Carolina Diva

I love journals and planners. I’ve kept journals for years and after 18 months of trying to maintain my life digitally, last year I ran back to paper for my planner and I couldn’t be happier. 

There is something about the flow of a great pen on an amazing piece of paper. 

I am at peace when I’m writing by hand. And all is right with the world. 

Original Date: January 9, 2018

Y’all! We have had about six days of snow days in Charleston. Yes, Charleston got real snow. Inches of snow. That are taking their slow, sweet time melting (thanks freezing temps). Did I mention that this snow is sitting on top of a couple of inches of ice? Every rose has its thorns, I guess.

For me, this has meant six blissful days of being in the house.

However, judging by the posts of many of my Facebook friends, this has been akin to a fate almost worse than death for others. Especially if small children were involved.

The introvert in me has been so freakin’ joyful during this time. It felt like one of the best staycations I’ve ever had.

I did venture out for a couple of hours on Saturday to have lunch close to home with a friend for her birthday. When I say close to home, I mean actually one mile away. And I scurried my ass back home with a quickness (if you can call driving 10 mph quick) because everyone and their mama was hitting the streets. And most roads weren’t even clear. I had to drive almost a half a mile on a straight sheet of ice just to get to a clear main road. That was some BS of the highest order. I haven’t been back out. I’m here until the all clear is given.

Surprisingly, I didn’t spend all those days in a Netflix haze. Not that that would have been a bad thing. I got Work work done, and I worked on my current story in progress. Like made real headway with the story and didn’t have to toss all 6,000 words that I had previously written.

The snow days have really made me appreciate having time to do what I want when I want. Most importantly, I have regained my enthusiasm for the story that I’m working on.

A bonus in all of this, is that I actually feel rested. Like, not just you slept enough to get through the day without falling out rested, but really rested. And at peace. Mentally and physically. I noticed it when I was watching the snowfall on Wednesday while feeling like a kid. I’m happy to say, I’m still feeling that way. Rested. Not so much the kid part.

I don’t know about you guys, but I am clearly seeing the recurring theme in my life right now.

Apparently, I’m not supposed to barrel through 2018, but instead move slowly, deliberately, with purpose and passion.

It can’t hurt. Powering through with clenched fists hasn’t been that great.

Original Date: January 2, 2018

Remember my ankle sprain I talked about in my last post? Well, here is the rest of the story and why I was able to appreciate slowing down to begin with:

I was sitting at home with my severely sprained and awfully swollen ankle, trying to not go all dark and angry about my situation. I’m not the most graceful person on the planet, but I somehow managed to make it into my mid forties before I began to break body parts, fall while going UP the stairs, and otherwise injure myself with regularity.

The more distracted, anxious, or stressed out I am, the more open to mishaps I seem to be.

November 11th was race day, and I was planning to run/walk a 10k with friends. I knew there wouldn’t be much running because I haven’t been running in the past couple of years. I was hoping it would be a time for pavement renewal. Until I stepped off the curb, not realizing that there was an extra step below. I found myself on the ground and my ankle contorted in the weirdest way. Thankfully, nothing snapped or broke, but I knew as soon as I stood up that I was in trouble. After the drama of my fall, strangers picking me up, and friends making sure I was whole and had ice, I ended up sitting in the car during the race because I didn’t want Yolanda to miss it. Besides, the damage was done, and icing and elevation could happen anywhere at that point.

Fast forward to 4 days later and my foot was HUGE ( I can’t even begin to accurately to describe how big, and the swelling was starting to decrease at that point), it hurt to move it, and walking on it was painful and awkward. Cue the feeling sorry for myself music. I started thinking about that morning when it all went wrong, and then remembered the moment where I was finally alone in the car after my friends had settled me in and then went on to run their race. I did a mental check in and asked myself if I needed to cry.  I did not. My first thought was that I guess that this was the Universe’s way of telling me to sit my ass down.

No tears at that moment. No feeling sorry for myself at that moment. Just me figuring out what I needed to do next (call The Man and tell him so that he could get his fussing out of the way), Google if when and if I needed to see a doc, and estimate how long it would take before my ankle was back to normal with a second sprain in less than three years on the same ankle (long time. Months and months long.) I marveled at how calm I was immediately following the sprain, but here I was a few days later, falling apart.

So what does all of this have to do with meditation? Everything.

I needed something to get my head straight while I was dealing with this. The usual Netflix or reading escapes weren’t working. And then, out of the blue, I remembered that I had never made it through the 40 Day Meditation Challenge  that I  started in February. I just stopped after about a week for some odd reason. Don’t ask me why that popped into my head. You guys should know how my brain works by now- it brings up what it wants when it wants to. I have no control.

At that moment, I decided there was no time like the present. I did the math and if I started that day, I would end the challenge on Christmas Day. Time was gonna pass anyway, and since exercise was out of the question for a while, meditation seemed like a good enough idea.

My meditation goal was to quiet my mind and work on my outlook. I haven’t been my sunny, optimistic self for a while, and I missed her. I wanted to see more of Nice D because her evil twin has been holding court for some time. I was becoming concerned that Evil D was planning to take up permanent residence with her blow torch, ‘cause burning shit down is her favorite thing to do.

The first week, I was focused and determined. If you’ve ever meditated, you know that statement is worthy of a hearty laugh. My mind was not trying to hear it. So I just settled in with a simple mantra and a plan to get through the rest of the days without missing a day. I surrendered to the process, which ultimately became the goal. Not exorcising Evil D, or finding my optimistic self. Just doing the damn thing. Every.Damn.Day.

When I hit Day 21 I can honestly say I had surprised byself. Not only was I still meditating, I was also looking forward to it at the end of the day. Day 30 is when I realized that I have been just a smidge calmer,  kinda focused, and kind of slow to blow my stack at perceived injustices- kinda slow. It ain’t magic, damn.

With all of that said, I meditated on December 26th and 27th, but didn’t on the28th and 29th, just to see if it was all in my head. I still felt calmer and a bit more collected, but just felt out of sorts without the meditation. So on the 30th, I started Round 2 of 40 Days of Meditation.

Sprained ankle + self-reflection + meditation = Djuanna trying to be a better person.

I’m pretty sure the Universe could have found a nicer, gentler way to get me to do that.

But probably not.

What are you working on in 2018?

Original Date: November 28, 2017

There’s a management saying- slow down to go faster.

Insert eye roll here.

While I am the self-proclaimed Queen of Chill, when I’m working or involved in a project, I’m pushing the envelope. I walk with speed and purpose, and I power through to get things done. Even when I’m procrastinating, I’m doing something else that needs to be done in order to avoid doing the thing I really need to do.

This makes for a frenzied day, week, month, year, life.

I’ve been feeling this frenzy for at least the last two years. But that all changed on November 11th when I sprained my ankle. I’ll spare you the details. This was the second sprain in less than 3 years on the same ankle. This first time was bad, but this was worse.

I couldn’t go to work for a week because my ankle was so swollen and it hurt to walk on it. The healing has begun, but I am not back up to speed. Two weeks later and I still have minor pain and swelling and now need to focus on rehabbing the ankle.

I can’t return to my normal activity for another month or so. Walking is slow going, especially in the morning. My patience has gotten the best of me a time or two and I’ve tried to push it. And paid for it.

This has led me to start asking myself the question- what am I rushing for/to? 99.9% of the time, I don’t have a valid answer. Yes, I have a shit ton of stuff to do for work. And yes, I have a shit ton of stuff I’d like to do with my personal projects. But the truth is, I’m wearing myself out doing what I have to do and can’t really get to what I want to do.

Going slow is boring, and being bored has allowed me to see the gaps in what I say vs. what I do.

It has shined a light on my recent lack of introspection. And how for some reason I’ve started to define who I am based on what I do professionally. That right there was enough to scratch the needle on the record. I’ve always considered my job what I do for money (no matter how much I love it) and my life outside of work as my real life. Somewhere along the line, I flipped that script. Don’t exactly know when or why, I just know that the tail (work) has been wagging the dog (my real life).

You already know that shit can’t continue.

I am a firm believer that when you need to handle your personal business or address a deficit, you will get signals from God, the Universe, your higher power. Ignore those early warning signs, and the signals will come more frequently and with severity. I can point to a ton of signals from the last 18 months that I just brushed off.

And here we are. Got my foot on a pillow as I type this. I also know that this sprain could have been much worse. I still have no idea how I didn’t sustain a break. But I’m grateful.

I’m saying yes to more of what I need, and no if it doesn’t lead me in the direction I’m trying to go or offer some improvement in my life.

Original Date: November 21, 2017

DISCLAIMER:

Having been missing in action on the blog for a few months, I had no intention of writing this particular post. I was going to write something fun/funky/inappropriate about midlife during the holidays to get myself back in gear. And that may still happen. Just not today. For some reason, today I had to share a truth about myself that I prefer to keep hidden. Because sometimes I really am a fucking grown up.

I’ve been told that I have commitment issues.

I’ve only been told that by Tenelle, so it really doesn’t count.

What I have is creative ADD. Really great ideas come to me all the time. Ideas about writing, about my professional life, about the creative life, and occasionally, ideas about business in general.

I have enough ebook ideas to publish a novella once a month for the next 3 years. I’m not kidding.

I feel like I’m a receptor for all of these wonderful ideas that I’ll never get to execute on. And honestly, some of them don’t seem that great in the light of day. But many do.

And that makes me want to jump in with both feet.

My creative cycle looks a bit like this:

This really great idea comes to me out of the blue. Usually in the shower, while driving, or when I’m smack dab in the middle of working or paying bills or searching for health care options.

I jot the ideas down so that I can review them again at a more appropriate time. If I’m driving, I record a voice note. Cause driving and texting are bad.

Once I get to a point that I can really marinate on the idea, I pull out the computer and go down all the rabbit holes. Thanks Google.

I take lots and lots and lots of notes

Because I get so excited, I usually end up texting a friend (who, of course, will see the greatness of the idea), or mentioning it to The Man to test his reaction (usually not a great idea because he doesn’t get excited about much), or I promise myself that I will not speak about it and just execute because the idea is so amazing.

If I text the friend, once they say that sounds great. I think to myself- wow, what a genius I am, and then I never do anything with the idea again.

If I mention it to The Man, his lukewarm response usually leaves me feeling like I should never talk to him about my exciting ideas and I never do anything with the idea again.

And if I vow that this is the no talk, simply act idea because it’s the greatest idea ever,  I make a list of things to do and create a timeline to do them. And never do anything with the idea again.

I’m pretty sure you’re smart enough to recognize a pattern here. It’s definitely clear to me. And I realize that I don’t have a commitment issue. I have an execution issue.

This has been a hard thing for me to face in the last few months. I’ve always had the excuse of I work full time and don’t have the time or energy to do X,Y, or Z.

That is currently not the case though. Right now, I’m working part time and not doing X,Y, or Z.

For the first couple of months of my new gig, I felt like I had to shed all my shit from my old gig. And since I didn’t take a vacay in between gigs, this was mostly true. Except, as I’m starting to slough off the residual effects of my old gig and feeling more and more like myself, I’m still not working on my projects.

The easy way out would be to acknowledge that I’m lazy and call it a day. Except, I’m not that lazy. I bust my ass at work during the day, and am known to work from home in the evenings and some weekends.

I’ve been trying to figure out my blocks, and fear keeps coming up. Too many to name in this post. And it’s not like I’m ready to admit them all here right now anyway. Just know that they exist. And they are many.

And I know fear in general is an easy out, so I’ll throw you guys a bone. I’m afraid to bet on me.

Y’all do recognize that this is some crazy talk coming from a woman who is known for encouraging her friends and family (and probably random strangers too) to take the leap towards the thing they most want out of life and that brings them joy. I’m not kidding. That is like my rallying cry when someone shares their dreams with me.

I just can’t seem to do this for myself.

Because I’m afraid.

Because failure isn’t as fun or as easy to manage as all these folks living their best lives have led us mere mortals to believe.

Original Date: August 1, 2017

I’m writing this post while listening to my daughter sing. This will be the last time I hear her sing in this house for a while. Tomorrow, she leaves for Chicago. She’s off to make her place in the world. As an adult.

I couldn’t be more proud.

And I’m the crying parent.

I cried her first day of daycare as a baby, first day of kindergarten, first day of 1st grade, last day of 5th grade (because it was her last day in elementary school), first day of middle school, first day of high school (because she was living with her dad and I wasn’t there to see it), and her first day of college. There are witnesses for most of these moments, unfortunately.

For weeks, when folks would ask me how I feel about her moving, my answer was standard- it’s what’s supposed to happen. We raise them up to go out into the world and make their mark. And I believe all of that. My job was to get her to the point where she can take care of herself, and lay the foundation for being her best self. No tears were shed.

But last night, I cried my first tears regarding this move. And today, I almost made a jackass of myself in Starbucks listening to my beautiful daughter talk about her hopes and dreams and her art.

It’s not like we haven’t had these conversations before. But we haven’t had these conversations the day before she leaves the nest for good.

When she graduated from college last year, she didn’t return home, but she lived downtown. 20 minutes away. I could roll up anytime she needed or I needed.

It’s not the distance so much that is making me sad, but don’t get me wrong, that is part of it.

It’s the not being able to watch her growth from afar. A Spicey in the bushes kind of thing. I'm watching you watch me watch you.

The next time I see her she will be a changed person. Wiser, worldlier, even more mature, if that’s possible.

And I will not have had a front row seat to the day to day events that will contribute to her transformation.

Until now, she has been growing under my guidance and influence. Starting tomorrow, that will be all her.

As excited as I am about her future, today I want nothing more than to have my toddler baby girl on my hip playing with my hair as I grab a juice box out of the fridge.

So my silent tears have turned to sniffling, tightening in the back of your throat tears. I’m dropping big tears and I’ve got to pull myself together for our big family dinner in an hour.

Meanwhile, she continues to sing in the next room without a clue.

Shout out to all the parents who’ve survived the launch of their younguns.

Original Date: June 20, 2017

I love stories. Reading them and writing them.

I have written a few short stories in the past. You can find them here and here.

And I’m back at it with my newest addition. Under a pen name. I’ll explain in a later post the reason for that.

I love, love, love to read but life’s responsibilities and distractions make it so hard for me to hunker down with hundreds of pages unless it’s vacation or holiday time.

Don’t get me wrong, the right book will suck me in and keep me engaged.

Sometimes, I just want an EPO read- Entertainment Purposes Only.

Romance is this for many women, but I’m more into contemporary fiction, so I want contemporary short reads.

So, write what you want to read.

And I want to read stories about women in midlife. Women making mistakes, living life to the fullest, figuring out what comes next professionally, navigating relationships (their man, their kids, and their parents). All the joy and pain that comes with all of that.

And some really funny shit happens in midlife.

I want to read about that too.

Without further ado, I’m excited to announce my latest e-short Riding the Wave:

Stephanie quit her job to pursue her dream.

Stephanie is stressed thanks to her life changes.

Stephanie has spontaneous orgasms.

What else do you need to know?

Ok, there is a love interest.

And yes, spontaneous orgasms are a real thing.

You can get Riding The Wave at Barnes and Noble and Amazon.

Thanks in advance for your support.

COMING SOON:

Original Date: May 30, 2017

The year was 2006. I had just purchased my first iPod Shuffle. I was intrigued about the possibility of 240 songs in one place. And it was an inexpensive gateway to all things Apple.

Blogging was the “it” thing. If you weren’t writing a blog, you were reading a shit ton of them.

I was doing both.

My favorite blog was the Grey’s Anatomy blog that Shonda Rhimes was writing on ABC’s website. And because I was all about GA all the time, I was all the way in when I discovered their podcast.

And thus, my introduction to podcasting.

Over the years, podcasts got boring and too navel gazey for me. I started listening to mostly political podcasts and found myself worked up all the time. So I fell off. Hard.

Social media became my go to for ratchet, entertainment, and infotainment

Twitter was where I started to notice that podcasts were making a resurgence. But this time, I decided to be a bit more selective. And I’ve become a follower of some amazing podcasts.

Seriously, podcasts are the shit.

Yes, that was navel gazey and all. But I want you to understand I’m not new to this podcast game.

When I make a recommendation, you can trust that I have properly vetted things.

Bronzeville is such a thing.

This scripted audio drama is just awesome.

If you like a good story, you’ll love Bronzeville.

If you like serials, you’ll love Bronzeville.

If you like radio soaps or Prairie Home Companion, you’ll love Bronzeville.

Still not convinced? How about Larenz Tate, Laurence Fishburne, Tika Sumpter, Omari Hardwick, Tracee Ellis Ross, and more. Check out the full list here. I’ll wait.

1940’s black gangsters in Chicago. Running numbers. Drama, romance, murder.

Download it now. You’ll want to be on top of things by the time Season 2 is released.