Happy New Year

I am not ambitious.

I do not want to climb corporate ladders. I do not desire to be a CEO or CFO. While I often contemplate my ideas and abilities, I am not sold on entrepreneurship.

Of course, I have personal and professional goals. I can articulate a vision for myself and my future. I see and consider paths to realization.

Still, I do not believe myself to be ambitious in the connotative sense of the word.

The majority of my heart's desires are neither tangible nor objective:

Inner peace

A happy home

Safe spaces & relationships 

Connection 

Contentment

"Belovedness"

Mental health 

Wholeness

A stable inner life

Authenticity

Self-acceptance 

Reconciliation

Congruency

Freedom

Freedom from debt

Freedom from stories

Freedom from shame

Being a liberating presence

As I write and consider, I think "Maybe that's ambitious afterwall." When I consider the direct, generational, and collective traumas I have, the existence I envision is miraculous.

I also see how I press towards these things. In therapy. In reading and self-study. In parenting. In friendships. In relationships.‭‭ "Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but" I move in the direction of the "truest, most beautiful life I can imagine."

Someone recently told me, "One of your strengths is that you see yourself as water and not concrete." Sometimes it does not feel like a gift, but being fluid has brought and taught me so much. I prize the ability to reinvent.

This year I am refraining from plans and resolutions. 2021, 2022, and 2023 proved that, like life itself, I am ever-changing. As we go into 2024, I will simply remind myself, gently, ever so gently, to do more of the things that keeps this human watered and flowing.

Happy New Year, Friends! May we be "liberated from our own fear." May "our presence automatically liberates others."

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. 

- Marianne Williamson

MJ Chronicles - 6 Months Together

Today I've been excessively tired. My unstructured days are like this. When we're free from our work and daycare schedules, all the energy mustered to be timely, efficient, and effective leaves my body. 

Then it's just MJ and I.

This sweet boy with wide brown eyes, curiosity, and a crescendoing voice...

This exhausted woman with a tender gaze, anxieties, and an evolving worldview... 

We've been together for 6 months. 

My life has taken a shape I couldn't have imagined one year ago. I am a single mom. That's wild.

My entry into this path; the uncertainty it holds; and the love I have for MJ is often overwhelming. Doing this day in and day out without a partner or family proximity is a challenge. I am eternally grateful for my community of Aunties (and Uncles); their support is special.

My boy is sleeping. I should clean the bottles. I should put the toys away. I should fold the laundry. I should take out the garbage and finish January's  budget. I should ...

The to-do is long. But, I am tired. MJ is sleeping. And I can take a moment, as many as I can, to rest and relax. Among MJ's needs is a healthy grown-up.

Motherhood is equal parts beautiful and taxing. It alters bodies [of bio moms], lives, homes, plans, finances, and relationships. Children touch everything. Their presence is powerful; it is shifting. Some moments feel like a freight train; some moments feel like a cleansing, calming rain.

Whatever comes next, I am grateful MJ arrived in this Earth, home, heart, and life. 

- Same pants, different milestone

The Color Purple | Alice Walker

Shug say, Albert. Try to think like you got some sense. Why any woman give a shit what people think is a mystery to me.

He look at Sofia. She look at him and laugh in his face. I already had my bad luck, she say. I had enough to keep me laughing the rest of my life.

It ain’t me, she say, and her look say, Fuck you for entertaining the thought. She reach for a biscuit and sort of root her behind deeper into her seat. One look at this big stout graying, wildeyed woman and you know not even to ast. Nothing.

Dear Miss Celie

I write to express my gratitude. 

You bore shame. You experienced oppression, violence, degradation, and suffering. You wrestled with jealousy. You wrestled with comparison. You wrestled with understanding, worthiness, womanhood, sexuality, and even God. 

Your life told from your point-of-view resonates with this poor, black, maybe ugly, still here woman. You see and validate me. Like Sofia, I know there's a God because of you. 

You affirm that I am neither alone nor hopeless. I can be the redeemer of my story. You prove that sisterhood strengthens. I adore you for this. I love you for existing. 

You, dearest Miss Celie, are a master class in surviving and thriving in spite of unnecessary insults. 

Amen. 💜

If growing up is painful for the Southern Black girl, being aware of her displacement is the rust on the razor that threatens the throat. It is an unnecessary insult. 

- I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings 

Miss Celie's Wisdom & Understanding:

But I don’t know how to fight. All I know how to do is stay alive.

He look at me. It like he looking at the earth. It need somethin? his eyes say.

Anyhow, I say, the God I been praying and writing to is a man. And act just like all the other mens I know. Trifling, forgitful and lowdown. She say, Miss Celie, You better hush. God might hear you. Let ’im hear me, I say. If he ever listened to poor colored women the world would be a different place, I can tell you.

All my life I never care what people thought bout nothing I did, I say. But deep in my heart I care about God. What he going to think. And come to find out, he don’t think. Just sit up there glorying in being deef, I reckon. But it ain’t easy, trying to do without God. Even if you know he ain’t there, trying to do without him is a strain.

But this hard work, let me tell you. He been there so long, he don’t want to budge. He threaten lightening, floods and earthquakes. Us fight. I hardly pray at all. Every time I conjure up a rock, I throw it. Amen.

One look at this big stout graying, wildeyed woman and you know not even to ast. Nothing.

I’m pore, I’m black, I may be ugly and can’t cook, a voice say to everything listening. But I’m here.

She got a right to look over the world in whatever company she choose. Just cause I love her don’t take away none of her rights.

- Alice Walker | The Color Purple 

Merry Christmas

I hope you are in good spirits and company on this Christmas Eve.

Today I "discovered" a poem that stopped me with its poignancy. I read it silently a couple of times. Aloud a few more times after that. Tears streamed down my face as I sat in the beauty and truth of these masterfully arranged, simple words.

Moments like this make me glad for language, literacy, and comprehension. What a privilege to read. There are still poems, books, lyrics, and art to happen upon at the right moment in time. It is fortuitous. Apropos. Magical.

I now know what my Christmas wish is for myself and all of you:

May we live "with a full moon in each eye" and speak "with that sweet moon language" today, tomorrow, always.

Merry Christmas!

❤️ Kechia & MJ

Admit Something

Admit something

Everyone you see, you say to them

"Love me."

Of course you do not do this out loud;

Otherwise,

Someone would call the cops.

Still though, think about this,

This great pull in us

To connect.

Why not become the one

Who lives with a full moon in each eye

That is always saying,

With that sweet moon language,

What every other eye in this world

Is dying to Hear.

- Hafiz 

Released

You are no longer on my mind's pedestal neither are you in effigy.

Awareness Is A Mother

I know my path to wholeness includes (1) loving and accepting me and all my parts (2) seeing myself as worthy (3) determining what I truly value and want instead of what I'm supposed to value and want, and (4) learning to live peacefully with self. 

I believe that when I am better in these areas, I can share my life and self with someone else in a committed, long-term capacity. Then it'll come from a place of desire, not desperation to prove anything to anyone or create any idea or ideal.

In the meantime, I have to be honest with myself about the capabilities, limitations, baggage, and gifts I bring to every interaction and relationship.

I also have to be honest about wanting a traditional family/life for my child versus actually wanting it for myself. 

Sheesh. Awareness is a mother. 

It's Not You; It's Not Me

Part of my work - the ongoing healing, growing work - is recognizing triggers; understanding them without judgment [of myself and others]; accepting who I am; and changing what peace necessitates.

This morning I sit in bed thinking about the ways I was triggered yesterday. I see a theme. Every instance of a negative emotion brought up feelings of inadequacy.

I am not _________ enough.

So often it comes back to that.

Deficiency.

I am not enough.

That's the story I've been telling myself for a myriad of reasons for decades. That's the perception that tints these gray-col​ored glasses. That is the feces I wade through.

I wonder what it is like for those close to me as I process external and internal stimuli mid-conversation while trying to be/feel/respond like a "normal" human who is not overly stimulated by too many people, too much noise; too many thoughts. 

I wonder if less chatter - mental and external - contributes to being a homebody. 

I wonder if we are all having the same or a similar experience. If we are, it's not you. It's not me. It's all of us. 

I also recognize how I used the tools in my box. I did a round of EFT (tapping) before leaving home. I got sunlight. I "put some respect" on sleep and hunger. I listened to books and podcasts that uplift. I brought awareness into the spaces I entered. I asked myself questions that led to deeper understanding and grace. 

While I may not change the story in a day or year, I challenge it. I am aware of when it's speaking with authority and conflating with truth. I am actively listening to solutions from within and confident they are there.

Wisdom, knowledge, and creative power lie on the inside. Contrary to the story, they are not buried deep - tantalizing and unreachable. The noise - from within and without - may get loud, but it cannot uproot the gifts. We will not be shaken out of peace.

...

If I am, if you are, singular in experience, a quote from Harry Potter comes to mind:

"Tell me one last thing,” said Harry. “Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?”

Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry’s ears even though the bright mist was descending again, obscuring his figure.

“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"

We are still real.

“Late Fragment” by Raymond Carver

And did you get what

you wanted from this life, even so?

...

And what did you want?

To call myself beloved, to feel myself

beloved on the earth.

Stories

While stories are part of our dream of reality and we give them their due, we must remember that they are only reflections of the truth—not truth itself. As you will soon learn, the truth you seek is inside of you, and these stories, as well as your own story, can only point you to that truth. 

Wisdom is the realization that you have a choice in your story. If you don't like the story you are living, I invite you to write a new one. Let the wisdom in this book be your guide to doing so. 

—don Miguel Ruiz 

author of The Four Agreements

Elevation Sundays

It's cold, but I'm covered.

1. He will reach me. 

2. He will wrap me.

3. He will raise me.

 

- Steven Furtick

Round of Applause

"Hello Weirdo."

You were lying on the ground, taking in the sun after a long drive.

I approached the odd scene, laughed, and immediately relaxed. This would be a reunion of kindred spirits. And it was. It still is.

...

While my initial reaction based off that one episode was annoyance and Are you kidding me?, I've continued to listen. Your podcast is a thing of beauty. It is honest. It borders appalling and offensive. It is cerebral. It is educational. It is, at times, comical. 

It's you. 

I've cried, laughed, and angered listening to you share your thoughts with all of us. Isn't that reflective of conversations with you? From the opening reading of a poem or excerpt mirroring your literary choices - Poe, Whitman, Frost, Yeats, and the like - to the observations laid at the feet of listeners, you do what you do best. 

Elucidate. 

Challenge. 

Not give a f***.

It's an art. Of course, it is. You are not just "an open nerve;" you are an artist. You are among the most honest of us.

I am a fan. 

I am a supporter.

I am a well-wisher.

Stay on this path.

Euphemisms

Bullshitting ourselves and others is easy. Far. Too. Easy. Among the many reasons, I appreciate my therapist is truth orienting. There's a deeper level of information she knows, so the call out - the call to awareness and accountability - is effective. It can also be jarring.

I woke up with yesterday's session on my mind. I woke up writing to connect dots. I love to write. I love to take the most comfortable of my thoughts and feelings and put them into some comprehensible, palatable format. I do not love journaling. 

I do not enjoy taking an audience with myself for the uncomfortable conversations.

I can bullshit when I blog to an invisible, nonexistent "public." I can euphemize. I can say a lot without actually giving anything away. "Queen PR." It's a skill.

Journaling, to me, is euphemism and bullshit free writing. It's undressed, unedited, unfiltered conversations with self. And, I am no easy audience.

...

The other day [and most of my life], my dad chided again. 

"Stop saying 'You don't know, LeKechia.' You do know. 'I don't know' undercuts everything you say before and afterward. I don't want a person talking to me who don't know. You question yourself and opinions mid conversation."

"I don't know everything, Papa Lee. Some things I am still figuring out."

"...Well say that then. Say you're figuring it out."

"I can do that if it makes you more comfortable. But, you know "I'm still figuring it out" is just a euphemism for "I don't know. We're saying the same thing."

My dad laughed.

"I guess you're right, but I'll take the euphemism."

For Sarah

"This is the kind of home a Stephen King grows up in."

"We love Stephen King."

My prediction was prophetic.

 

One of the most articulate, artistic, authentic humans l know grew up there. Surrounded by the type of love and acceptance that makes my inner child joyous, he found himself there. 

When I think about parenting and loving foundations, I think about the humans who fed us delicious meals; welcomed our loudness, karaoke, and laughter; mourned at a table with friends; and built a beautiful life suited for them. I think about you. You became the mother you deserved.

Adore you always.

Adore him always. 

Part II

Here we are all these years later;

I'm maintaining what's necessitated. Since there are appetites that cannot be satiated and intrigue is often ingratiating, the connection is potent and seemingly fated. The memories linger without fading; and tactile traces stimulate elation. Hear me good; it's all a hallucination. Your present is worthy of elevation over a past that is an idealization. "There is no there" here, and I will not offer materialization.

In 2020, I wrote "His Mind Won't Roam" inspired by Maya Angelou's "They Went Home."

Do Good

‭‭Galatians‬ ‭6:9‬ ‭KJV‬‬

And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not. 

‭‭Galatians‬ ‭6:9‬ ‭NLT‬‬

So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up. 

‭‭Galatians‬ ‭6:9‭ ‭MSG‬‬

So let’s not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don’t give up, or quit. 

Clumsy AF

Even if you plan every detail, you cannot control all events. So let go. Accept your current state of being.

 

"Practice gratitude." 

For the past two weeks, my therapist and I have been speaking about control. My need for it. The origins of that. Why I'm so unsettled when things feel beyond my control. How control is an illusion. How it is all really about safety - feeling unsafe.

This season is teaching me relinquishment, acceptance, and trust. Although I'm resisting these methods, I will get the lessons. In the end, I'll learn and grow. I will be wiser. 

My initial thought was "You gotta be fucking kidding me. The power is out." Then, I laughed. Since yesterday I've been fussing about controlling environments, and I can't control the environment. 

I can accept my current state of being.

And make peace with the ironies.

Acceptance is a graceful act, and often I'm clumsy af.

Beneath

Beneath the stone exterior lies a delicate soul. Beneath the bravado is fear. Beneath confident assertions are doubts. Beneath silent suppression needs shout. Beneath the calm a storm brews. Beneath the woman you know lives truth. 

Beneath 

adverb

be·​neath | \ bi-ˈnēth , bē- \

Definition (Entry 1 of 2)

1: in or to a lower position : BELOW

//the mountains and the towns beneath

2: directly under : UNDERNEATH

Morning Musings

Traditions. Values. Whys?

There is something about modeling behavior, particularly for children, that causes me to become questioning and curious. If I am to pass down a tradition or value, shouldn't I take it to task? Shouldn't I know why I continue to incorporate it into my life? Shouldn't I try it on for size and know if it fits me? Shouldn't I set it aside and learn myself free from its influence?

"Just because," "everyone says," or "always has been" are insufficient if I am to teach an impressionable being a concept, idea, quality, practice, or action.

The ways in which I do and do not live according to my conscience are at the forefront. In June 2021 I altered my life's course in the name of self-actualization. Because I broke my heart (and maybe others) for wholeness, authenticity, and my conscience's approval, I must continue self and life examination. I must not adhere to standards that do not suit my soul.

"If all the world hated you and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved of you and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends." - Charlotte Brontë

Collective Trauma

I was a little girl when I first heard "Strange Fruit." It unsettled me. When I saw images of the carnival type environments during public lynchings, I understood. (Google them. They are plentiful.) Whole families and communities present; strange fruit was exciting. 

I remember KKK marches in Greenville as little girl and teen. Their right to assembly - even with their history of terror - protected. I didn’t have to like it, but I had to prize freedom of speech and assembly. Right?

My high school history teacher told me that. 

"You want them [the KKK] to have their rights protected. If their rights are infringed, it sets precedence for all of our rights to be infringed." So, I believed my right to freedom was tied to theirs. 

The Mis-Education of this Negro...

When I saw the photo of Emmitt Till, again as a little girl, I cried. Even now, all these years later, those images are deeply disturbing. All the photos and vidoes are. I have never watched the footage of George Floyd's murder. 

When I traced one of my paternal ancestors to a plantation in Mississippi owned by Nancy McMillan, the Slave Log listed children. The youngest was age 1. Born into subjugation. Human property. Dehumanized.

Understanding my own history - the history of my community - I do not want to be complicit in the dehumanization of any person or group. 

When our children are in high school or college, they will read about these times. They will see the images. They will wonder what we did or did not do. I hope to give an explanation they can respect.

I hope/wish/pray for the day we have a generation that will not have experience with collective trauma.

A Whole Ass Renewable Water Source

Most of us want to be water in someone else's life - essential, GOOD FOR YOU - and not simply ice cream: decadent, unhealthy, GOOD TO YOU. 

Immature humans cannot conceive that it is not a flex to soley be considered ice cream. That it is, in fact, reductive and disrespectful. Frankly, when a human is great at anything, they’ve been told. 

They know it. 

Ego strokes are satisfying, and they are unnecessary. An ego stroke at the expense of self-respect is a call to action and reflection. Perhaps, it warrants a well-worded, intelligent, profane-free gathering heavy on the "Fuck all the way the fuck off" energy.

I'm 33, not 23. If you only know me from my teens & 20s, you do not know me. If I only know you from your teens & 20s, I do not know you. People are not static beings; we are dynamic. We change. 

It can be necessary to check myself and others. All attention ain't good attention. Some compliments are not sources of validation or affirmation.

 ...

Be wary of degradation disguised as compliments. Ego can make us complicit.

I Stand for Peace

A couple of years ago, I sat quietly with open admiration as the man I adored lit candles and did Hebrew recitations. It was my first time celebrating Hanukkah. It was my first intimate exposure with Jewish culture.

But it was not about me nor should it have been. 

I was an invited guest into a celebration steeped with history, culture, and family. I felt honored to be an observer. Truly, I loved him a little more for allowing me to bear witness.

I remember the conversation about its origin. It was over a plate of kugel. Another first.

There were other conversations too. They gave the smallest snippet into his experiences. I know this sarcastic, intelligent, simple, fascinating, beautiful human experienced varying degrees of antisemitism throughout life.

I have thought of him and Jewish people all over the world since the extreme, violent Hamas attacks. I hold this community in my heart as the bloodshed continues. 

  

...

I am sure if I (or any of us) spent time with Palestinian people, I'd have beautiful stories to share. I am sure I would have appreciation and reverence for their culture too. I am keenly aware that my (or any of our) lack of exposure to a people and culture does not diminish their humanity and value.

I mourn with and hold Palestinians too. As the complete siege of Gaza continues, my heart breaks for the devastation and destruction they are experiencing. Palestinian people, like Israelis and all of us, are worthy of freedom, safety, and protection.

...

I am with the world in being horrified and heartsick about the war in Israel and Gaza.

Israeli and Palestinian lives matter, and they are being ravished. Their suffering must bring out our humanity. The world does not need any more polarization. 

Embedded to Exit

I waited for this energy to disappear. "Take some initiative!" I wanted there to come a morning it wakes up, jolts me one last time - long and intense for memory's sake - and leave. For good. Then, I'd have permission. Its. My own. Yours. Have I forgotten? Energy can neither be created nor destroyed. It must be converted.

...

It's 5:17. I've been writing for over an hour. Energy seeping through me and into the content. I'm the container and consciousness of a conscience struggling to employ common sense when it comes an extraordinary energy. It's 5:23, and I need movement. I'm trying to change states. From potential to kinetic. From embedded to exit. 

Mythical Creatures

I am not fireproof.

I am forged in the fire.

The heat transforms.

And I emerge something new.

Different.

Powerful.

More durable.

More beautiful.

Sharper.

This?

It's more than a burn.

It is trans​fig​u​ra​tion.

Watch me emerge from the ashes of my previous selves and former lives.

Watch me walk in truth after lying in fire.

1 fact, 1 filter 

Humans Change

MJ's arrival into my life changed my relational needs. 

Prior to him, I hoped for better, improved parental relationships, but I saw it as want not a necessity. Family closeness was desired not prioritized. I alreay had a few key friendships; community was optional. Long-term relationships (marriage and the like) were not on the table.

I actually thought myself self-sufficient. In arrogance and error, I saw my life as a "self-contained entity. Children humble you. 🥴 With the quickness.

Now, I have to retract uninformed, ignorant assertions. I have to acknowledge that I need support. I need the village, and I am actively considering a move for this reason. 

Lots of people have complicated families and parental relationships. I know I am not alone. Still, it fascinates me.

I thought I required space for my own emotional safety. Now proximity for MJ seems best. In some ways having a dependent makes me more dependent.

I needed help for work travel. My dad came through. He took care of MJ for a weekend. That's a beautiful wild to me.

I need help this week. My mom is coming. Thank God.

When it comes to MJ, the grown-up LeKechia has to show up. The little girl LeKechia, valid as her concerns are, cannot dictate his relationship with my parents. Her grievances cannot deprive him of something we are grateful to have...beautiful, loving relationships with both Grandmothers.

It is okay to have frustration as a daughter. It's not okay to allow that to transform into dysfunction as a mother. People can only give what they have. Free them of [often unrealistic] expectations. Free yourself of disappointment.

Years ago I read Dr. Maya Angelou's Mom & Me & Mom. Something she wrote comes to my remembrance: You were a terrible mother of small children, but there has never been anyone greater than you as a mother of a young adult.

It highlights that parents have seasons. Parents change. Children change. Humans change. 

The byproduct of giving others more grace is that there will be more grace available to me. Goodness knows I need it. Conscience knows I must extend it.

Suffering Addicted Weirdos

Often we try to out-suffer each other as a way to indicate we are tough with high endurance. 

On the surface, it's the weirdest shit.

You worked 80 hours this week? 

I work 168 hours every week, cook daily, and work out too.

You think single life is hard? 

I have a spouse, 78 kids, and 5 full-time jobs.

You think married life is hard? 

Try handling everything without support.

You think 1 kid is hard? 

Try being a parent to 106 kids.

You think your childhood was hard?

...

So on and so forth.

We reduce and delegitimize. We make our experiences central and everyone else's relative. We act as though we're all experiencing everything in the exact same way.

When I get out of judgement and look below the surface, I see people who need to be validated. We're not simply suffering addicted weirdos. We just want confirmation that our experiences are real and meaningful. We want to know our individual hard is actually hard.

Here's the reminder:

If you are experiencing a thing, and it is difficult to you. It's difficult. Period. It doesn't matter its level of ease for anyone else.

If I am experiencing a thing, and it is difficult for me. It's difficult. Period. It doesn't matter its level ease for anyone else.

...

Help me to remember that frailty is part of the human experience and Divine power is perfected in my weakness. Help me to listen to and support others without comparison and reduction. When I forget, remind me that tolerance for trauma is not a metric of strength. Let me embrace joy, peace, and rest. Let me release my addiction to suffering. Help me to be a safe, soft space for others.

Mine Eyes Have Seen

I know it is not good to dwell on the challenges of one's life in fixation or rumination. Being in the moment - looking to the future - is good. Sometimes, however, I must look back and remember what I've come through. 

It puts into perspective that while new challenges are real, different, and still difficult, they are not insurmountable. I've been through harder times than these. I've not been forsaken or begging bread.

Yes, absolutely, I want to stay in humility. 

Still, I must remind myself of my own fortitude. In this 33-year-walk of life, I've experienced things that shook me up and broke me down. Yet, because of God's mercies, I was not consumed. And, I am not consumed.

Every single shifting took me to a new place. Every new place connected me with good people and things. Ultimately, that's my faith story. I've done XYZ. I've experienced XYZ. I acted and was acted upon in deleterious ways. And, still, I can see God working everything out for the good. I do see His goodness in the land of living.

I'm literally cuddling goodness.

So, yes, I can trust God, without leaning on my own understanding, and have rest and peace without answers and solutions. This is not about making it make sense. This is not about forging a way according to my finite understanding and foresight. 

It's about casting cares, waiting, renewing, and being at peace with whatever may come.

...

Every time the Biblical Israelites faced a new challenge, they seemed to forget the miracles God performed and the favor He showed them during the previous ones. I do not want my memory long for the sake of harboring and resenting. But I do want to remember what mine eyes have seen.

Rooted or Swayed

Navigating a system I spent my teens and 20s vigorously avoiding is deeply humbling. I am now aware of judgements I did not know I held about single motherhood and recipients of assistance. I am aware of the shame I always attached to mothers and children sharing different last names. I find myself wanting to explain, so the observer doesn't see "just another welfare queen" or "single black mother." 

I know, however, that there's something for me to learn in this seat of discomfort. I know that perception and truth is often different. And if I root myself in truth, why be swayed by perception?

"Navigating Not Enough"

The ground is level at the foot of the cross. - Steven Furtick 

Don't replace Christ's compassion with man's comparison.

2023 Walk to End Alzheimer's

Aunt Jo's Wisdom

I've never bought into that "you just know" notion. Love is a tricky thing. Sometimes it feels like an undeniable force that hits between the eyes and doesn't let up. Other times, it's malleable, questionable. It's truth hidden in and amongst external obstacles and internal circumstances that have formed who you are, what you expect in the world, and how you can accept love. Oh to say the least, it's complicated. And if a mind's abuzz with pressure and deadlines and "what if this and that," I imagine love's truth would be a near-impossible thing to feel. I wonder if, when all's quiet in your mind, you'll find your answer.

St. Francis of Assisi

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Amen.

No Heat. No Judgement.

I do not have the grace to live anyone else's life or vision. There is peace in understanding this. It enables me to let go of comparisons and expectations that do not align with the gifts and grace in my possession. 

It is easy to impose and be accosted by external ideas about intrinsic identity and knowing. It's easy to become a defender of one's way as the way. I'm trying to get to a place of removing "the heat and judgement."

I want to practice awe in lieu of persuasion, justification, reduction, or comparison. I can marvel at the grace you were given to execute your mission and vision and live your life without deeming any of it as worthwhile or lackluster. No heat. No judgement. Simply appreciation. 

In his grace, God has given us different gifts for doing certain things well. So if God has given you the ability to prophesy, speak out with as much faith as God has given you. If your gift is serving others, serve them well. If you are a teacher, teach well. If your gift is to encourage others, be encouraging. If it is giving, give generously. If God has given you leadership ability, take the responsibility seriously. And if you have a gift for showing kindness to others, do it gladly. Romans 12:6‭-‬8 NLT

Bubba & Isaiah

Our step dad was the kind of man that picked up a stray cat, took him to vet, and adopted him into the family. He was a wise philosopher of sorts. A "man's man" who was very comfortable with feelings and emotions. 

He was also the kind of man that would tell you to leave his home. He'd ask twice on a good day. By the third time, he'd say "No. Stay right there;" lock the door; and walk to the back. You had better be gone before he returned. 😂 (I remember begging someone not to "F around and find out.")

We laugh about the dichotomies of our childhood now even as we struggle to reconcile with them as adults. That's the fascinating connection with siblings. We have three different perspective of the same events. We were impacted by them in different ways. Still, we understand each other in ways others cannot.

I am never homesick for a place. "Home" in the nostalgic sense disappeared years ago. When I am homesick it is for the two grown men who understand why "Big baby gon shoot" is hilarious. 

Little Fires Everywhere

33

Do you ever make it out of your head? 

Do you still swim in your thoughts? 

Do you still mistake your flaws for property?

Somethin' that just don’t sit right with you

But Heaven knows

Heaven knows

Your wings can't weigh you down

But angels make a way somehow

And if we fall

We fall on clouds

Black girl here

Black girl with the Black girl hair

Took a little sunkiss just to look like this

God-sent

You're an angel

...

Heaven wears your halo

They know you’re an angel 

...

I'm a big deal

I gеt sick and tired of holdin' it in

Rich blood

You can probably see the gold in my skin

I'm more than a girl

Won't let the troubles of the world

Come weigh me down

...

But angels make a way somehow

And if we fall

We fall on clouds

Black girl here

Black girl with the Black girl hair

Took a little sunkiss just to look like this

God-sent

You're an angel

...

Some might hate and they wait on your fall

They don't know there’s a grace for it all

My flaws don’t make me

Beautiful and real are you

They cannot compare

All you

Perfectly a masterpiece in all of me

Even my scars

Even my scars

Black girl here

Black girl with the Black girl hair

Took a little sunkiss just to look like this

God-sent

You're an angel

- Halle | Angel

PCP

So often my focus is on ERs:

BettER

HighER

HappiER

WealthiER

SimplER

FastER

PrettiER

SmartER

ThinnER

WisER

OldER

PoorER

HardER

LowER

NevER

It takes intention to remember my PCP: 

Passion

Contentment

Purpose

 

The passions that fuel purpose; the contentment that leads to joy and peace are worthy of attention.

I am not anti-striving. 

I should devote serious effort and energy to the people and pursuits important to me. Still, there is room to feel and show satisfaction with my possessions, status, and situation. There is room for contentment and gratitude.

Today I've done seemingly small things. 

I attended a volleyball game to cheer for Autumn & The Lady Buffs; finally watched Elemental; ate a good homecooked meal made with love by a friend; took an enjoyable outdoor walk, and swung at the playground for the big kid I am at heart.

I spent time with two of my favorite people. We talked, laughed, listened to music, did at-home karaoke, ate a fire meal, and we loved on our MJ. 

With The Aunties present, I did not have to worry about my son. Today, I was in contentment. This wasn't the plan. It's better than planned. 🖤

A Whole New World

Navigating #work and #parenthood is new to me. I have been a grown-up to my little human for 75 days. I've been a "working mom" for approximately two weeks. 

I am now aware of challenges that I once regarded with polite sympathy and disinterest.

Thrust into a world impacted by child care deserts; wildly long waitlists; hefty price tags; never-ending rotations of feed, change, play, and nap; and bottle nipples with numbers that apparently provide relevant information, I have a new appreciation and respect for working parents. 

Parent or child-free, most of us want to be successful in our professional pursuits. We want to manage stress, problem solve, and be assets to our organizations. We want to do our jobs and do them well.

We're all human. 

We have lives outside of work that require that same skillset (the ability to manage stress and problem solve). In our homes, with our families, we are indispensable. We must do that job and do it well.

We wear many hats. Often, it all requires #flexibility, juggling, creativity, caffeine, and ample #support. Although we cannot be in two places at once, we can commit to focus in each moment and give our best.

We can do what's necessary to be present.

We can take deep breaths; recognize our own challenges and competences; and extend patience and understanding smiles to our leaders, colleagues, and neighbors.

"Why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"

Growing up I thought pervasive sadness, anxiety, and feelings of loneliness, isolation, and unworthiness were Kechia things. Since they were a character defect, I hid them under public facing kindess and smiles. I was a savage to myself.

Then, the contrast between my light and darkness created added shame. It widened the gap to authenticity. It made me feel unknown and unknowable. 

The first time I went to therapy because of the "strong" recommendation from my director and HR. I was working at a mental health hospital. Something happened in my personal life that would not be quiet or hidden. 

I thought I would die from the embarrassment. That embarrassment saved me. ALL things work together...

Ted Graeser, LPC (Garland) was my first therapist. We had 3 sessions through EAP. In that office, I started the process of unburdening.

When I moved to Amarillo, it took a few tries, but I connected with Maxine Westmoreland, LPC. We went deeper. Our therapeutic relationship was invaluable. In her office I started to gain understanding.

Healing is a process. Dysfunction can be comforting. I stopped and started sessions multiple times. I was not yet ready to "do my work" as Iyanla Vanzant would say.

When I was ready, I connected with Natasha Glass, LPC (Dallas). Our sessions...I tried to finish describing what this process has been like and could not. 

I "push" therapy because I know the impact Ted, Maxine, and Natasha made in my life. They partnered with me. They advocated for me to me.

Everything didn't change.

 

Traumas did not instantly resolve. Triggers did not cease to exist. But I was heard, seen, and challenged. I was reminded that I am not powerless against my mind and life's experiences.

There were times that my depression and anxiety required medication. That's okay too. My providers supported me through that.

This world is designed to make us cover up. So many of us are not mentally healthy, trying to power through, and convinced we are alone. Talking doesn't fix everything, but silence can be deadly. We laud our wins. We are mute on our losses. 

The hype is a lie. No one wins all the time. Everyone catches hell from time to time.

Science and religion are on the same page about the power of what happens in the mind. It's real. It's hard. It often requires help.

We all struggle. 

We don't have to suffer.

Word to the unseen:

We (everybody reading this) shall live [abundant lives] and not die [mentally, spiritually, emotionally, etcetera].

I used their names because I highly recommend either for starting the therapeutic journey.

Soapbox

The hair coming from my head should be long and thick. Got it.

The hair above my eyes is acceptable when manicured, symmetrical, and neat. Got it.

The hair above my lip should be removed. ASAP. Got it. 

The hair everywhere else on my face shouldn't exist. Got it.

The hair under my arms is an abomination. Got it.

Hair on my legs, thighs, ass, and every other body part should be minimal to non-existent. Got it.

The hair on my vagina should be whatever a he prefers. Got it.

God forbid I have hair in places women shouldn't. Got it.

And if I don't adhere to "the rules," I won't have love, happiness, and a shot of being chosen. Got it.

As a woman with hirsutism, I have spent days in bed filled with grief and shame about HAIR. I have wasted too much mental energy on HAIR. I want to get to a place where I refuse to participate at all. 

The rules concerning femininity are exhausting. I'll keep calling them out until the arbiters of this tomfoolery find several seats and take them.

To paraphrase Glennon Doyle, "they" keep us so focused on the trivial (aka in cages), so we'll never get about doing our world-changing business (aka being goddamn cheetahs).

Accountability

Am I the pro​gen​i​tor of this judgement

Were these thoughts and ideas birthed from a place within me?

Am I a prop​a​gator of beliefs that leave me unsettled? 

What is my responsibility for the untruths I have inherited and bequeathed?

Future Generations Need Us Free

It's so human. We look "out there" towards others for confirmation and validation. Am I real? Do I matter? Are my contributions meaningful? When our internal worlds are hostile, we're forced to accept external incivility. No place feels safe when our minds are chaotic. No person feels soft when our hearts are rocky. What we see "out here" is the manifestation of billions of internal wars. 

All happening at once. 

Intra-conflicts. 

Inter-con​se​quen​tial.

...

What if there were billions of people at peace with themselves?

Blessed are the peacemakers for they will be called children of God. 

Peace with self is a worthy pursuit even when the significance is not recognized or lauded.

Repentance

I wanted "a god I could believe in," so I made an idol out of you. Bodies as altars. Passion as church. Obedience as pleasure. Submission rained on Earth as I ascended into that coveted space. Atheistic. Sacrilegious. Starving for Divinity. The longer we played; the more I knew. I was drawn to The Intangible even as I touched you. Man is powerful, but man cannot read my mind. Man takes my breath away, but man cannot revive...

the decaying self.

I needed God, but I made a mockery out of you. At the height of our delusion, we did not elude truth. There is make-believe. There is reality. There is no I AM substitute.

"...if God is your emotional role model, very few human relationships will match up to it."  - Jeanette Winterson

(This feels like one of my darker writings. I don’t feel dark. I'm just reflecting and flowing. 🤷🏿‍♀️)

Opportunities of Discomfort

I neither want to avoid discomfort nor complain in its presence. I want to learn to be student-minded in everything. If "all things are lessons that God would have me learn," let my eyes and heart focus on the opportunity instead of the discomfort. Uncomfortable does not mean unnecessary. "Help me to see this rightly."

...

Complaint:

noun

com·​plaint | \ kəm-ˈplānt  \

Definition

1: expression of grief, pain, or dissatisfaction

...

Gratitude 

noun

grat·​i·​tude | \ ˈgra-tə-ˌtüd , -ˌtyüd \

Definition

: the state of being grateful : THANKFULNESS

...

"We can have a grievance or we can have a miracle, but we cannot have both."

Highest Good

When what my heart desires conflict with the highest good, give me peace knowing that Love "does not demand its own way;" it "rejoices whenever truth wins out." My intention is "highest good." When I am unsure what that is, strengthen my courage to be still until I know.

Little Sweet Moments

Back to Simplicity

In the last couple of months, I drank the kool-aid. Now, there is stuff in every corner of our space. It overwhelms me, and MJ ignores most of it. 

He is happiest on the floor, side-by-side. That baby boy digs his grown-up. It's mutual. We bond during our dances, storytimes, cuddles, and many little sweet moments. 

No aides are necessary. It didn't take the Lovevery play gym (though I really like it). Nothing about this journey is simple, and a Doona did not change that. (I really like it too.) 

I never wanted the culture of my home, family, or life to be about accumulation and acquisition. What I am learnING is that none of these things will make caring for a child less daunting. They will not make me everything that little boy needs and deserves. 

Frankly, being everything is beyond my ability. Everything involves a loving Creator and community. What I can and will do is to pour into, love, support, teach, cover, give, and provide.

What I will do is make sure our home and lives reflect our values. What I will do is stop looking out there for proof of life and external ways to show love. I will simply live and love and make sure MJ knows the joy and consistency of both.

Morning Thoughts

My mom's mom was il​lit​er​ate. The little schooling she had was pre Brown v. Board of Education; it was separate and unequal. She was a woman and a mother before she learned to read and write. Her introduction to literacy started and ended with the Bible. 

As a little girl, I saw Grandma rise before the sun to read the only book she has ever read. She read The Book she loved; she read It from cover to cover more than once. That Book connected her to spiritual freedom, emotional comfort, and eternal hope. Her testimony was "God taught me to read and write through His Word."

Reading is language acquisition. It's education. It's exploration and imagination. It's expansion. It's exposure. It's connection and curiosity. Reading is gateway to ideas, information, places, and freedom.

Developing healthy reading habits is as important as eating well and moving our bodies. It's one way we nurture our minds and intellect; give our inner childs (and actual children) permission to believe in the impossible; and step out of our worldviews and into others. 

And there are so many ways to do it! Physical books, audiobooks, and ebooks mean that we can each read in the way best suited to us. Public libraries are equity promoters, and reading is a necessity.

One of my most firm convictions is that there's a link between freedom and literacy. I believe that the inability to learn to read and write is not only demoralizing and stifling, it's mental captivity. That's why anti-literacy laws were enacted by Southern slave states. 

There are people who say "not voting is an insult to those who fought for that right." Honestly, I do not have that conviction, but I understand it. For me, not reading is an insult to my ancestors who lived and died on plantations and were denied even the right to take their minds elsewhere through books. 

I do not read nearly enough. I am sad to admit that I browse and scroll more than I read. Still, I press toward to the mark. For me that mark is being a well-read woman.

Presence vs. Appearance

Part of my story and truth is that I felt and acted as if I were being punished through my appearance. I felt "ugly." I know that reads harsh. 

It feels harsher. 

I wore my mother's bras at 11 or 12. I was bigger than most of my classmates and cousins. I hated my big breasts and nose. I hated my smile. I hated that my skin was in between - neither that deep, rich chocolate nor that light, highly-praised yellow. 

The larger I felt, the more I shrank.

Growing up a fat, black, hairy girl with a crooked smile felt, to my young self, like God had surely forsaken me. 

I love Celie (The Color Purple) so much because she knows and expresses what it is like to be traumatized, overlooked, and unremarkable. Still, she overcomes. I am thankful Alice Walker put the following words in Celie's heart:

I'm pore, I'm black, I may be ugly and can't cook, a voice say to everything listening. But I'm here.

She articulated truth and affirmation. She touched the part of me that needed to know presence (being) is more important than appearance.

When I read Vashti Harrison's newly released children's book, Big, I cried for the little girl me. I wish I had this story as a child. It is beautifully affirming.

I am learning and unlearning. 

"Pretty" and "beautiful" make me recoil; being called either triggers inner conversations that are uncomfortable. I still think about my appearance more than I'd like. Though I still must fight between self-acceptance and rejection; though I must separate the voices in my head as sheep and goats, I know a few things to be truth:

1. Moments, by definition, are brief.

2. Life and being are never punishments no matter how they feel/look in any given moment.

3. Freedom is always worth the fight.

4. The asshole voices - from without and within - must be shouted down even if that shout is a whisper.

5. Everyone should read The Color Purple and Big.

6. Acting ugly sometimes has nothing to do with bad behavior. Sometimes, it means acting unworthy.

Amending the words of my beloved Maya Angelou:

Now I understand

Just why my head’s cannot be bowed.   I don’t need to shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.   

When I see me passing,

It ought to make me proud.

P.S.: Someone called me pretty today. Clearly, it went over well.

Release

I hope life treats you kind, and I hope you have all you've dreamed of. And I wish you joy and happiness, but above all this, I wish you love. 

- Whitney Houston | I Will Always Love You

Sweet Delusions

Last night, I was a believer. 

As bodies intertwined and conversation seduced minds, an ocean and mountain collided. 

They conspired. This is Nirvana. 

Pleasure-induced devotion made explicit the unspoken, and we rode wave after wave. 

Last night, it was easy to believe in eternities. 

Roots

I follow my instinct. I trust her because she is grounded in wisdom and truth. I listen because I experience prolonged hardship every time I override her.

When she says "You need to go," I ruminate for as long as I can. I argue. I consider the upsides and losses. Then, I go. 

My purpose is to find mental freedom and emotional well-being; to live, love, and relate with peace, clarity, and authenticity; and to disrupt the mechanisms that allow destructive cycles to exist in my life. 

I thought that last part was tied to my education, career, and finances - upward mobility - doing and having things worthwhile. I woke up with awareness that it is tied to my ability to ask harder questions; seek deeper understanding; incorporate what I learn into daily practices; and trust my inner wisdom.

There is much beauty and majesty in trees. I love and adore them. There is much beauty and majesty in roots. I respect and appreciate them. While I will always stop and thank my Creator for Their trees and the trees for their being, I will not be rooted until my knowing knows.

...

We can admire, revere, and appreciate without the desire to emulate.

...

A few trees I have appreciated over the years. 

Necessary Lessons: Honesty

Over and over again, my father told me some version of, "No matter what you tell me or anybody else, keep it real with LeKechia." Focused on his delivery, I missed my lesson. He was right.

Honesty with self is paramount.

When you lie to self, you are in trouble. When you create from self-deception, you do build something dysfunctional. It breeds stagnation, confusion, and incongruency. 

I want to use my creative force in the direction of things that are true to/for me instead of inventing ways to fit into comfortable lies. I will step into my power by walking in my truth. The culture I want to build in my home, family, and relationships starts with keeping it real with LeKechia.

What is unconditional self love?

What is love?

#therapysaturdays - After this morning's session, I was trying to journal without much success. I was writing, but I was not getting clarity. As much as I love to write, there are things I need to talk out. This was one of them. I'm sharing because (1) I think more conversations about self-love, acceptance, and compassion should happen. (2) It feels honest. (3) Sometimes, we need to open our mouths and speak to loud thoughts.

It occurred to me that I am not the moderator of my mind. I am not here to facilitate a conversation and give negativity its turn to be heard. I am the proponent of my own wisdom, truth, and acceptance. I must interrupt and disrupt the destructive patterns. I am the instigator of my life's freedom and peace. And, I get to be aggressive about that. Robert's Rules of Order do not apply in this quest for mental, emotional, and spiritual health.

"...I'm speaking. I'm speaking," so "Peace, be still."

The Culture

In this home...

Goodness and mercy follow us.

We believe in love, learning, and exploration.

We talk about our feelings.

We are ourselves.

We are accepted.

We are beloved.

We are safe.

We are held.

We are free.

In this home, we become cycle-breakers. 

03/27/2023

Do you realize how much louder, bolder, more articulate, confident, and convinced one must be when she has to overcome an internal suspicion of unworthiness and external evidence of invisibility to use her voice? 

This is more than speaking even though her voice shakes. This is speaking through emotional turbulence. This is mustering mustard seed faith for mi​nu​ti​ae. 

Using my voice to speak my truth and enforce my boundaries is moving mountains.

Post Therapy Reflections: Breathe

I made a list. Throughout the week I added to it. I knew exactly what I wanted today's session to be about. I was prepared.

It started like normal. We do our quick catch-up: a rundown of the week and check in on my feelings. Somehow we got there - discussing a topic not on my list. 

Mind you; I am not closed off in therapy. I welcome the process. Still, today, I released something that I did not realize I was carrying. I know trauma is stored in the body. And, through the tears and breath work, I felt this thing leave my body. 

I gave sound and form to a silent asphyxiation.

Someone onced asked, "Where in your body do you carry that?" It's such a valid question. We carry all the things - even if we do not speak or acknowledge them. Our bodies know. 

Solange sang:

I tried to drink it away

I tried to put one in the air

I tried to dance it away

I tried to change it with my hair

I ran my credit card bill up

Thought a new dress make it better

I tried to work it away

But that just made me even sadder

I tried to keep myself busy

I ran around circles

Think I made myself dizzy

I slept it away, I sexed it away

I read it away...

I tried to run it away

Thought then my head be feeling clearer

I traveled 70 states

Thought moving 'round make me feel better

I tried to let go my lover

Thought if I was alone then maybe I could recover

To write it away or cry it away...

Like the songstress, I know it doesn't just "go away." It must be released. This morning I did work for the little girl in me and the little  humans that may one day come from me. 

Last week, my Brotherman shared a reminder that every good gift is from above. For me, therapy is a good gift. 

The things we do not talk about, those silent battles and unhealed wounds, are sinister as fuck. 

Most of us have heard "the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist." I think traumatic experiences have similar chicanery. It's not our jobs to devalue or reduce experiences through comparison. What happened to you is real. What happened to me is real. Even paper cuts hurt and heal.

P.S.: 

(1) It is my job to value myself and reject outside evaluations. Maya Angelou said "Don't pick it up; don't lay it down...If I were to pick up one (the compliment), I have to pick up the other (the reproach). And, I still have my work to do!"

(2) My therapist has helped me realize how I hold my breath. She challenges me to breathe. Sometimes, I find it irksome, and box breathing is seriously hard. Still, a reminder to be intentional about breathing is so good.

(3) I wrote a note to Little LeKechia. The bulk of it is much too personal to share, but the ending I am comfortable putting out in the world. The little girl in me deserves my public acknowledgement and thanks.

Quenched

I am naked and alone in my bedroom. The lights are on. There's a full-length mirror in view. It's just me, coconut oil, and my favorite body cream. Eucalyptus + Spearmint fills the air. This really is "stress relief." 

I put a little oil in the palm of my hand, add the body cream, and mix the two. Massage and moisturize my legs. Repeat. Massage and moisturize my hips and thighs. Repeat. I give attention and care to every part of this body. My body. 

I feel my softness and succulent femininity. I feel nurtured. I feel me. No matter what the scale said that morning. In spite of the disapproving voices from within and with out, in these moments, I am beautiful and sultry. 

I am quenched. 

...

I thought I needed to run and find somebody to love, but all I needed was some coconut oil. Don't worry about the small things. I know I can do all things. Mama always told me it would be alright. I thought I needed the rush, but there was never enough. All I needed was some coconut oil. Don't worry about the small things. I know I can do all things. Mama always told me that, and she was right...It's a party over here. -Lizzo

Unshaved & Unabashed 

Can I Be Honest? 02/17/2023

Yesterday as I was at my desk short of patience for these people, I came across the following:

...Be agreeable, be sympathetic, be loving, be compassionate, be humble. That goes for all of you, no exceptions. No retaliation. No sharp-tongued sarcasm. Instead, bless—that’s your job, to bless...

Can I be honest? Often I struggle to find compassion for others and myself. Sometimes it is much easier to lead with judgment, criticism, annoyance, frustration, etcetera. Even with deep awareness that more light, empathy, understanding, and goodness are needed, some days I have to stretch to find them.

I have affirmations and quotes on the wall behind my desk. One of them reads: I bring compassion. It is a daily reminder of my "real job." Today I am also reminded that mastery is achieved through consistent practice.

 

So, let's keep in our practice of bringing compassion and doing our jobs. We got this! 

With Love,

LeKechia Lyshell

P.S.:

Bless has so many definitions. My favorite is "to invoke divine care." 😀

Quote of the Day

"No" is a full sentence.

-Tracee Ellis Ross

What Happened to You?

Your past is not an excuse. But it is an explanation—offering insight into the questions so many of us ask ourselves: Why do I behave the way I behave? Why do I feel the way I do? For me, there is no doubt that our strengths, vulnerabilities, and unique responses are an expression of what happened to us.

...Trauma permeates all aspects of life; it echoes through the generations, across families, communities, institutions, cultures, and societies, and it does so in very complex ways. Trauma can impact our genes, white blood cells, heart, gut, lungs, and brain, our thinking, feeling, behaving, parenting, teaching, coaching, consuming, creating, prescribing, arresting, sentencing.

Marginalized peoples—excluded, minimized, shamed—are traumatized peoples, because as we’ve discussed, humans are fundamentally relational creatures...Marginalization is a fundamental trauma.

Affirmation

The choices that a younger version of me made...while excellent for that young woman are no longer applicable to this woman. The older version of myself is now going to rescue me from choices that the younger version of myself made. -Liz Gilbert 

This time will be different.

With the exception of two days, I have been intentional and consistent about moving my body this month. I am in the gym working out. I am outdoors walking. I am finding the joy and release in activity.

Tonight I did 30 minutes on the elliptical [for the first time ever] plus 15 minutes of free weights. I am so proud of me. I am excited to see what this period will bring as I write, read, move, regulate, and truth my way to freedom.

I am learning that the key to unlocking consistency in my life is believing that I am capable of change. I do hold power to change my life. I can influence my outcomes. My input and belief matters. 

Our internal view of the world becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy; we project what we expect, and that helps elicit what we expect...We are always changing. We change from all of our experiences, good and bad. This is because our brain is changeable—malleable. It’s always changing. -Bruce D. Perry, MD, PHD 

I Can Love Me Better

I can buy myself flowers
Write my name in the sand
Talk to myself for hours
Say things you don't understand
I can take myself dancing
And I can hold my own hand
Yeah, I can love me better than you can

-Miley Cyrus | Flowers 

The biggest flex will be loving ourselves better, deeper, more forceful than we ever loved them. Cheers to the time when we give to ourselves what we freely and religiously gave to others because we are certain we are worthy of our own love, affection, reverence, and commitment. 🥂💃🏿💐

"Getting to the cortex"

And understanding that our brain processes every experience sequentially also helps explain miscommunication between brains—in other words, between people. Communication, after all, is about getting some idea, concept, or story from your cortex to another person’s cortex. From the smart part of your brain to the smart part of their brain. The problem is that we don’t communicate directly from cortex to cortex. We have to go through the lower parts of the brain. All the rational thoughts from our cortex have to get through the emotional filters of the lower brain. Our facial expression, tone of voice, and words are turned into neural activity by the other person’s senses, and then the sequential process of matching, interpreting, and passing up to their cortex takes place. Along the way, there are many opportunities for the meaning of any communication to be distilled, distorted, magnified, minimized, or lost.

Let’s think about what happens when the stress response is activated. Frustration, anger, and fear can shut down parts of the cortex. When someone is dysregulated, they simply cannot use the smartest part of their brain...

In my work we talk about “getting to the cortex”—getting to the place where you can communicate rationally with someone. If the person is regulated, you can connect with them in ways that will facilitate rational communication. But if they’re dysregulated, nothing you say will really get to their cortex, and nothing already in their cortex will be easy for them to access. This is essential to understand if you’re a teacher, because while the regulated child can learn, the dysregulated child will not. But it’s the same for supervising people in a work setting or communicating with colleagues, your partner, your children—anyone. Regulation is the key to creating a safe connection. And being connected is the most efficient and effective way to get information up to the cortex. A tutor, a coach, a mentor, a therapist—all depend on the relationship to be the superhighway to the cortex. -Bruce D. Perry, M.D.,Ph.D.

Dr. Perry studied neuroscience and psychiatry. I am reading a book he co-authored with Oprah. This - thinking about communication breakdowns based on "sequential" brain processing - gripped me with fascination and "aha moments" this morning. 

Many interesting questions come up as I read and reflect. 

(*It should be "elicit." My notes are rarely, if ever, proofread.* 🤦🏿‍♀️🤷🏿‍♀️😉)

I am considering what (and who) makes me feel regulated and dysregulated. (I challenge you to do the same.) I am also becoming more aware of moments of dysregulation. I am examining them with more curiosity than judgement. All and all, my awareness is expanding with this read. Hopefully, my capacity for empathy and compassion expands as well.

Reading so often brings to the forefront of my mind a scripture I heard as a child. "...And with all thy getting, get understanding." (Proverbs 4:7 KJV) May we have increased understanding and insight** today and everyday.

**According to Merriam-Webster, insight is a power.** 🤩😃