4 Reasons Why I’m Really Digging Therapy

A9219F5F-69E7-4C45-B8D9-4A252E3C4FF6.jpegI have a friend (a few actually) who strongly advocates for therapy. I didn’t pay her gentle and numerous  suggestions much attention at first to be honest. Instead, I’d read her posts stating “ Everybody should get a therapists!” or “ Do yourself a favor. Go to therapy!”,consider for like a millisecond, then swiftly dismiss the idea with a Nah, I think I’m good.  I reasoned, I’m not in crisis right now. Plus, I have a few compassionate witnesses to vent to when I’m going through. That should be good enough.  I dodged therapy for years. After only three sessions I’m seeing I’ve been in my own way…for years. Yes, I love reading self help books, practicing gratitude, talking to God and writing my prayers out. Yes, I could’ve probably maintained and lived a decent life with doing just those things. But deep down I didn’t want to just maintain or live a decent life. I wanted to live my best life.  I wanted 40 to be my best year yet. So with the courtesy of a little nudging, I finally acquiesced.

While on vacay in Miami I mentioned to my friend, “Yeah. I’m thinking about going to a therapist. Maybe there are some things /new strategies I can learn to help me navigate my life journey better.” As soon as we got back from dinner my friend pulls her laptop out and says, “Let’s research some therapists in your area now.” Maybe she knew I’d talk myself out of going (again).  Maybe she knew my follow up game would be weak on this. Maybe she knew another friend had recommended someone just last year to me. I even took the contact information down. I visited the recommended therapist’s page. And that was as far as I got.  “But we’re on vacation”  I whined. “It can wait. I’ll do it once I get back to Maryland.” “No, we’re fine. Let’s do it now.” (In other words, Girl Bye).

Something about my now therapist’s face, her write up, and overall aura (through the screen) made me feel as if she was the one. And I was right! Although I was nervous about our initial 15 minute phone consultation (What am I going to say? What am I supposed to say?) it went rather smoothly. I felt safe and at ease while speaking with her during the brief consultation. She asked introductory questions and told me a little about herself. She asked me what prompted me to seek therapy at this time.  “We’ll, nothing’s really going on in my life right now. I turned 40 recently and I’d just like to become as self aware as possible.” She seemed pleased with my response. She assured me that self awareness was a great reason to seek therapy. That pleased me. We met the following week. On a Thursday. I was really nervous. I even considered rescheduling. A 15 minute phone chat was simple. But an entire hour of just talking? I may not be able to pull that off. What if she starts asking me questions that make me feel uncomfortable? What if I get stuck or mis-express myself  when asked cold questions ( I have a fear of misspeaking, not expressing my feelings and thoughts clearly.)  We’re just going to be sitting there looking at each other, trying to feel gaps of awkward silence I bet. Boy was I wrong! So, so, so wrong. Lol.

Therapy is:

1. An Opportunity to Speak and be Heard

I actually confused and amazed myself during my first session. I talked the ENTIRE time. I honestly didn’t think I had lots to talk about before that first session. In most settings with other adults ( I talk my head off in the classroom but that’s different. Lol)  I’m typically in the cut, listening and observing. So I surprised myself going on and on like a motor mouth.  I left her office feeling ten times lighter, as if I finally had a chance to unload all the thoughts circling around in my brain for God knows how long. Thoughts I didn’t even know I was trudging along with. My therapist lightly probed, was attentive, nodded her head to show she that she understood me. It all felt really good! And it made me want to share even more. Every other week it’s as if  I’m the host of an hour long talk show with an audience (my therapist) clinging on to my every word. The spotlight is solely on me. (Insert smile here.)

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2. Helping Me Get More In Tune With My Thoughts and Feelings

Remember when I said I have a fear of misspeaking, not clearly or articulately expressing my feelings and thoughts around said feelings? Instead of misspeaking or mis-expressing myself I’ve opted to simply not say anything (or much) at all.  I’ve learned, after 2 sessions, that this isn’t necessarily a case of ‘ That’s just how I am’ but rather… I’m not in tune enough (yet) with my own feelings to be as expressive as I’d like. I’m not certain about you but I didn’t grow up with a whole lot of emphasis on feelings. 8780E4E2-2DFA-47E2-AF39-99AEFE00A468.jpegYou grind and work hard. Handle your business. Understand that life happens. But under no circumstance are you to let it break you. That’s it.  And I’m not mad at this at all. I appreciate my upbringing immensely. But I also understand this could be why I’m at a slight deficit in the areas of feelings, emotions, and oral expression. My next assignment was to record my feelings in a journal. When given this assignment, I initially thought, Hmmm…not certain what this will accomplish but I’ll try it. Can I just say that that simple assignment has proven itself to be quite effective! I’m feeling more in tune with myself. Lol. My new favorite question for myself is, So how are you feeling right now? I journal about how I’m feeling, why I’m feeling said way, and develop a plan if need be (Like if I’m feeling stuck or discontent I spend time identifying why. Then come up with a few action steps I can realistically take to move toward being and feeling unstuck. Nothing will change over night but just having a plan in place feels so empowering!).

3. Helping Me Get in Tune With What I Really Want

I’m realizing there are areas in my life where my wants are fuzzy (unclear). “So what do you want?” my therapist has asked a few times. I pause and in a talking-singing voice respond, I don’t know. I didn’t beat myself up for not knowing. And let me tell you, for some reason it felt freaking amazing simply realizing and admitting the truth. I. Don’t. Know. I’m not getting what I really want because I haven’t taken the time to actually consider what I really want.  (Ah-hah moment!) But now I can address the fuzz and focus on what I really want.  I realize if I’m not clear (specific as hell), I’ll get (continue to get) ‘something, kinda, sorta but not quite’ what I really want.

4. Holds Me Accountable

I know I’m going to do the work (like reflecting on and outlining exactly what I want) because I’m being held accountable. I have shitloads of Self Help books but I don’t believe I’ve ever fully completed any of the suggested assignments that accompany them. I happen to follow through at a higher percentage with a little extra motivation. My therapist is like a coach who’s  not going to allow me to waste time playing goofy games, who wants me to perform at my absolute best.

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In closing,  I’m eager to uncover, learn, and pursue more during this journey. I wanted to become as self aware as possible during my 40Fine year.  I’m feeling so grateful that with the help of a therapist it’s happening. Slowly.   Surely. Happening…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CultureFestDMV: The Recap

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This teacher is SO ready to call it a wrap, throw in the towel, hang it up, ditch School Year 18/19, or however you prefer phrasing it. I’m ready to get my summer on! And what’s synonymous with summer??? Festivals! CultureFest DMV was the perfect preview for a summer filled with friends, family, food, fun, and festivals (insert smile huge smile here). The location was perfect and the weather even better. Parking wasn’t a challenge and the venue was open enough (this year) where if you needed a moment to take a breather and a break from all the hype, you could easily do so and just people watch from the sidelines.

CultureFest brought artists and dj’s from various locations throughout the diaspora to rock out for and with us…8EA5F4DD-5651-497F-99E0-ACDA70ECD94BIn addition to the main stage, there were two party “tents”, smaller in size but large in “turn up”. I was supposed to just be poking my head in one, then heading out. However the music and fun were flowing so I found myself hanging out until the event was just about over.

If I had to pick 3 (just 3) things I enjoyed most about CultureFestDMV 2019 I’d have to say:

1. The Energy

You ever go someplace and can literally feel good vibes in the air, oozing off and out of everybody? People are smiling at each other and being extra nice just because. Worries and concerns are left at the gate. So everybody’s traveling lighter. Looser. Friendlier. Happier.  That kind of energy is so inviting, so contagious. So intoxicating.

2. The Music

Duh! Music has the power to take us to another dimension. It boosts our moods (the right music), takes us back to the good old days while giving us hope for the future. And if you listen, for hours, to feel good music, accompanied by a rack of other folk also feeling amazing and hopeful, it’s impossible not to become “intoxicated” (high off the vibes).

3. The Fashion

Festivals are synonymous with fashion. I love an opportunity to see how my fellow black girls put it together. We’re just so “ YAAASSS Girl!” with it. Bright colors, cool patterns, shoulders out, crop tops, shorts, flowy dresses, ripped denim, curls, twists, and lips poppin, shades. Man…all of it. You name it. Knowing what you what to express, then expressing/communicating it without saying a word…that’s the definition of style and fashion to me. And Black girls (yes I’m biased…but I’m also telling the truth) are LOADED with it. It’s like…our birthright. The girls were on point Saturday. And I can’t front, the fellas were too. While some preferred the typical summer day uniform for fellas (T-shirt, shorts/denim), others came out in their print button downs, attire to represent home, and slip ins. I peeped them looking oh so “swaggy”.

If I could make just one small request moving forward it would be to include even more representation from throughout the African diaspora (African-American, European, Haitian, South American, etc.) in the spirit of Doing-It-For-The-Culture (Doing-It-For-The-Diaspora).

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In closing, I’m hoping your summer calendar is filled with loads of activities centered around family, friends, food, fun, and of course, a festival or two…

 

Fun Fact: I repurposed this head wrap and wore it bandeau style Saturday. Looking forward to sporting this look all summer…

 

WTF is Turndown Service?

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We decided to dine at Havana 1957. Showered. Dressed. Lips poppin. With keys, phones, and wallets in hand. The room appeared orderly. My bed for the weekend was made up and embellished with big fluffy pillows, a paisley print bed runner, and more. We head down to catch our uber. Enjoy Cuban food, mojitos, music, scenery, and shenanigans. All is well.

Upon returning back to the room, I notice something’s…different. The bed! It’s big fluffy pillow-less. Bed-runner less. Colorless. Where did all the color and décor go? WTF happened to bed? “Hey, did you move the pillows off the bed?” Rhonda, I was with you. How would I have moved the pillows off the bed?, my friend says as cool as a fan.  WTF then. I don’t remember doing it. Am I trippin? Am I in a drunken trance? But why would I be drunk? I only had…two drinks at the pool this afternoon. A Miami Vice (Aye!) and a Frose (frozen wine). Then I had a glass of Rose (not frozen) before dinner. And last, but certainly not least, a passion fruit mojito at dinner. Oh Lordt. I’m gone! The rum. The rum. The rum. That Cuban rum got me fucked up right now. Friend’s looking at me. I’m looking at friend. Friend is chill. Super chill. I’m on the verge of losing my shit however. Well…what happened? Who was in here?, I manage.  “It’s turn down service.” WTF is turn down service? What is that I ask, genuinely curious and clueless. “Rhonda, act like you’ve been somewhere before. Turn down service. When they get the bed prepared for you to sleep in at night.” “I’ve never heard of turn down service in my life”.

You haven’t?

No. So…you mean to tell me housekeeping comes in the morning to clean and make the bed up, then they come BACK at night to unmake your bed?

“Yup.”

That’s some straight white people shit. “Interesting. I need to google an get some more information about this.” My friend chuckles and asks, ” Are you really googling it?”. Yes, I say.   And thus far I’ve learned what I already pretty much suspected—rich, back in the day, white people shit.

So…in the event, you’re a little something like me, and you learned something new courtesy of this read, on your next traveling adventure, feel free to act as you’ve been somewhere and as if you know a little something about “the finer things in life”. The humiliation’s on me…

Sassy, Spicy, and Single

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Following is an excerpt from my first book. This particular chapter focuses on the importance of  pursuing and living your best single girl life with sass and spice (insert wink here).

Chapter 4: You’re accepting the breakup as a lesson learned, an opportunity for personal growth, a blessing in disguise, You’re living life in the Single Lane. But that’s no excuse to be bland. It’s only an excuse to regain or even better…upgrade your sassy and your spicy.

Sassy: Lively, bold, and full of spirit.

Spicy: Exciting! Flavorful!

Fun Is Necessary!

Being single and miserable, or miserably single, should not be your adopted style of choice…not ever! Singlehood is a time to make your life as flavorful as possible, Have fun–and loads of it. Fun can and must be had in a variety of ways. Hanging out with your family, having slumber parties with your besties, salsa dancing, and paint parties are just a few examples of how to keep fun and flavorful times in your life. Who said you had to be a certified event planner to act as one? Keep your calendar filled with awesome activities and exciting events.

Consider hosting movie nights, game nights, and taco and guacamole nights. You and your besties can rotate planning and hosting events. Events can be potluck styled so your pockets are not worn thin in the name of having a good time. Send out cutesy Evites for your sassy, spciy, and single slumber parties, spa dates, or mani-pedi dates. Bring an amazing attitude and a bright smile to each and every event. Keep your camera phone close by so you can capture your sassy and spicy moments. Your goal is to have loads of fun and loads of laughs and loads of spice and loads of sass!

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You Gotta Have Some Goals!

In addition to being a girl who just wants to have fun, chase new experiences and opportunities so you can gain new perspectives on yourself and the world around you. Travel. Visit places–near and far–you’ve always wanted to venture to. Take thousands of pictures while you’re visiting so you can relive your wonderful experiences over and over again. What else have you always wanted to do but failed to find the time, energy, or courage to? Start a polish line? Attend a painting class? Pole dancing? Zumba? Skydiving? Snorkeling? Write a book? Start a business? Enroll in cosmetology school? You’re operating in “Me Zone” now. Me Zone affords you the luxury and pleasure of being and doing you. This is the perfect time to embark on a deliberate pursuit of what (all) you want. Just go for it…whatever “it” may be.

I hope you enjoyed this excerpt from the book Boy Bye!  Click to preview (and or purchase ) more of this selection.

 

 

 

 

 

Don’t Doubt. Do…

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Road tripped home for Thanksgiving this year, and thanks to Audible, the 14-hour drive (round-trip) was hardly “a snooze”. Jen Sincero (along with our Forever First Lady) kept me company. And they were both delights might I add. I decided to revisit Jen’s Badass series first, and I quickly realized I should be revisiting her work daily. (Not annually. Not quarterly. Not monthly. Not weekly. But DAILY!). She’s got me feeling all “badassery” now (again). Unfortunately, this isn’t always the case. (Feeling like a total badass.) From time to time,  Doubt enjoys crashing my Badass parties. She’s probably crashed a few of yours as well. I’ll be rocking out, having a blast, feeling myself, all ready to face new challenges and adventures. Then here comes this  *****! Who invited her anyways? She needs to be escorted out. Immediately!

But we don’t always and swiftly escort Doubt out and away. We allow her to stay a while instead. Nag us. Make us second-guess ourselves. Doubt is a total vibe killer; a ball buster. She changes the record and totally kills the vibe at the party. One minute we’re in our zone, we’re grooving, ready to tackle some risks, feeling as us and as confident as can be. Then, all of a sudden, our badass record–affirming ourselves, being confident, up for any challenge, fearlessness, dream chasing—screeches. And stops. Doubt puts her bullshit ass records —You can’t do that! You better play it safe. Who do you think you are? —on. Then we start to talk ourselves out of what we really want, what divinely belongs to us. Opportunities are left un-pursued, ideas untouched, goals underachieved. And not because we’re not capable, or talented, or badass enough. But simply because we let doubt get in and stay in our heads. We become less daring and more doubtful of ourselves. Instead of shutting her down (Bye Bitch!), we allow Doubt to convince us we’re not good or worthy enough, that the best thing to do is to play it safe and small. She encourages us to “play to not lose instead of playing to win.”

I am vowing for the rest of 2018, all 2019, and the rest of my life to be as mindful as possible about how I interact with Doubt. I want to shut her down quicker, faster from here on out. I don’t want doubt talking me out of ( I don’t want to allow Doubt to talk me out of) anything that belongs to me.

I’m uncertain what new venture Doubt has you stepping back from and respectfully declining. It could be something as simple as writing a blog post. Or starting your business or writing that script or ditching a gig you hate for one you know you’ll love or leaving his ass or shooting your shot with her or taking your health and fitness back one meal and cardio session at a time or  booking the trip or relocating to another country or  saying “I’m sorry”…first. Whatever you’re afraid, scared to do (and most of us are afraid and scared to do something) if I can kindly suggest to you–Don’t doubt. Do. “Just do it.” Just start doing it. Just start. With one step. Toward your goal. This may mean starting things afraid. It may mean having to learn as you go. It may mean building your confidence as you do. But who cares! Do it anyway.

Dear Doubt…Thank you for trying to keep me safe, but I’m good luv. Enjoy.

 

 

I’m Nobody’s Good Enough Girl

 

92ECD959-9E61-48FD-B64D-0EFCC3FDF83FHe had you at hello. He was charming, easy-going, and not bad on the eyes. He was barrels of fun. He made you laugh, and laugh hard. He had a good job, good credit, and a good head on his shoulders. You wanted to believe your frog-kissing days were over. You were looking forward to going the distance with him. You loved him so much-and you felt he loved you too. But as the years slipped away, you started to wonder if your love for him was a tad stronger than his love for you. This  wondering was forced to a head when you took an honest and thorough assessment of the sacrifices you were willing but he was unwilling to make and the fears you were willing to face in the Battle of Love, only to discover that you were fighting all alone.

Mr. Man knew that you wanted to be married. You remained consistent and unwavering in expressing your desires and expectations. He spoke and presented himself as if you were both on the same page, as if you both had mutual desires. But there was a dilemma on the horizon. His actions failed to coordinate with his impressive, get-your-hopes-up-all-high talk. Inevitably you were burdened with the task of accepting that you were being taken for and treated as a Good-Enough Girl.

Good-Enough Girl: good enough to kick it with, good enough to sleep with, good enough to date indefinitely, good enough to shack with, but not quite good enough to marry.

He wanted married-man benefits but was only willing to pay single-man dues. Mr. Man wanted a lot from you: encouragement when he was discouraged, sex on a frequent basis, daily home-cooked meals, laundered and ironed clothes, peace and quiet when he didn’t feel like talking, clean living quarters when he hadn’t washed a single dish, space when he was feeling crowded, understanding when he was feeling confused, self esteem boosters when his self esteem was on low, his behind kissed when he should’ve been kissing yours, to be coddled when he was sick, the attention that he at times neglected to give, the adoration and respect that he at times neglected to show. Wow! That’s a whole lot to receive while only paying poor-single-man fees.

Marriage and commitment are just too heavy, too serious, for some men. And some men can afford the luxury of “keeping it light”, particularly when they can get all the previously mentioned high-end relationship merchandise at Filene’s Basement bargain prices…

If you enjoyed and want to read more, or you can relate , or you know of someone who can relate and may need a bit of encouragement, head over to Amazon for an additional sneak peek or to purchase Boy Bye! As always, thank you for stopping by! I appreciate your time and consideration more than you know ☺️.

 

Black.Girl.Magic

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“Black Girl Magic”. It’s evident our magic exists well beyond graphic tees and social media hash tags. When we see fellow black girls making moves, stepping into entrepreneurship, uplifting communities, creating, speaking out against injustice, demonstrating resourcefulness, living fearlessly, and more we swiftly and proudly exclaim, “That’s that black girl magic right there!” I have a pretty clear understanding of our magic as a collective. Simply put, WE LIT. We have a certain swag, a particular élan about us. And that’s not to say others don’t have swag, style, grace. But…ours…is just different. I have to credit a significant portion of the magic oozing through our veins to the women who came before us. Those we’ve had the pleasure and honor of knowing as well as those who laid the foundation for us many moons before our births. The Black Girl Magic torch has been passed down from generation to generation since the beginning. I’m forever indebted to all those who came before me. Additionally, I’m eternally grateful to be a member of such a premiere squad of collective magical-ness.

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As mentioned earlier, I know what makes OUR squad magical but I had a little extra time this weekend to consider my own, unique magic, to consider what and how I’m contributing to the team? What’s my magic exactly?

My MAGIC: MY magic exists in my grateful spirit, and in my zest for life. It rests in my understanding and appreciating that my being alone is a gift. I see it in my ability to love…even still. My magic is in my giving and in my willingness to help others. It exists in my inclination to see the glass as half full, in my preference to make sweet tasting lemonade instead of sucking on sour lemons. My magic exists in my quiet strength and will. If I get knocked down 99 times, I’ll stand up 100. My magic finds residence in the principles I hold dear to my heart. Be trustworthy. Be loyal. Do the right thing. Be kind. Be good to people. My magic’s in my confidence, in my belief that no matter what…I’m gonna be good. It’s in my belief that God is bigger than the box many try to hold Him captive in. My magic’s in my smile, a smile that brightens moods. It’s in my laughter and in my kindness. It’s in my creativity. I see my magic every time I put pieces from the Goodwill together and still manage to look like something. My magic exists in my curiosity and willingness to learn new things. It’s in my genuine appreciation for Black culture (cultures), my desire to connect with my folk. Lastly, my magic is how I can navigate between soft, sweet and girly but you’ll regret crossing me and back to soft, sweet and girly effortlessly. And there you have it. My magic summed up in a paragraph. (Insert smile and a sense of pride here)

I really enjoyed this exercise in self-awareness. I’m confident you will too. I’d like to encourage you all to take a moment, or two, and reflect on the question: What’s my magic? If you’re up for sharing, I’d love that! I always love hearing from you. If you opt to keep your findings to yourself that is totally understandable as well.

Signing off here Ladies. Until next time…

Peace. Love. And Magic. Black Girl Magic.

Be Your Own Kind Of Beautiful

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No one (or thing)  should have the authority to tell us what our beautiful should look like. But that doesn’t stop some from telling us, directly and indirectly, that our hair should be straighter and longer, assess fatter, frames thinner, breasts bigger, noses leaner, stomachs flatter, and more.  We take note of the women who are glorified for fitting such descriptions. Then we take to belittling our regular, natural ass bodies because of the attention and  praises given to, for lack of a better phrase, industry hot girls.  When we look in the mirror and complain about our flat assess, wide hips, A-Cups, thicker lips, jelly rolls, or whatever we find to complain about on our bodies,  we are disregarding our own unique kind of beauty and trying to force fit into someone elses’ ideal  (fake ideal in many regards) of beauty.  And the extent to which some of us are willing to force fit ourselves is alarming.  From causing permanent damage to our edges due to excessive, weave use, to undergoing extremely dangerous and unhealthy I Need A Fatter Ass procedures. The destroying of  our beautiful, just right for us, bodies is painful to witness.   And yes, as women, we need to be held accountable for the choices we make and how we regard and treat our temples. But knowing this doesn’t make me any less livid with the elements in our society that encourage this bullshit.

Moving forward, we have to do a better job of embracing who we are–our bodies, our beauty, our everything. We have to define what’s beautiful for us and how said beauty will be expressed. I so appreciate the women who have recently come forth and shared their stories about why they didn’t believe they were beautiful enough in their natural state, why at some point they deemed “enhancements” the solution, and how they came to the realization that real beauty has absolutely nothing to do with looking a particular way but in being a particular way. It has everything to do with appreciating your beauty in its unique form. Knowing and loving who we are, just as we are, is thee essential step to embracing, defining, and being our own kind of beautiful.

 

Miss Me With Those “Cuffingships”

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‘‘Tis the season” for hearty stews, homemade soups, and hot chocolate smothered with whipped cream. It’s the season for high boots and Friendsgiving, scarves and ugly Christmas sweaters, Netflix and ski trips. It’s also the season for single gals who are feeling a little lonely, somewhat anxious (wondering why their Boaz still hasn’t presented his azz), in slight despair, uninspired by a possible season of solo hibernation, to be extremely cautious. We have to be mindful Ladies, that Cuffing Season is upon us.

 Understand that this season was created by and for persons who’d rather spend the cold, dark, and sometimes dreadful months of winter snuggled up with someone “good enough” for cuffing than all alone. And I totally get it! You get the temporary perks and feels of a relationships from November through about late February, early March. By the end of March you get your papers signed, freeing you up for Springtime Frolicking and Summer Flinging. It sounds SO ideal! Almost makes me want to get signed up. There’s just one teeny tiny problem: being regarded and treated as a Good Enough Girl (good enough for cuffing season but soon after that ass is getting dropped) doesn’t sit well with my spirit, with who I am at my core. If it did, I’d surely participate in all  the season’s festivities. I’d even have a rotation like my girl Issa! But, in this regard, I know myself all too well. It’s all fun and games until your worth isn’t recognized and valued.
So in the interest of not busting anybody’s car windows out ( because in December I knew it was most likely just a cuffingship but by the end of January all the playing relationship had me feeling like I was in a relationship, and by  February I’m questioning why a nigga’s not gathering I’m quality–as in God’s wonderfully and beautifully made child, as in why am I–ME–on a fuckin cuffing bench when I should be running the point–and pissed the hell off  in mid March when he starts to pull back because…well duh…Spring Frolicking is upon us) I prefer to sit this season out.
If (when) I find myself tempted to cuff  (in my Tempted to Touch song voice),  I get brutally honest with myself. Next, I remind myself I have options.  Then, actually I’ll save that for the following post.  

 

Anti-Cuffing Season Checklist

Be Honest With Yourself

Ask yourself how will this situation most likely end? How long will it be all fun and games until emotions get involved and feelings get hurt? Has this person actually demonstrated he’s worthy and appreciative of me, my time, my offerings? Is he more charm than genuine? Am I just bored? Feeling lonely? Would I entertain him under ordinary circumstances? Am I trying to make this more than what it really is? Is my spirit really ok with being a seasonal F#%k Buddy/Fake Girlfriend (granted he may not come right out and refer to you as such but he’ll drop clues regarding his intentions)? If after being honest with yourself you conclude #issacuffingtrap, steer clear. Guard your heart and protect your spirit, your feelings, your peace, and your time.

Believe You Deserve More

In addition to protecting your spirit, have faith and believe in yourself. Believe that you can do way better, that you deserve more than someone who just wants you as their wintertime smash buddy. I don’t care if the situation is looking bleak. You always have options. And by options I don’t necessarily mean a plethora of men. You have the option to value what you have to offer. You have the option to regard your offerings as sacred treasures. You have the option to tell a mf  “get the fuck out my face with that cuffing-proposition-bullshit.” If you feel your options are slim or non-existent, start talking to yourself differently; start thinking differently about yourself.  Start telling yourself things like:

I’m dope AF (then go do the shit that makes you feel dope…AF)

I’m a treasure (And you don’t need anybody to co-sign on this for you. YOU just have to believe it and govern yourself accordingly.)

I deserve more (You’re damn right you do!)

I got time. I can wait for something with meaning and purpose. (The illusion of not having options and time always seem to trip us up).

When you talk differently to yourself, you start to feel and think differently about yourself.  “The tongue has the power of life and death”. We have to speak life over ourselves, our confidence, our boldness. And we have to lay the spirit of slumming  (settling for way less because you don’t  believe you can have more) to rest…for good.

 

To Be Continued…

 

Happy National Book Lovers Day!

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Aye! It’s a day for lovers. Book lovers that is!  In honor of this day, I’d like to share a little bit about a book I’m currently reading (actually it’s being read to me courtesy of Audible) entitled This is Just My Face: Try Not to Stare by the witty and spunky and talented Gabourey Sidibe. Her humor, sarcasm, transparency, and nonchalance regarding being “PC”, combined,  make this book EVERYTHING!

I was hooked after the first chapter!  “But I am dope at any and every size. I am smart. I am funny. I am talented. I am gorgeous. I am black. I am fat. And sometimes I’m a bitch. At all times I’m a bad bitch.” Yes, Girl!! (Or should I say YYYYYAAAAASSSSS!?).  Have I ever told you guys how much I love and admire women with unbreakable confidence? No? Well, I do.Gabourey’s so open and honest about the work, past and present, she puts into ensuring her self confidence stays in tact. And I just happen to think navigating fame, twitter trolls, and Hollywood’s narrow minded standard of beauty, all while staying true and believing in yourself  is pretty badass. You, Gabourey Sidibe, are a badass!

I was baffled when Gabourey shared events of her first trip to her father’s beloved Senegal, humored when she shared with us she was once a phone sex operator, and proud when she said, “I still wanted the things on the pro list. But not all the things other people wanted for me like marriage and children, but the things I wanted for myself. Like an education and to move out of mom’s apartment. Independence.” And Ms. Badass figured out a way to get everything she wanted, sans marrying way too early and committing immigration fraud. She refused to settle. I salute Gabourey on being self aware and unwilling to go along with some cookie cutter life plan that didn’t speak to her heart.

Although I’m only on chapter 12, I’m convinced Gabourey Sidobe is my kind of girl. And I am officially a new admirer of her’s.  Eagerly waiting to dive back in, to learn a little more, and to most likely, laugh a whole lot.

Happy National Book Lovers Day to everyone! May this day bring you great reads and rich discussions. Enjoy!