It's Not Smoke and Mirrors...

Too often we allow people into our space without doing proper background checks. I don't mean running credit reports, DMV profiles or criminal record checks. I'm talking about looking at the relationships that they have with other folks before you allow them into your inner circle. If you meet someone that a lot of people fall out with...um, well, that's a glaring red flag. You might want to keep on steppin'. But the best of us feel as if we will be the ones who can change that person for the better. Unfortunately, it's probably not gonna happen.

A recent FB status update read: When people show you who they are, believe them. We make too many excuses for folks' bad behavior, often at the expense of our peace of mind. If someone is treating you poorly, remove him/her from your life--period. Life is too short to surround yourself with toxic people. SN: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Actions speak louder than words. Many of my friends liked the status and commented with their own tales of folks behaving badly. It's a shame that so many people will put up with the bad behavior of others. I'm not talking about at work or school, because sometimes you can't avoid dealing with donkeys. But in your personal life? Noooo way!! There is no reason to allow that toxic energy in your personal space.

Listen, people are drawn to me. It's true. Ever since I was a little girl, I've always had tons of friends. And I've had most of my friends for a very long time (10+ years), so I definitely know how to maintain good relationships. But (and it's a big but), I haven't been as careful recently with some of the folks that I have allowed into my inner circle (shame on me). I went through some major upheaval with some of my new "friends" and it left me wounded. For real, for real. I was speaking about it with my husband and trying to figure out what the universe and God were trying to tell me. I kept blaming myself and my husband broke it down to me. He said, "Yeah it is you. But not how you think it is. It's not saying that you are a bad person. Not. At. All. The message you should get is that you can't always allow everyone a front row seat to your heart." WHAT?!!! Hold up? That made a lot of sense. Because that's who I am. I am a constant "fixer." My friend, BGA, tells me that I "speak life into people" and that I'm "a natural healer." And it's true.

I hate for anyone to be left out. I don't like for people to have hurt feelings. I do all I can to make folks feel good about themselves and their lives. I really do. And I want everyone to be their best selves. I want to stand in the gaps and heal the world. But you know what? I'm learning that everyone is not my kind. Sad, but true. I've talked about this before, but it bears repeating: hurt people do not have to hurt people. They can channel their pain into positive energy and recycle it for the benefit of others. But most folks don't do that or maybe they can't. They get stuck in operating off of ego and resorting to those same faulty behaviors that have failed them in the past. But you know what I've learned throughout this difficult year? It's not my problem or my fault. I don't have to drain myself to build anyone else up. That is a relationship that is one sided and unhealthy. I'm too old (and wise, I hope) for that.

So this is an open letter to the folks who have done me wrong recently:

Dear You (you know who you are),

I gave myself to you in friendship with open arms, with no expectations except for reciprocity. I was honest in all of our dealings. I always considered your best interest, but I can't compromise who I am in order to suit your purposes. I refuse to be in a relationship that demands that I play myself small. You want full governance to be who you are and I am supposed to understand that that is part of your personality. But what about me? What about the ways that I showed you kindness, generosity, consistency and love? What about how I had your back and feathered your wings with kind words and purposeful actions? I guess it didn't matter after all. I ignored the folks who told me stories of their dealings with you. I ignored the ones who tried to warn me about your donkey antics. I thought that if I dealt with you a certain way then you would reciprocate.

But I was wrong. You got mad at some perceived slight and then you shut me out. You ignored me and thought that somehow that would break me...Have you read my resume? Did you know that I have overcome more than you could ever throw at me? Did you know that I might bend, but I don't break? Did you remember that I am protected by legions who love me? Did you know that your absence would only cause temporary pain because I was built to overcome adversity? You haven't taken anything from me that I didn't give to you willingly. But now that I understand who you are, you don't ever have to worry about me again. I can't deal with the flip flop emotions and the unnecessary drama. You are showing me that, in the larger scope of things, our connection didn't matter at all. And so I release you from my expectations of reciprocity. I free you from the bonds of our friendship. I wish you no ill will and hope that you continue to move and grow towards full personhood.

With no malice,
Me

And that, my faithful readers, is how you save yourself. The Soulstainable Living movement does not require that you accept poor treatment from anyone. You can give love freely, but protect yourself. I had been walking around for awhile with this pain in my heart because I was still trying to figure out how I could make this thing right. That's not always the lesson. Things don't always come 360. Some things are meant to help you grow, even if there is pain involved. Remember that everyone you start your journey with will not be at the finish line. That doesn't diminish your value as a person. You just make sure that you hold yourself to a higher standard that allows you to heal, not hurt. And if people show you who they are: BELIEVE THEM!! I wish you love and enlightenment. Peace.

"I Choose" by India Arie

Feeling Like I Might Choke...

Yesterday I felt it--an overwhelming need to cry, to hole up in my bed, clutching my pillow and have a good old fashioned, runny nosed, ugly cry. You know the kind: the ones that leave you with tear stains running up, down and sideways on your face. The kind where your nose is running, mixing with your tears and you don't even care. The kind that has you snufflin' and snifflin'. You know the ones, where your shoulders shake and you're crying so hard that either you sound like a dying moose or no sound at all is coming out. You know the ones, that leave your head and your stomach hurting...I know you know what I'm talking about *insert high fives*

What happened to make me want to cry? What occurred that tore into my soul so thoroughly that I felt on the verge of a collapse? Well, nothing. Ok, that's not actually true. EVERYTHING and nothing. Huh? Yeah, there was not one particular thing that happened, nothing big even went wrong. Well, nothing but life...For real. LIFE. L.I.F.E. See, I take care of a lot of people: financially, emotionally and physically and sometimes...well, sometimes the enormity of it all just sneaks up on me and baaaaayyyyybeeeee...that thing just tears me apart. I mean there I was, minding my own business, trying to get out of bed and IT happened...my thoughts started spinning and my mind wasn't settled. Hmmmm...maybe it was 'cause I slept funny or didn't drink a glass of water before I went to bed or missed my vitamin yesterday morning or, or, or...nope. Hmmmm...so I ignored the storm that had begun in my heart and tried to go about my day.

Now, why do we do that? Why do we ignore our own storms, but we will knock down Goliath to protect our loved ones? Hmmm....Well, anyhoo, I just couldn't get right. My steps felt heavy, my heart felt sluggish and so I started making up some other reasons...maybe it's PMS or maybe I was coming down with something. Now, I knew it wasn't PMS, but I was trying to rationalize the general malaise that had overtaken me. I was right: I was coming down with something: the blues. I went through most of my morning dragging, but I was still smiling (gotta keep that game face on, right?). All the while, I was feeling "heavy, laden with sadness" (Donny Hathaway) and I just.couldn't.put.my.finger.on.it. You know why? Well, because nothing was actually wrong. Well nothing, but...LIFE!!!!!

And so I carried on in this fashion for a few hours until someone read my spirit. Huh? Yup...for some reason, I looked over at one of my students and said jokingly (but not really), "touch my hand and give me some positive energy." And she did, but she wouldn't let go of my hand. And then she said, "Professor, can I talk to you in the hallway?" Of course, she could because I wanted to help her (ha!) in any way that I could. When we got in the hallway, she said, "I don't know how to tell you this, but I have a message for you. God put you on my heart this morning and I was trying to figure out a way to tell you this. What time did you get up this morning?" I told her that I had awakened earlier than usual and I was mad, "6:30." And she said, "That's just the time I woke up with this message for you" and let me tell y'all something, she poured a message into me that was soooooo powerful in its simplicity and accurate in its focus. I am telling you...she spoke to my spirit. She jumped in the valley and put me on her shoulders and poured a balm of healing on me so spot on, that I had to hold myself together to avoid crying in the hallway.

What was her message (this is the paraphrased version): That I was okay. That everything I had been fighting for wasn't my battle. That I didn't have to prove to anyone who I was. Everything I was, was just enough. That I needed to know that all I do was not in vain. And in every word, I felt myself growing taller, feeling restored. She was a vessel for the Word and she poured into me. I received her message and it gave me the absolute shivers to my core, because she didn't know what I had been dealing with and she spoke it. With more specificity and accuracy than I can convey in this post. She touched my heart and my soul, for real. And I thanked her with my full self and acknowledged the necessity of her words. In that moment, I was ever so grateful in ways that I can't even begin to speak.

All of us, no matter how strong we are, have moments of knee buckling weakness. In our fully actualized forms, the best of us recognize when we need to stop and take a moment for ourselves. But the rest of us, well we need foggy mornings filled with quicksand steps, marshmallow lungs and grayscale vision. We need unsure moments, second thoughts and hesitant actions. Finally, we need love and the kindness of people to get us over. We do. It doesn't matter whether you believe in God or not; each of us has experienced a time when out of the blue (or so it seems), someone throws us a lifeboat disguised as words or a hug or a smile or ... Today, I'm asking you to stand in the gap for someone else. To be a balm for someone else's spirit, to be an emotional steward for someone's needs. That's what the Soulstainable movement is about: recycling our positive energies for someone else's benefit. And in those moments, that's where we find our true humanity. Peace.

"God Is Trying to Tell You Something" (Tata Vega is the singer; Shug Avery is the character from The Color Purple

Mind Tricks: Why Mental Illness is No Laughing Matter

I’ve been struggling to write this post for a month. Why? Well, because it’s personal; but that’s not the whole truth because I have shared many personal things on this blog. But it’s not my personal, it’s someone else’s story. Well, that’s not the whole truth either because it’s my story, too. What could be so hard to write about, especially for me when I pride myself on my ability to put.things.into.words? What could be so difficult for me to write about that I have been writing this post in my head for the past month? Even as I try to type, I feel anxious and even a little scared. Truly. Because sometimes, things can’t be written as truth. There is always something else just up under the surface, existing between the lines. In these spaces, we can see the truth more clearly, but to paraphrase a well known movie, “can we handle the truth?” Well, this time, it’s hard, but here goes…

For the longest time, I have known that there were several members of my family who existed in their own spaces. I don’t mean in that ethereal, existentialist space where one questions the state of being. I don’t mean a hippy, dippy, trippy space that’s all dandelions and sunflowers. I’m talking about alternate spaces rooted in pain and identity and chaos and…The truth is, is that several members of my family suffer from mental illness. I need to say that again. Several members of my family suffer from mental illness. That’s something to say, especially among Black folks. I don’t know why, but there is such a stigma surrounding mental illness. I mean, in every community there is some needless embarrassment around the topic, but for Black folks? Well, just chalk it up as another thing that keeps us down. Seriously. And the sad fact is that we don’t usually even validate mental illness as an illness. We consider it a weakness, some sort of deficit. We make excuses for the erratic behavior and may even joke about it: “Girl, you know such and such is a little off. He shouldn’t have (insert some unconnected activity).” Or “She’s just extra. She’s always trying to get some attention.” I know it because I’ve said those things, too. *hangs head* But now I know better and I’m telling you…it’s real.

I had to get this post out this month because May is Mental Health Awareness Month. And I have some personal reasons that this month is significant especially when it comes to issues of mental illness. Two years ago this month, my son’s high school music teacher committed suicide. (He had her for six years; as a music major, he saw her daily). Sadly, she had tried to kill herself several times throughout her life and had been unsuccessful (or perhaps, she had been successful at living?). Well, she had been falling apart just prior to that and many folks were trying to save her life. But she couldn’t be saved because she thought her salvation was on the other side. Their attempts to make her see her worth were pointless because for her, in her mind, she was unloveable, of little value. And so, armed with misinformation about her personhood, she hanged herself in a hotel room in the middle of the week (on my birthday, no less).

She didn’t see any way out and so she took her own life, but it really wasn’t hers to take. She belonged to the world and was so significant, but…she took her own life and we were left to pick up the pieces of her fractured existence. We asked why and why and why some more, but there were/are no answers. Looking at her life and her photo board at her wake, we could see where she started coming undone. Unstrung and unstable, she leaped from this world into the next, praying it would be easier (I think). But we know that she wasn’t in her clear mind. She was in the throes of her illness and no one could decode her need and speak to her in a way that would save her life. And so she leaped from this world into the next and my son, along with countless others grieved this brilliant, vivacious, creative, talented, gifted teacher. As my son delivered a heartfelt message at a school memorial service, I knew that mental illness was real.

And then this year, right before May came in good, one of my closest relatives tried to take their (it’s not proper grammar, but I’m trying to maintain some anonymity) own life. A cocktail of liquor and pills combined with fast moving traffic was almost lethal enough to end my relative’s life. *insert tears* This relative is like my own child and my heart broke in countless places at the thought of losing one of my heart’s children. Someone connected to me by blood. I knew that this person wrestled with demons new and old. In fact, this person had been diagnosed with a mental illness almost a decade prior and had been existing without any treatment.

But you know what? Self-medication is a monster. The many ways that this relative coped put their life at risk tenfold. But you know what? It didn’t even matter because they thought they were winning. Thought they had triumphed over the demons and silenced the voices in their head. But, guess what? That demon lay dormant and when it raged, bayyyyybeeee, it was a monster. It attached itself twentyfold and wreaked havoc on this relative’s mind, body and spirit. It spoke in foreign tongues, whispering in shadows and teasing with it’s just out of bounds behavior. And then it pounced…that demon rode my relative bareback into a kaleidoscope of confusion, fear and surrender. And then came the liquor, and the pills and the fast moving cars for my relative to play chicken with…But that day, the demon didn’t win…and so as this relative works to rebuild their life with medication and counseling, we will see if the demon can be held at bay.

So this is what propelled me to share this story with you. The thought of burying my relative sent me into a spiral of anger, fear, grief, sorrow and helplessness. What to do? What to do? And so I sit here and I write. I write in hope that we can each work towards saving someone’s life. When someone you love is going through a hard time and they just can’t shake their sadness, they might need intervention because they might have a mental illness. Not every time, but sometimes. And we can't take the risk of hoping they'll be fine, of wishing they'll get over it. We simply can't. And so we ask questions and offer comfort. We should encourage counseling and acceptance. We need to create a safe space where people can work out their own stuff without judgement. No harm, only healing. I don’t have any answers, but what I do know is that we need to make sure that we are open to whatever ails folks. We never know when or if we will be the ones in need. Peace.

Donny Hathaway "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" (I chose this Donny Hathaway track because he had a well documented history of mental illness)

Representing Character or Are You Who You Say You Are?

A friend of mine often posts on FB regarding the difference between Character and Reputation: "Your reputation is what other people think of you; your character is who you really are.” And then she takes it one step further, "Would your character and your reputation recognize each other if they met on the street?" WHOA!!! Now, that's some deep stuff for your mind! Think about it: is who you say you are in line with who others think you are? That might need repeating: is who you say you are in line with who others think you are?

Too often, many of us get caught up in trying to be something that we aren't. We portray ourselves to believe in this or to believe in that. When all the while, we are lying to ourselves and to others. We might believe in one thing, but we do something else entirely. We have adopted personas to fit with whatever others see as acceptable. These social masks get in the way of how we deal with others and sadly, how we deal with ourselves. Sometimes, in private, we do things that we publicly condemn (insert side eye). Sometimes, we engage in discussions or actions that we have stated that we abhor. Sometimes, not all the time. But once in awhile is enough to change who you proclaim to be. Now, make no mistake. I'm not talking about knowing how to behave in different situations and adjusting your behaviors accordingly. That's grown up and indicates a certain level of understanding. No, I'm talking about those folks who talk out of both sides of their mouths, who would have you believe that they are upright, solid and stable, but in the dark...baybeeee, they are a whole 'nuther animal. Fareal.

We see the duplicitous actions of many folks whenever we look at the news. Anti-gay, homophobic ministers caught engaging in homosexual actions. We see police officers who break the laws they have sworn to uphold; teachers sleeping with their students; bankers stealing money from their customers and...I could go on and on. It's a shame that we have lost sight of the fundamentals of being true to oneself. If you're low down, be low down. Announce it; wear it proudly. Don't portray yourself to be good and you know you are bad--simple. I mean that. If your character is in check and your walk is the same as your talk, then you are all right with me. I like upfront people, the folks who are "straight up and down." I can't stand a double dealing, two timing, back stabbing mickey fickey at'all.

Are you who you say you are? Are your credentials in check for who you present yourself to be? Can you look yourself in the face at the end of the day and say, "I've been truthful in my actions and purposeful in my deeds?" Huh? Can you? If your friends, relatives, colleagues, associates, students, customers, whomever could see you "out of uniform" would they be surprised by your actions? Now, I'm not trying to say that we should strive to be perfect robots who never have fun. I'm not saying that at all. What I am saying is that the core of who you are should be consistent with what/who/how you present yourself to others. You should not be caught "with your pants down" (figuratively and/or literally).

Listen, in every moment you should live out your truths. And in that living, you should be consistent in character and in reputation. You should strive to make sure that you are who you say you are. Skeletons in your closet can come back to haunt you and can ruin your life and/or the lives of others. Life is not a dress rehearsal. You only get this opportunity to be your best you. You don't live in a bubble or exist in a vacuum. Be sure to make your interactions with others as meaningful as possible. When you find yourself slipping, just remember to ask yourself, "Is my character in line with my reputation?" Peace.

"We Wear the Mask" by Paul Laurence Dunbar*

(My comments: This poem represents one of the ways that our ancestors had to wear a "mask" for survival; today we have options. Let the only masks we present to the world be for the benefit of humankind and never for selfish reasons.)

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,--
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be overwise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!

*Poem courtesy of http://www.dunbarsite.org and image courtesy of 3.bp.blogspot.com.

Village People

One of my childhood friends posted on FB lamenting the loss of "The Village." Y'all know, "THE VILLAGE"? That place where old gra'mamas and gran'daddies were quick to cut a switch to chastise an unruly child? The neighborhood where any and ev'ry person older than you had a right to put you in your place and even spank your tail if need be (follow along, folks--there's gonna be a lot of colloquial language in this post). The place where all adults were addressed as Mrs., Mr. or Ms. So and So? Or if your family was close to them, they were called Auntie, Uncle or Cousin Such and Such? Everyone in The Village knew you and all of your bizness (if you were old enough to have any). The place where street gangs had standards and even operated like mini-Pac Tacs keeping the outside riff raff from harming the local folks (crazy, but true)?

I remember The Village: they were the folks who instilled the fear of God (pronounced GA-UHD--in my southern Baptist Preacher voice) in children and who made us stand up a little straighter and talk a little lower when they were within earshot or eye sight. The Villagers didn't, as James Brown said, "Take no mess" and thank goodness we didn't try them too often. Remember when we were growing up (anyone before 1980) and we had to sneak and do stuff? I remember knowing if anyone in my neighborhood saw me doing anything unbecoming, my @ss was grass and any one of them would be the lawnmower? (Insert trembling child here). Shute!! I was scared of these folks, not because they were mean (although some of them were); I was scared of these folks because I knew that their hopes and dreams were poured into me and their children and grandchildren and they were willing to do whatever to make sure that we didn't mess up. What.ever. (Who callin' CPS? You better toe the line!!)

Listen, I was raised by my grandmother, who hailed from the South. We grew up under "heavy manners" (as my Trini friend would say). The Village was watching: we polished our shoes on Sunday and washed any laces for sneakers; we wore foundation garments and slips under our dresses. The young men wore belts and hard bottomed shoes to church on Sunday. We brushed our hair and teeth with equal enthusiasm. We had to look sharp because The Villagers didn't play. Cleanliness was next to Godliness indeed!! We had Chores (*gasps*). Yup, actual chores that we did on Saturday mornings while listening to old school R and B on the local radio station. And we didn't complain (at least not loud enough to be heard--who had a death wish?). We hopped our dusty butts out the bed and got our buckets of pinesol, bleach, and furniture polish and went to work. The Villagers demanded a clean space as well as a clean body.

But the Village wasn't all pressed shirts and Saturday chores. The Village was kickball games, block parties, corner stores, juleps (whatchall know about a julep stand?), etc. It was a place where children could be children because the adults had their roles covered. We could stay out until the street lights came on and then we scattered (like roaches, I guess) and got home "just in time." Y'all remember kickball, dodge ball, shoot 'em bust 'em up (not as violent as it sounds), basketball at the local court or rec center? Do y'all remember penny candy that actually costed (yeah, I wrote costed) a penny? Do y'all remember peppermints in your pickles? Man, I'm getting nostalgic writing this...(I'm about to go buy some Boston Baked Beans and then blow in the empty carton to make a whistle sound *sigh*).

I'm telling you, these kids today don't know nothing about The Village. They don't have the benefit of true neighborhoods where all the kids played together no matter how much money they had or who lived in the home. It was truly "all for one and one for all." Y'all need some food? Food cupboard, nothing. The neighbors went to their own meager cupboards and somehow made meals and brought food to whosoever needed it. Need some money? Man, the local numbers runner also doubled as a credit union and you could just pay him back a little at a time so long as you sent him a fresh pie and a plate of colla'd greens on Sunday. Man, The Village was all right. We took care of our own. What you know about 9-1-1? Somebody broke into your house? Any of the local thugs would be puttin' his ear to the street to find out who got'cho stuff. And when he brought it back to you and told you "don't ask any questions, ma'am", you chastised him for beatin' somebody up? #Thevillagedon'tdiscriminate.

Listen, the Village had some problems (this post ain't about that), but I am tellin' you (in my Dreamgirls voice) that the Village boosted up a lot more than it broke. That it shaped a lot more than it shortchanged. I am a walking testament that living under the watchful eye of the Villagers made me the woman I am today: a God fearing, peppermint in pickle eatin', Saturday chore doin', old school R and B list'nin, foundation garment wearin', shoe polishin', colla'd green making RESPECTFUL jr. Villager. I am a proud product of the Village and I stand on the shoulders of the Villagers who helped shaped me. Thank you Grandma, Grandaddy Frank, Ms. Myrtle, Ms. Henrietta, Ms. Delores, Ms. Tee, So Sporty, Grandaddy Sam, Shake and Bake, Mr. Vaughn, Mr. Willie Dennis, and many more...Thank you for looking over me and watching out for me and being an unconventional family...

"Every Ghetto, Every City" by Lauryn Hill

We Fall Down, But...Um...Get Yo'self Up

Some of us get dealt a rough hand in life. No silver spoons, no doting parents, no easy way to go...plain and simple: it's a hard knock life (in my Annie voice). Some people go through more sadness than a Lifetime movie marathon, but...they survive. And not only do they survive, some even thrive!! *Insert hand claps and fist pumps.*

Have you ever looked at someone you know has had a rocky road and wonder how he or she made it through the storm? Maybe you are that person. Maybe your friends look at your resiliency and admire your ability to bounce back from whatever is thrown your way. Considering this, have you ever questioned why some of us are able to land on our feet no matter how many curve balls life throws? I have. I often wonder what separates the people who are able to overcome life's obstacles from those who collapse at the first sign of conflict. You know them, the people who can't sustain and have limited coping skills? I'm not knocking anyone for having down moments or feeling sorry for yourself...I'm talking about the people who stay down. They're not my kind.

I come from a crew of thrivers. Folks who have been baptized by fire. Folks who hit the ground running whenever, however, wherever. I was raised by people who created the "S" that New Age Superwomen wear on our chests. Women who spoke truth to power and polished the steel in their spines by the light of the moon. I love resilient people. I love people who are able to trump downfalls, shortfalls, pitfalls, heck even Niagara Falls. I love the folks who dust themselves off and make it do what it do, baby (channeling Ray Charles).

The next time you find yourself down in the dumps, broke down and feeling as if you are coming undone, I want you to GET UP!! That's right!! Get up and proclaim that you are going to get over this hurdle and step into your new life. The life that you desire. See you only get one life--this isn't a dress rehearsal. You have to make sure that you harness your power to live out your best life. Inside of you is a thriver, someone who makes lemonade out of misery and magic out of dust. Inside of you is your strength. Be sure to tap into it!!

Erykah Badu "My Life"