| Wednesday, January 25, 2006 |
| A Darker Shade of Black |
I feel like I’ve survived massive bombing and shelling, having dug out of the rubble looking at a horizon accented by whisps of grey fog. This after another hour and a half prayer counseling session, mostly dealing with racial reconciliation.
A blast from the past…for at least a year and a half of my childhood – sometime between ages four and six, my dad did his version of homeschooling. He kept the family home and indoctrinated us with the tenants of “black pride.” We learned black history and studied icons like Marcus Garvey, Malcolm X and the Black Panthers (lol – an icon to some, I suppose). We began to study Arabic, chose Yoruban names - all in preparation to move “back” to Africa. He emphasized Africa being our place of origin and how we didn't belong in America. I remember being very unhappy with the thought that I’d be some little beady headed kid running around naked with no shoes on in the hot sun – LOL. We were educated about “the man” and the American racist machine.
During this time I also learned that Jesus was a blue-eyed, blond-haired devil. I tell you, I still marvel at God’s plans, because I was “anti-christ” from childhood until my late twenties when I had a personal encounter with Jesus (story for another time). My dad must have looked at too many of those traditional “last supper” pictures and stained glass murals. Anywho, while all the other little neighborhood kiddies ran around outside playing tag, swinging their hula-hoops, playing with G.I. Joes and swapping marbles, I was stuck inside the propaganda tank.
During my “time off” from school I went to an all-black academy in NYC (60 mile commute daily from upstate NY), and we frequented many of the hot cultural centers (plays, black bookstores, museums, lectures) on the weekends. I knew we were “different,” but my dad taught us that this different was good – better and enlightened. We were “awake.” This difference he was imposing on us, in addition to the problems of life, set the foundation for the angry black woman I identified myself with last year. I found myself angry with God about my family’s challenges, and disgruntled with many things in ministry – but at the core the anger I felt was fueled by the indoctrination of my childhood. I was taught that I should be angry because there was a lot to be angry about.
Interestingly enough, after my parents split and we moved, the rest of my life was spent in multi-ethnic, multi-cultural environments. I loved it, and craved diversity…still to this day. This, in part, is why I enjoy missions so much. I love meeting people of different cultures and finding out their story. I love learning new things about myself and the world through the lenses of other cultures. I believe diversity is a picture of heaven. What a dichotomy – the past programming and present hunger. Somehow this helped diffuse my previous programming, but not enough to take the latent anger away.
In my prayer session I spent time repenting for participation in all that “stuff” and the myriad of judgments and attitudes that followed. I also forgave – my parents for raising us that way, people who have hurt me by their own prejudices and racist acts as well as people I have hurt. More profoundly, I forgave my African ancestry and the ancestry of caucasians for their participation in the wickedness of slavery. Things were complicated by the addition of Native American ancestry through my grandmother, and somehow that was an even more painful and profound repentance and forgiveness. I was exhausted again.
As I sat trying to process what I’d just went through and its implications, I realized that anger had been a banner, an entitlement for everything gone wrong in my life and within the black community, and for a flicker of a moment my subconscious realized that and didn’t want to surrender it. It was sort of like – what will I do without this anger??? I was at a crossroads. The longing in my soul to be free overcame the temptation, and *puffffff* - I surrendered it to God. Chains have been broken and a weight has been lifted.
Today I am the phoenix rising from the ashes. |
posted by heavenlydm @ 10:44 AM   |
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| Tuesday, January 17, 2006 |
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I'm excited about going home for my birthay in a few weeks...yipee! I'm hoping it doesn't look like Emily's Arizona paradise - though very beautiful, it's not the ideal New England February. The last time I was home in winter it was nice enough to snow 12 inches or so :). It was so pretty as the streets were filled with cross country skiers trying their best to get where they were going. There were certain local roads with tree-lined streets covered with snow and icicles, and the glow of breaklights and traffic lights made them look like a winter wonderland. Kids were out trying to get their snowballs and snowmen made. Pedestrians were all bundled up. Everything was white and pure looking, and I was inside a Norman Rockwell painting. (Pause to sip on hot cocoa.)
I'm going to turn 40 and I feel great about it! I told my daughter and siblings I don't want any hoopla. I'd like to gracefully enter the next decade of my life with passionate serenity. I don't want the jokes about approaching the over-the-hill club, arthritis, pre-AARP, Citrucel....none of it. Let's just celebrate the beginning of a new chapter of my life.
In health news, I had my bp and glucose levels tested and the results were quite impressive from the last screening. The nurse looked at me in disbelief, asking what I've been doing. I grinned and said eating right and exercising - all the right stuff. I told her I'd lost 60lbs and pointed to my daughter who's lost 88. Her mouth hung open. It was a nice, stunning moment.
I've been assaulted twice by my nursery director. She reminds me of my mother in that every time I see her, she points me out to other people, notes my progress and pulls my pants out from my leg (mom would attempt to pinch the butt that no longer fills those particular pants). I shrink up from embarassment like any child would, and then come back to myself. This would fall under the category "Do Black People Blush?" She says she's tired of seeing me swimming in my clothes and has invited me to go shopping with her. Before you think - how rude - know that it's her treat. Though she has quite an unusual way of showing her support and encouragement, I take it for what it is. She has good intentions. I accepted her invitation and hope to have the opportunity to ask her to not make such a scene when she's trying to show me off.
I'm nothing less than deflated that the 2003 and 2004 back-to-back champion New England Patriots got the crap kicked out of them last weekend. I'm gearing up for the blue collar superbowl game (and that's all I have to say about that).
(Note to self: since you've discovered the trainer you love to oogle at in the gym is only 26, it's time to find a new crush. Until you do, he's still qualified to be eye candy. Forget what the movies are saying - you're not Mrs. Robinson. Sigh.) |
| posted by heavenlydm @ 1:51 PM |
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| Thursday, January 12, 2006 |
| No sisterhood and my pants don't travel |
I’m feeling great today, smile on my face and pretty pleasant demeanor to support it. I suppose it started this morning when I slipped on my pants and realized I’ve made more progress and things are going well. I was at another plateau-like stand-off with the scale…hovering within the same two pounds for the last few weeks which broke this week. Being a gym whore, I thought surely there’s not another workout to be had and I needed to look at what I’m eating. In the end I believe I just hit a funky few weeks – nothing wrong, just my body adjusting to things.
I’m thoroughly enjoying my current regimen: cardio for 30 mins at lunch six day a week and 30-60 minutes evenings four times a week; strength training including abdominal work four times a week. I’m doing this for as long as it lasts, not feeling pressured to maintain this level of working out – just enjoying it. I am, however, having people/instructors from my aqua classes ask me when I’m coming back as if I’ve committed a personal offense against them by changing things up. That’s becoming quite irritating. I left the class because I hit a plateau, and since I’ve been on hiatus I’ve enjoyed doing what I’m currently doing – so I figure why go back. On a positive note, these same people are saying how great they think I look. I’ve noticed quite a few more greetings and heads turning at the gym. Nice!
Back to my pants – jeans. While my jeans do not travel and are not the subject of a full-length feature film, they do tell a story. Purchased in December 1999, I wore them (twice???) along with a matching jacket. The first time was while scouting out Atlanta before moving here. I could hardly breathe in them at the time, but they looked so good and were symbolic of a new beginning. It was a very short-lived new beginning, I suppose. I couldn’t fit them comfortably and shortly afterward I totally grew out of them.
This morning when I put them on, I remembered all that I left behind – the divorce and ex-husband I didn’t want to run into on the streets of Boston, a stressful IT job with a company that was constantly restructuring (I had eight supervisors/managers in the first five years I was with them), a teenager with tell-tale signs of trouble ahead, a small church with small church pains, broken dreams, missed potential, etc., etc., etc. Remembering was sweet because I could look at what I’ve overcome. I also had the new picture of me in the mirror who’s healthier and happier and not only fits the jeans…but am on my way out of them. My jeans tell the story of an overcomer. I’m the winner! |
| posted by heavenlydm @ 2:09 PM |
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| Thursday, January 05, 2006 |
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The new year is here and I'm finding myself in an interesting place. I haven't really been able to collect myself to journal, and the fact that work has been so busy hasn't helped. I've been working out as usual, two times a day for the most part. I went through hell week which usually makes me snacky, and managed to not to gain any weight, though it would have been nice to show a loss (still hovering in the high 260's). I guess I'm just not on the high I would like to be on. I think I set myself up in my mind to feel like - new year, clean slate. Somehow that hasn't manifested yet, at least mentally. I'm still dealing with last year's crap.
I did a two hour counseling session on the 2nd with the intention to discuss and pray through various issues - processing my reaction to hurtful events of the past. I've taken courses designed to achieve the same result, however, somehow I missed having a lot of personal time. In any case, the more I spoke, the longer the list of things to pray about grew.
I hadn't realized just how much trauma I've endured for having such a strong drive to cope. It's my family's mantra - life happens and you just endure the pain and move on. Com'on...(African-Americans) culturally we've endured so much hardship. We're use to it. Well, while I was busy moving on, I built long lists of people I judged, resented and held unforgiveness for. I vowed to never do a bunch of things (that, of course I ended up doing). After years and years of this, from childhood through adulthood, I grew some pretty deep roots of bitterness and walked with a deep sense of mistrust. I couldn't really hold my heart open to others and my perspective was clouded, especially as it related to how I related to God and who He is. Hence, the angry black woman thing. This came to a climax last year when my daughter began battling health issues. I knew something was very wrong when I began to withdraw from friends, activities and things I'm passionate about. I thought it was just about dealing with my daughter's stuff, but it was about the inner me - the me you can't see.
Somehow in all this I managed to loose weight. I think it was a diversion and because exercising comes with the reward of feeling better (emotionally and physically), I was able to skate for months. Now everything seems to be coming to a new head. Here's a screwy equation to describe it...
Past:
I feel, I eat
I eat, I feel
I feel, I eat.
Today:
I eat (breakfast)
I exercise (before lunch)
I eat (lunch)
At any given point in the day I feel, I think about eating...I battle to deal with what
I'm feeling - sometimes I win, sometimes I don't
I exercise (before dinner)
I eat (dinner)
I feel...same as above
I go to bed
I think exercise has been a mask to deal with my emotions and stress - whatever they are. I feel so good afterward, but I haven't necessarily dealt with the "stuff" of life I need to deal with. The equation is only currently working out because I have a buffer due to working out so much. Now I'm at the place of having to figure out what's going on and really deal with it. It takes a lot more energy to do that. While in the session I felt exhausted - like I'd run a marathon (not that I know what that feels like). This is where I am.
I'm excited about getting free. It takes so much energy to be disgruntled and I'm done with that and ready to sink the same energy into being healthy and fit, happy, joyful and whole. I look forward to being light again. I think I thought with the calendar pages turning, something would change because last year (and all before that) would be behind me. What I've discovered is...I've got a lot more work to do. It's okay. It is what it is. The rewards greatly outway staying the same.
Risking repeating myself...I look forward to having my smile back.
(Note to self: be honest here. The reason you like working out at the gym so much is because of your weakness for looking at beautiful male bodies...and those in the making, not to mention being able to eyeball a certain attractive personal trainer.)
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| posted by heavenlydm @ 7:48 AM |
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