Doing It All!

Good day folks! Or should I say good night. Whatever...

I have a confession.

I never thought I would be admitting this, especially in so public a forum, but, I'm here for accountability and that is exactly what the hell I'm getting.

Daily and hourly, accountability is burning my grease!

That weird little sentence will make more sense after reading the next section.

Here goes.

I'm an almost forty-year-old, educated, Black, lesbian, mom. (Gulp) and I have to confess that I can't do it... I can't do it... I can't do it... I simply CAN'T DO IT ALL!

More than that...I don't want to. I don't give two shakes of a rats ass if everything gets done and you know what? I'm really fine wit' it!

JESUS CHRIST!!!

I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry! I'm sorry to my ancestors, to the strong and powerful women of color and non-color who are able to do it all, I salute you and say, "go girl, you betta work, but not me!"

Not me. I can't and don't want to raise, catch, and slaughter the pig, then cure it and fry it up in the pan! I don't want to craft the pan or even buy it. I don't even want to buy the bacon, let alone open the package and fry it up in a friggin' pan. And I couldn't care less if someone forgot I was a woman!

It would be wonderful to have my womanhood forgotten for a while because then I might not be expected me to do so doggone much!

That's where I'm at today ya'll. I'm on a journey and sometimes the journey is to STOP and LAY THE HELL DOWN!

Maybe you need to do the same.

Have a great nap!

Much Love,

E~

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Pop & Switch

I'm practicing non-violent parenting. So when my boy mis-behaves or does something in a way I don't want to encourage, I resist the urge to 'pop'.

I was raised with the 'pop' and 'the switch'. Most of my community was raised that way and encouraged such practice. Many in my community state that 'children must learn to fear you or they will not obey.' As one of those grown up children who was raised with fear, the 'pop', and 'the switch' didn't work for me. I won't pop and/or switch my kid.

I remember as child getting spanked or physically intimidated and knowing that one day I was gonna be big too and then I would be able to hit and bully too.

I never want my son to feel cold and callus fear of whoopings.

Besides, my sons doctor recently told me that my little one was going to grow up and be at least 6'2". He's a tall boy and strong now. I don't want to raise a big ass man that's waiting for the time when he's big enough to strike, because he was raised on fear and intimidation.

Sidebar, I did try the pop once, after some serious peer pressure. I was so awkward and guilty about it that my little boy actually ended up comforting me. 'No pop mommy. I'mb-okay.' So, I don't pop.

However, I do use my big commanding voice.

I use my voice the way I was taught by the dog trainer. Wait, wait, wait, I'm not in anyway comparing my child to a dog...but there are similarities in training. Dogs have to know when you mean business and its all related in your tone. It's not a scream or a yell, but it's bass and authoritative. When that voice comes out, which I must admit takes energy, it gets the desired result.

As I work on perfecting the tone with my son, my goal is to find a balance that doesn't scare the shit out of him or allow him to ignore me. I'm also open to other tactics. Allowing him time to experience his upset because there's no more Umizumi, just has to happen. He's allowed to tantrum, to attempt to fold his arms and run out of the room drama style (he got that one from me honestly) and yet he still does what he's told. No, I don't make him do it with a smile on his face. I can't be forced to smile, why should I attempt to force him?

This leads me back to the point of this post, force doesn't work for us. Intimidation, bullying, 'pops' and 'the switch' have proven to be devices that don't serve.

I acknowledge that this divergence from the familial pathology will at time seem the road much harder, but me and the boy are worth it.

Thanks for reading.

Read. Like. Follow. Have a Great Day! E~

Breath of Love

When my son hurts himself and runs to me whining, "mommy, mommy, look, HURT!", depending on the degree of the whine and fake cry, I react in one of two ways. In either way I react, I do so most sincerely. "Oh no, are you okay?" I often inquire dramatically. He generally responds, "I'mb-okay!" Then he shoves the boo-boo in my face and I do my job which is to provide love and kisses to the area, whether I see and believe in the boo-boo or not. My job is to swoop him up into my arms, and make sure he's okay. To connect. The other response comes when there's actually a real cry and/or real boo-boo to attend. In that case, I simply reverse the preceding order. First, I swoop him up into my arms, rock him and make sure that he is okay. We connect. Within seconds he pops up, looks at the boo-boo and says again, "hurt." Again, I do my job, kisses and empathy, and before I'm personally ready, I'm forced to release my active two and a half year old because he's wiggling out of my arms to freedom, as if nothing ever happened. There are times when the healing and holding may take a minute or two longer based on the degree of the hurt, but generally after two minutes the boy is miraculously healed and on to the next amusement. As he gets older he runs to me bit less. There are times when I see him fall and before I can ask he's declaring, "I'mb-okay!"

MY BOY - MY JOY

I love that my son is able to move so quickly past his hurt because he's free to feel it, get the soothing and love he needs, release, and move on. I admire that ability.

I wish it were that way for adults. I guess we have the ability to do so. However, it's challenging, after "growing up" to find someone to run to and say, 'hurt', then to get coddled, until you feel strong enough to be released.

I've done a lot of work to avoid feeling hurt and I must confess that none of that has worked to avoid the feeling of hurt. Spiritual work has done much to hold me up and keep me focused on God and Love. Physical work has led me to know that I am determined and a triathlete. Mental work has helped me begin to be more thoughtful and disciplined with my thoughts. All this work was initiated to avoid the hurt, to avoid the heartbreak, to avoid the pain. Even after all that self-help, self-awareness, self-discovery, I still want to run whining and crying saying, "mommy, mommy, look, HURT!", knowing that I will be swooped up into the arms of love.

I bet I'm not the only one who doesn't want or need a lecture during the hurt.

I'm sure that I'm not the only one who HATES TOUGH LOVE.

I'm sure that I'm not the only one who wants to feel safe when saying, 'I'm hurt.'

From all I've read and learned this year, I do know that I need to be the love I want.

So, I go forward, with arms wide open, judgement aside and just love, declaring;

'I will care for your hurt, I will hug you with no 

agendas, I will be a sincere and gentle safe space 

for you.'

The breath of Life and of God that lives in my sweet lil' boy lives in me and lives in you. I love him like that, I can love myself like that, I love you...yes you, like that.

You are safe here.

Much Much Love,

E~

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Just because...I AM.

"There is no prerequisite for worthiness." Brene Brown

When I read that passage from Brene Brown I felt a piece of my brain explode and flower into a huge chunk of hope and forgiveness. Instantly.

I was so shocked, horrified...and then relieved to be reminded that I was taking part in the downgrading of my precious self by buying into the idea that some thing had to happen before I deserved a good - no great life of prosperity and joy.

For so long I believe that if I achieved a certain goal, lived a certain way, decreased to a certain size, laughed at a certain pitch, spoke with a certain timber to my voice I would be worthy of the greatness that seemed to be happening to so many all around me but not to me.

I was shocked and horrified to recognize that I had forgotten the greatness within that I knew so well as a youngster. The greatness I stomped around feigning as an adult as an adult has been obnoxious and full of fear and sadness.

That overconfidence was a fraud and a front. I had little trust for the truth of me and in my fear, I puffed up, literally and figure-ly. To convince myself and others that I was somebody special.

It was an exhausting routine, trying to force others to know what I didn't believe or accept about myself. It was an act that created heartache and pain more often than not for myself and others.

The external search for the thing that would make me know I was worthy
Left me wanting and empty.

I used sex, alcohol, drugs, money, human dependency, inanimate object dependency, emotional drama and turmoil, fake enlightenment and manipulation to get something that would make me feel worthy of being... Well, loved, liked and accepted by the most important people. I am in the process of re-knowing that I am always at the top of the most important people list. I'm also starting, just re-starting to know that 'what I seeks, I is.'

Just because I AM worthiness is upon me.

Just because I AM Love is upon me.

Just because I Am greatness is upon me.

Just because I AM.
Just because I AM.
Just because I AM.

Have a perfect day basking in your own I AM.

Much Love,

E~

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Re-start!

I've missed ya'll!

For real!

I know ya'll don't be leavin' me a whole buncha comments or nothin' but dang - it's been so long since I posted. I've longed to have the time to devote to writing something deep and meaningful to share with the world.

See, what's been keeping me away from the Blog is that I have been busy - And Loving It!

I'm currently enrolled in Seminary while I simultaneously work my way thru completing the credits for my Bachelor's.

Failing French in my senior year at Conservatory haunted me for over 20 years! I was able to graduate, however, I received a much lesser degree. So now, I'm taking courses like Public Speaking and Ethics in Business in order to make up and catch up. Catch up to what, right? I guess I would have to say catching up to that version of myself that I know I AM. I've felt so much shame about my degree situation for so long and I am done with that now. I have taught in the University system, received grants, created programs and performed all over the country. French didn't have shit to do with that!

I'd been in online class before but fell off the wagon and had to re-start.

I'm also In-Service at my Spiritual Center and attending class there as well as having two Spiritual Life Coaches and a Minister mentoring me.

I have the joy of being a mom with the most amazing little two and a half year old ever! And last but not by any means least I have the blessing of sharing this wonderful and wild journey with my beloved girlfriend.

Daily I'm re-starting an exercise plan and a healthful eating plan.

I'm even re-starting about my mode of transportation.

I am re-starting my way into the perfect and right automobile.

Toward that end I started a GoFundMe campaign to raise money to get a car in order to make all the hustle possible. I'm faithful that it will all work out by winter.

If you're interested in donating, here's the link, but you may have to cut and paste:

http://www.gofundme.com/4q8dpw

If not, that's okay too.

I thought my first words back with you folks would be deeper. But nope. Perhaps one day, or not, who knows. I take comfort in that answer now. Either way I re-start. That's my new motto nowadays. Just re-start. When life sucks...re-start. When disappointment and heartache pull you down, just re-start. There's great peace and beauty in knowing about the re-start. It is possible anytime, in any situation, I think. It's an internal process that reminds me of my creativity and who I really AM. I get to choose to re-start. That's hott!

Re-start triumphs defeat all the time.

Those of us willing to re-start have success at our fingertips.

So enjoy!

I'll chat more soon. I promise.

Much Love,

E~

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IRON GIRL TRIATHLETE!

According to me, the world and the sponsors of the 2013 Athleta IRON GIRL TRIATHLON and the finishers’ medal I received, I am an IRON GIRL Triathlete! It’s been one week today since I took part my first ever sprint Triathlon. I wanted to wait a week to allow this accomplishment to truly settle in…I am a Triathlete. Merriam-Webster online dictionary defines a Triathlete as one who competes in a triathlon. For the record, I not only competed but completed a triathlon.
 

Getting to the race with all my equipment on time was the hardest part. Sticking to a regular training routine was the second hardest part. I thought the competition would be the hardest part. It was definitely very very challenging but my emotional baggage was the largest obstacle. In the three to five days that preceded the race I allowed myself to believe I had caught a cold possibly even the flu, I then bought into the idea that I was too fat to do the race and I would probably die. Finally, I refused to secure a bike rack for the car and waited till the night before to work it out, such drama! I slept very little the night before the race and awoke feeling dreadful. However, my girlfriend refused to let me wallow in my own 'pig' (emotional self-indulgence and pity) that morning and literally pulled and pushed me out to the race. She had done the same thing just the day before when I was began Seminary. My desire to self sabotage was so great at that point that I missed my train, even though I was up three hours before needing to be at orientation. Without missing a beat my girl got me across the bridge and to class on time with a smile on her face, love in her heart, and lots of believe in my abilities. I had felt little to no such faith on that day or the next. I was sure that with such a jam packed weekend I was going to completely breakdown in overwhelmed.

That 6’9” Ego chick I’ve written about showed up, again! I knew that she was disturbed that I was trying to change how we had been doing shit. So she popped up right before the full and potential transformational weekend and attempted to keep me where she and I had been comfortable, which was with me knowing I had a gift but never actually doing a damn thing about it because I didn’t really deserve it. So before the race and following Egos lead I began reviewing every mistake, wrong, bad, and horrible thing that I had ever thought or done.
 

Luckily days prior to the weekend I had prepped my girlfriend to be on the lookout for Ego chick and my attempts at self-sabotage. I gave her permission to use the Force to stop me in my tracks and promised to obey her orders if and when the time came. Thankfully she was on high alert and I was compliant.
 

When I got to seminary this was shared.

Once a young woman asked Hafiz, "What is the sign of someone knowing God?" Hafiz remained silent for a few moments and looked deep into the young person's eyes, then said, "Dear, they have dropped the knife. They have dropped the cruel knife most so often use upon their tender self and others." 

It hurts to feel that as deeply as I do. So many times, too many times, I am guilty of plunging the knife deeply into my own chest and then twisting. The beat down that I have been able to manifest against my own poor self is epic.
 

So I have decided to quit that crap. Step by step,  day by day. The most interesting things are happening in response to that decision. I am eating a lot less. I know that my obesity is the result of overeating and emotional crap but I didn’t put it all together until now. The first step in treating Erica better is to proper ly nourish the body, the mind, and the spirit. True self love will come from the triad of healthfulness, mindfulness, and Goddess...
 

Now back to the race.
 

The swim of the triathlon was the hardest open water ocean swim of my life! There was actually a seven time full Iron Woman competitor who remarked that the swim was the hardest of her competitive career. People were being dragged out of the water because officials were worried they couldn't make it. Most unfortunately I had forgotten my goggles and rather than give up, since I had gotten there on time, I decided to say 'Yes' and do it anyway. I was use to being in the ocean without goggles anyway, so I figured it wouldn't be so bad. However it was that bad and worse the waves were super choppy and the tumultuous undercurrents were amazingly rough to navigate. My time was pretty slow but I persisted. When the race began I jumped in the water like I was Michael Feldman in an Olympic sized pool. Quite quickly I remembered myself. I shifted gears and worked in flow with the ocean and stopped trying to fight it. Yes, of course...MESSAGE! During a treading water rest I met a woman who was having a much harder time than I was. I told her we would make it together repeating, ‘We got this,’ several times. Together she and I motivated one another through the first and hardest leg of the triathlon. Keeping an eye on her made it so much easier for me, I don’t know how that works but “they” are right when “they” say, ‘helping someone else who is less fortunate than you will make you realize how blessed you truly are.
 

We made it out of the water and I realized how small and fit my new friend was. She and I smiled at one another and as I dragged my ass out of the water barely able to walk, she sprinted her petite self to the biking transition area and was off, fast as hell. I wouldn't see her again until the almost the end of the run.

When I made it to the biking transition area I was extremely thirsty and a bit stuffy. I had accidentally swallowed a healthy share of water and I was guzzling my protein shake and some water as I dried off. I tried to get as much sand from in between my toes as possible and finally realized it was probably a lost cause. I put on my socks, shoes, shirt, and bib and walked my bike to begin the next phase of the tri.
 

Once I mounted my bike and drank more water I began to feel better. It was then that I remember that I loved riding my bike. I began to pedal faster and faster. No matter how fast I pedaled people kept riding past me and saying, ‘On your left!’ and zooming by. I couldn't understand it. I hadn't stopped pedaling and I was nowhere near the halfway mark of the 8.25 mile track. I started to feel like maybe I needed air, I had forgotten to check that before the race. Nope, didn't need air, I kept pedaling. Then I began paying attention to the type of bike everyone passing me was riding. When a twenty eight year old woman who was twice my size sped past me on the thinnest tires I had ever seen I realized that it was my bike. I have a Trek hybrid, its half mountain, half leisure and pretty big compared to the bikes that were zooming past me. As I realized that there was nothing to be done but keep pedaling I took comfort in the fact that in the next race I will have a light speed bike. I kept on chugging along and finally crossed the biking finish line.

I haphazardly parked my bike and set off for the 5k. My legs felt like over cooked spaghetti. I run kind of slow but I was determined to run the whole 3.1 miles. Most of the training I had done was running because that was what scared me the most and what felt like the most difficult after the other two events.

I adjusted my headband and sunglasses and very soon settled into my stride. I only slowed to a walk for 20 yards while I was attempting to grab water and an electrolyte drink. Actually, when I had made other attempts to walk after already running my legs totally refused and insisted I keep running. So I did.

 

No headphones were allowed during any part of the race and that was a bummer as all of my training was done with music. At some point I started singing, cutting, and scratching a remix of Rob Bass’ I wanna rock right now, and LL Cool J’s I need love. I am sure other runners thought I was in great pain or crazy but I didn't even care. It made me smile to cut and scratch like I was DJ Red Alert. It helped me run.  It felt like my air DJ'ing would push me to run faster but that was not the case. At least that wasn't the case until I was about fifty to 75 yards from the finish line. My precious girlfriend had gotten the crowd to start shouting my name and cheering for me. As I got closer and closer to the finish I could hear the screams and make out the ‘Erica! Erica! Erica!’ shouts from the crowd. Somehow the excitement, energy, and sheer faith of the crowd lifted me from my slow DJ pace and I began to sprint faster than I had ever run in my life to the finish line. 

IRON GIRL TRIATHLETE 

I'ma tell you the truth, I didn't do that, my body, and my legs were done. I don’t know how the crowd got my body to obey them when I couldn't get it to obey me but thankfully they did. The love and support and cheering from mostly strangers carried me across the finishing line going faster than I had ever gone in my entire life! Those unknown people used the God force, Life force, whatever you wanna call it to propel me across the finishing line. They didn't know me from Adam but love me and pushed me forward regardless.

 

Completing the triathlon has changed my life and understanding of God. Completing the triathlon has reminded me that we are all divine and we can do anything we desire when we work together and put love first.

That’s what got me successfully through one of the most challenging events, and most jam packed weekends of my life. Actually that is also what has gotten me through a very challenging year.

 

At this point I am not as financially wealthy as I will be. My monetary blessings are on the way. However, right now I know I am rich beyond belief. It showed up in the form of my dear girlfriend, thank you love. It showed up in the cheers of strangers, thank you strangers. It showed up from all of you reading my blog, thank you. I know what is truly most important in life, people, friends, family, and love. That’s the rich that I got. That’s worth more than all the money in the world.

Much love to you Gods!

E~

Have a Perfect Day!

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MAN SIZED POO & THE RUNNER

Disclaimer

I’m a lesbian and have been for the past twenty plus years. I didn’t grow up with a brother, father, or any other male as a regular fixture in my home.  Outside of a one term male roommate in college; I’ve never actually lived with a male until my beautiful, stinky -Man Sized Poo creator- little son was born. I do have some close male friends; however, we were never close enough to get into the nitty gritty deets of each others poo or poo processes. I don’t think I’ve ever known when one of my male friends, gay or straight has ever poo’d. I’m not sure why I needed to differentiate between straight or gay with that previous sentence, but oh well.

Anyway, me and the fellas never shared bodily function intimacies like I have with many of the women I have either been with or been friends with.  With women I have shared poo secrets and profoundly personal poo details including poo-ing frequency, size, color, shape and strain. At thirty nine years old I am noticing an increase in the discussion of poo. It’s a poo talk phenomenon and becoming more and more frequent within my age group. We are all near bouts or over forty and I guess we talk poo so much because it’s a healthiness indicator. I know most of us realize how truly important having healthy poo can be. Many of these female relationships go back over two and a half decades and are ripe for new levels of intimacy and a deeper understanding of one another; poo seems to be that natural and deeper next level.

Man Sized Poo. That's what my almost two and a half year old son does.

The fact is when I refer to Man Sized Poo, I’m not speaking from firsthand experience, thankfully. I’m assuming MSP is a lot bigger, smellier and grosser than the delicate movement us softer gentler creatures. Since I do know, firsthand, that we supposed gentler creatures can create evacuations of enormous proportion and loathsome odor it seems logical to deduct that our male counterparts’ mass departures are at least double if not triple our dainty loads. LOL @ Dainty!

The point to this poo ranting blog post is that this morning I told my little almost two and a half year old son that we were going to initiate a new rule. The new rule was that today he was going to wear pull-ups and when he felt the urge to pee or poo he was going to say, ‘mommy, pee pee or mommy poo poo.’ Simple enough. The next step I took was to have my precious boy practice pulling up and pulling down the pull-up. While I did most of the work he did kind of comply if only because I kept directing his hands. Ultimately he said, “yesh,” when I asked if he understood the instruction for the day. I was giddy and hopeful. We hugged, kissed, and tickled, and began our glorious morning. 

First we stopped at the Farmer’s Market and after getting our vegan pastry, my joyful little one asked to carry the bag. I decided that it was a great moment to barter. I agreed to let him hold the bag if he promised to tell me when he had to pee pee or poo poo. He looked at me oddly, however, when I said, “Say ‘yes mommy’, if you agree.” He replied a singsong string of “yesh mommy, yesh mommy, yesh mommy.” Great we were in complete agreement. From the Farmer’s market we continued on our marry way to finish the rest of our errands. 

While we were out my boy had some juice and I reminded him gently of our deal, while it seemed as if he were ignoring me, when I checked his pull-up as we made our way home, it was dry. I was confident success would be mine! When were safely home I began making the little Princes’ bed. That’s when I realized he had left the room and been silent for more than three minutes.

“Boy, where’s my boy?” I called. 

He was silent a moment more, then replied, “Coming.” He bounded into the room and hugged my leg. Then he started picking up toys with me. I thought, ‘what a cooperative young lad, my son!’ I was in ecstatic mommy bliss when we sat down to play with trains. 

That’s when I smelled it. At first I thought it was a ghost poo smell. You know - that smell that always seems to reek of poos gone by? I sometimes think the poo stink gets stuck on my nose hairs or begins to cling to the walls because I feel like I can smell it even when there is certainly nothing there. It’s that fart stank that seems to accompany little boys even when freshly bathed.

Quite unfortunately I soon discovered it was not ghost poo. It was not the slight stench of poo diapers gone by. It was fresh and it was poo present.

“T, did you poo poo?” I asked.

No reply.

“T, come here.” T scampered to me without answering, his two signature cars in hand.

“T did you do a stinky?” I asked calmly and directly.

Still there was no answer from the almost two and a half year old offender.

I pulled him close, looked into his eyes and asked for the final time, “Teverico, did you drop a deuce in your pull-up?”

T, looked up at me coquettishly, and said, “hug mommy.” He hugged me and then tuba puckered his lips and kissed me with a loud “Muah.” Then the little crap maker ran from me as fast as his short long legs could carry him.

“Teverico come back!” I called.

“Bye – bye mommy, bye-bye!” he yelled as he ran.

MPS a.k.a The Runner

I sat for an instant dumbfounded and then began  to ponder my next move; I was and am determined. He will not defeat me! Hell, I had finished a triathlon! I could get this kid to poo on the potty. I got up and gave chase; he’s a fast and slippery little bugger! I finally caught him and he collapsed into my arms as I collapsed onto the sofa. T laughing loudly and screaming, “tickle-tickle-tickle mommy!”

No fair! He was using his cute against my purpose! The gall to be so cute while perfuming the house with his stank!

I swooped the boy up in my arms tickling him as we headed back to his room.

I changed the mega stank nasty Man Sized Poo my little runner had created, all the while lecturing.

“Teverico, we made a deal, you agreed. In this life when you make a deal, especially about the potty, it’s really important to stick to it. It’s about integrity son, you gotta have integrity. It’s one of the four agreements.”

He laughed completely oblivious to the pearls I was offering.

After the changing, I continued to lecture and tickle.

“I don’t know if I will feel comfortable making deals with you in the future because you don’t even seem to care about reneging on this one. Do you know how that makes mommy feel…”

Hey don’t judge me! People say talk to your kids as if they understand what we’re saying, so…

There seems little need for me to continue. You get the point. Plus, T had started zurberting my face!

That’s the end of my little tale about Man Sized Poo and a cute almost two and a half year old runaway.

I send wishes for you to have the most productive releases of your life today and every day.

Much Love!

E~

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Have a Perfect Day!

Learning to Love Myself

Good Morning Folks!

And it is a Good Morning, quite possibly a Great Morning, but it's early so let's not push it.

I don't mean to quote Whitney Houston as much as I do, I'm sure I should be quoting, Jesus, the Budha, or some other deity more often. However, Whitney said so very much that resonates in my heart with her song.

Learning to love yourself is the greatest gift of all. She ain't neva lied.

I am learning to love myself and to keep it real, I will admit that it is much friggin' harder than I thought! Loving myself seems to start from the moment I wake to the moment I sleep. Learning to love myself is one of the biggest challenges I have undertaken.

Loving me is so much more than just strutting around with an over confident, inflated ego boasting about my greatness. Loving me is a much quieter process.

Quite has not been my forte, but I'm learning. Learning the grace of listening, the love of allowing another to have the focus. I'm learning the value in mindfulness and thoughtfulness before speaking. I have not mastered it, yet, but I am continually conscious of the work.

The biggest part of the work is showing up for myself.

I show up to love me when I wake up with gratitude instead of grumbling. I show up to love me when I eat healthy portions of healthy foods. I show up to love me when I care for my body with loving acts and exercise. I show up to love me when I discipline my mind to be present.

Ah ha! That last one, that right there, is the dang hardest one to do with any consistency. My mind is a swirl of thoughts and it can be a wild and crazy place up in there! For Real. When I let my ideas, grab hold of my thoughts, and those thoughts start working with fleeting emotions....chile', trouble can be a brewin'! Next thing you know, 'they' are against me, 'nobody' loves or cares for me, and 'I' am broken, alone, and miserable.

Showing up to love me stops that madness.

So I'm learning that the way to love me best is to work from the inside out. Catching the little negative ideas before they get a chance to blossom fully into destruction flowers is my goal.

It's about starting over. I start over a thousand times a day and in order to really love me up, I attempt to start over with out ripping myself apart for needing to start over in the first place.

The following is an excerpt from a Yoga magazine that I read for the first time almost a year ago. I keep going back to it...

In Responding to a monk who demanded to know whether the world was eternal whether an enlightened person reincarnates, the Buddha used the analogy of a man who has been shot with an arrow. If, before extracting the arrow and tending the to his wound, the man insists on knowing the name, family, village, and race o the archer, and what the arrow is made of, how effective is he in dealing with his injury? What needs immediate attention is the situation created by the arrow.

Starting-over practice is like this - you attend as best you can to the immediate situation that is challenging you, keeping yourself firmly rooted in the present. You shift your focus away from dwelling on those circumstances and characteristics that limit you and redirect toward recognizing the strengths from which you can realize your potential. You become a more effective person by simply learning to use your time and energy to do what you can do right now. By Phillip Moffitt

Alright folks that's all for me today. Enjoy starting over and starting over and starting over today.

Read. Like. Follow.

Much Love,

E~

 

 

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Wild Geese

By Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Read, Like, Follow. Have a Great Day! E~

Leaving

It was February 24^th, 1984 when Grandma passed away, it was my baby sister’s first birthday. I was 10 years old.

I was told Grandma passed on, was told she had transitioned. Many of my Grandma’s sisters and other relatives were around. 

My mother told me Grandma didn't want me to see her in the hospital sick like she was. I was told by so many that she loved me more than I could ever know. I was told that I was very special to Grandma. I already knew how special she was to me. Grandma took me to the World’s Fair in Tennessee. Grandma nursed me when I was sick with food poisoning from overindulgence at the Fair. Grandma talked to me with so much love. She would hold me and hum gospel songs to me whenever I climbed into her bed at night. She would make me my favorite breakfasts, lunches, or dinners. Grandma was a stellar cook. She would even whip up a peach cobbler, my favorite dessert, whenever I desired. Grandma told me that I was brighter than most of the students she taught at Malcolm X Shabazz high school even though they were twice my age. I was an early reader and Grandma was an English teacher. Proper speech was very important. Grandma showed me off and bragged on me. I loved it. Grandma took me to church and told me of God’s love. She watched as I got baptized. Mother was not there. Grandma cried when I sang my first church solo, ‘Jesus loves me.’ Grandma reprimanded my mother for being hard on me. 

When I was 8 years old Grandma was the first call I made when I burned my stomach while ironing my clothes for school. Mother had moved us from Jersey to Wisconsin, far away from Grandma. Mother was at work and I was a latch-key kid. I called Grandma scared and crying and Grandma with calmness and kindness told me, “It’ll be alright baby, where’s your mother?” When I told her she was at work Grandma said, “Lord have mercy! Baby, go unplug the iron.” I obeyed. “Now go get a wash cloth.” I dropped the phone and ran to get the wash cloth. When I returned Grandma said, “Now precious, go to the freezer and get some ice.” Again I dropped the phone and dutifully complied. Grandma stayed on the phone with me for hours while the ice melted and pain subsided. Finally she had me apply butter to the burn and take a nap. I awoke to my mother rushing home and panicked. She had come home early from work because Grandma had called her worried, berating her for leaving me home alone, rebuking her with what had happened. Mother was concerned and pissed. All I knew was that Grandma was magic and could care for me better than Mother ever could even from hundreds of miles away.

It has been 29 years since Grandma left. I still miss her so much. I looked at her picture and cried so hard today. I cried because for the first time, 29 years later I realized that Grandma didn't leave me. Grandma died. At 10 years old I didn't understand why she would leave me. How could Grandma leave me if she loved me so much? If I was truly so special how could she abandon me? My mother’s and everyone else’s explanations of death never dealt with the feeling that I had. I felt left. My 10 year old self, told my 15 year old self that I was left, that the person who loved me the most left me. My pubescent 15 year old self bought into the misunderstandings of the 10 year old and began to face the world on terms that then seemed to make sense. 15 year old Erica reasoned that even people who say they love you and you love will leave, you so either don’t love or leave first. Erica at 21 years old bought into the idea and decided that a life without love sucked and was impossible. So she decided to love hard, fully, and completely so that she would have at least that when the object of that love left. Deeply and passionately Erica would fall in love and when something occurred unfamiliar or unsettling, Erica would decide that the person was going to leave her. Sensing the leave, whether it was truly a leave or not, she would leave…first. Of course sooner than later everything began to look like a leave. When someone was disappointed or angry, sad, needing space, or even disgruntled with something that had nothing to do with Erica, she would begin to sabotage the relationship, while accusing the person of leaving, abandoning and deserting her. Erica would flee. From 21 years old to 39 years old Erica ran. She ran from friends, family, and lovers whenever she was scared that they may leave. Ultimately Erica didn’t believe she was special and worthy of having someone truly stay.

The comedy of this tragedy is that while running away from the love she so desired Erica would cry, yell, and scream that it was really everyone else leaving, not realizing it was her leaving all along.

It was August 25, 2013 when Erica understood that her beloved Grandma didn’t leave or abandon her, just a few months shy of thirty years since Doris Amaza Bradshaw’s actual date of death. It was a sunny Sunday, around noon when Erica accepted that her Grandma died. She didn’t leave. She just died.

Upon fully comprehending that Grandma just died and that I had been living my life based on the misunderstandings of my 10 year old self, I simply sat and cried and cried and cried.

This journey to becoming is difficult in ways I could have never imagined.

That is all for today.

Now, I gotta go make some good-n-happy now!

Much Love,

Read, Like, Follow. Have a Great Day! E~

Am I crazy?

Good Day Folks!

I know it's been a while and I regret that I have taken so much time between posts.

Life happens. I can honestly just state that as the facts.

I know I don't need an excuse or to tell you what happens/happened. Though obviously I am blogging to figure some crap out and be accountable so, here are the facts and the things I allow to get in the way:

• Sometimes I start the day making the bed, then I begin mopping the floor and the next thing you know I'm cleaning the whole house!
• I can't write when I have my son, right?
• Sometimes the day gets away from me.
• Sometimes I sit and stare off into space.
• Sometimes I decide to be vegan and make elaborate and healthful meals and smoothies.
• Sometimes, while at a summer BBQ, I forget that I have gone vegan and eat the delicious ribs, hamburgers, and hot dogs, potato salad, macaroni & cheese, collards, and sweet tea!
• Sometimes I spend way too much time chit-chatting on the phone.
• Sometimes I ignore callers when I'm really not busy.
• Sometimes I spend too much time looking for free shit on Craigslist or Free-cycle.
• Sometimes I go to too many stores attempting to eek out the best deal.
• Sometimes I spend too much time doing everything except writing which is the thing that I love to do.
• Sometimes I am just in shock at all the life changes I have chosen to embark upon and am rendered still and silent.

Do you have days, weeks, maybe even months when you feel like you just can't or don't or won't get shit done?

Ah, a moment of clarity, I'm in major life transition. I am changing everything. I am changing my focus. I have at least four professions that I have been actively engaged. I have decided to let go of the two that I am least passionate about and am redoubling my efforts on those that I am most committed.

I have been agonizing over this decision in little ways for years. However, the time has come to hone my focus. To become the greatest vision of myself possible and in order to allow that to happen, I must, with love and honor, release careers, jobs, relationships, situations, and behaviors that don't fit.

Can I be honest?

I'm scared. I know that fear isn't real, it's just an illusion and a space I consciously and subconsciously create to conquer and grow. Yet, I have created fearfulness around letting go to grow up bigger.

I'm scared of what life looks like if I keep running. I'm logging almost 15 miles a week running and walking. I'm scared that I won't be able to keep it up and will come crashing down.

I'm scared that as I quest towards enlightenment I will stumble and make another mess of things.

I'm scared I will fail.

I'm scared that I won't achieve what I know I am here to achieve.

Yes I'm scared, but I'm doing it anyway, and some days it's a lot more challenging than others.

I experience fear but I fight like the Dickens (don't know who the Dickens'es are exactly but I hear they are pretty tough) to move forward and experience the fear and not let the fear be my entire experience.

Yesterday in class, I spoke the 'why?', and the 'what?' of my dream. I would like to share that with you.

I am here to Inspire love, Ignite creativity, & Empower humanity with the knowing of God/Divine Spirit within and all around us.

Read. Like. Follow.

Have a Great Day!

Much Love,

E~

 

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Is it all a spiritual journey?

Good Day Folks.

Today is a good day.

I've been thinking a lot about this blog, and fixing some techno tweaks (now you can leave comments on the blog - Whoopie!).

I didn't know I had disabled that feature, oops! I still moderate the comments but as long as you don't have gross stuff to post, I will be of integrity and post every comment, even the ones I don't agree with or like.

I just think its so much better to stay in conversation than not. I learn from critique and therefore welcome it. If possible though - know this - 'I'm sensitive.'

Enough sidebar...my editor isn't going to like that I started out with an aside. Ah well, what can I say. (She doesn't care much for the 'well's' either)

Anyway, guess what?

I'm training for a Triathlon - The Iron Girl. A mini. 1/2 mile swim, 10 mile bike ride, 3 mile run.

OH MY GOD!

Why the hell did I sign up for this?

That's where I'm at. I signed up three months ago because a dear friend, whose journey to fitness I really admire did complete a "Tri" and is still alive. I'm so proud and inspired by her. Go MK Go! She made it sound not so bad and since completing a Triathlon was on my list of things to do, I figured, 'why not?'

That's exactly what my impulsive ass gets. Now, I'm signed up for this thing and I'm wondering if I can, indeed, do it.

See, I thought I was on a spiritual journey, what the hell is my body doing getting involved?!?!??

I know, I know, I know!

(Eyes closed, index finger to thumb, legs cross, with Nag-champa - chanting Ohm) Mind-Body-Spirit connection. Take a deep breathe. Whoosah, whoosah!

Fine.

I still don't know what a fresh water swim feels like. Do I open my eyes in Jersey Shore water, without chlorine to save me? Do I have to change in front of people or do I stay in my soaking wet bathing suit and ride the 10 miles? Are there any hills? Will people push me? Should I eat? What should I eat? What happens if I don't show? And the big question, I have natural hair, what shall I do with all that?

I may sound a bit panicked. I may be a bit panicked right now. You may be saying, as I am, that its not spiritual.

Well I told you it's a process, not a destination and today's journey has me concerned about a big huge goal even though I know my success is imminent...I think.

Also, I'm training solo and therefore I'm starting to believe that I am not training "correctly". I just want to be able to finish the damn thing and not be dead.

How does one complete a mini-Triathlon weighing over 250lbs and not be dead?

I guess I will have to do it and let yall know.

Do me a favor?

See visions of me throwing up my hands in eternal ecstasy as I cross the finish line, and not dead-last either - that's important!

See visions of me with the most right natural hair style that stays cute during it all!

See me reflecting love back to you!

Now see the end of this post!

HA!

Have an Awesome Day!

Much Love,

E~

 

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Sometimes I just have to dance!

 

Today was one of those days. I shook it till it almost broke to some Ray Charles, Beyonce, Sinatra, Streisand and ended with Mackelmore.

Sometimes it's necessary to crank up the sound system and just let the beat, the lyrics, the music take your body on a boogy vacation.

I dance my happy ass all around the house and Golly did it feel great.

I want to increase my boogey woogey dance party playlist.

What is the song, or music that gets you pumped, hype, psyched and grateful to be alive?

Thanks for your vibe.

Have a Splendid Day!

E~

 

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The Good News is...

Some readers have let me know that yesterdays post, Emotional Cancer, was rather depressing and somewhat morbid.

Good Day Folks!

One person shared, 'Erica, I know that you went thru some shit but why you gotta put it all out there? It's just too raw.'

My editor and I also thought is was rather raw and revealing. I posted nonetheless. Here's why:

When I was in the midst of the darker moments with emotional cancer eating away at my spirit and soul and in severe crisis I felt incredibly alone. At that time I was wallowing in my own pig and sure that the shitty shit happening to me had never happened before and was only happening to my poor black lesbian unfortunate soul.

When I sought help, outside of my therapist, I didn't get a sense of belonging to the world. It was cold, dark, and I was scared.

Had I found a book, a blog, or anything by a Black 30 something lesbian that shared about her depression, suicidal thoughts, cutting, etc... I believe it would have been profoundly helpful.

Mind you I am clear that there were resources out there such as blogs, videos, books, and more from people not necessary, female, black, or lesbian. But I wanted what I thought I needed and couldn't get past the differences that seemed the basis of my problems to see the possibilities.

Now that I am on the other side I am sharing my experience to hopefully let others in similar situations know that not only are they not alone, but the moments of despair pass and life truly does improve. I want to share some tools that helped me and just be a resource as best I can.

My purpose is of service and growth. This is how I'm choosing to start my ministry. Full disclosure and truth. I don't want to hid my process. I am not ashamed of where I have been, what I have done or who I have been. All of the past led me to this present moment and this present moment is a blessing. This moment is so much of a blessing that I am grateful for the darkness, or the hurt I went thru because it makes here so much more vibrant.

I know that I have so much more learning and growing up to do. I am quite proud and happy about that.

 

 

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Emotional Cancer

Good Day Folks.

I deem that today will be a good day, no matter what comes my way. I am the constant. I am, indeed, the decider in my-story. This I choose as my truth today.

I had a completely pleasurable morning, waking to the sound of loud nature and quiet conversation is completely blissful.

As you know I am often reflecting on life and looking back at where I was, how I felt, what I was doing, and what I was unable to do. Then reflecting on now and finally spending time visioning where I would like to be.

The now is getting much clearer. I have many illusions dropping away. As I release anger, resentment, fear, and blame I am much more able to see reality, and not just the reality that I decide to see. The future gets brighter and brighter as I clear out the cloudiness of yesterday.

I couldn’t say that a year ago.

Last year this time I was very sick. I call the sickness emotional cancer. (I do not mean to offend or in any way take lightly physical cellular cancer)

I’d like to make it clear that one of the definitions of cancer is a malignant growth or tumor resulting from such a division of cells.

I had a malignant growth in my spirit and mind. I was steeped in self-loathing, negative thoughts and disastrous actions.

The tumors of anger, rage, resentment, and emotional turmoil had been growing deep within the nucleus of my cells for decades and seemed to peak at a time in my life when I assumed I should have been most happy.

However, I was not happy. I think many people had a hard time believing that I was as unhappy as I was because I am a good actor. I could act like everything was alright. I had acted like what I thought others wanted from me. I could and would act like I thought others needed me to be.

See, I had been acting since before I could remember.  When I was five years old my Uncle filmed me saying ‘when I grow up I want to be an actress...’ I held on to that goal and that is exactly what I became. I am a classically trained professional actor. I attended one of the best training schools in the country to perfect the craft of acting. I thought I was training to do theater, movies, and television, and maybe one day to teach. However, I realize now that the training I received in the craft of acting was a powerful tool that I used to hide my fear, shame, and the belief that I wasn’t good enough and didn’t love myself.   

Of course you don’t need to attend acting school to be a great actor in your life, but it certainly worked in my favor…

The crazy thing is that I didn’t know I was acting in my personal life. I would always declare (and rather loudly) just the opposite. I swore up and down that I would never act with my friends, family, or lovers! I didn’t know it then as I do now but that was exactly what I was doing acting for everyone.

I wanted to be accepted. I wanted to be liked. I just wanted to be loved the way I couldn’t seem to love myself and I did anything and everything to get that approval, love and support. Most of my attempts to get this love were in intimate relationships with women. I was looking for a love that I couldn’t provide for myself, a love I never felt from my parents.

Most of my relationships ended poorly and most ended rather dramatically. Emo cancer doesn’t really work well with other’s dis-eases.  

As a young child I had been molested by my stepfather, only clearly remembering it well into my 30’s. In Junior high I was fondled by a clothing store owner in my hometown. He would touch my body how, where, and when he wanted and in return I would get fly clothes that I otherwise couldn’t afford. Clothes that I thought would make me appear Fresh, and make the kids stop calling me Erica-Fat-America. The clothes never achieved the goal I had in mind for them.

At thirteen I was raped by a kid who was in high school, in my mother’s house. He wouldn’t take the final NO after the initial YES that came once I had seen his actual penis. For years I felt that I had to do sex with men when I had gotten them hard because, I had done that to them.

The emotional cancer was planted and spread into every aspect of my existence.

All I could do was feel, feel pain, feel disappointment, feel anger. Feel unworthy, feel useless and feel just plain ol’ bad – like something was deeply wrong with me.

The hurt was unbearable at times, most times.  

There were moments when I was suicidal. There was even a moment when I began cutting myself.

I was so ashamed. I believed that not only was I too old to be cutting(I was definitely way into adulthood by then), but I bought into the idea that I was supposed to be a “strong Black woman” and we just didn’t do shit like that! – Kinda joking but mostly serious.

I would sing my swan song to anyone who would listen. I sat with friends and cried and begged for help from everyone, my mother, my siblings, my spouse.  

Around last year this time the emotional cancer was eating me alive and no one had the cure, but  I was too wrapped up in the pain of it all to do anything but what I did.

Leaving the life I had set up was the chemo of choice. I believed at the time that I had no other choice. I had to save my life.

Chemotherapy is often life saving and a necessary step towards remission. However, the affects of chemo on the body can be incredibly harsh, going from nausea and hair loss to crippling pain. To my understanding, chemotherapy kills both healthy cells and sick cells in order to eradicate the cancer.

My chemo of choice destroyed many aspects of my life, aspects that I didn’t expect to be destroyed. Some of the losses have been quite major. However, ‘Just because I left…I’m alive!

Just because I left...I’m living and not acting my life. Just because I left…I’m beginning to experience my best life ever.

I am learning a new and healthier way of being. I am beginning to see that I am loveable because I am a child of God, no less and no more than anyone else. I am learning that my emotional cancer was self-inflicted and that I can be the decider and make sure it never returns again.

My emotional cancer is in remission.

I am full of Gratitude for every moment that has led to now.

Thank you for reading! It means so much!

Have A TERRIFIC Day! You can y’know… you’re the DECIDER in your own life!

E~

VaLiD

Hey Folks.

As you know, this blog started from the unhappy seed of a messy divorce as well as a desire to grow emotionally and spiritually with accountability, in whatever form that would take.

Today I have received a judgement in my favor from the judge, in the saga of our divorce. A motion went in my favor. Even though I wasn't granted all that I requested the motion leaned my way and in the favor of our precious son.

I don't know if I have adequate words to describe my relief.

Relief because as a non-biological mom I am often referred to and thought of as "less" than the bio mom. This is obviously not accurate. And while untrue, it is where the majority of our legal system is at this time.

My soon to be ex wife and I created our baby boy from scratch. Meaning we visioned about him, named him and called him into our lives. We believed ourselves ready in all ways to be his mommas..kinda, then we took the steps to have him grow in her body and our collective soul. While she carried him physically, I carried him and her emotionally and spiritually. We were building a family and we each had very important tasks and roles to play.

The decision of the court in my favor struck a chord in me that was completely surprising. I felt instantly like, 'Hey, I do exist, I was an integral part of our life together. I am not worthless, nor should I be ignored.' Basically, I feel 'valid' from the court's decision.

Then all the spiritual work kicks in and I have to ask myself the following questions.

Did I need a judge's ruling on my motion to make my role in my marriage and as a parent valid?

Is this the affirmation I had been looking for during the marriage?

Can I validate myself?

Finally, does this validate me as a good person now and I can stop thinking that I'm bad, wrong, evil, or just plain no good?

Aha! That last one takes the cake.

I throw out the cake! It tastes good but I don't need no friggin' cake to feel good!

Got God!

Got sidetracked, I'm back (non-important sidebar but sidebar nontheless - my editor hates it when I tangent, but I do it in person and I do it in print too. 'Least I'm authentic - Son!) - End imitation cool hood voice and gestures.

 

Seriously though, for the first time ever I am really seeing how negative self-talk, and negative beliefs about myself have been running and ruining aspects of my life.

I am of God. If that is truly the case then I am made of God stuff and that stuff is the inclusion of everything and thus I am the inclusion of everything. I guess I have always known that no one is all good or all bad, now I am waking up to the fact that I can choose what and who I want to Be in this life because I am co-creating this stuff with the Almighty.

So...

I am NOT bad

I am NOT evil

I am NOT no damn good

I AM:

the microcosm of the macrocosm of God

made of God stuff and therefore I am Source

Erica. And that's that.

 

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