Self-Love Series: A Tribal Investment by Lady G

I am Lady G, and just like you, I AM a unique physical expression of God!

My particular story began with my Earthly debut in the city of Augusta, Georgia at the tail end of the 1960’s.

Now, before I proceed to tell you about my journey to self-love, allow me to take you a couple of steps back:

Prior to my birth, my godmother, who was the equivalent of a nurse practitioner, used her vast knowledge of Augusta’s medical landscape to handpick my mother’s OB/GYN, as well as my pediatrician. After all, she knew that my father had “good insurance,” and she was determined to help my parents take full advantage of his benefits.

With that said, she chose the best of the best to entrust with our care!

3heartsNow, I didn’t tell you that to brag. I simply wanted to illustrate that my parents and their tribe, which included my godparents, were determined to prepare a safe, warm, and loving place for me to land.

Admittedly, some of you may be wondering why I selected the word tribe. Well, frankly, it is the best word that I could find to describe all of the folks who encircled and upheld my parents who had moved 300 miles away from their hometown in Southern Alabama.

They were only twenty-two and twenty-three years old for God’s sake!

Bearing this fact in mind, the neighboring elders decided that it was imperative to invest in our young family’s success!

But that’s what folks did back then.

I digress!

At any rate, in spite of having not one local relative, these two young’uns managed to build a beautiful and loyal surrogate family.

Oh, by the way, let me step off track here to tell you that I am clairsentient and sometimes clairaudient so I can clearly hear Dr. Garland somewhere in the ethers hollering, “Lady G, please address the topic at hand!”

Well…Er… I promise Doc, I’m getting to it!

But seriously, this little bit of my personal historical context is a necessary piece to our topic.

Why? Because I believe that my parents and their people, created an environment, prior to and after my birth, that helped me to feel loved, valued and treasured during my formative years, and it was reflected back to me in every one of my early childhood experiences.

Basically, I saw love in my mother’s eyes as we danced to “Just my Imagination,” by The Temptations.

I felt love in my father’s kiss as he greeted me after a long day at work.

I heard love in my godfather’s voice when he asked, “What ‘choo know good Gwin?” and then genuinely listened to my three-year-old answer.

I witnessed love when I watched the brothas and sistas downtown Augusta singing, Say it loud! I’m Black and I’m proud!

In short, it was my wonderful start in life that helped me to develop a strong love for self.

The tribe had succeeded!

Right?

Uh…not so fast!

As you might have guessed, in later years, I found myself associating with people who made me question my worth. They attached conditions to our relationships like size, looks, education, financial status, and so on.

As a result, I did my share of worrying about whether I was good enough, pretty enough, thin enough, smart enough, and ad infinitum.

But, I must admit, in each case, I was eventually able to find my happy “due north” which always led me back to self-love and acceptance.

Of course, there is much more that I could say about the process of returning back to self-love, but the professor is counting words so I have decided NOT to tempt fate!

Just suffice it to say, that I took time to synthesize and integrate my wonderful early childhood experiences with my personal spiritual insights in order to reclaim the love that I always had for myself. Best believe it was not an overnight process, which I am convinced is probably a blessing in itself. I say that because I’ve learned to appreciate every journey that is presented. For me, it is during these times that I receive my deepest insights regarding the importance of practicing self-love and appreciation.

And with that, more will be revealed…

Follow LadyG on these platforms:

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(Shared for Forgiving Fridays).

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Monday Notes: The Importance of Time and Space

It’s Monday. It’s Martin Luther King Jr. Day. And I’m sitting in my bed in my PJs after taking a two-hour afternoon nap. I am refreshed.

This might not seem like a big deal to some of you but for me, this time and space is divine.

You see, I’ve been doing something I typically don’t do: running nonstop, without thinking.

December 7th-9th, I went on a scheduled girls trip with high-school friends.

December 15th, I hosted an all women’s brunch at my home.

December 21st-23rd, I met my paternal, biological sister for the first time.

December 24th, I took our four-year-old goddaughter to breakfast and the movies.

December 29th, I attended a party with a former friend that went left.

January 4th, I spoke at our institution’s general meeting.

January 7th, the semester began and I started a professional relationship with an elementary school.

January 9th, I flew to Chicago to pay respects at my namesake’s funeral, the person I’d written previously about.

January 10th, I visited my maternal, biological sister, who I’d not seen in at least ten years.

January 11th, I met my biological father (and his wife, and her daughter, and my youngest sister) for the first time.

January 14th, my youngest daughter revealed something personal that sent me into a tailspin of Mommy guilt.

January 18th-19th, my friends’ six-year-old son spent the night with us.

I’m tired. Emotionally.

If you follow me on any social media platform, it may look as if this is the norm for me. In some ways the activity is. However, it is not normal for me to engage in back-to-back emotional events, sans reflection. I usually have time to sit and think about the people with whom I’ve engaged and interpret what that says about them, about us, about relationships, and about society at-large.

Eventually, I will write about one or all of these events. But for right now, I’m sitting in time and space without expectations from myself or anyone else. Consequently, I’ve reached a point of understanding.

I understand how easy it is to simply roll on to the next experience or situation and to not think about who you were in the last moment. I recognize how an occupied life sets the stage for missed opportunities of growth. How can you grow (emotionally, spiritually) if you don’t stop to reflect on specific circumstances, especially those that are tied to your heart?

What I’ve also realized is that I’ve created a life that has built-in time and space. In my daily life, I neither move too fast, nor too slow, so that I can meditate, exercise, rinse and repeat. What I haven’t done very well is set aside time and space during moments of unexpected life events, like funerals and biological family meetings.

But from this moment forward, I will. I’ll remind myself to step outside if I’m feeling swirly in the belly; this is my body’s signal to me that I need to sit down somewhere. I’ll remind myself to find solitude in the midst of a crowd. I’ll remind myself that pranayama breathing is just as useful off the mat as it is on.

I’ll remind myself that creating time and space is important for my well being. And, most importantly, no one can offer me the time and space I need, but me.

~kg

Monday Notes: CLEARING

In every culture, people have a clearing process. Whether it’s spring cleaning, which according to handy-dandy Wikipedia began with Iranians, who call it khooneh tekouni, or sage cleansing, which is known as a Native American ritual, the human race seems to have recognized the importance of de-cluttering as a road toward clarity.

And I am no different. Over the past three years, I’ve consciously taken time to decide who I want to be and how I want to function in this world. Two days before my birthday, I’m sharing them with you.

The first thing I did was to pay more attention to where I put my energy as a way to create more pleasurable spaces in my life.

Energy Matters.

 We’re all energy. I don’t think that’s a new idea. However, I also believe that our thoughts and actions are comprised of energy. And for the last few years, I’ve become much more mindful about how and what I spend my energy on.

Sometimes I think of energy like money. You know how some people are frugal with their dollars? Well, that’s how I feel about my energy. Would you allow someone to take $1000 out of your bank account? Me neither. But I also don’t allow others to withdraw from my energy account.

There are a few ways I’ve learned to do this. I try not to expend too much energy on conversations I deem frivolous. A great example is when Hurricane Irma was headed towards Jacksonville. A day or so before, I was scheduled to teach in Gainesville.

“I thought you’d be home,” one of my co-workers said.

“Nope. The hurricane isn’t coming til…”

“Well, I hope you have gas. I hope you don’t run out of gas. I hope the gas stations still have gas on your way home. The gas station on 39th is already out …”

I briefly stared at her, and then gathered my personal belongings and inched towards the door. In my mind, I didn’t have the energy to expend on such a negative conversation about the state of gas. And I didn’t need to prove her wrong by saying, I have gas in my tank and I drive a Honda. It’ll be full for a while. It would be wasted energy.

energyLikewise, I try not to spend a lot of time in places I’d rather not be. A great example is work. I go to work and focus on teaching my students. When that’s done, sometimes I attend meetings and grade papers. I don’t stand around holding lengthy conversations about other people’s business because, in the long run, it doesn’t solve anything. And sometimes, in the end you feel just as crappy as the person you’re discussing.

This is not to say I’m perfect. Occasionally, I catch myself in a rant about some event that pissed me off. But once I realize I’m expending energy, then I make a mental note and change the subject to something that feels better, like my business. The results seem to prove the phrase that which you focus on grows. Writing Endeavors® is going well. This blog is going well. Books are selling. Much of this I attribute to clearing and re-focusing my energy.

Tomorrow, I’ll share the second aspect of my life I’ve cleared up. Until then, tell me…do you pay attention to how and where you spend your energy?

CLEARING II

CLEARING III

*Monday Notes: **Forgiving Fridays as a Path Towards Self-Love

I forgive myself for thinking there was something wrong with me for so long just because I was adopted. I mean you can understand how I might’ve come to this conclusion, right? This feeling grew stronger, especially after having my own children. I thought who could give a baby away? Later, I learned this is simple for a schizophrenic, who couldn’t care for her own self, much less a child.

I forgive myself for thinking there was something wrong with me because my adopted mother died. Her death was the worst kind of abandonment for me. She cared for me on purpose, with the intent to love and nurture my being. Her death left me wondering, why? Am I not worthy enough to have any type of mother, biological or adopted?

I forgive myself for thinking there was something wrong with me because my adopted father then gave up his parental rights, leaving me to suffer a third type of abandonment. One where the only father I’ve known showed how easy it is to pass a human being on to someone else. He showed me the ease with which one could release a burden…a responsibility. This left me thinking don’t I matter to anyone?

Four years ago, I learned to be grateful for each of these experiences.

I’m grateful that my biological mother left me in an apartment at five months old. Her decision led me to a different environment and a stable, loving family.

I’m grateful for my mother’s death because I learned a valuable lesson at 16 years old. Life can end at any moment; therefore, it should be lived daily. The moment I saw her lifeless body laying in that hospital bed, my own life kicked into gear. Living on purpose wasn’t an option.

I’m grateful for my father’s abandonment. Because of it, I sought the “love” and “comfort” of other men for a very long time, and when I’d exhausted that path, I learned the only person left was the one facing me in the mirror. I learned to give myself love and then vibrate out from that place.

I’m grateful for the totality of these experiences because they’ve taught me that change is the only thing that’s constant. Whether it is as subtle as a flower’s bloom or as obvious as aging; change occurs. And because of these experiences, I know the phrase, “this too shall pass,” to be absolute truth. No pain lasts forever.

Forgiving myself for destructive self-talk and behavior has helped me release negative energy and create a flow for self-love. But first, I had to recognize places where I needed to forgive myself, not others. I had to realize that at no point is anyone else responsible for my life, only I am. For me, that’s one of the most important aspects of self-love: consciously creating your own story, one word at a time.

*This is one of those notes I kept putting off. I figured it was a nice way to begin wrapping up the self-love month.

**Written for Debbie’s Forgiving Fridays, which can be written any day of the week.

Reflections of a Commuter

img_508946,080. That’s how many miles I commuted from Orange Park to Gainesville, where I completed graduate studies at the University of Florida. These miles accumulated over a six-year period.

The drive was do-able back then because it was a little under three hours round trip; I was 31; and I knew it would end. You see, I’ve always believed that you can do anything…temporarily. So, in my mind driving back and forth to complete a degree was definitely a short-term situation. Eventually, I’d graduate.

August 7, 2010, I walked across the stage, and the very next day the girls and I moved to middle-Georgia. I’d obtained a job at a liberal arts college, which was located in Milledgeville. My classes were at a regional center in Macon. However, we lived in Houston County. This county was the best of the surrounding areas. The others were full of failing schools and lacked diversity. My children already had to adjust to a new type of southern culture. I wasn’t about to sacrifice their education as well. But, this meant another two years’ commute.

I-75-interstate-75-highway6,720. That’s how many miles I drove to and from Houston County to the Macon Center and occasionally round trip to Milledgeville for department and program meetings. Because Dwight lived in Jacksonville, there was the bi-weekly commute back there to visit. For my part, that added an extra 9,800 miles.

As ridiculous as this sounds, commuting in this way continued to be manageable because it was my first full-time academic job, so excitement floated me up and down I-75. I was just happy to be making money doing something I’d trained for and loved.

But living away from my husband wasn’t sustainable. So, I attained a job in Florida. Only this time, the commute was 360 miles round trip, door-to-door. I figured my family could stay put, while I drove up and down I-10.

57,600. That’s how many miles I commuted to and from Jacksonville to Tallahassee for three years. This time it was do-able because I was working in my niche with likeminded colleagues. But the physical and mental stress of getting there wasn’t worth it. When the Spring 2015 semester ended, I knew I was done. My soul spoke to me and made it quite clear that day in May was the last drive I’d make to campus.

A June offer at another institution in Gainesville confirmed my intuition. I figured I could do it because the commute was familiar and included fewer miles, 180 compared to 360. Plus, for the first two years, I taught at regional centers, which weren’t very far, and on top of that, the majority of my course load was online. But course loads are unpredictable, and if necessary, I have to be prepared to commute to main campus in Gainesville. That’s what happened this academic year, thus prompting my motivation to finally reflect.

12,160. That’s how many miles I’ve commuted in two and a half years to teach classes. I haven’t added additional miles required for attending bi-weekly and monthly meetings held on three separate days.

My thirteenth year as a commuter feels less enjoyable and more like a hamster wheel. I’m tired y’all. I’m tired of leaving two hours early just so I can arrive on time. I’m tired of buying new tires every 6-8 months because of wear and tear. I’m tired of the additional gas money. Plus, the older I get, the more driving up and down the highway for hours to work seems like a colossal waste of time.

img_5101Sometimes change begins with reflection. That’s what this is. I don’t have an answer right now, but I do know that I won’t be spending my remaining career on the road. Life’s too short and time is fleeting*.

Do you or have you had to commute? What was it like?

*Had to borrow from Longfellow’s “A Psalm of Life.”

Monday Notes: Random Thoughts 💭 

Sometimes I keep notes of random thoughts I intend to develop into more in-depth blog posts. They never quite make it. Here are a few varied ideas that I’ll probably never write about in detail.

img_3191Here in the States, especially in the south, state prisoners don their orange jumpsuits and work on the highway or street. I can never tell what they’re doing because the imagery is too strong. Because of the disproportionate number of Black male prisoners and the high number of white correctional officers, these scenes oftentimes look like a white overseer of Black slaves. It bothers me.

img_3192Last year was the hottest summer on record. Every beach day, my skin felt as if it might peel off. It’s never felt like that before. My thoughts were confirmed by Rosaliene Bacchus. It really was the hottest summer on record. But it wasn’t just summer that was hot. This winter was unusually hot. Even though I live in North Florida where we typically have cooler weather, the past two years, I’ve worn shorts and short sleeve shirts a lot of the time. It was 90 degrees one “winter day.” There was no discussion on the local or national news. The only words I kept hearing were “record high,” and I wondered if this was purposeful to keep people from thinking about the impact of global warming.

img_3193Do you do this? Do you call people selfish because they don’t do what you want them to do? I’ve done it before. My cousin came to Florida to “visit me” but spent all his time with his girlfriend. I crowned him the King of Selfish. But as I write this I’m wondering, who am I to judge his selfishness? It happens. Sometimes we do what we want to do, with little regard for anyone else. If I was going to flesh this out, then I’d revise it to suggest this: Don’t make people feel bad because they don’t do what you want them to. People can do whatever they want.

img_3194Since The Unhappy Wife released, I’ve found myself having several conversations about relationships. I don’t mind it at all because I’m learning a lot about how and why people choose romantic partners. One common reason for women is financial security. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be secure, but I always have a bunch of rhetorical questions. Why don’t you make your own financial security? Wouldn’t that leave more space for love and stuff? What will happen if the husband loses his job? What if he doesn’t work for years because the economy is bad? Will you leave? I never ask people these questions. I just jot down my notes and keep my mouth shut.

I rarely write such randomness. Let me know if you have any comments about this hodgepodge of notes .