“Breaking Point Survival
Overwhelming is the word of the week. Busy is an understatement and sleep has taken on a deeper meaning. The dreaded alarm waits in the distance while the search for a personal chef continues. However, a new trend has begun.
I am telling people young and old alike how to avoid annoying me. It is not rude or disrespectful to explain your boundaries to people. They may not be aware of how annoying they are and need to be told. Otherwise, the problem persists and you are the one with the pain in your neck because of your body clenching whenever they approach.
When spending my hard earned money on items, I am requesting the full extent of assistance. A designer made changes to a skirt and delivered it to my home this week because I did not have time to return to the store. Her partner has a blouse that I want. I asked if I could pay extra for shipping. The Zelle request is sitting in my inbox.
My personal favorite is the follow up. Don’t do it and don’t allow it to kill you. If someone wants something from you, they will go through the process of communicating with you. You do not have to inquire about anything. That responsibility falls on them. The only way that perhaps this should be flexible is when there is money involved for your pocket. All of us are busy beings. It is too draining to try and accommodate everyone and everything. This is especially important because most people are unable to make sense of their own inadequacy to form basic requests in a timely fashion without interrupting your flow.
Although I won’t receive flowers or chocolate tomorrow, I will be content. The best present right now would be for me to wake up and have absolutely nothing to do. A catered lunch with sparkling lemonade would send me over the full moon…..”
After a long hard day of work, my bed consumes me whole. Another couple has started their new life together after dining on a seven course meal. I have just finished my third bowl of popcorn and wish that a coke would fall from the sky.
There are different tweaks in my life now. There is a new flow. A store has an outfit waiting for me because I called ahead with specifications. The salon doesn’t see me on the weekends. Monday is much more my speed because it is completely empty. Nails? Well, once I return…she is by appointment only.
A new assistant joined my mission this week. However, as days go by, I am realizing that I need one for my personal life as well. Can someone bring me the popcorn and coke from the kitchen? That is too much of a task for me while laying in bed. Maybe she could also make that phone call that I keep putting off.
It is true. Sheer exhaustion makes me feel sorry for myself. As a child, my mother was obligated to keep me going. As an adult, I am obligated to keep me going. Between the demands of work and work, sometimes that is an impossible feat.
How exactly am I supposed to face another day of challenges and to do lists? My skin has to remain moisturized and a proper diet should be in place too?
Perhaps the worst part is that all of us feel like this in some way shape or form. Unfortunately, because we are caught in our own chaos, we do not bond anymore. Live conversation has been replaced with text messages. You learn about a dear friend’s accomplishment via a fb post. I have had to tell some of you to call me before I see you with a ring on your finger on a screen.
There used to be drum circles on the beach. My sister and I would dance all night under the full moon. Impromptu happy hours, Starbucks runs, and dinner at the now defunct Soyka. There was the now legendary night that I kissed the chef….
Life will never cease with her twists and turns. Some days are slow while other phases are intense without any cool air or even a drop of cool water for your face. Keep going. You got this. Remember to breathe. Pause to reflect. Adjust that crown, and push forward.
The Niche: Why It Is Special
There is one area where you excel. You are known for doing it and people seek you out as an expert. It could be cooking. Others are exemplary mothers. Some people handle money with finesses while others yet can help people better understand themselves. You may even have complimentary areas that are awesome that support this one area where you are the absolute epitome of perfection. This is your nice.
It is special because you are the one doing it. Your niche brings you money and supports your entire life. It is not your side hustle; it is your 24/7 grind. You live it as a life. The very air alone brings in new ideas to enhance this specialty that just does it for you.
Time and a decent mentor can show you how to work it. Do you want to improve your skills? Call your mentor for a session. Travel to that conference in Washington state. Schedule a lunch with a colleague and chat about everything and nothing. My best professional development was held this morning talking to a colleague while driving to work.
Customized apparel can help you bring attention to your business while capturing yourself as well. You have to do everything possible to help you think about improving upon yourself. It is a daily agenda. Some days will be better than others. Productivity is not a daily necessity. I said that aloud. You are supposed to crash once or twice a week just to maintain your mental sanity. Self care is not a new term to be splashed around by middle class America. It is an actual thing that everyone is supposed to do in some way shape or form everyday. You want to be able to start with a fresh foundation in order to fully embrace the life that you call your own.
Now that I have said all of that, what is your niche? Where do you fit? Where are you going? Maybe you are standing still. Some of you are standing still trying to figure out where to go. All of these positions are valid. However, as a woman in a society that is tearing down the antiquated ways of the patriarchy, reach out and touch a resource to help you along your way.
It’s Time to Remove My Bra
It is merely the second day of the week, and the bed has engulfed my body. My body screams from symptoms of stress while silently praying for an immediate detox. Personal space is invaded daily with the understanding that I am simply another link in a very long chain. This game will never change.
As the bed settles just a little more, my mind races across goals that should be set and lists that should be written. Tea has been scheduled and my eyes have settled on a new jumper that shall make its debut tomorrow. The grandmother look simply doesn’t suit me and the quest to break out of the nursing home look has been ignited. Where am I going to? Do I like the things that life is showing me?
Arguments rage on over the Super Bowl halftime show while I still make pennies every hour. There is someone that needs a kind word. There is a hug that should be had, and the wish of a vacation. No one in the world can move me quite like this journey of mine. Rocky? Yes. Conventional? No.
Owls now keep me company and there isn’t a daughter or husband in sight. My existence is still valid. My voice is still clear. Unwavering and firm. Forward shall I go into the great unknown. Wednesday beckons unto me.
The Taxation of the Mind
This week has had it all. Grief, complaints, hunger, headaches, vaginal questions, low budgets and the ever popular favorite, the contemplation of life.
There I sat on a Sunday afternoon in shock over a man that I barely knew.
By Tuesday morning, the recurring conversations about the tragedy had taken hold and my threshold was met; I couldn’t take it anymore. Conversations were silenced. The radio was turned off. Social media was removed. It was just me and a bed looking for sleep while praying for peace.
Have you ever just stared at your desk wondering what in the hell am I doing? In walks Wednesday in all of her glory. Yet another presentation ahead to be prepared to impress my one my only, my boss. Le sigh. Why I even managed to sketch the outline for my personal year. Goals are everything when you can touch them in bold color.
Thursday with her maddening effect and grueling grind brought me to the doorstep of Dunkin Donuts begging for caffeine/fuel on a Friday morning. Here I lay. My meanderings a mere memory from yesterday as I try to grasp the direction of my life.
Is the direction right? Can I be more? Will the NFL give me money? Yes and hell to the no. None of this stops the earth from moving around the sun. The seconds are still going tick tock on the clock. My life is still my own to live as I see fit. What I see, is a protection of self and glasses of wine….a bottle.”
A Gentle Reminder
Last year was all about stripping away all of the fat and fluff, to get to the heart of the matter: me, myself, and I. It was a massive analysis of each life department and how to maintain it. It will take the remainder of my years to truly complete such a task. However, on Friday, a gentle reminder ensued.
When you make a woman smile, the world changes. Others benefit from her glow and the heaviness of the earth lifts ever so slightly. I made two videos of picture complications of friends and their work. I sent it to them. The emotions that followed were unreal. Confidence levels increased and they saw themselves as I see them: talented fierce individuals that are here to combat the patriarchy with their respective purposes.
We are living in a time when sexual harassment is being busted wide open. Men are finally learning the hard way that they can not exploit women for their own pleasure without paying a dire price for it. Women are entering politics in record numbers and holding key positions. STEAM is all the rage and little girls are aspiring to become airplane pilots instead of a flight attendant. The world truly is our oyster as the manly norms are slowly being chipped away.
It is important to remember that while all of this is taking place, we have to continue to adjust our crowns. Every day is not filled with roses and chocolates and when it is, we get fat. Many days are about the grind. Meet the deadline. Execute the flawless presentation. Get both clients in before the conference. This is why the word balance is so very popular. You can not be busy all of the time and you have to rest without feeling unproductive. Napping is my favorite hobby.
The New Year celebrations have ended. Everyone is staring at the scale and wondering if the gym membership is actually a thing. Beds are warm and coffee is hot. Monday will start a new work week in a new year. Hell is slowly rising to a steady boil.
The anxiety of leaving the wonderful break and returning to the hustle and bustle of the 9-5 leave me in complete and utter despair. The last two weeks have brought me a great balance of freelancing and rest. Napping became my sole pursuit and leaving the house was extremely unnecessary. The thought of leaving this behind is dreadful.
I’ve never been a resolutions individual. There may not even be goals written down somewhere. However, there are ideas that I am developing as I am truly a constant work in progress. Is there something that I want? Always. Are there things to be done? Until the end of time. Am I putting forth a minute by minute concentrated effort on one thing?
These days life happens one day at a time. The larger picture relies on the building blocks of the smaller days. This is not the time to grab it by the horns and ride like a cowgirl. The sound of the water is so peaceful and it should wash over me vs splashing around making waves. The day will come when I have to dig my feet into the ground. For now…..silence embraces me.
You have to know why you are here. Your purpose has to be clear as day to you. Hints may be dropped. The universe may gently push you in the right direction. Doors will magically open and people will respond to you….when you stand in your gift.
My father envisioned a world where I would one day continue my life without his earthly presence. He knew that being armed with a choice of weapons to survive would be key in my success. He made sure that I was educated. There were hobbies and happy memories. There was one area where I seemed to excel over anything else. Music.
A rare instrument was given to me. He paid for the lessons. He drove me to rehearsals and performances. He would sit next to me while I practiced. Loading and unloading harps became his whole weekend. My father is my biggest support system. When he departed from this realm, he was serenaded by musicians…one of which was of his making.
These days I spend my time entertaining seniors inside adult day cares. They sing along and delight in the tunes of yesteryear. Their joy and happiness are very rewarding for me. As 2020 approaches, I am excited about what is around the company for my entrepreneur contribution: Lady of Harp, LLC.
They were beautiful. I blinked and blushed. One asked about her dress. The other smiled. Another yet piled her locs upon her head and posed. The ding announced the arrival of pics on the cell. Great day in the morning. How does a red blooded woman handle such beauty sent via technology? Well, I blog….
Shortly thereafter, the commentary began. Some call it a thump. Others a tickle. Me? I call it movement. When the pussy wants to run around and do laps, she has scored her hurrah. The pussy has been harassed.
Unsolicited beauty in front of your face can cause an uncanny sexual reaction before you even begin the hectic work day. You know it is there. You can’t escape the ding. Do you offer a retort? Forward an emoji? Or live the rest of your day in complete and total sin? I suggest a healthy combination of all three…
The sun was barely in the sky. I found myself laying in bed fuming like a chimney. My mother had questioned my heavy weight despite my clear boundary of don’t. It continued with a laugh. I countered with a texting rant of how she has to respect my boundaries before I vanish again. I did not speak to her for two years and she wonders why.
Melancholy and forlorn, I bustled around my house. Her response indicated a zero balance in her negative account which left me speechless and pensive. Why did god choose this woman to be my mother? I will never know. She has caused many a day of pain in my life and this will be another one to add to the heap.
As my sandwich was consumed, I thought about the me of 2009. By now, I figured that I would be married with a family perhaps living elsewhere. Instead, I’m single and still reside in the same home. My heart knows more bitterness from failed romantic endeavors and has resigned itself to being alone. A divine union has eluded me for my entire adulthood. Love is beyond my grasp. People are used to me being alone. No one asks me if I’m seeing someone because I never am. I am not the girl that has tried on a wedding dress. It simply never happened for me. Then the spark came.
The relationship that I have with my mother is one of contention. She is unable to accept me for who I am. It has caused her to be jealous, bitter, toxic, and outright cruel towards me. Control freak, master gaslighter, and the ultimate complainer. Nothing has ever been good enough for her when it comes to me and I settled on the fact that it never would be in my younger days. When you compare this void to my love life, the complicated puzzle begins to make sense. Is it any wonder that I believe in Mother Mary so very strongly?
I am not Catholic. Mary was not a part of my upbringing beyond making Christmas appearances. As an adult, I have come to know her as a very loving presence that embraces you regardless of any trappings that a human life places upon you. She sees you as a being that she loves. Period. You are welcome in her family. You have a purpose and she supports you. She is the ultimate divine mother for whom I am grateful. There are other maternal presences in my life. There is a fairy godmother that cheers for me on the sidelines as well as a few aunties here and there. I wonder how my father shakes his head at the mess his widow has made in his eternal slumber.