Pretty impressive! I just took the typing test for SPEAKWRITE and passed it on the first try! The minimal typing requirements were 65 wpm (words per minute) at 90% accuracy. I scored a whopping…drum roll, please…71 wpm at 97% accuracy. And I wasn’t even fully awake or really trying hard. I was sitting up in my bed with my laptop placed on top of a pillow on my lap when I took the practice tests and then the real one.
SPEAKWRITE is one of a few lauded work-from-home jobs featured in a WRAL article. Allowing my curiosity to guide me during this next phase of life, I read a little about it and was intrigued. It hires contractors to type general and legal transcription for various companies. This took me back to those days in high school where you took Typing as one of your electives. I loved the rush of typing madly for timed typing drills to see how many words per minute you could do with little to no error. This skill has served me well over the years. In fact, it helped me to leave the shall we say drudgery of an eyeglass-blocking job, my first employment post-college, and put me on a brighter path to growth and potential. I know in these days being a secretary is not usually one’s first pick of a career path, but back in my day, it was a respectable job. Definitely way more desirable than blocking eyeglass lenses with a contraption that resembled a straightening comb heating dock. I wasn’t very good at it. Go figure.
This morning, while checking my personal emails, I came across an article written by Peter Bregman, contributor to various respected news and premier organizations and author of 18 Minutes: Find Your Focus, Master Distraction, and Get the Right Things Done. It was “Find Your Sweet Spot – and Stay There.” This article was one of multiple clues I’ve been getting from the Universe over the years that there’s something more out there for me. My God, what is my sweet spot? I’ve been so far off my sweet spot for years. Just recently, I confessed to my boss that most of my life and my career choices have been about survival, not about thriving...except once.
I took a leap, hoping to land in what I felt was my sweet spot. My son will remember. He was in high school and I was a substance abuse counselor. I was working crazy hours and running an office singlehandedly in Garner for its parent agency in Raleigh. It was exciting at first and I’ll admit it was quite an ego-boost. Here I was a new hire and was given such an opportunity, but it wasn’t long before I realized it wasn’t all it was cracked to be. As I reflect on my path, I had obtained an associates degree in Human Services with a specialization in substance abuse. I thought I had finally found the entrance, albeit through the back door, to counseling. You see, I had previously sought to get a Masters Degree in Counseling from a local university but was denied as I had been out of college for more than 10 years. What a way to thumb my nose at them and show off how a God yes trumps any "no."
Sounds good doesn’t it. What a backdrop for a foot-stompin testimony at a church gathering or a success story for an African American woman from a small rural town! Though I was effective and my performance praised, one encounter changed everything--well, two actually, but I’m only going to talk about one. After the conclusion of my weekly substance abuse group, a group member asked to speak with me privately. I consented. He said to me, “Miss Hinton, you’re not safe in this office. I live in this neighborhood and you working here by yourself just ain’t safe.” The blood left my face. In that moment, I really paid attention to the inklings I had but dismissed. Inklings like there was only one way in and out of our second-floor office suite. Further, my office was sequestered on the opposite end of that entire second floor in a corner. I was a sitting duck! No buzzer underneath my desk if I was in trouble. No exit not even a fire escape. Small windows. And oftentimes, especially on group nights I was there until 9:30 or 10 at night, often approaching my car in a dimly lit parking lot. Eewwwwwwwwwww. With this heightened sense of urgency, I asked my supervisor to employ some safeguards or to return me to the Raleigh Office. Needless to say, my urgency wasn’t his. After almost a month of nothing done, I submitted my resignation.
Barraged with thoughts of impending doom yet equally challenging thoughts of lack and poverty from not having another job lined up, I was in a state of absolute torture. Seemed that either decision was the wrong one. What to do? What to do? It was during this time that the idea of life coaching came up again. It had flirted with me in the past and here it was again. I decided to search online to see what opportunities were there. First, I asked around for the name of local life coaches. I asked them about how they got trained and transitioned into their coaching careers. This led me to an online opportunity to become a certified life coach. I knew it was more in line with what felt right. Rather than deal with a population that didn’t want my help, I would have clients who sought my help. Rather than dealing with mental health, alcohol and drug abuse issues, I would help clients achieve their life goals.
Weeeeell, things didn’t go as I thought. Even though I graduated from the online program, put up a website and wrote articles to drive traffic to my website, I got no bites. I was faithful to this for three months but when money started to run out, I chose the path most taken. I went online and applied for bookkeeping jobs. Yep, I was in survival mode again. I had a son to take care of and needed a “real job,” so I succumbed. As I reflect, I find it interesting and almost poetic that I find myself in the same place almost six years later. This time it isn’t physical safety that’s at stake.
Shall I continue to pick jobs based on survival or shall I risk it all for a belief that there is something more? That’s what’s at risk for me. Shall I allow my authentic soul to lead this time instead of fears parading as good sense, wisdom or being responsible when underneath it all I don’t trust myself? When I’ve told people that I’m leaving my job, they’ve asked me what I’m going to do. Truth is, I don’t know. I'm leavin that up to God. All I do know is this: if I don’t take a flying leap—now--I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
A Love Story
I can’t allow Valentine Day to come and go without talking about the man in my life – Robert Vearnon. Robert whom I adoringly call Carm. You’re probably thinking that Carm has absolutely nothing to do with the name Robert. And you’re very right. There is definitely a reason behind it that I’ll choose to keep to myself.
Carm and I met January 2011. We actually met online and what impressed me most was his motivation to meet. Believe me when I tell you, that was not the norm. I don’t know if guys hang out online just to have virtual relationships…lol…but it was like pullin teeth to have a face-to-face. To me, it ain’t real until I see you in person. So, within two days of saying “hello” online, we decided to meet at Caribou Coffee. We still meet there from time to time just to reminisce.
Immediately, Carm and I hit it off. We had the same kind of comedic timing. If I said something witty, he would respond in kind. I found that intriguing. I also felt very comfortable around him. He had a laid-back comfort that I had not seen in past dates. He wasn’t pretentious—not at all. After some ice breaking talk, I asked him why he was on the dating site. He said he was there to meet new people. Not certain of whether we were looking for the same thing, I pressed further for clarification. I mixed no words in telling him my intention to meet someone I could have a satisfying long relationship with, annnnnnnnnd I didn’t think we were seeking the same thing.
As I thanked him for his time, Carm clarified that he was looking for something long-term too. He just wanted to take his time to get to know a person rather than making it all about the goal. “Ohhhhhh,” I said. He was smart to clarify cuz this gurl was about to walk away. He told me later that he realized in that moment that I was exactly what he had been looking for: a woman who wasn’t playing games but was honest about what she wanted. He won’t about to let me walk away.
Within a day or so, he contacted me to ask me out on an actual date. Ohhhhh how I loved how he asked me out!! It went something like him asking me if I was available on Friday or Saturday that weekend. He had two places in mind that he felt would be good. He described them both, invited me to pick which one I wanted or suggest something else. I chose Beyu Café. I’m so glad that I did. When describing our date only one word captures it adequately - magic. The atmosphere, the food, the live band, the whole night - magic. I was downright giddy, grinning all the way home!
Everything was going well, until. Until he didn’t call. That’s when insecurities and fears got the best of me. You see, I had read the book, HE’S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU. Greg Behrendt cautions that a man isn’t that into you when he can go for more than 48 hours after a date before he calls you. To me, the date had been so wonderful I was surprised and disappointed when he didn’t call. One day went by, no call. I was able to justify that to myself without a problem. Another day went by and no call. Not so easy. By the third day, I called him and invited him to President Obama’s State of the Union but he declined. I was sure that he was feelin just so-so about me and I was too far from the so-so to pump the brakes. Feeling disappointed and scared, I didn’t even pay any attention to the fact that he said he’d be interested in going if it were earlier. All I heard was “he’s not that into you.” Determined not to be undervalued, I ended the relationship. He resumed dating other women and I, other men. In later conversations, we found that we were not satisfied with the people we went out with. After three weeks to a month, I felt compelled to call Carm. I had to apologize to him. I had no other agenda but to let him know that he was a good man and the truth about why I ended things. I… was… scared--point blank.
I can honestly say that, when I called him, I wasn’t expecting for us to get back together. I thought it was too late. Nevertheless, I wanted him to know that he wasn’t to blame, that he was a good man and that I’d not be so quick to abandon the next one. He was so gentle with me, listened without interrupting and then asked, “do you want to try again?” The rest is history.
Thank you, Carm, for making this the best Valentine Day ever. Can’t wait to continue our celebration tomorrow ;)
Saturday, February 11, 2012
If There's Even the Slightest Chance of Success, I Gotta Take It
There is a story in the Old Testament of the Bible about four lepers. Speaking in the voice of a preacher as he clears his throat, takes a sip of water and tells the awaiting congregation, “Those who have their Bibles, turn with me to 2 Kings 7: 3-8. If you have it, say ‘Amen.’”
Now there were four men with leprosy at the entrance of the city gate. They said to each other, “Why stay here until we die? If we say, ‘We’ll go into the city’—the famine is there, and we will die. And if we stay here, we will die. So let’s go over to the camp of the Arameans and surrender. If they spare us, we live; if they kill us, then we die.” At dusk they got up and went to the camp of the Arameans. When they reached the edge of the camp, not a man was there, for the Lord had caused the Arameans to hear the sound of chariots and horses and a great army, so that they said to one another, “Look, the king of Israel has hired the Hittite and Egyptian kings to attack us!” So they got up and fled in the dusk and abandoned their tents and their horses and donkeys. They left the camp as it was and ran for their lives. The men who had leprosy reached the edge of the camp and entered one of the tents. They ate and drank, and carried away silver, gold and clothes, and went off and hid them. They returned and entered another tent and took some things from it and hid them also.
I’m fascinated by this story. There is something so captivating here: If there is a probability – no matter how small – of success, then I gotta take it.
To fill you in on what’s been going on with me, I told my boss last Tuesday that I was leaving the company. This was no easy decision. Let. Me. Tell. You. If you’ve been following my blog, you know I've been dissatisfied for a looooooong time. But you know how it goes. On the one hand, you tell yourself at least you got a job. All these people out here with more credentials and degrees than you and they can’t find a job. You tell yourself you need to stop complaining and be grateful for what you have. “Besides, you old gurl. You 52 years old. And you know how much your health insurance skyrocketed when you turned 50.” Yet, on the other hand is this just-as-certain voice that says, “Gurl, you can’t stay in this job. You so worn out you can hardly get out of bed to even go to work. You’re miserable.” Being caught between two opposing opinions is like being squeezed to death. You can’t breath. You can’t move. It’s awful!
I couldn’t rest. Even while I was on sick leave, grieving the loss of my cousin, I couldn’t fully grieve the way I needed to because I was worried about my job. I was worried about the load of work awaiting me when I returned. I was worried that deadlines would be missed. Yet, I was mentally and emotionally exhausted, incapable of doing a darn thang about it. I begged God to help me. I was under siege.
I know you’re waiting to hear how God saved the day, right? Well, He did but not in the way you’d imagine. Rather than deal with the decision, he zeroed in on the fear, doubt and intimidation that had me in a chokehold. I didn't trust myself. He knew that was more mammoth than any decision. “You and I were an indomitable team, weren’t we?,” He said, reminding me of how we masterfully navigated the whole homeownership process. In that moment, I realized that, though the homebuying process had its own chills and thrills, God and I navigated every single aspect of it and did it brilliantly if I must say so myself. Peace came. No more torment. Even in the midst of grieving my cousin, I felt myself expand larger than what was trying to squeeze the life out of me. The decision wasn’t the most important thing. It was knowing that God and I were an indomitable team.
So, yes, I told my boss that I was leaving the company. Do I have another job to go to? No. I don’t know what I will be doing. Could I be out of my ever-lovin mind? I might very well be. I’ve been known to make a hair-brained decision from time to time. Despite this being true, here I am again. Though I tried to take the responsible, not-rock-the-boat approach by trying to find a job before giving my notice, I knew that I couldn’t delay my decision any longer. It’s scary as all get-out; yet as exciting as all get-out just the same. All I know is this: God and I have navigated every twist, turn and kerfluffle of my life. He’s been my biggest fan, never damning me for my choices but applauding me for taking the risk. Always there to lend his unwavering support. Who wouldn’t serve a God like that! Soooo using the deductive reasoning of my friends the four lepers, this is what I decided: If I stay at the job, I’ll not be fulfilled and there is no potential for fulfillment. At least not to date. If I don’t make a decision, my indecisiveness will subject me to more suffering, I’ll darn sho not be fulfilled. If I leave my job, all those terrifying might-happens might happen. I might fall flat on my face, this is true. Just the same, if there’s a chance, the slightest chance that I might be successful, I gotta take it.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Are You Living Intentionally?
Are you living intentionally? Reminded by something Cheryl Richardson said during Lesson 24 of Oprah’s Life Class: Newton’s Third Law, I had an encounter with that very question. You see a lady in the audience asked Cheryl the difference between having the intention and having the dream. With poised insight, she responded by saying, “The intention comes from a soulful place. The wish [dream] usually comes from something not working in your life. For instance, I wish I’d meet a partner because I’m lonely and I don’t feel comfortable living alone. I wish I would win the lottery because I’m in debt. My prayer becomes ‘if this is in the highest and best interest for me and those around me then please allow it to happen.’ It’s a humble way of saying that it’s not just about me and what my head thinks, it’s about me and this greater energy, this greater creative force.” This was the last thing I heard before going to bed and its relevance to my life greeted me first thing this morning. Oprah calls it an aha moment. Eckhart Tolle calls it consciousness. The Bible says, “as the light shines, walk therein.”
I've been in an unsettled place. You know that place where you say emphatically I can’t go back to something. Then, as the time to return draws near and you can’t see another way, you start backpedaling? I was in that space. With Lawrence’s death, some things in my life that were barely tolerable became intolerable. I said I couldn’t go back and prayed and prayed and prayed some more. Despite this, it seemed that God wasn’t cosigning on it. So you ask yourself if it’s truly intolerable or if you can squeeze out just one more coping strategy to stay. It’s not that you want to, but you don’t see any other way out.
For weeks, I’ve begged for the escape. I even saw my writing or life coaching as the escape. Repentance came quickly though because you don’t want to saddle something that comes from a pure place with the wishfulness that Cheryl says comes from something not working in your life. Though I hate the circumstances, I needed this break from everything. As I described it to my grief counselor, "all my marbles in my container were scattered and Lawrence's death broke the container." I needed a Selah, a place of rest.
Out of resting came clarity. Was this coming from an egoic need to escape or the demand my calling was placing on my life? From the time I entered high school, my parents and even my larger environment said that I needed to go to college to get a good education so I could get a good job. Throughout my employable years, I’ve allowed that conditioned thinking to lead me into majoring in a field of study that I had an aptitude for and seeking employment in that field. I was never passionate about it. We weren’t raised to be entrepreneurs or to think outside that conditioned path despite how talented, gifted and creative we were. We were always told what we couldn't do, not what we could do. Today, I was challenged with the disparity between that conditioned thinking and my life intention.
So how do you move from conditioned living to intentional living? It takes an awakening, first and foremost. Some sleeping part of who you really are has to be awakened. That’s why I know there is a God, A Greater Consciousness, A Wonderful Counselor at work in us. Some think that you don’t have access to Him unless you get saved; but there are too many examples to the contrary. I believe that when Jesus died, He reconciled mankind back to God and when the veil in the temple was torn in two, it gave anyone access to Him who was open and had an ear to hear. Else I don’t think the Dalai Lama, Gandhi, or other ambassadors of peace of different faiths would have such an intimate understanding of spiritual principles described as "the fruit of the spirit" in the Bible. Many of them model kindness, humility, self control, and other fruit better than those of us who claim to know God. I know that what I am saying may irk many of my Christian friends; but even the Bible says that you know a tree by the fruit it bears. Moreover, an evil tree cannot produce good fruit. So if the fruit of someone’s life is good, it challenges the lens through which we see our fellowman. I’m just sayin.
Anyway, I digress. What I was awakened with was a reminder of what my life intention is and the areas in my life that weren’t in alignment with that intention. So what is your life intention Suzette? I’m so glad you asked me. My life intention is to recover my authentic soul (wholeness), to build a supportive environment to nurture it and my calling is to offer that to others seeking to do the same. I believe that’s my assignment in this life. In accordance, everything has been held to that intention. Some people I clung to were ripped away, some things I involved myself in had to cease, some baggage that I carried had to be abandoned and some beliefs long held had to be changed, all because a Greater Will was preserving a future I had not arrived at and a calling I had not fully heard. I can continue to rest knowing that God is mindful of all that concerns me and has every intention to bring me into abundance.
I've been in an unsettled place. You know that place where you say emphatically I can’t go back to something. Then, as the time to return draws near and you can’t see another way, you start backpedaling? I was in that space. With Lawrence’s death, some things in my life that were barely tolerable became intolerable. I said I couldn’t go back and prayed and prayed and prayed some more. Despite this, it seemed that God wasn’t cosigning on it. So you ask yourself if it’s truly intolerable or if you can squeeze out just one more coping strategy to stay. It’s not that you want to, but you don’t see any other way out.
For weeks, I’ve begged for the escape. I even saw my writing or life coaching as the escape. Repentance came quickly though because you don’t want to saddle something that comes from a pure place with the wishfulness that Cheryl says comes from something not working in your life. Though I hate the circumstances, I needed this break from everything. As I described it to my grief counselor, "all my marbles in my container were scattered and Lawrence's death broke the container." I needed a Selah, a place of rest.
Out of resting came clarity. Was this coming from an egoic need to escape or the demand my calling was placing on my life? From the time I entered high school, my parents and even my larger environment said that I needed to go to college to get a good education so I could get a good job. Throughout my employable years, I’ve allowed that conditioned thinking to lead me into majoring in a field of study that I had an aptitude for and seeking employment in that field. I was never passionate about it. We weren’t raised to be entrepreneurs or to think outside that conditioned path despite how talented, gifted and creative we were. We were always told what we couldn't do, not what we could do. Today, I was challenged with the disparity between that conditioned thinking and my life intention.
So how do you move from conditioned living to intentional living? It takes an awakening, first and foremost. Some sleeping part of who you really are has to be awakened. That’s why I know there is a God, A Greater Consciousness, A Wonderful Counselor at work in us. Some think that you don’t have access to Him unless you get saved; but there are too many examples to the contrary. I believe that when Jesus died, He reconciled mankind back to God and when the veil in the temple was torn in two, it gave anyone access to Him who was open and had an ear to hear. Else I don’t think the Dalai Lama, Gandhi, or other ambassadors of peace of different faiths would have such an intimate understanding of spiritual principles described as "the fruit of the spirit" in the Bible. Many of them model kindness, humility, self control, and other fruit better than those of us who claim to know God. I know that what I am saying may irk many of my Christian friends; but even the Bible says that you know a tree by the fruit it bears. Moreover, an evil tree cannot produce good fruit. So if the fruit of someone’s life is good, it challenges the lens through which we see our fellowman. I’m just sayin.
Anyway, I digress. What I was awakened with was a reminder of what my life intention is and the areas in my life that weren’t in alignment with that intention. So what is your life intention Suzette? I’m so glad you asked me. My life intention is to recover my authentic soul (wholeness), to build a supportive environment to nurture it and my calling is to offer that to others seeking to do the same. I believe that’s my assignment in this life. In accordance, everything has been held to that intention. Some people I clung to were ripped away, some things I involved myself in had to cease, some baggage that I carried had to be abandoned and some beliefs long held had to be changed, all because a Greater Will was preserving a future I had not arrived at and a calling I had not fully heard. I can continue to rest knowing that God is mindful of all that concerns me and has every intention to bring me into abundance.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
He Is The Resurrection, You Know
"Grief simply means you have loved well."
"Your grief is in proportion to how much someone or something meant to you."
Of all the responses given by Elizabeth Lesser, a guest author who frequented Oprah’s Soul Series and panels, these words have provided me with a quorum of comfort today. I’ve got to tell you, this period of mourning has been different from any I have ever experienced for one chilling reason. I have spent most of my time alone. I know there are some people who would envy me the fact that I haven’t had to deal with all the background noise that usually accompanies death: family drama and folks coming by that you have to entertain graciously when all you want to do is climb into a dark hole and disappear. Nevertheless, it's been hell.
Elizabeth goes on to say that one does not grieve well in the 3 days most jobs give you. Grief takes much longer. If you don’t take the time, what’s unsolved emotionally will fester under that persona of functionality and poison you like a cancer that pollutes everything in your life. Most employers and sometimes even people you come in contact with don’t understand that. They want to end their own discomfort by rushing you. Why? Why are people so intimidated by pain? Produce, produce, produce is shoved down our throats from an early age. Live long enough and you’ll find there are some things that will knock you flat on your back and no matter how much you want to get up, you can't.
If there is one cry my soul has made throughout all this, it is to examine the superficialities of my own existence. As much emphasis as is put on performance, that’s not where my value lies. People don’t remember you for that. Nobody is going to cry over you when you die because you saved the company millions of dollars. Nobody is going to mourn the nights you stayed up working or the major events missed in the lives of those you love because of busy doing. Nobody is going to be inspired, impacted or changed by any of it. People will only remember how you made them feel.
How do I make you feel? Do you feel seen, heard and that you matter? That is the heart that beats within me. Is what I am doing aligning with that? My decisions? My job? Do the people I consider as close friends supporting that? If my life is not opening up for that to be released into this world, then my life is not being lived well. When my cousin died and I heard about the services in Virginia or listened as people reflected at his funeral in Durham, not one person talked about how well he graded papers, his staying up late at night making our his lesson plan, whether he wore designer labels or no-name brands, or whether he had swagger or was a savvy businessman. No. Not. One.What they talked about was how he kept some troubled students from committing suicide. They talked about how he believed in a White student whose family member had filled him with such racial hate and bigotry that he got in trouble in school and how my cousin believed in him and changed his White supremacist family member’s views. They talked about how they felt listened to. They talked about his generosity. The lengths he went to to save or inspire just one child to excel not just in history, algebra or English but in life.
When something tragic happens in life, we have a choice. We really do. We choose our attitude about what is happening in our lives. We choose what we’ll focus on and what will be interwoven into the fabric of our lives. We choose how we will live our lives moving forward. Sadly, some folks only remember who didn’t show up. What a waste of time and what a waste of effort! Holding stuff against folks doesn’t change them; it only hardens you. In this experience, I have become aware of it. Out of the annals of my pain came the reality of the moment and the harsher realities of my life. Just as much though, out of my suffering came a genuine desire to be better. I’ve had some disappointments. I’ve had some poor-me moments. I’ve had some tormenting fearful thoughts. I’ve felt like I was going to lose my natural mind. Everything that wasn’t nailed down in my life got pulled apart by the loss and the ensuing grief that followed it.
What I am choosing though is to not waste any of it. It’s not me, but the Greater I Am who is doing the choosing. I’m just not fighting against it. It’s scary to go through something and not know how it’s going to turn out. It’s painful and uncomfortable but this is a holy moment. This is a holy moment. My path has been altered. It hurts, yes. Nonetheless, I don’t just want to stop hurting and to resume business as usual. Instead, I want to attain a greater level of wholeness. I want to see this through God's eyes. If not, my cousin’s death will have no meaning. Unless a loss fuels something Greater in you; then it has no value. As surely as the last breath is taken by your loved one; it is truly their end if it doesn’t power your authentic soul to higher heights and deeper depths. So, I will be patient with myself and trust God. Only He can make all things work together for my good. Only He can make all things beautiful in their time. And So It Is.
Well, it’s dark outside again. Still haven’t quite made my peace with darkness. It still feels like being in a dark hole with no way out. Sort of like a grave. Nevertheless, God is with me and one day the anxiety will cease. He is The Resurrection, you know.
"Your grief is in proportion to how much someone or something meant to you."
Of all the responses given by Elizabeth Lesser, a guest author who frequented Oprah’s Soul Series and panels, these words have provided me with a quorum of comfort today. I’ve got to tell you, this period of mourning has been different from any I have ever experienced for one chilling reason. I have spent most of my time alone. I know there are some people who would envy me the fact that I haven’t had to deal with all the background noise that usually accompanies death: family drama and folks coming by that you have to entertain graciously when all you want to do is climb into a dark hole and disappear. Nevertheless, it's been hell.
Elizabeth goes on to say that one does not grieve well in the 3 days most jobs give you. Grief takes much longer. If you don’t take the time, what’s unsolved emotionally will fester under that persona of functionality and poison you like a cancer that pollutes everything in your life. Most employers and sometimes even people you come in contact with don’t understand that. They want to end their own discomfort by rushing you. Why? Why are people so intimidated by pain? Produce, produce, produce is shoved down our throats from an early age. Live long enough and you’ll find there are some things that will knock you flat on your back and no matter how much you want to get up, you can't.
If there is one cry my soul has made throughout all this, it is to examine the superficialities of my own existence. As much emphasis as is put on performance, that’s not where my value lies. People don’t remember you for that. Nobody is going to cry over you when you die because you saved the company millions of dollars. Nobody is going to mourn the nights you stayed up working or the major events missed in the lives of those you love because of busy doing. Nobody is going to be inspired, impacted or changed by any of it. People will only remember how you made them feel.
How do I make you feel? Do you feel seen, heard and that you matter? That is the heart that beats within me. Is what I am doing aligning with that? My decisions? My job? Do the people I consider as close friends supporting that? If my life is not opening up for that to be released into this world, then my life is not being lived well. When my cousin died and I heard about the services in Virginia or listened as people reflected at his funeral in Durham, not one person talked about how well he graded papers, his staying up late at night making our his lesson plan, whether he wore designer labels or no-name brands, or whether he had swagger or was a savvy businessman. No. Not. One.What they talked about was how he kept some troubled students from committing suicide. They talked about how he believed in a White student whose family member had filled him with such racial hate and bigotry that he got in trouble in school and how my cousin believed in him and changed his White supremacist family member’s views. They talked about how they felt listened to. They talked about his generosity. The lengths he went to to save or inspire just one child to excel not just in history, algebra or English but in life.
When something tragic happens in life, we have a choice. We really do. We choose our attitude about what is happening in our lives. We choose what we’ll focus on and what will be interwoven into the fabric of our lives. We choose how we will live our lives moving forward. Sadly, some folks only remember who didn’t show up. What a waste of time and what a waste of effort! Holding stuff against folks doesn’t change them; it only hardens you. In this experience, I have become aware of it. Out of the annals of my pain came the reality of the moment and the harsher realities of my life. Just as much though, out of my suffering came a genuine desire to be better. I’ve had some disappointments. I’ve had some poor-me moments. I’ve had some tormenting fearful thoughts. I’ve felt like I was going to lose my natural mind. Everything that wasn’t nailed down in my life got pulled apart by the loss and the ensuing grief that followed it.
What I am choosing though is to not waste any of it. It’s not me, but the Greater I Am who is doing the choosing. I’m just not fighting against it. It’s scary to go through something and not know how it’s going to turn out. It’s painful and uncomfortable but this is a holy moment. This is a holy moment. My path has been altered. It hurts, yes. Nonetheless, I don’t just want to stop hurting and to resume business as usual. Instead, I want to attain a greater level of wholeness. I want to see this through God's eyes. If not, my cousin’s death will have no meaning. Unless a loss fuels something Greater in you; then it has no value. As surely as the last breath is taken by your loved one; it is truly their end if it doesn’t power your authentic soul to higher heights and deeper depths. So, I will be patient with myself and trust God. Only He can make all things work together for my good. Only He can make all things beautiful in their time. And So It Is.
Well, it’s dark outside again. Still haven’t quite made my peace with darkness. It still feels like being in a dark hole with no way out. Sort of like a grave. Nevertheless, God is with me and one day the anxiety will cease. He is The Resurrection, you know.
Monday, January 23, 2012
I Wasn’t Ready to Say Goodbye
The title says it all. It’s been two weeks and I don’t cry as much. One would think that I’m improving, right? I don’t think so, for today, as I sat in my therapist’s office and poured out my heart, my feelings were just as raw as when I first heard of my cousin’s death. I find that I’m not only dealing with his sudden death but the reality of my own mortality. What’s to stop that from happening to me? The more I hear about what led up to his death, the more I realize that his issues were medically related, yes; but that’s not all. As much as he was lauded as a phenomenal teacher, coach, pillar in his community, there was a backdrop of extreme stress. The stress of pushing despite, overlooking, dismissing and under-evaluating the toll it was taking on his life. “Mr. Mumford, are you alright?,” a student would ask when it took him too long to get up from his desk. “Mr. Mumford, are you alright?, asked by a passerby at a school, in a hospital, or while taking care of business for his dad as he was observed leaning against a wall or clenching his chest or holding his head as he sat slumped over in a chair. So what killed him? Medical issues exacerbated by stress or stress manifesting in medical issues?
I may never know why my dear cousin’s life was snuffed out. It is troubling to think about. Both my therapist and Naturopathic Doctor wondered if I fear that I will die too. After all, he was my age. It is common to be anxious about dying especially when it’s someone close to your age, I am told. “Are you afraid that you’re gonna die too?,” my ND asked. “I don’t think so,” I answered. “It’s more sobering to think that I might die alone.” Folks say that you’re born alone and you die alone. It’s different though to have a heart attack and there is no one there to help. True, I have family, I have friends, I have a loving man; but they all live elsewhere. They wouldn’t think anything was different if I didn’t return a phone call immediately. It’s sad when the first people who’d be concerned would be the folks on your job. Even as I type, I could expire in the next second and no one would be the wiser. I think that’s what’s most troublesome about all this.
Don’t misunderstand. I know that one day we all will be leaving this earthly realm one way or another. I’m not sitting here afraid of that. It’s more wondering if I am tolerating instead of living. “Death is only a tragedy if you haven’t lived,” is a quote that resonated with me when I first heard it on the movie THE FAMILY THAT PREYS. Am I afraid that that will be today or tomorrow? No. I’m most concerned about the quality of my life not when I’m going to die.
I don’t know if it’s a family thing but my cousin’s lifestyle mirrors that of his dad, my dad and other men in our family. It’s as if they all read from the same dictionary that defines being a strong man as pressing past challenges to make sure other people are taken care of. Though it manifests itself the same, the females in my family don’t define their manhood by it. I think we are more typifying self-sacrifice. It’s viewed as noble or Christlike. We are the suffering servants, the loyal accommodaters who get worn down by being there despite the resistance we get when we attempt to assert what we need. It’s not that we don’t tell you; it’s the resistance I think that eats away at our resolve. Case and point, after working on Sunday to finish financials for my job, I asked myself if the pressure to perform was greater than the grief that put up a fight. I’ve said that I can’t keep working. I’ve said that I need time. Yet, I pushed myself to get the job done with less regard for myself. Is it external pressures or internal ones? Internal I would guess as I consider the anxiety I’ve felt over not being able to perform to that same high standard that I’m praised for. Or maybe it’s the external that has somehow seeped into my self-worth over the years and has blinded me to what really matters in life.
We all are dysfunctional in some way, shape or form. So I’m not too hard on myself for that. Internal, external, doesn’t matter. Same as I’ve taught some people to regard me for me, I’ve taught others to put themselves and their needs above my own. None of this is their fault. Instead of complaining that I’ve gotten calls that have ended with “Oh girl, I’m so sorry. Let me know if I can do anything,” I should have said, “I need something to eat and I don’t want to cook it,” or “I feel alone and want you to come over.” It’s not their fault that I didn’t say it. People are only being who they are. They are dealing with their own lives. They are not responsible for my health and well being – I am. I must assert what I need because I value it. How people respond is definitely important to teaching me who I can count on and what part they wish to play in my life. Either I can accept it or reject it. That's totally my call.
I say I because I can choose to continue to allow the stress in my life to eat me alive or I can make decisions that support me. Even in grief, I feel my Wise Self challenging my self-value and motioning for me to rise to another level. The God who sees, knows and cares is working within me to give me strength and clarity of how to support His efforts to take care of me. Has he miraculously transported me out of my misery? No. He has walked alongside me throughout it, often taking the lead when it’s time. He is leading me now. For me, as for many others, death is the pathway to life. Nothing raises your consciousness like the death of a loved one. You go in one way but come out another. I think about Congresswoman Gabby Gifford’s harrowing experience. From death’s door she was rescued and brought back. Why? I’m sure many were anticipating her return to Congress and the heightened sense of purpose. She resigned over the weekend. I am not shocked though. When you go through something life-altering, your life is altered. That’s why some people change their associations, their way of living, or move to another part of the world. That’s why families start foundations or fight to change laws after loss of a loved one. Like them, Gabby’s moment of clarity is uniquely tailored to her path in life. I respect that.
Oh well, I know that I’m rambling so I feel I have to ask myself what is the point to all this. The point is this. I don’t think it’s other people who make us bitter or better. I think it lies in our choice to stay open or to shut down. I realize that when stressed I tend to give in to the familiar codependency or the familiar overachiever syndrome. Even in grief, that's my go-to. I won’t damn myself for it. I won’t guilt myself or shame myself for it. Instead, I own it and open my heart to that Wise part of me who knows that I’m just in an emotional tailspin. Despite my decisions or mistakes, when it’s time for something to be over, God has always offered me a way of escape. I can rest in Him taking care to make sure I don’t harm myself or anyone else during this time. Lawrence’s death shook me to my core and scattered all the marbles I had carefully placed in life’s jar. I am seeing now that my recovery isn’t in scrambling to pick up the marbles, but to let them roll and bounce to wherever they wish. The way through all this is not in my performance any way. It’s in my surrender. “God, I’ve been praying for a long time. I know that You see from a panoramic view what I cannot see. I trust you to give me the help I need and to pick up the pieces or to leave them scattered and give me new ones.”
I may never know why my dear cousin’s life was snuffed out. It is troubling to think about. Both my therapist and Naturopathic Doctor wondered if I fear that I will die too. After all, he was my age. It is common to be anxious about dying especially when it’s someone close to your age, I am told. “Are you afraid that you’re gonna die too?,” my ND asked. “I don’t think so,” I answered. “It’s more sobering to think that I might die alone.” Folks say that you’re born alone and you die alone. It’s different though to have a heart attack and there is no one there to help. True, I have family, I have friends, I have a loving man; but they all live elsewhere. They wouldn’t think anything was different if I didn’t return a phone call immediately. It’s sad when the first people who’d be concerned would be the folks on your job. Even as I type, I could expire in the next second and no one would be the wiser. I think that’s what’s most troublesome about all this.
Don’t misunderstand. I know that one day we all will be leaving this earthly realm one way or another. I’m not sitting here afraid of that. It’s more wondering if I am tolerating instead of living. “Death is only a tragedy if you haven’t lived,” is a quote that resonated with me when I first heard it on the movie THE FAMILY THAT PREYS. Am I afraid that that will be today or tomorrow? No. I’m most concerned about the quality of my life not when I’m going to die.
I don’t know if it’s a family thing but my cousin’s lifestyle mirrors that of his dad, my dad and other men in our family. It’s as if they all read from the same dictionary that defines being a strong man as pressing past challenges to make sure other people are taken care of. Though it manifests itself the same, the females in my family don’t define their manhood by it. I think we are more typifying self-sacrifice. It’s viewed as noble or Christlike. We are the suffering servants, the loyal accommodaters who get worn down by being there despite the resistance we get when we attempt to assert what we need. It’s not that we don’t tell you; it’s the resistance I think that eats away at our resolve. Case and point, after working on Sunday to finish financials for my job, I asked myself if the pressure to perform was greater than the grief that put up a fight. I’ve said that I can’t keep working. I’ve said that I need time. Yet, I pushed myself to get the job done with less regard for myself. Is it external pressures or internal ones? Internal I would guess as I consider the anxiety I’ve felt over not being able to perform to that same high standard that I’m praised for. Or maybe it’s the external that has somehow seeped into my self-worth over the years and has blinded me to what really matters in life.
We all are dysfunctional in some way, shape or form. So I’m not too hard on myself for that. Internal, external, doesn’t matter. Same as I’ve taught some people to regard me for me, I’ve taught others to put themselves and their needs above my own. None of this is their fault. Instead of complaining that I’ve gotten calls that have ended with “Oh girl, I’m so sorry. Let me know if I can do anything,” I should have said, “I need something to eat and I don’t want to cook it,” or “I feel alone and want you to come over.” It’s not their fault that I didn’t say it. People are only being who they are. They are dealing with their own lives. They are not responsible for my health and well being – I am. I must assert what I need because I value it. How people respond is definitely important to teaching me who I can count on and what part they wish to play in my life. Either I can accept it or reject it. That's totally my call.
I say I because I can choose to continue to allow the stress in my life to eat me alive or I can make decisions that support me. Even in grief, I feel my Wise Self challenging my self-value and motioning for me to rise to another level. The God who sees, knows and cares is working within me to give me strength and clarity of how to support His efforts to take care of me. Has he miraculously transported me out of my misery? No. He has walked alongside me throughout it, often taking the lead when it’s time. He is leading me now. For me, as for many others, death is the pathway to life. Nothing raises your consciousness like the death of a loved one. You go in one way but come out another. I think about Congresswoman Gabby Gifford’s harrowing experience. From death’s door she was rescued and brought back. Why? I’m sure many were anticipating her return to Congress and the heightened sense of purpose. She resigned over the weekend. I am not shocked though. When you go through something life-altering, your life is altered. That’s why some people change their associations, their way of living, or move to another part of the world. That’s why families start foundations or fight to change laws after loss of a loved one. Like them, Gabby’s moment of clarity is uniquely tailored to her path in life. I respect that.
Oh well, I know that I’m rambling so I feel I have to ask myself what is the point to all this. The point is this. I don’t think it’s other people who make us bitter or better. I think it lies in our choice to stay open or to shut down. I realize that when stressed I tend to give in to the familiar codependency or the familiar overachiever syndrome. Even in grief, that's my go-to. I won’t damn myself for it. I won’t guilt myself or shame myself for it. Instead, I own it and open my heart to that Wise part of me who knows that I’m just in an emotional tailspin. Despite my decisions or mistakes, when it’s time for something to be over, God has always offered me a way of escape. I can rest in Him taking care to make sure I don’t harm myself or anyone else during this time. Lawrence’s death shook me to my core and scattered all the marbles I had carefully placed in life’s jar. I am seeing now that my recovery isn’t in scrambling to pick up the marbles, but to let them roll and bounce to wherever they wish. The way through all this is not in my performance any way. It’s in my surrender. “God, I’ve been praying for a long time. I know that You see from a panoramic view what I cannot see. I trust you to give me the help I need and to pick up the pieces or to leave them scattered and give me new ones.”
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
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.
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