Relinquish my Strength?! Uh, No.

Hello, beautiful souls 💖

I’d like to discuss something that has been tugging on my heart strings lately. Ive noticed that there has been a reel trending on social media about ‘strong black women’. In case you aren’t familiar with it, it goes a little something like this:

I am not a strong black woman. I am delicate, fragile, and I can’t do it all on my own…

There’s more to the reel, and I don’t remember the audio verbatim but I’d like to address the sentiment. I viewed this audio as a cry for help from my queens who are tired of carrying the load alone.

Being strong is a blessing and a curse in today’s society. When a person is strong, they are often given more weight to carry. The growing assumption is that since you’ve carried so much, you can carry a little more…and a bit more…and wait, here’s a little more. People typically don’t check on or offer assistance to strong people. And that can cause even the strongest of people to be weary.

Yet, strength is a gift. It is earned based on perseverance and is the by product of experience and wisdom. Strength is an invaluable attribute that should be celebrated.

I am strong.

I didn’t think of myself as strong at one point. I endured quite a bit of misfortune as well as mistreatment from people I loved and to be honest I felt anything but strong. At times I felt broken, lost, and out of control. And that’s okay too. A strong person doesn’t feel strong all the time. In fact, a person is strong because they go through painful experiences and still stand.

Strength is often appreciated in the hard times. In relationships I was often commended for my strength when I helped my mate with an issue they were facing or found a solution to a problem when my partner didn’t have one. But when I stood up for myself, I was told often that I was “too strong”.

What does that mean?!

The same strength that was admired and appreciated was quickly shunned and viewed as a negative attribute once I established some boundaries. That is not how things work.

That being said, strength is an attribute that I’ve earned and I will not relinquish my strength so that a person will accept me. I am strong, I am soft, I am fierce, I am sweet. I am human. We are human. And we all deserve to be loved and accepted as we are.

Until next time, beautiful souls 💖

Not My Lupus!

Hello beautiful souls 💖

I hope that this blog finds you in good spirits. I’ve been traveling all day, but I wanted to make it a point to discuss this topic before February ends… so here goes:

In February of 2003, I was diagnosed with Lupus, RA, (rheumatoid arthritis) and a couple of other things. As you could imagine; I was afraid. I didn’t know much about lupus, but what I did know wasn’t good. At all. A family friend had just passed away due to lupus complications. What’s more, I was in my third trimester of pregnancy! I was afraid for myself, my future, and my child.

I was in pain a lot. Undoubtedly, it put strain on my marriage. We were both young and not quite used to being adults. There were so many things to deal with at once.. I felt like a burden to my husband and I believe that I was going through postpartum depression as well. Some days, I could barely walk. My codependency increased as a result. I lived in fear for years and I counted myself out.

I realized that I had sentenced myself to a lifetime of pain, sadness, and mediocrity because of this diagnosis. I felt even more inadequate than I had already thought I was. Sometimes I settled for things when I knew I deserved better because I was just grateful that someone was willing to be with me with all the issues I had.

I found that I was inadvertently attaching myself to the illness. I often referred to it as ‘my lupus’. I would say things like, ‘Well, I can’t make plans because I never know when my lupus is gonna flare up.’ And ‘I can’t do that type of job because of my lupus.’

BUT…

There’s always a ‘but’…💖

But I’ve grown to understand that a diagnosis does not make me who I am. It does not define me! I am a person worthy of respect and love with or without that diagnosis. An illness does not make me less of a person. If anything, it makes me that much more unique and strong.

I began to understand that the way I thought and spoke had doomed me far more than any illness could. I had to stop giving that illness power over me!

*Disclaimer* I am not saying in any way, shape or form to disregard medical advice or diagnosis.

What I am saying is that people with illnesses could benefit largely by understanding their strengths and practicing a little detachment. I was making the situation worse by thinking the worst.

Occasionally, I feel some discomfort but it isn’t severe. I am so much more happy, healthy, and in control of my body and my life. So, if you’ve been diagnosed with an illness my advice to you is to decide right now that YOU are in charge. Do not attach yourself to it. Do not call it yours.

Love yourself, be gentle with yourself and remember that you are not your circumstances.

Until next time beautiful souls 💖

The good in my bad day.

Hi!

I have been going through some changes lately during this pandemic- as we all have I’m sure, but today, I want to put a positive spin on an otherwise bad situation.

It has been 17 years since I was diagnosed with Lupus and I’ve had quite a few ups and downs. Some days are great, while others…less so. Along with my lupus diagnosis came kidney disease and RA. There are days of excruciating pain and unreasonable fatigue, but because of my family and my resilience; I make it through.

About a week ago was one of those bad days. There was pain in my knees and ankles, and swelling in my feet. I was trying to pretend like I was okay. I had successfully finished cooking dinner, but I still had a few dishes left to wash. Almost there; I said to myself. I was attempting to psych myself into getting the kitchen done so that I could get off of my feet.

But pain gripped me in such a way that I couldn’t pretend anymore. It cut me off mid sentence and I lost my train of thought. My husband noticed the change in my demeanor and insisted that I stop right there and sit down. He walked me to our room. Each step was a nightmare! I dreaded the thought of picking up my legs to move…

I got to the room and sat for a little while, but I needed to shower. So, after hubby went to the backyard I got up to do just that. It took me about five minutes to get to our master bathroom 🤦🏾‍♀️ but I got there.

Hubby called to check on me and I told him of my plan to take a shower. He instructed me to put the phone on speaker and stayed on the phone with me. It. Was. Difficult! The pain was unreal and I tried not to cry but was unsuccessful. I could barely stand. I sat on the ledge inside of the shower and only stood when absolutely necessary.

I looked down at my phone (on the floor just outside of the shower) and realize the call had been ended. “Its okay. I can do this without bothering anyone.”

I was trying to coach myself into believing that. I didn’t have to because when I looked up again, hubby was there. He disrobed and joined me in the shower. He washed me, helped me out of the shower and then dried me and wrapped me with the towel.

I cried.

It was a combination of embarrassment, pain and gratitude that caused my tears. “Why are you crying?” He asked softly. “You don’t have to cry; I’m here. I’ll always be here.” He said.

I cried harder.

I literally couldn’t thank him enough. And I realized something: it’s great to be strong but it’s also okay to be vulnerable at times. Being an adult doesn’t mean you’ll never need help. I had been so caught up in being independent- especially since my diagnosis, that I could be a bit stubborn and unreasonable. I guess I felt like I had something to prove. Not always being able to do simple tasks that used to be effortless at one time; really messes with a person’s psyche.

But I am evolving and growing past that insecurity.

He let me know that he was there for me to lean on, and when I need to- I will.

I reflect on that day and quite frankly, I’m just so glad that I have someone to be there for me during those times. He was the good part of my bad day and I am so grateful.

Remember to keep smiling folks. And be kind to one another.

Love and Light- Mimi 💜

Phase 1…again

It seems like I’ve spent most of my life in phase 1. Starting over, reinventing, learning, loving, gaining, losing…although, “phase 1 ” is in reference to me restarting the Atkins diet, I felt the bitter sting of irony when I realized that I may be at phase one in other aspects of my life as well.

This is my second marriage. I’m older now and more refined and I feel that he should be as well. Especially when you consider that there’s quite an age difference between us.

I don’t expect us not to disagree, but I do believe that at this juncture in our lives, we should both be past certain things. And we don’t seem to be. I’m growing tired of being the main person to compromise; to sacrifice, to take the high road.

At times, our blended family doesn’t blend so well and we all experience some discomfort.

But I draw the line at perpetual discomfort. I get fed up when my daughter is uncomfortable. She’s not perfect, but she’s polite, helpful, caring and goes out of her way to be kind to everyone. So if my daughter is uncomfortable; I am uncomfortable.

We as parents are supposed to lead by example. We should treat all members of the family with love and respect. I just feel like my daughter and I compromise and walk on eggshells much more than my bonus son and my husband do.

So, if this situation does not work itself out soon I will not only be in phase 1 of my diet, but I will be in phase 1 in life yet again.

That means twice divorced, getting a new place, a new bank account and a new job. But it’s okay.

I survived it once, I can survive it again if need be.