, it was about care and love.

Even at the graveside, when everyone else left, his cousins stayed the limo driver and told the grave attendants they didn’t want to leave his casket sitting on slats to be buried later. Seeing their resolve, I, my son and my mom stayed as well.  It was like no other burial I had ever witnessed.  The vault was placed over the casket and secured. The grave attendants then chained the vault and it was lifted by a bulldozer while they removed the slats. They then careful navigated the unit into the ground. Once it was lowered, dirt was added and the green grass-looking tarp was put on top.

What was most striking to me was his cousin T. He stood watch with unwavering commitment until every detail was done. He didn’t move. It was cold. He stood there. It was a laborious process. He stood there. He didn’t move from his spot. It reminded me of the military where one soldier salutes a fallen comrade.  Oh my God, how moving it was.  I only hope that when I die, someone will want to make sure that even my remains are handled with such care. V said it was the norm for them to pull the covers up over him when he was unable to do it himself. As they tucked him in securely in life, they tucked him in securely in death. Again, love is in the details.

As I remember the funeral and the emotional ups and downs of the past week, I have asked that I become a better person, a better friend, a better human being. I’ve tried to remember the countless moments of awareness, of evaluation and of a greater understanding of life, people and love. They are glimmers at first but as we move through grief to surrender, those moments become building blocks for the new normal we have to build. A normal where you will carry your loved one in your heart and are inspired to be better for it.

Even for those who don’t believe in God or tend to place their hopes in their own abilities, life has a way of bringing you to a point of reckoning. You’ll either get up more conscious of who you are or you’ll slip further down into despair and allow your pain to drive you further from who you were meant to be. I believe that coming-to-yourself is that spiritual part of you asserting itself.  And even in the darkest of nights or the most harrowing of circumstances, He will reveal Himself as a voice or a flicker of light when it’s time. Some call Him the indomitable human spirit. I call him the Holy Spirit. He counsels and enables and helps you when, in your ability, you simply can’t do it on your own.

I know that death is intimidating for most--myself included. The Bible calls it an enemy. It takes something precious and leaves you with loss. Some folks who are uncomfortable with grief will try to divert you by quoting scriptures or rationalizing the death in some way. I don’t want to be like that. Grief is the byproduct of loving someone.  There is no way to make it better.  All we can do is be with.  There is power in being with.  There is healing in being with.  One person's humanity can touch another's.  When someone sees you, hears you and shows you that you matter, that’s the highest form of validation. And accepting it from whomever, whenever is humility.

It saddens me that our society pushes you to just get over stuff. And we confuse being able to function to being over it but it shows up in other ways. It shows up in us becoming overly critical or touchy. It shows up in broken relationships and broken trusts. It shows up in stomachaches, headaches, muscle aches and other aches. It shows up in workaholism, alcoholism, and other isms. It shows up in the egoic need to control other people, places and things. It shows up in extreme and risqué behaviors. If you peel that banana back it traces back to something undervalued by others or unresolved. Some root of bitterness, disappointment, hurt or pain.

Yes, I know that I must keep living – in fact, I want to keep living – and that’s the key. To live. To not be eaten up by grief. To not be consumed by anger. To not let the pain fester but lead us to something sacred within us. To live is to not abandon the moment be it pleasant or painful. To live in it, trusting that you will live through it. To be as honest and pure as a little child when they are sad. To trust your Wiser Self, that Greater Consciousness, that Divine Awareness whom I call God to watch out for you. To know when you need to cry and when you need to laugh. To know when it’s time to cling and when it’s time to let go. If you stay present, life will expose to you some treasure locked inside that you never ever knew was there. I want to come out of this better and I trust God to make all things beautiful in His time.

Related articles

• Celebrate Life Every Day (3sharedpaths.com)
• Rewind, Restart: The Grief Process and Journey (onewomansgriefofepicproportions.wordpress.com)
• This City Year Life: Finding Meaning in Loss (cityyearsanjose.wordpress.com)

Savoring Instead of Surviving

What does YOUR next chapter look like?


While surfing the web, I happened upon this question. Today’s surfing is a little different than most. My cousin’s funeral was today. So today was a day of endings. Though he left us on Sunday, January 8th; we didn’t commemorate that exodus until today. Today was the final goodbye before we committed his body to the ground and his soul to God, His Creator.

Honestly, up until this defining moment, I had not made a New Year’s resolution. And really, this isn’t a resolution; it’s more an awakening. I don’t consider myself a hokey, hoo doo, supernatural type of person. So please don’t read any of that into what I’m about to say. I’ve simply had a sense that my cousin has been communicating with me. No, it hasn’t been an audible voice neither have I seen any shadows, forms or aborigines. Nothing moving from here to there. Nothing Poltergeist-ish. I’ve simply had a deep sensing that he’s trying to tell me something. Something he needs me to know.

Live. That’s what I’ve been hearing. You’ve been responsible, you’ve raised your son, you’ve been painstaking in making sound judgments and good decisions; but you need to live. Please understand, it wasn’t him giving me permission to act on an egoic impulse neither was it a warning. It wasn’t him trying to tell me how short life is. Nothing like that. It was the voice of one who had transcended. He was speaking to my faith.

For you see, I’ve been like the little fearful mouse in the corner about things I’ve wanted to do in life. I could impress you by saying it was because I put my son first. And truly I did. As a post-divorce single parent, I had to make sacrifices and I did that with absolute joy. But what I’m talking about goes wayyyyyy beyond that. I saw my parents work, work, work. Nothing came easy. They took literally that passage of scripture where it says that a man shall work by the sweat of his brow. I only saw them go to church and go to work. That was it. We never took family vacations. My mom and dad never got away for alone times. They either felt it sinful and irreverent to partake of certain pleasures of life or my dad would say he had already travelled and no longer wanted to.

So being a product of all that, I’ve found it difficult to break free of that survival mentality. I’m doing better, true; but every single time I make a purchase for myself, I have to overcome the guilt that it brings. I think if we were to reference the book or the movie EAT PRAY LOVE as an example, I feel that I’ve thoroughly prayed – all my life I’ve sought to know God. He Is ever revealing Himself to me. I’m experiencing satisfying love. My sweet Robert is an absolute gift of Love. It’s the eat part. It’s the enjoying life part that has been a battle.

Take for instance something as simple as purchasing a flat-screen TV. I heaved and hawed over it for weeks, taking painstaking lengths to get the best deal. It wasn’t because I was so concerned with the brand name or the pixels. I was more concerned with buying TVs while they were the cheapest. Sounds pretty responsible right? Yes, on the surface; not so much when you looked underneath. I was scared. That’s the real. I was scared to make a purchase of that magnitude because it wasn’t a need. If my current set was broken, somehow I would have felt more justified. It wasn’t though.

What about buying it just because I wanted it? What about that?

The decision was mine. I just had trouble permitting myself to buy it. It wasn’t about God; the problem was in me. It’s called TRUST. I didn’t trust that God would provide just as much for a want as a need. I struggled with whether there would be more if I used what I had. Lawrence needed me to know that God had more than enough for me. He didn't want me to squandor this life for a so-so one when I could have so much more.

I think that’s why I’m finding this awakening so profound. Something happened when Lawrence left his body. I know this. Despite my grief, I knew something else was going on. In my mind’s eye, or shall I say my spirit’s eye, I saw him wanting to communicate with me from a place of transcendence. He was now looking at a God, ready, willing and wanting to provide everything I’d ever ever need in this life. I kept hearing “Suzette, you’ll be irresponsible if you don’t live. There are places you’ve not been, GO. There are things you have not seen, SEE THEM.” I could hear him pleading with me. Do it and trust God.

So my next chapter looks like this: me tasting the good things of life. I see my eyes rolling back and closing in absolute delight as the flavor of living excites my palette and fills me with joy. It’s the savoring instead of surviving. That’s the message. Thank you, Lawrence. I hear you. I hear you.

Except for the purr of my furnace off and on, silence. Every now and then, I hear the rumbling of a car passing or is it a bus? School children waiting on the corner. Wonder if you are waiting on the corner? It’s times like this that you ask yourself if heaven is real. I know I’ve been taught about heaven—pearly gates, streets paved with gold—but is that really what it’s like to die? Or are the pearly gates a metaphor.


What was it like for you? What was it like to be sitting and laughing then to walk into the kitchen to simply get a glass of water? Was there a stabbing in your chest or did it happen so fast that you exited your body before you knew it? Did you gasp for breath with eyes bulging in horror and try to crawl or did you see your mother or your father beckoning for you to join them? How did you exit this life, this world, this earthly realm?

Did you feel alone? Oh, I so hope you didn’t feel alone. I know people say you face death alone but it’s different when there’s no one seeing you to the door, I think. There’s a difference in starring into loving faces or feeling a warm hand. Some peoples’ accounts of near-death experiences is that everything turned dark. Others say they saw a bright light. One preacher lady said her spirit hovered in anticipation as she watched doctors try to bring her back. She said she didn’t want to come back into a pain-filled body, but God told her it wasn’t her time.

Did you want to leave, Lawrence? I know that congestive heart failure leaves you with a lot of problems; but did you want to leave? Were you tired of fighting? I know you’d been sick and was having multiple issues with your body; but Oveda said you were looking forward to going to Hawaii in March. Doesn’t sound like you wanted to die to me.

All I know is that I feel lonely without you. We didn’t talk everyday, I know that. But I knew you were there. There was a security in knowing you were on this planet. You were the closest thing to having a brother that I had ever had. When we were little we use to practice kissing. Remember? Too funny. Oftentimes, our mom’s would put us in front of the black and white TV and we’d watch people kiss. You were so willing to participate….lol. Remember that time I took out my Christmas leftovers and made a meal. We had so much fun eating, talking and laughing. Or the time we went to Copelands and sat at the bar. I think that girl liked you. And you kept ordering different wines—determined to find one that I’d like. You knew how to celebrate. You didn’t even seem bothered when we couldn’t find one. I didn’t like ‘em and you drank ‘em…lol. I think you planned it that way.

We were twin souls, Lawrence. We were adventurous and made each other laugh til our sides hurt. We talked about stuff that meant a lot to us. Sometimes it’d be hours! I didn’t get a chance to tell you that your advice paid off. I met a wonderful man and I soooo wanted you to meet him. Oveda said you were so proud of me and Derrien. She said you’d talk about us all the time. I’m glad. I loved you so much and I wanted you to feel it. She said you did.

Well, let me get up. I feel so heavy, Lawrence. I feel like a weight is on my heart. One minute I think of you and laugh; then turn around and think of you and cry. I know that you felt misunderstood sometimes. I understood you. I knew your heart. Here’s to another day of functioning…just functioning.

I Had No Choice

I’m cannot even conceive in my natural mind how the lady in Minnesota could forgive the young man who took her son’s life. Even more, how she could forge a relationship with him. Nevertheless, when interviewed about the unimaginable, she explains that she had no choice. If she was going to move on with her life, she had to forgive him.


When people use to tell me “you need to forgive,” I thought it meant to dismiss what they did and resume the relationship as if nothing had ever happened. Time, experience and exposing myself to reinjury has taught me different.

Since a family member shared his struggle with forgiving what he deemed unforgiveable, forgiveness has been on my mind a lot. Just yesterday, I texted him this message:

You’ve got to forgive him. Every time the anger and hurt is left unchecked, the stronger it gets and more it eats away at your soul. He didn’t do what he did because he doesn’t love you. (I don’t doubt that if were in a burning building, he’d give his life to save us.) He did it because of what he believes about himself and what gives him worth. That’s what happens when anger and pain goes unchecked. So yes, hate what he did…but forgive him. That’s the only way you will grow into a better you rather than a better him. You don’t want that and what he did is not worth the hardness required to compensate emotionally.

This was hard to write to him because I truly understood the gravity of the injury. I walked with him through it and had to wrestle with my own feelings about the hurt he was enduring at someone else’s selfishness.

I wasn’t writing to him what someone else told me, but what I had discovered from the anals of my own wrestlings. You think you are making the other person pay. And to some extent, if they really care for you, you are hurting them. But more than that, every time the bitterness comes up in your mouth and you swallow it back down and justify doing it, it takes over more and more. Sadly, we don’t even see how it has affected us until we look back in retrospect.

When reading the story of the woman from Minnesota, Mary Johnson, I saw that she was engulfed in pain and hatred for her son’s murderer for over a decade. To me this is the sentence we serve when we allow our hurt and pain to take residence. Honestly, I don’t know how it can’t. Grief takes on many forms, one being anger. Sometimes anger is the only thing that gives us any kind of energy to keep moving. Sometimes it is a gift. When I have felt offended, it’s been the anger that’s enabled me to get out of bed and to seek justice or, in some cases, answers.

So, how do you do it? How do you forgive when your trust has been eroded and the pain is so hard to bear that you cannot function unless you do something with it? I think that if you were to bring everyone who has forgiven someone into a room and ask them how they forgave, they made some common discoveries. 


You can’t stay in a state of anger – not destructive anger. At some point, something bigger than yourself kicks in. This, I think, is the first discovery. There has to be an awakening from some wise part of yourself that knows that you can’t go on like this. Maybe you start seeing the toll anger is taking on your relationships, your family, your job, your experience of life. Maybe you start seeing what you are losing. Maybe you start realizing that anger is not going to bring the person back or make your life okay again. Maybe you realize that if you are going to have a life, you gotta do something to reclaim it. I believe this is what led Ms. Johnson to go to the prison to see Oshea. I think it was in many ways an intervention – not for Oshea, but for herself.

To some and possibly even to me, going to visit him and forgiving him would have been more than enough. So what would motivate this woman to continue to go to the prison to visit Oshea? I dunno what her reasons were; but I believe that forgiveness has to be protected. When you first forgive, your heart is open and vulnerable.  You have to stand guard over it and not put it in harm's way.  And too, you have to replace the anger and hatred with something positive. Perhaps, her visits with Oshea filled her with truth about the path her son took that put him in harm’s way. Clearly, her son was on the path to become an Oshea. So perhaps the second, or another discovery on the path to forgiveness is finding meaning.

I’ve not experienced loss to the extent that Ms. Johnson has. I don’t know what it’s like to look a murderer in the eye and say, “I forgive you.” What I have come to recognize is that bitterness is like having a hole in your heart. As a result, you can’t hold anything. You can’t hold love. You can’t hold kindness. You can’t hold goodness. No matter who gives it to you, it is met with fear or suspicion. And if anyone does anything nice, the satisfaction it brings is short-lived. You have to patch that hole. That’s what forgiveness is. It’s finding the patch for that hole inside of you and no longer requiring someone to do it for you.
Plugging the leak is what allows your heart to hold what comes its way. You receive love and you hold it. You receive kindness and you retain it. You start seeing the you that has been held captive and offer him clemency. You take the other person off the hook and you take yourself off the hook for what happened.

Now some may find that love by getting filled with the Holy Spirit in a charismatic church meeting. Others may experience the infilling of love as they bring home their newborn baby from the hospital. Still others may find their soul’s rescue while in service or volunteering to help others. Regardless of how it presents itself, the desire to be better and to live more honorably will bring you the help you need. I’ve never prayed for help and God didn’t hear me. And as long as I know He hears, then I know that His grace is sufficient to take me through all the peaks and valleys and get me to my ultimate recovery.

How long does it take?  Forgiveness can take place in an instant or it can take most of your life.  I believe it's completely up to you.  Right now, if you open your heart, you can be free.

WEIGHT LOSS: The Truth About Skinny

Why is it that every January, you can’t turn on the TV, log onto your computer or stand in line at the grocery store without seeing weight loss, weight loss, WEIGHT LOSS.  It’s everywhere!  Granted, I’ve never struggled with my weight.  I can eat whatever time of day or night that I want to and not gain a pound.  Some might say, “lucky you,” but not necessarily. 

Today, I watched several back-to-back episodes of the new series on OWN called “Supersize versus Super Skinny.”  A doctor by the name of Christian Jessen oversees two people – one obese and one painfully skinny – as they live each other’s lives and adopt one another’s eating habits for five days.  I’m not quite sure why they’ve decided to do this as a weight change jumpstarter but on the episodes I saw today, it seemed to be effective.   During the cohabitation, the participants expose and shed many of their biases about the other as each participant discovers something more human about the other.  For example, one of the ladies on the show was overweight and admitted that food was like a warm hug from the inside.  She needed this as she felt so cold and alone after her baby died. 

Despite the caution that weight loss is something that can’t be just a goal but a lifestyle, every January we are bombarded with new diets, new exercise equipment and low-cost gym memberships.  And though talk show hosts, doctors and advice columns encourage folks to get to the root of their overeating, the same folks come back years later almost more obese than before. 

I don’t know what the secret is to permanent weight loss.  I don’t have a silver bullet or a foolproof action plan.  Nobody does though everyone tries to convince you otherwise.   I don’t want to sound like a skinny *itch but I get really concerned.  I get really concerned that some people claim they are doing this for their health when in the deepest part of their belief system, they feel that they aren’t okay if they don’t look like the celebrated images that are plastered across most magazines.  They believe that being one of the pretty people will somehow fix what’s not fixed or lacking. 

Despite my being skinny all my life – pregnancy doesn’t count – I have not felt lucky to be skinny.  Being a skinny, nappy-headed dark-skinned gurl in the South, I got some pretty nasty and condescending remarks too.  When I was little, I remember my older sisters’ friends ranting and raving over my fairer-skinned baby sister and reaching all past me to hold her as if my 2-year-old mind could not tell the difference.  I know what it’s like to be called broomstick or pole or clothesline because I was so slender.  I remember other girls’ bodies maturing faster than mine and the guys drooling over them and looking all past me.  And when I did start to develop, my top half grew much faster than my bottom half leaving me with the shape of a straight pin.  There was nothing modelesk about any of that. 

Watching the series today brought up another concern for those on a quest to be skinny.  The doctor told the skinny participant that she was at risk for joint problems and osteoporosis due to her poor diet.  She wasn’t getting enough nutrients to keep her body strong and she was in dyer need of calcium.  He told her that if she didn’t change her eating, her health would decline just as significantly as her obese counterpart.   The stress on her body even caused the puffiness around her young 19 year old eyes.  Wow!  I was amazed at that.  What was significant to me was the fact that my report at my annual physical was great in every area but one.  They told me I had osteopenia, a precursor to osteoporosis.  It’s not from being skinny but rather the fact that I’m perimenopausal.  Nevertheless, the point was made.  Skinny is not necessarily more healthy if you don’t continue to make healthy choices.   

You cannot yo-yo diet and stay healthy.  Certainly, dieting can help you lose weight but what else are you losing in the process?  Few people read up on all this.  Our bodies are too smart.  They know if they are being starved.  They know how to compensate for what is lacking.  Furthermore, for those who have fantasies of somehow being more acceptable when you drop the pounds, let me give you a news flash.  No matter how slender I am, I’ve noticed that most single guys still gravitate towards the girls with the straight long hair, the fairer skin and the voluptuous frame than us skinny *itches. 

Am I saying don’t make weight loss a goal?  No.  Besides, it’s not my call.  What you choose to do to your body is up to you.  What I do say is that there is too much competition out there if how you look is your primary goal.  Attractive and sexy ain’t original.  Those types of women are a dime a dozen.  But what is most eye-catching – at least to guys who are about something – is the strength of who you are.  You don’t believe me?  Then I dare you to sit down in a crowd and just observe the people around you.  It isn’t the prettiest gurls or the most-cut men who have thriving relationships.  Plain ole ordinary folks are the ones falling in love and getting engaged and spending their lives together.   Have you ever wondered why?  I guarantee you that it’s not because they are skinny or “pretty.”

Maybe just maybe it's that they put emphasis on the inside.  Or perhaps that other person sees what they long for the most and connect with it.  I dunno what that is but I know it's gotta be deeper than skin.  We are more than our skin.  I believe that shedding the pounds around your heart is just as important as your body.  I also believe that a reclaimed soul should be just as important as a healthy body.  My point is this.  Many of us put so much emphasis on the external that we don’t attend to our deeper need.  Regardless of your size, if you have armour around your heart and are holding yourself or the opposite sex at bay because of one reason or another, that needs your attention just as much.  How about losing the weight of mistrust that keeps sabotaging every hopeful relationship in your life?  How about taking a look in the mirror and confronting your nasty attitude that treats others like objects that are suppose to be better, do better, make amends for all the BS you’ve gotten from others?  Your pain does not entitle you to anything from anyone.  It's just the byproduct of being human. 

Most of the single women I see are very attractive.  So working on looks isn’t where the effort needs to be.  Saying “there are no good single men out there” is a cop out when you aren’t putting just as much effort into becoming a willing and open spirit.  Sure, shed those pounds and gain those pounds.  Do all that.  But don’t leave out your heart.  Cause no matter how skinny you are on the outside; if you are jacked up inside, your happiness and satisfaction won't last.

My name is Suzette Hinton.  And that's my truth.

Year 2012: I Am Responsible For My Energy and What Energy I Allow You To Bring Into My Space

The Year 2012 didn’t prompt me to make any resolutions. I even tuned inward to see if I could detect something resonating from my soul as to what it needed in this new year. Nothing. Unexpectedly though, with the 3rd day of January of the new year came a heightened awareness of one thing - energy. The energy that I share and the energy I allow in my space. I think it was Oprah that said that you determine what energy you will allow in your life. Maybe it’s a over-50 thing, but now that I’m 52, something inside is requiring that I raise the bar.


I have to own my own energy. I can no longer hold other people responsible for how I feel or choose to feel. They might evoke feelings but they aren’t the origin of them. It is true that as a human being – and a woman – life evokes many types of feelings. Feelings of delight. And conversely, feelings of displeasure. I can tolerate some things only to a point and many times I am not aware that I am tolerating them. But my insides always know: when I reach my saturation point, the alarm goes off.

We are the managers of our energy. Naw, this ain’t some psychobabble or an Oprahism. It’s real talk. If what I was saying wasn’t so then you wouldn’t be affected by the energy around you. Take what happened to me over the weekend, for example. A fellow employee did something that left me feeling indescribably put upon. Behind closed doors, I relayed my displeasure about it. The aha moment for me, however, came as I was walking to my boss’ office and as I was leaving. No one would have known that I was as pissed as I was. It wasn’t because I was suppressing it. I just wasn’t filled with it. Wow! Before I went to a relationship coach, hunny, e’erbody in that office would have known that something was wrong with Suzette. But I was more poised and I became aware of it in that moment. At some level, I respected those around me and decided I wasn’t going to soil them. It would have been as unfair to them.

That was an aha moment for me. Cause my upset was big. The employee had crossed a line that I am very protective of. Nothing harassing or anything like that, but a boundary nonetheless. 

Proves my point: people are the executors of their energy. You know Newton’s Law that says energy is neither lost nor destroyed, it is just passed from one person to another. Yep, I’m paraphrasing it a bit but the truth of that law is still very much in tact. We pass our energy all the time. When I’m filled with love and joy and optimism, those around me feel it. Some might reject it cause they don’t want to feel any differently than they do. Others however receive it and it fills them. That’s when people say to you, “Man, I feel so much better.”

The converse is also true. I have friends and associates that, at times, are filled with so much negative energy that I have to put limits on their time in my space. Shoot, I have to refuel! This is the perfect segway into my second point: I decide the energy that I allow into my space. That’s not anybody else’s call but mine.

In the case of my fellow employee, he was upset about a matter and even in his text, I could feel the distress and the panic. Not the kind of energy I wanted at that time. Had it been while I was at work, I think I would have allowed it; but he decided to get my cell number --from where, I have no idea --and text me at 11 something at night--New Year's Eve--and again at 1-something in the morning. And not just any morning, mind you; but New Year’s Day! Did I say New Year’s Day?! To say I was PISSED is an understatement.

Of course, he calmed down and I found an apologetic email upon my return to work; but in that moment, I made the decision that I couldn’t accept his apology as-is. He had crossed the line on this wayyyyyy beyond what was the normal culture of our job. I don’t think anyone in their right mind would have done what he did unless the house was burning and I was laying asleep inside, okay?!  So, not okay.

Now, this is where I saw maturity in me and a whole lot of grace. Just because I was upset about what he did, didn’t mean he meant me any ill-will. He was obviously distressed and panicked. Before I started seeing a relationship coach, I would have ratched this up to a personal affront—him being the enemy-- which meant annihilate him! But to do that would be very arrogant on my part. We have all lost it at some time or another and the last thing we need is to be verbally thrashed. My, li’l Suzette has grown!

Notwithstanding, I had to honor my feelings too. There are times when you have to let someone know that what they did wasn’t okay and you should be able to tell them why. Sure he was apologizing but his apology was based in his own psyche. Not necessarily the same as mine.  My internal barometer required that I use this as a teachable moment.

I believe I handled him with respect and appreciation for how he was feeling. I started by telling him that I hope this gets resolved and that I and our employer would help if it didn’t. I also let him know that I understand how frustrating it is to do what you’re asked to do but things get worse instead of better. I truly appreciated that he was upset and rightly so. Now the teachable moment: next time wait until I’m back in the office.

Trust, I wanted to light into him like nobody’s business. I had to rewrite my email to him and tweak it quite a few times before sending it, in fact. But again, it comes down to being responsible for my energy.  What purpose would it have served had I told him off? I said what I needed to say. I honored me without dishonoring him.  That’s that. Keep it movin!

Changing My Experience of It

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“Who do you want to be during this season?” my relationship coach asked me, after I gave her a blow-by-blow of the end-of-year stresses of bookkeeping, having not finished my Christmas shopping, the resurgence of hot flashes and fatigue, and yet another holiday season where I hadn’t taken advantage of the many activities going on in the community. Boy, that’s a mouthful. And trust me when I say, that’s just the cliff-note version.


Somehow my answer to her question is summed up in the words of the song, “I gotta be me. I gotta be me,” though I am being me.  Okay, wrong song.  I'm me, just me under a lot of stress. As I was eating my dinner last night, I became aware that the feeling in the pit of my stomach was the same panic I felt while married. Though I looked calm on the outside, inside was like a hamster running on that wheel thingy. You know, that thing that looks like a ferris wheel kinda. I can’t think of the name of it. It’s that feeling that makes you wanna throw a jar when you can’t quite get the lid off of it. Any difficulty makes you snap. (Note to self: do not attempt to fold a fitted sheet during this time, you might take the scissors and cut the dang thing up!)

Well, back to my session. I pondered what my coach asked. "I am responding more consciously," I reported. "That has not been sabotaged at all. It’s just taking sooooooo much effort to be professional and mature." When you’re overwhelmed or tired, it just becomes so hard. Though she applauded my strength under fire, she offered some very sound feedback. Truth is, I am at the end of my ability to cope. I needed to decompress...immediately.  That’s what I love about seeing my coach. She says back to me what I already know, but there is power in the hearing of it.

In that moment, I remembered that I am the only person responsible for me. Nobody else is going to do that.  People are all too consumed with themselves.  Not a criticism, just a fact. True, I am in a whirlwind mentally and emotionally right now. I feel like I'm being pulled apart, actually. But I have to find a way to decompress else the very thing I don’t want will happen—my experience of Christmas will be sabotaged. I refuse to allow that to happen.

Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year and I ain’t tryin to say the lyrics to a popular Christmas song. It truly is for me. Always has been. Though there were dysfunctions and legalisms and I-don’t-fit-in-this-family feelings growing up, one thing was ALWAYS joyful—Christmas. Christmas was magical in my home. Mom would decorate the house with such abandonment. I especially loved the ceramic Christmas trees that were almost in every room. The smell of hot cinnamon buns cooking in the oven would make my mouth water. The aroma of our live Christmas pine.  There was so much excitement in the air. Dad wasn’t as critical. Mom wasn’t as stressed. It was a beautiful time. My sister, Fran, would be the first one to wake up and wake us up. So much joy at Christmas. And I’ll be darned (I wanna use a stronger descriptor but a euphemism will do) if like every year since I started working as a bookkeeper, my Christmas will be held hostage to the end-of-year craziness!

After my visit with my coach, I did what every self-respecting lover of Christmas would do.  I went shopping. Yes, I did. I decided to make a stand. I drew my line in the sand and dared anything to cross it.  The whole point of working from home was to have flexibility.  I had already worked 3 ½ hours before I went on errands. So, all I needed to complete my 6-hour day was 2 ½. more. Soooooo, I took some me-time. 

While returning an item at Target, I decided to schedule a hair appointment. Fortunately, my bestie hair designer in the whole wide world was able to work me in. She touched up my gray and added a shiny glaze to my overall hair color. LOVED IT! Just what I needed to lift my mood.

I awakened with this new-found resolve. Kinda reminds me of Ebeneezer Scrooge after his visit with the three spirit...lol.  Yes, I’m going to enjoy Christmas. And I ain’t waitin to be off work to do it. I’m going to get off this laptop and fix me a hearty breakfast. Then I’m going to get on my clothes and go on into work. I’m gonna log on to  Pandora radio station and play Christmas songs to my heart’s content. I’m going to smile and sing while I work. I'm going to leave on time for a change.  Tonight, I’m going to watch the X-Factor Finale and wrap gifts. And I’m going to take my time. I’m going to stop running on the wheel of life, like that hamster, and have some fun. 

I might can’t change what’s going on around me, but I can change my experience of it. There are times in our lives when we can't wait to put ourselves first.  We simply have to.  I refuse to allow someone else's agenda to rule my life.  Not now.  Not today.  Not this season.  It starts with me and trust me when I say, it’ll end with me too!