Friday, December 20, 2013

Black girls: Who will hear us?

When the Village Voice published an interview with Jim DeRogatis, a journalist who covered the R. Kelly child pornography case,  I didn't want to read it.  I assumed that the article would highlight Kelly as the victim.  You know, the victim of these children or even better these fast girls.  To my surprise, it was the opposite.  DeRogatis gave us a peek into how deep the psychosis goes for Robert.  I'll just say it.  He's a sick person. 

Prior to reading the article. I did look at his video called Cookie because this was the return of KelsIts not different than most R&B videos.  Women walking around in maid uniforms with garters. They are all there for Kels.  He begins to sing.  

Cookie, cookie, cookie, I'm a cookie monster
Break your back, crack it open like a lobster
Ayyy, I kill the p_y, dig a (grave)
She grab the wood like grippin (grain)
I told her put it in my face
Let it rain, let it rain (rain)

There's a reference or two to Oreos and more about having lots of sex with Kels.  As someone who has grown up on Prince, explicit lyrics don't phase me.  Its really about context. Knowing that this man enjoys the company of girls, the lyrics change for me.  They disgust me. Its hard for me to detach the man and his music but I've learned through reading many comments via social media, its very easy for many.  This is the man who called himself the Pied Piper of R&B.  Oh the irony.  The Pied Piper promised a town he would rid them of their problems with rats.  The Pied Piper led rats to the water to drown.  The towns people decided not to pay for the Piper's services.  Angered, the Pied Piper returns, dressed as a hunter, and lures the children of the town to follow him into the mountain never to been seen again.  After reading the article by the Village Voice, we know that Kelly has very typical traits of a pedophile.  He lured girls into his web.  He abused them. He is the Pied Piper. Maybe he knows himself better than we think he does.

What comes with trying to sort through what to do with R Kelly and his celebrity is trying to understand when will we get serious about violence against women and girls and specifically black women and girls.  I recall Dream Hampton tweeting a couple of years ago about more black girls being accosted by black men than black men by the police.  The response was amazing with women sharing stories about being approached by adult men when they were girls.  Recently, #fasttailedgirls tweets have demonstrated once again, black girls have been shamed and abused with limited protection.  What will it take? Who will hear us?  I feel like I'm a broken whistle.  My soul is tired.

I am an abused black girl. I buried the sexual abuse in my soul. Many black women have done the same because our cries have no place to be heard. Our cries come in the form of bitterness, issues with our sexuality, emotional eating, substance use/abuse, and depression. We mask ourselves with mantras. We constantly demand respect. We scream it.

 R.Kelly and other abusers need help. They need mental health treatment. They need to acknowledge the pain they've caused others to our children. We need to stop protecting predators in our communities, in our homes.  We become a part of the monster. We become a part of the abuse when we do nothing. I truly want to know, who will hear us when we cry?

Saturday, November 30, 2013

The Devil Inside: My Battle with Eating Disorders

The devil inside of me tries to survive.  Its passionate about its survival. I am a host.

Fears. Abuse. Delusion. Sadness.

The devil inside of me has no fear of me. I allow it to live. Its a familiar monster. I know its face. I know how it moves. I know what it wants. I want it dead.

My devil as a name. Bulimia was its name first. It has become emotional eating or Binge Eating Disorder. I can't lie about it. Its a battle as any addiction. I wake up and ask myself how will I battle this devil today and it runs thought through my mind functioning like a bullet in a barrel.

I've lived with this disorder for 20 years. I'm still not "cured".  This is work for me. This work has many battles to win before the war is over. Addressing past abuse, fears, and hurt is in progress.  Feelings and emotions swarm around me as if to temped each new coping skill.  That's that devil, Tricky Tricky devil. I fail at times. Sometimes I do win but this battle is tiresome. It relies on inner strength and hope.  It uses my dreams of healing as a weapon against that dragon of deception.  Its been a long battle.

Being a Black woman with a eating disorder comes with its own baggage. Its hard for me just to be alone in my own issue. Black women have believed wholeheartedly that Eating Disorders are for white women. We believe that we have a better sense of our bodies and a love for our curves. This keeps many of us with a disorder afraid to admit we have a problem.  What is wrong with us? Why can't we have the same love and pride in our bodies as other Black women?  That devil speaks all sorts of lies and those lies are loud.

My disorder isn't simply about body image. I wish it was only that simple.  Being an introverted person, already very self reflective, having any trauma is going to live in my head space too long. I'm going to try to figure out why did that happen. So imagine, a little girl being sexually abused by not one but multiple people.  Shhhhhhhhh....that secret is safe.  That little girl kept it quiet and decided though to keep moving on.  That seed of abuse was planted deep inside me.  As much as I thought I was 'over it', that pain has to manifest.  It has to find a way to be seen and heard.  Trauma can never been silenced.

I fell in line with authority.  My parents, aunts and uncles, school, or any authority figure were in control. They said it and I did it.  I couldn't rock the boat.  Don't make any noise.  Follow the rules.  The only way I found any freedom was in music and fashion.  At the same time, there was a great level of love that came from those two things.  My parents LOVED music.  I could talk with my dad about it. We didn't talk much about anything else but I could talk with him about his love of it.  My mom was a seamstress.  We designed outfits. We would watch fashion themes shows on tv.  They weren't being judgmental.  I was free in those spaces.  Free.

Understand that if I did anything "wrong" and my parents were just being parents and correcting me, it felt like a knife in my stomach.  I needed the approval. I'd fall back in line. I couldn't be a bad girl. Nope. At the same time, there was an internal battle to just be myself.  I'm still battling this question today.  Who is Rhonda? My battle had me being sexually active, making poor choices in men, and had me needing some control.  I felt controlled by everything and everyone outside of my mind.  What can I have some contorl over?  As this is going through my mind, I lost about 15lbs my freshman year of college and this little amout of weight really garnered praise from my family that I didn't expect.  Beautiful, model-like, gorgeous were words resting on my ears.  So, this gets love and attention?  Understand, that's just the devil talking.  My family loved me before and loved me always. I'm not a mentally healthy 19 years old.  I've never told anyone about the abuse as a child.  Its all spinning in my head and needing to show its face.  This love I would accept.  My body was the key to get this love.  Without this body, no love.

Meet Bulimia.  Hi girl.  She was my sick little friend.  I never used Bulimia as a means to stay thin. I worked out.  Builimia helped with coping.  She gave me my control back.  Whenever I needed her, she was there to freely hand the control over to me.  I felt I needed her.  I felt that she understood me.

The game is this.  You know you're sick but your sickness doesn't really want to be healed. Its not like a pain in our side.  It provides some level of comfort.  And, the drug of choice is food. Bulimia and Binge Eating Disorder are both connected with food and unlike being addicted to cocaine or alcohol, I need food to live. I have to eat.  Abstaining isn't going to work.  So telling someone with a Binge Eating Disorder reduce their intake of food doesn't work. An addict can't take the drug to cure the addition right?  So what do we do?  Therapy, Therapy, and more Therapy.  I have to heal the little girl in me.  She has to know that she's safe.  Its ok for her to be loved on for just being.  Mental wellness is my goal daily.  My body isn't my enemy but I have to tell myself this almost daily. I'm not healed but I'm on the path to being whole for the first time in my life.  That's amazing to me.

Black women suffer from eating disorders as we do with other addictions. No more shame.  Its real.  Find a therapist.  Get treatment.  There's both inpatient and outpatient treatment.  I'm on my path to be healed.  I can't expect to be better overnight because its been a long journey of mental self-destruction. I do know that the second half of my life will be greater than the former.  I took the first steps to gaining my freedom from that devil inside.  God knows I shall win.

Sunday, October 27, 2013

Fresh to Death

My beauty isn't up for debate or suggestion
I'm fly
I'm fly because I was made in the image of
My momma - fly
Daddy too
Can you question the flyness of the Creator?
My lips, eyes, hips
perfectly made
all you can do is admire
My beauty isn't up for debate or criticism
I'm dope
I'm dope because I was made in the image of
My speak, my flow, my way
is undeniably

Thursday, October 24, 2013

Single Black Female.

I have been single for about 8 years.  That doesn't mean haven't gone out on a date or a few or that I haven't had sex. It means that I haven't committed myself to a relationship in a long time. Most of this time my focus was working and raising my daughter.  Some would say that I'm one of those single Black women who finds herself single and in her 40's. They would say that I've been too focused on my career and too picky. We know the conversation.  We know the long cry of the single, Black, and female.  I've had my conversations with men who ask, "What is wrong with you?" 

What is wrong with me? hmmm......

I'm oddly traditional or old fashioned.  I don't approach men. I don't flirt very well at all. I acknowledge that I can't read the "signals" if someone is interested.  Maybe, this is why I'm single. (Kanye shrug)   In all of my dating angst, I do know that I'm ready, now, to experience the magical dance of courtship, dating, romance, etc.  Yes, I said I'm old fashioned. Courtship.  I like it. Its sweet and gentle. It allows for friendship to develop and it is necessary for me. Who courts? I don't think many know the meaning.  Relationships are complex and dynamic and as free-spirited I believe they should  be, they should be a layered in simplicity if the two people involved allow it to flow.

In 2003, a 7 year relationship ended for me. It was 7 years of infidelity, some physical and emotional abuse, and womanizing.  I came out of that relationship unaware of who I was anymore. I didn't feel attractive.  I was lost in myself, my standards, and I was afraid to love someone again.  I was a hurt person but never bitter.  I haven't allowed it to fester in my soul to that degree but I was sadden by the experience.  Until I dealt with this sadness, I couldn't begin another relationship, fully.  I did try.  I dated someone but only for a few months.  I just wasn't in it.  I refused to bring anyone into my world until I was ready.

This is where I think many women (and men) mess up.  They move too fast back into a relationship.  They don't seek the healing needed before moving to a new relationship.  They become "bad ladies".  Yes, Ms. Badu was so right.  We have to stop dragging the bags around.  We have to be okay with dealing with our own issues with relationships and love.  I poured my life into work and parenting. I stopped being as attentive to my body. I thought I was dealing and healing but I was still hurting.  I had to revisit all of my issues with myself in and out of a relationship.  THERAPY.   Yes, again.  THERAPY.  Talking it through.  Forgiving my ex boyfriend wholeheartedly and loving myself just as I am, have been the best healers for the hurt. Without forgiveness, it is truly difficult to move forward. Without forgiveness, bitterness will truly find its place in your soul. Let it go.  It wasn't the love you needed. Let it go.

The next step is to be comfortable being single. Live that single life for awhile. Enjoy it. Too many people are too fearful of being single or alone. Society puts unwarranted pressures on us to be with someone.  Just even going to dinner or to a movie alone causes stress for some.  I recall someone asking me why I was dining alone. He told me I was "too pretty to eat alone".  I said, thanks but I have to eat, right?

I don't wait for a date to see a movie. Being alone isn't an issue.  It shouldn't be for anyone. If we find that loneliness is the spark of our depression, then we lets face it.  Seek treatment.  Get some help.

Take responsibility for your healing.  Be fair to the future by enduring the process of healing. Don't be a bag lady or man.

Now, love isn't scary.  Love is a door to beauty. I believe love is for me.  I will be in love again.  I will give love again.  When I became honest about my approach to love, my heart started to yearn again for a loving relationship.  My openness speaks to the Universe and it will respond. I feel like Love does call my name, now.

“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”

Thursday, September 26, 2013

The Rode to Happiness

In talking with one of my friends last night, she mentioned my focus on my happiness and self-care. All I know, I will not repeat the past and I have to have the courage to deal with and heal from my own darkness. Nothing or no one will stop this process. I deserve the beauty of my Spirit to shine and for life to embrace me like a mother's hug.
I sincerely move in a philosophy that freedom is mine and that I must be fearless.  I will never overcome my past in I'm living currently with fear and bitterness.  I must apply my beliefs, my speak, my talk to my own life. Truth to power, truth to movement, and truth to happiness is the way. Its never about perfection but a love of self that is unmoved even when challenged. I give myself permission to be happy.

When I decided that my life will be different and I will be happy, I developed what I call my "freedom plan".  I had to have action steps to regain my happiness. 

  • I'm honest. I was/am honest with myself even if its not in a positive light.  We cannot ignore our internal anger, bitterness, strife, etc. which holds us back.  We have to be honest about who we are and were we are in our lives at any given time. Don't fear whatever monster you see. You have to know the problem to fix the problem. 
  • Ego has no place and self-focus is necessary.  In sharing our testimonies or our stories of triumph we need to stay humbled.  The work isn't over. The Universe celebrates with you and hopes you're in a better position to address other external and internal barriers to happiness.  Its about growth. Be humbled. Stay focused.
  • I returned to therapy.  After a series of emotional and stressful moments came about, I noticed that I could not get a handle on them. Stress began to effect my body.  I was sick. I was gaining weight.  I've commented myself to therapy for as long as it takes with no shame or secrecy. 
  • I'm accepting of love.  I found myself rejecting love from friends and family.  I was doing negative coping.  If I rejected the love, I didn't have to worry about anyone disappointing me or leaving me. I rejected any potential romantic relationships. The thought of rejection was unbearable. Now, I've opened myself up to all love, in all forms.  I deserve it. 
  •  I pray. I meditate.  I believe in something greater than myself. My spiritual health has to be healed and nurtured.
Happiness is an internal journey. Self-care is a vehicle to that happiness.  Be willing to take the ride.


I remember when I was unemployed, my mom just passed, & a 7yr relationship ended, I lost HOPE. I looked up the definition & meditated on it.

I posted the definition on a board and anytime I was sadden, I looked at the definition - HOPE.
We have to take control even in darkness.

Doing that was the way to cope with my circumstances in the best possible way. Doesn't mean I was healed but I wasn't destructive.

At some point in my life, I learned that I'm responsible for my emotions and my responses to life's ups and downs. What we see is that this isn't the norm. We are reactionary and believe others hold the key to our happiness and peace.  Our culture preaches that peace, success, and happiness come from external things and from people. Be reprogrammed and believe you have Hope.

Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
Man never is, but always to be blessed:
The soul, uneasy and confined from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
 Alexander Pope, An Essay on Man

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Objectify Women: New Way to Engage Pastors to fight HIV/AIDS - I think?

Let me begin by saying that I wasn't raised in the Black Church. Its something that continues to keep me in a weird space of my own black identity. I understand the historical context of the Black Church and its importance to social justice issues of the past and some believe, the present.  Anytime I attend any workshop, seminar, or panel discussion about the role of the Black Church in improving any aspect of the black experience, my participation comes with both a level of respect and skepticism.

Coming from the Catholic world of sexism, I have sharpened my eye to the role of women in religious settings.  As a teen, I was told that I could not participate in the role of the "alter boy" because, well, I'm not a boy.  My eyes were opened to how my vagina has its place and needs to stay there because God said so. Luckily, I never connected the treatment of women by religious institutions to my own beliefs. God isn't human and I can easily separate the two. I needed to move away from the rules of Catholicism.  As an adult I decided to change my faiths. I joined a Black Baptist Church.

Out of the frying pan into the fire.

My skepticism remained intact. I've watched similar situations within the black church that I've witness in my catholic experience.  The roles of women regulated, not by individual purpose or passion, but by dogma and doctrine. In both cases, women have partnered in their own oppression. This isn't to say I haven't experienced and befriended female pastors who lead their congregations with authority but I also know they have struggles with acceptance from some in their faith communities.  When I see panels talking about church leadership, community engagement, etc., male pastors sit in authority. We maybe thrown a bone of having one female pastor allowed to engage. Its always clear its a male dominated sport.  This isn't to say that I don't feel men aren't important in these roles but I believe in inclusion. Include us.

Bring a skirt to talk with pants.

So, I will again admit to not being fully cultured in the ways of the black church and its protocols. I believe in approaching a pastor as I would any person and I've had to be "schooled" and that's fine. I had not clue to armor bearers and deacons. I'm still learning.  This is why I attend workshops on working with the Black Church.  I respect its legacy. I respect that some believe its still very important to engage the church if you want change in the black community.  While attending the U.S. Conference on AIDS, I attended a workshop on how to work with the Church in HIV/AIDS outreach.  This was presented by The Balm in Gilead, a well respected nonprofit organization who works with the Black Church to address this epidemic.  The nonprofit allowed pastors and healthcare providers working in Louisiana to speak about how they approach this topic.

In this workshop, there was about 65 attendees with 75% being black women.  The first speaker was a pastor from Louisiana who has been successful in implementing an HIV/AIDS ministry.  He wanted to provide some "best practices" in engaging pastors. I listened.  I was open and ready to receive his message mostly because of the nonprofit who thought this was the best person who could talk on this topic.  I listened.  One of his first suggestions when talking with a pastor who I guess we are to assume would be male, is to "bring a skirt to talk with pants."   My brained said, "wha?" and I looked at my colleage and asked him if I heard right.  He said, unforunately, yes.  The speaker continued.  He said that men need to feel like they are helping a "woman in need" so playing the damsel in distress may work. He also reminded us not to send a  fat "wobbling" woman (hand gestures allowed us to know what size a fat wobbling woman would look like) and to make sure she looks good.


Now, understand, I was messed up by this but I was floored that at no point did any female stop him but a few "amen" and "that's right" were yelled.  I will admit to sitting there. [Silence=acceptance]  I'm full of shame that I didn't take that time to stop him. I didn't.

Again, I continue to see myself as an outsider looking in and the view is terrifying. The objectification of women should never be accepted. He pushed the view of the Pastor Pimp to another level and all of us accepted this. Religion, objectification, and social justice thrown together as a strategic plan has dangerous implications but was rolled out smoothly, backed up with the agreement of silence, and documented as a practice.  In talking about black male privilege, the Black Church is where this happens most of all it seems. It is supported by those at the receiving end of its oppression and pushed by doctrine, tradition, and dogma.

What actions can I take? First, I'll never be silence again. Its generally unlike me to hold my tongue but this time I did. I know that I'm tired of trying to find a safe space for myself and other women and girls to be celebrated and respected. Black women and men have to believe first that sexism and misogyny are even issues to be addressed.  We have to acknowledge it, call it out whenever we see it or experience it just as we do with racism.

As a cisgender African American heterosexual female, its my responsibility to address my oppression and understand my privilege.  We all must do the same.


Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Alice continues through wonderland.

Its amazing how my mind continues to play tricks on me. It juggles my sanity as if in a circus, tossing each thought, each feeling about and around.  I assumed my healing would be swift. I arrogantly felt that I will be fine after my 10 EAP sessions would be over. 

I want to move to a healed state. Its in my mental illness where I think I can't still move through some aspects of life with a healthy view while still in therapy.  I have to have one or the other.  Therapy or no therapy.  I have to accept that I maybe in therapy for the rest of my life on some level.  I will have to be purposed in my healing. 

Rejection is a big deal for me. It crushes my spirit instantly. Its a high functioning weapon against me.  It stops me in my tracks.  Its the demon I need exorcized.

where's the holy water?

Friday, August 9, 2013

My child is for me.

One of the most challenging things in life is parenting.  It has challenged every essence of my being.
Let me first say that I love my daughter. I love her humor and her laugh.  I love talking to her about random stuff. 

We've had conversations, situations, and events happen within our walls that no on knows about but us. That's a typical family.  They're not secrets but just life.  I've parented to the best of my abilities. She had chores, she was disciplined but Syd wasn't a problem child. She didn't back talk. She did what she was told for the most part. [She is still a human child.]  As a young adult, we've had some issues. Its been very challenging.  I'm not going to talk about the specifics of our issues but the responses from "outsiders" offering up their opinions.

First, I know there are many who care about me and The Kid. That's not the issue. Its the judgement. I've had people imply I've exaggerated  certain things. I've people slip up and say that I've let Syd get away with things for most of her life.  I've had folks say that she has been babied.  When things are said, I don't go into defense mode because that's their opinion. Its limited. Its only based on what I've told them or what they've seen time to time.  Syd is probably bratty.  She was the first grandchild. She's my only child.  She was the first child born to my crew of sister/friends.  She got alot of love and attention.   But is my parenting the issue?

I've got through all of the what ifs.  I've blamed myself for this and that. What I learned about parenting Syd when she was younger is that this child has been given to me because I can handle this.  I can help shape her. I'm the one who can have grace for her through even the tough love.  Not my friends, family, and strangers who have offered their opinions no matter the motive.

I'm going through this with the guidance of God because this is his child.  I've tried to be obedient.

I have to move away for anyone criticizing my parenting and look at what is this next phase of motherhood for me.  I'm sure Syd would laugh at the notion of her "getting away with" stuff comments BUT that's their perception.  I believe in restoration and healing for us.  This child is for me and I love her through the troubles.  Even when I don't like her, my love is stronger than ever.  I believe in her. I believe in me.

Monday, August 5, 2013

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Who will hear my cries?

My heart aches for the family of Trayvon Martin. I've thought of my grandson and I've offered multiple kisses and extra hugs. There was  moment when I then questioned how sexism has creeped its way into my psyche. I've only briefly thought about my daughter and her blackness and her safety.  I haven't thought about - what if Trayvon was a black female and what impact that would have if Trayvon was my daughter.  Could this happen to her?  Would she be heard?  What scares me is that these questions were secondary to my fear of what this world would be for my grand SON.  My thoughts of how racism would impact my grandson and not my daughter speaks volumes to how we talk about the issue.  I've been conditioned to think this way.

Black women and girls have to overcome both racism and sexism without fanfare or acknowledgement.  Affirmations of our victimization rarely comes.  Just to say that we have been victimized goes against the mantra of the "strong black woman" which we must recite and  live to be a part of this society. It is our place. We must not acknowledge how racism and sexism challenges us daily.  We must overcome. Right?  The fact remains: I am a Black woman who has been a victim and more importantly, a survivor of racism. Everyday, I survive.  I am a Black woman who has been a victim of sexism at the hands of my black brothers who deny that sexism is real for me.  I survive nonetheless.

Enter Marissa Alexander.   She is a Black woman.  She was a wife.  She was a mother to be. She was abused.  She fired a warning shot to keep her abuser away and she is now incarcerated for 20 years.  Where are all of the Domestic Violence organizations who continue to raise their voices about Chris Brown and Rihanna? Their interest was more about Chris than Rihanna but that's another blog. Where were the civil rights orgs when her case was going to trial?  How did Marissa get lost in this?  Are we paying attention now because we want something to compare to George Zimmerman and in this comparison, Marissa's blackness still outweighs her womanhood.

Do we care about the abuse of Black women and girls?  Are we secondary? Who will hear my cry when I'm victimized?  Do we acknowledge how racism and sexism adversely impacts women and girls?  Is our attention to assist Marissa really about finding some justice for Trayvon to soothe our pain of that outcome?  I don't know.  I really don't.  I want Black women and girls to be included. I want our pain and hurt acknowledged. I want our healing to begin and supported.

My heart aches for the family of Trayvon Martin and all of our sons.  My heart aches for all of our women and girls who cries have gone unheard. 



Acceptance without judgement is where my journey is taking me. Who I am is good and works for me.  I'm enough.

Monday, June 10, 2013

I Cried.

Today, I went to the doctor's office and patiently waiting for him to come in with my results.  Testing for this mysterious illness began last year with getting my gall bladder tested.  I actually prayed for a result, an outcome, a diagnosis.  Who does that? Who prays for a diagnosis?

Rhonda does.  I'm tired of feeling poorly.  I'm ready for healing.

Doctor walks in and says - "We found nothing!"   I believe he thought I would say YAY!!  Instead, I cried.  My doctor is one of those to the point types.  He didn't get emotional with me which was for the best.  He said, "We'll figure this out."   I made him read everything.  Gluclose. Thyroid, and all the other tests - all normal, all GREAT, actually.  I'm really healthy. 

So what is wrong with me?  I asked him about stress.  I asked him to repeat what gastritis really means.  The doc reminded me that chronic stress can reap havoc on your body. But he was determined to get a diagnosis other than some stress.  He gave me a referral to a GI doctor.  I left sadden.

What truly keeps running through my head was that all of this is stress related.  My girlfriend asked me if I'm dealing with my "gut".  She asked me if I'm not moving in my intuition.  She asked me if I'm denying myself access to my true feelings about myself, life, love, etc.  She said that my gut is messed up because I'm not addressing the things related to the "gut" - intuition, personal power (Chakra talk - solar plexus).

I'm wondering if stress is having her way with me. Is she trying to take up residence with in me, emotionally and spiritually?   Its clear I have been under a large amount of stress.  Its clear I need a release.  Do I keep looking for this "diagnosis" or do I say, let me try dealing fully with my emotional and mental health concerns.  I am blessed that can say that I'm healthy.  The doctor wasn't concerned with the weight gain.  It told me I have bigger concerns (emotionally) than my weight.  That was deep for me.  Deep.

As I went to the car, I started to cry again.  No, I'm not dealing with PMS or some hormonal shift.  It was out of confusion. It was a release. But understand, I became angry with my tears.  I felt weak in my tears.  Then my spirit spoke to me.  Guess what? I was sad and weak and it was ok to cry.  It was ok

This "illness" is real and its tangible but its symptomatic.  God has provided a shield for my physical wellness only allowing enough for me pay attention.  So I have to decide if I'm going to the GI doctor.  I do know that I need to continue therapy and find a new way of loving myself that is beyond just care-giving.  Being fully in love with myself by providing unlimited self-care to myself, for my lifetime.

I have so much gratitude.  When I find myself in a dark place, I know that God is moving me from grace to grace, from faith to faith.  I've talked too much.  Heal, Rhon and cry.  Its ok. 

Sunday, June 9, 2013

Lost my way.

Its been so long since I've blogged on this site. Once again, I've taken a break from my public blogging in exchange for my private journal.  The past two years have challenged me. My inner strength feels weaken.  I actually don't feel like myself but in truth, I haven't felt like myself in a long time. 

I won't say much about specific experiences during this past couple of years but let's just say I've never been so faced or challenged to address my own mental health.  I've always been keenly aware of my emotions due to my bulimia.  I thought I was operating in a balanced existence.  I thought I was honestly facing the internal battles that plagued my soul.  I wasn't.  My spirit has labored.  My mind drained.  My body damaged.  I was doing the opposite.  I've used my work as an escape for my sadness.  I didn't allow myself to FEEL during these past couple of years. I wanted to get to the solutions and move forward.  I wanted to move in darkness.  God has his/her own way of awakening the spirit. Its not always pretty.

I will admit to loneliness.  I will admit to confusion.  I will admit to some fear. These are the very things I never want to be a part of my life.  I value alone time but the absence of my mother, being away from my closest friends, and dealing with recent trauma has brought on these feelings.  I have to check in with others to even validate my emotions and feelings as just and appropriate.  That's not healthy.  Its reality though, for now anyway. God is not making this easy.  I'm in the fire.  No milk, only meat.  I have to chew on this.  I have to face all of this.  No choices.

Past blogs same similar things which means I've been on this same lukewarm space for a minute.  I'm existing and not living.  I've convinced myself that I am.  God has shown me otherwise.   I'm at a low point.  The natural fighter in me truly doesn't want to get back into the ring.  I'm waving a flag.  Let me go seat down for a minute.  I've gots to chill.   But my spirit says otherwise.  Its time for a different kind of training and rethinking.   The process has begun but I'm moving in a slow and steady pace.  I'm moving in faith and hope.  I'm walking in healing.   Being lost doesn't mean you can't be found.  I have to reroute my gps and do things very differently.   I know better.  Emotionally, I've tried to stay in this seemingly comfortable way of living.   The Spirit who lives within me says No More.  Can't pour new wine into old wineskin.   I have to be renewed.  I must love me more than....

Where do I go from here?  Each day, I have to set a goal for myself.  I have to do.  I believe in my restoration. 

Health and healing are mine.  Happiness is a part of my life. 

God comes for his/her lost. 

Saturday, March 30, 2013

Online blogging

I have truly gotten away from my blog. I've stopped it completely. I allowed time to get a way from me but I believe I need to get back to it.  My journey, like most journeys, has moved on like a storyline from a Charles Dickens book or maybe some Edgar Allan Poe poem. I'm not quite sure just yet. 

My growth is steady. My stubbornness has continued.  Acceptance is key to facing what is real and to walk in freedom.  I can't be free without an examination of self. I can't be free if I don't recognize the messes.  I can't be free if I don't admit to flaws.  I'm moving and living but I've still not arrived at the place of peace I know I need to be.

Gratitude will get me there.  The Blessings of God and his/her Universe are around me and I must recognize it all, in whatever shape or size.  I am Free and even more so, I am Blessed.  Gratitude must live in my heart at all times. 

So, will I return to my blog? Yes.  I think its necessary.  I still have my offline journal. I will use both.

Hello clevawords. I've missed you.