Journal With Gi

I never thought I’d live to be past 22. I always thought I’d die some tragic young death and my funeral would be some crazy somber party of sorts. That they’d play Ed Sheeran or some other random celebrity would come through, and it’d turn into a benefit concert for other kids dealing with depression. That my life would be some sort of symbol for something. Anything. But I’m 26. And still breathing.

Since I’m 26, I should look at it as a gift, but instead I’m terrified. I’m really having to face my issues head on. I can’t just run and hide anymore. What is life like as a girl who can’t run to self injury? What does it feel like when joy comes? Will I enjoy the feeling? Will I ever be comfortable embracing the unknown? Will I always feel this scared?

Truth is, I probably will.  I probably will always have some sort of fear of whatever is unknown. It’s a rational and still irrational fear. I can’t control everything, so I fear what I can’t control, including being accepting of love and affection. I fear being served. I feel like I’m a complainer or selfish, and therefore, start to feel guilty. As a result, I beat myself up a lot. There are a lot of things that I wish I could change about my mindset. The good news is now I’m learning to be kind to myself.

I like writing. All of the writing. But I always put so much pressure on myself to write a certain amount of words by a certain deadline. And while deadlines are good and can increase a production, it forgets the quality when you’re just trying to put out work. Now I know why Lauryn Hill took so long to come back into the light. She wanted quality (I mean, I love her and all, but can a girl be on time and still have a quality show?). I really believe in being open to stuff. I really believe in loving myself now.

I didn’t always believe I was worthy of love. I didn’t believe that I could love myself. And it was all because I was scared of what love really could be. You mean it doesn’t have to be a man looking me over like prime rib while he licks his lips? You mean it doesn’t have to be a black eye? It doesn’t mean I have to feel guilty over everything? Love can actually be inviting? That’s a thing? Yes, love is inviting, and safe... that is a hard concept for me to wrap my head around. As a result, I just sit here and wonder, WHAT HAVE I BEEN DOING WITH MY LIFE?!? Like, really, Gillian? You didn’t want anyone to love you because you’re afraid of being actually taken care of? Of people helping you grow and serve you when you needed it? Like, love can be warm and you can give of yourself in a safe place once you feel met? 

The beauty is, while the epiphany came in a natural way, it was built off of something that has supernaturally gripped my heart. My heart has been empty for a long time. There was a God sized hole there. As a result, I just kind of left myself open to wounding it more, growing pus and other gross things. It became septic (can you imagine a bathroom in your heart?). And now, I’ve properly been replacing pipes, cleaning out the wound (no matter how much it hurts), and understanding I don’t have to be all things to all people all the time or all at once. I can be maybe half a thing to nobody but myself and do it some of the time. That’s called being kind to yourself. That is forgiving yourself and letting your emotions breathe.

He calls you that, so this might sting a bit.  Just hang in there while I pour out to you what I wish I had learned then. 

You are 23 and young and impressionable. At this age, you are feeling like you need to be married and expecting your first child. So you will propose to him. Not just propose, but grovel. And you will find every excuse to try and have a baby at that moment. 

You are young and desperate, but not in the way that is bad. You are desperate to feel something, anything, that isn’t an overwhelming emptiness in your soul. I know you wish to lavish your love upon a person, but he is not that person. Several other people after him won’t be the people you need to lavish love upon. You are not a fixer, dear. My precious one, you are not a fixer.

I am 26 going on 27, so I can tell you what I’ve seen in that time. I’ll tell you what I’m experiencing today. If I am telling you that there will come a day that engagements, weddings, and pregnancies showing up in your timeline won’t break your heart, it’s true. I just experienced this. I won’t lie and say that the desire dies. Actually, it gets stronger, but it isn’t strong in a desperate, it-will-never-come kind of way. It will get stronger in a it’s-going-to-be-ok, it-will-happen-for-you-soon, desperate-to-find-yourself-first kind of way. Your season isn’t now. It wasn’t at 23, and it still isn’t at 26, but don’t worry. People don’t die from not fulfilling a desire. They die from persecuting the “what if’s” as if they had the magic drug to make it happen.

My dear one, you are so curious. Your desperation at 23 for someone to love will turn at 26 to desperation to find the love of the Father to be loved by. You will sit and cry out for hours, rocking yourself to sleep with your arms around you. And you will find him, and you will have a million questions. You haven’t even begun the search or thought of forgiving him at 23, I know. It is unfathomable to think that you will question or come back to Christianity at all. But you will. You will find not a tribe (that sounds too foreign), but a family. You will not find them, but they will find you. They will seek you out. One by one, they will call you, speak into you, love you. They will truly love you. They will ask you out for coffee. They will invite you to the beach. There will be men who hug you with no intention of anything further than to tell you “I cherish you sister.” And they will call you sister, not “sista”. You are not just another angry black woman to them. 

People will appreciate the fact that you are mixed and not look at it as a fetish. And if I tell you that you are destined to mentor others while you are in this chaos, you will not believe me at 23. No. You are too far removed to think of such a thing. But you will experience a transforming love of people. Someone will apologize for religious leaders, church congregations, misguided Christ-following-professors. They will apologize for all of the times you were shamed from speaking to yourself that you’re an heir and deserve love. They will apologize for all of the times you were shamed for having emotions. They will apologize for all the times you were pushed away from the cross and back into a dark place. And you will accept that apology and learn to hug in a deep embrace.

At 26, I still haven’t forgiven God for everything. But I have learned to remove the sackcloth from my head that caused me so much agonizing grief for years. You may not see right away, but you will start to. And it will be slow. I am still not patient with myself, so don’t beat yourself up for not being patient with others the same. You can only give what you know.

I am not a perfect receiver of love. I still want to serve, but I am learning in this season that there is rest for the hero. People are serving me. People are nourishing my soul. They are showing me the face of the father.

Giggles, you will laugh again a non-forceful laugh. And you will see a childhood once more. Twinkles will spark and your eyes will be full of life.

Sincerely,

Ever since I was little, I remember thinking that if I worked harder, my parents would notice me more. Maybe if I brought home better grades, they’d love me harder. If I made gold in my dance competitions, they’d want to come to more of my performances. Maybe I’d get that lunch that I always wanted with them. I remember victory dinners at Chi-Chi’s, but it wasn’t always quite the same when it was with the entire crew... it was more special when it was just me and them.  I remember feeling slighted at times because I was selfish with my parents. I wanted them all to myself, and never to share them with anyone. I remember this very clearly, so i worked extra hard to gain their attention rather than have it divided, as I felt that they loved me less when they paid more attention to my sister than to me.

This isn’t to say my parents didn’t love me. Quite the opposite. They loved me in their own way. I got to go to many destinations in my lifetime. Like, what kid can say that at 15 they had their passport stamped in five or six different countries with middle class parents? I mean, most of the time, I raised my own funding, but it was really cool to be able to travel. I was a dance competitor, which was always cool. I got to be the bendiest person in my class. I had the most rhythm. I always got to show off with my grandparents at family parties spinning round in circles to salsa. I was never deprived of things and experiences. I guess that’s why I enjoy things and experiences now from my own pocket.

What I do remember also very well is that I felt like I had to earn those things. Actually, in order to get the special dinners, I had to have excellent grades in school. To get the favorite toys, I had to make sure that I did chores AND got good grades. Every won competition resulted in Cheesecake factory and movies. I think the idea was reinforced in this reward system. I’m not saying it’s all bad, but I didn’t feel like it was a working for rewards; to me it felt like working to spend time in their presence.

Fast forward to 26, and I still feel that way about my Heavenly Father. I know He doesn’t see me that way, and I know my earthly parents don’t see me that way. I just feel that way. It’s hard to differentiate feelings and reality at this point in my life, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be done. I think it’s just being patient now with myself to unlearn these behaviors that I’ve viciously and delusional created in my head.  I’ve spent the past 22 or so years thinking that everything had to be earned, including time spent and affection.  it wasn’t shown any different, but I know that it isn’t true now. Me and my mom now get together for just because times, which is starting to help break down the cycle of behavior performance in my head. My dad loves me and spends time with me and invites me to the movies to go enjoy a day with him regularly. Nothing to use now to earn it with, but it is done that way. 

My family is very cool. Most of my friends want my parents, but I’ve had to understand that it isn’t my parents they want, but the relationship that I have with my parents is different than the relationship they have with their parents. 

I guess, in an essence, I see what my new church families have relationally with their Father, and I want the relationship that they have. I don’t know how to get that kind of relationship without performance, but I’ll learn. God is an individual attention giving Father. I never thought of Him that way, but I’ve been running from Him, thinking that He didn’t want to spend time with an under achiever who couldn’t pray well, didn’t delight in HIs word (I looked at it as a rule book, not a love story), couldn’t manifest miracles regularly, and just overall didn’t trust people. It’s true... as many people who think I’m a great example of a follower of Jesus Christ, I think the only example I bring to the table is the curiosity of a child, the hurt of devastation and the fearlessness to ask why God didn’t protect me.

***WARNING*** This is a triggering post.  What is said here is for my therapy, but I would not advise reading if you have been raped or sexually abused until you’re ready for healing.

When a person shows you their true colors the first time, believe them.  Him, her, they, it... believe them.  Rape isn’t always violent.  It can be subtle.  Any time you say no, and they proceed to perform a sexual activity without your consent, it is rape.  This is a recent experience I had, but never told anyone because I didn’t understand.

My most recent relationship was abusive.  This was not from his hitting, as he did not touch me aggressively.  No, this was not violent.  But, the first time I met him, he isolated me in his drunken state.  He kissed me, and I thought that was ok.  In my mind, it wasn’t, but I didn’t want to make a big scene at his party and embarrass him.  I didn’t want to embarrass him.  If you are not ok with something, speak.  My beloved, use your voice, your hands, anything, but please speak.  

Day two: I returned back to his home on this day after exchanging numbers because I wanted to understand what was going through his mind.  Maybe he was drunk.  Or maybe he was conscious.  Either way, I needed to know what was going through his mind.  Apparently the same thoughts, because he didn’t ask, he just kissed me.  Out of fear of being rejected, as I knew rejection all too well and didn’t want to hurt his feelings, I kissed back.  So, you could say I asked for it.  I didn’t speak up.  And maybe I was asking for it.  But I definitely wasn’t asking when he continuously grabbed at my clothes and I pushed his hands away.  I know I wasn’t asking for it when I kept telling him, “no” at his repeated attempts to somehow put his hands in places they weren’t meant to go.  And I know by the time I started crying and screaming, he finally understood.  He panicked.  He immediately retreated, trying to make it better, but I ran away, scared, wondering what had just happened.

Sometimes, you’re so used to manipulation, abuse, and sexual mistreatment that you think it’s normal. What happened was not normal.

Two days of knowing a person is hardly enough time to even warrant a handshake, let alone a hug, or even worse, rape.  But that was exactly what it was.  Subtle, but there.  I said no verbally.  I said no with my actions.  I wasn’t willing.  And yet, he pushed.  His manipulation started that day, but I didn’t take the hint as I wanted so badly to be loved, so I would take it any way I could.  I couldn’t stand the thought of being alone.  So repeated nights spent away for my own anxiety with someone I didn’t know resulted in countless events of feeling obligated to have sex with someone who just assumed he was my boyfriend and I didn’t have the heart to say otherwise.

Sexual micro aggressions are manipulation tactics that result in a form of seduction leading to an abuse. You shouldn’t feel obligated to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.  No, any way it’s articulated, means no. Not try harder.  Just no.

After all of this, I wanted to go backwards.  And backwards he would not go. I felt like I had let this happen, and I did.  I owned it all, but it was not all my fault.  I’m not a fan of sexual experiences as they have all been in some way to me a form of obligation to a boyfriend, a coping tactic when I wasn’t feeling loved, and always very painful.  The pain was both physical and emotional.  I feel no connections when having sex.  None.  I am usually lifeless and make noises if that’s what he enjoys as to stroke his ego, which only perpetuates the cycle.  Is this out of fear of loneliness? Or is this out of constant manipulation that abusive relationships, while no fists are involved, are normal in my eyes?

Abuse doesn’t have to involve battering physically.  Sometimes, abuse is in the cutting off of friends, the lust in his/her eyes that haunts you as you are not ok with the bedroom, the constant neediness.

I have always said after my diagnosis at 19 that I have bipolar disorder.  I am not bipolar.  I just have it.  I have a choice to give it back once I’m ready.  Once I’ve gotten all that I need out of this burden, or gift, depending on how you look at it.  It’s important to note that any condition of the mind is temporary.  It can go away once you stop obsessing over it.  Those thoughts can come under submission once you let your God be God and let your feeble manly attempts at correcting your issue stop.  Seriously though, can I speak for a minute? Let me preach to myself for a moment.

My bipolar looks like this:

Monday - bad or good weekend is denoted in what I aim to eat for lunch (as usually breakfast is bypassed before I clock in).  The full weight of the week is set in the tone of my dessert choice Monday night.

I find solace at the bottom of a Talenti Gelato canister, watching Netflix stream because I’m lonely again with no one to call or hold me.  This can be in the figurative sense.  My brain doesn’t quite compute that being an individual is ok. I don’t need dependence on other people, but I crave it anyway to fuel my burning desire to obsess over why loneliness is my god.  Or literally, my parents aren’t home or awake and they won’t console me in my sadness.  Not that they don’t want to (and they do their best with text messages), but they just aren’t physically present to account for my stability and therefore I cry.  

While reaching for my Apple TV remote to binge watch another episode of Grey’s, I suddenly realize I’m lactose intolerant.  Not only that, but I’ve eaten a WHOLE CANISTER OF ICE CREAM... so sugar is inevitably my enemy at this point.  

My emotions are manifested physically with the expelling of ingredients that I just five minutes ago indulged with inhalation through every sense.  I’m sweating in the middle of the night as my pores are trying to get rid of the sugar, which then erupts in a volcanic episode of acne on my chin and nose.  I’m straddled over a toilet, front and back end.  I’m having night terrors from eating dairy before bed.

This is Monday.

The rest of the week just gets a little hazy from there.  I mean, this is the tone I set for the week.  And it all started with what I ate because of something that happened and a thought that became an obsession.

This can all change though.  And it will.  I am gaining my ability to give it back.  it’s just turning the one obsessive thought in my mind to a passing one.  That’s where the difference is.  As a child of God, I am promised that I can cast every care upon my Father.  To exchange my burden for Christ’s.  To lay it all at His feet and let God do the work to fix the things that are broken in me.  

I mean, I can’t control anything.  Not a single thing.  I can try to control my wakeup calls, but honestly, just because I set the alarm doesn’t mean it is going to go off.  I can try saying “well I can control what I put in my body,” but my body is the one doing the processing. Whether it agrees with me or not is another thing altogether.

And for anyone who has lived with the burden of bipolar, you get the great joy of having thoughts of depression, self-harm as an escape, or even the occasional visual or auditory hallucination.  While scary, you can’t control it.  But I do know someone who can.  

I am working on losing my control over those thoughts that are passing through my mind.  Just because a man is tempted doesn’t make him a sinner.  It is when he stays stuck, obsesses over the thought, and then acts upon it does the sin become.  The rumination... that’s the trick.

I ruminate.  I’m an obsessor.  I obsess over why this had to happen.  Why did God give me this burden.  Truth is, it’s a gift, not a burden, as I am learning coping skills to help other people overcome these very chains that bring me down.  It’s hard.  Will I ever live alone? Hopefully, but for now, I can admit I need to live with someone to help me stay safe.  That’s just part of what I’m dealing with this season.  Will I ever be able to stop taking medications? Maybe, but for now, that is a part of the treatment plan.  

You found my blog and somehow magically made it to this article.  It’s Friday, and you just can’t seem to shake the stress of the week.  Do you really want to carry it with you into the weekend? I don’t think so.  I know I never do.  So, as someone who deals with depression, I want to try a couple of things to see if maybe this is helpful for you.  None of these methods involve medication of any kind (prescribed or otherwise), but they have helped me greatly battle depression and win most weekends.  I’m not saying this is a cure, but it can definitely help.

1. Go out with that friend you’ve been blowing off

You deserve to have a night on the town with your friend.  Go to spoken word (most events are $10 per person or less), go dancing, have a bite to eat.  Spend a little (not a lot), because it’s not the amount that’s spent.  The important part is getting out of the house and being around the person you love most.  This does not mean your significant other.  That can cause stress.  I specifically say friend (preferably that non judgmental best friend) because you are supposed to say whatever you feel and have a code that you understand when they are supposed to turn up the fun and you turn off the depression (or at least dial it back).  You can’t be upset with laughter.

2. Have a dance party in your room

Yes, dance parties are helpful.  Matter of fact, any exercise is helpful.  If you really don’t want to do it, that’s when you need it the most.  Just be silly and do all the dance moves wrong.  No one cares how good you wobble or nay nay.  The objective is to release endorphins to help fire the happy juices in your brain.  This is key.  Very important step in trying to battle the sad receptors in your brain.

3. Go to yoga and be zen

Now, I know that yoga isn’t for everybody yet. I do say that yoga is for every person who tries it.  It quiets the mind and causes the body to come under full submission to consciousness.  I really enjoy my practice (I just don’t stay for the weird breathing at the end).  It’s pretty important that you make the time to take care of yourself with some kind of posture/consciousness.  Don’t overlook the point of settling with your thoughts.  Which brings me to my next point.

4. Fire away with a pen and paper and journal

I know that you aren’t a writer.  It may not come naturally at first.  But, trust me when I tell you that going bananas on the writing will release something that only physical activity can do.  You don’t have to read it or show it to anyone.  Matter of fact, get all pyro happy and have a burning ceremony for the papers you do write out back.  It’s important that you voice your opinions somewhere.  I journal every evening, and it’s extremely helpful.

5. Take a bubble bath

Now, I don’t put bubbles in my bath, but I do use a LUSH bath bomb and CHILE... that is heaven on earth.  It helps me to get my me time in for a set amount of time and shut people out.  I don’t have to worry about anyone ever impressing themselves upon me while I’m sitting naked in a tub.  It’s just me, my books, my candle, and my Kenny G (no I don’t actually listen to Kenny G, but I can recommend a playlist to you of calming worship music).  It’s critical that you have uninterrupted time doing whatever you need to do to relax your body and mind.

Now, these are just suggestions.  If you have something else different you want added to the list in a month, let me know.  But give one of these the old college try.  These mostly don’t cost much of anything.  You can do yoga on demand.  You have CD’s with terrible yet so good 90′s pop.  If you don’t have epsom salt, it’s usually covered by Flex Spending.  And I’m only asking you to spend $5 at Burger King to have a meal with a friend.  

Each item addresses social, emotional, and psychological needs.  It’s very important that you tackle at least one so that you can start bettering the other.  I am not saying I have all of the answers, but you can certainly find release in giving yourself some self care.

I’ve known Janelle Wright Middleton for a number of years (probably since elementary school).  She is an inspiration and one of the quintessential women I would consider to not only be a star in her own right as a woman, but also an extremely influential member of the black community throughout Delaware.  She is so accomplished, and I was super excited she agreed to participate in promoting more black excellence via interview.  Drink in her wisdom and knowledge, then go use it!

1.     What is your name and what do you do for a living?

Janelle Wright Middleton. I am a Producer, Author and Playwright…wife and mother. 

2.     When did you first start dreaming?

When I was a little girl I dreamt of being in the entertainment industry. I thought I’d be a rapper or dancer. Dreaming, for me, began as a child.

3.     What does the phrase “black excellence” mean to you?

It means being an asset to my race, my culture and showing up as the best me this world will ever see. It also means allowing others to shine as bright as they can. I am very careful not to confuse “excellence” with “arrogance”. Excellence always makes someone else want to be great. True excellence should be inspirational.

4.     What is a project that allowed you to be the most creative?

My play, Like Mother, Like Daughter, Like Me. It allowed me to mix a little Broadway musical with urban drama while telling a true to life story.

5.     Who has made a lasting impression on you and why?

Maya Angelou. Aside from being a magnificent poet and master of words, she brought wisdom and insight every time she spoke. She took her experiences and shared them with the world in a way that made you want to listen and glean. My mother has also left thee lasting impression. She died as a young woman but the life she lived gave me the raw materials I needed to face the person I was and become the person I am. She’s also the reason I wrote my first book, Ice Cream Kiss “A Mother’s Drama, A Daughter’s Journey”.

6.     What is a book you recommend to inspire black entrepreneurs?

The book of Proverbs. Money means nothing without character. The book of Proverbs is full of wisdom and solutions that can help any entrepreneur start and grow a business. “Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and he will establish your plans.” (Proverbs 16:3)

7.     Why do you believe it is important for us to shop black?

Because it’s important to empower your family. It is not just our race that makes us family. It’s the fact that we understand the same language, notions and desire to live to our greatest call despite obstacles. We’ve been overcoming and learning to adjust to adverse circumstances for hundreds of years. I believe if we could understand the weight of our power, the power of our patronage and the strength of our faith we can build our family for generations to generations.

8.     What is so critical about owning as a person of color?

Because whoever owns “it” calls the shots. Period. Ownership fosters responsibility. The buck starts and stops with you. We need that kind of empowerment and fearlessness.

9.     If you were to write to your younger self, what would you say in any capacity to propel younger you forward?

Don’t be afraid. Stand-up for what is right and speak loud about what is wrong. Value yourself above measure. Stick to it. Finish what you start. But most of all DON’T BE AFRAID!

Follow Janelle online! She can be found below by the following forms

www.jwrightmiddleton.com

@theauthorj – Instagram & Twitter

I’ve had an ongoing relationship with Leah James for the past three years.  We met at a spoken word event in Delaware and became fast friends via social media.  Over the years, I’ve seen her grown tremendously into her own skin.  She’s such a pillar of strength and a beam of hope to my generation, shining light in dark places.  This first woman crush Wednesday interview is all about the beauty that lies within her, and ultimately every woman.

1.     What is your name and what do you do for a living?

My name is Leah James and I am a full time spoken word artist and public speaker.

2.     When did you first start dreaming?

I’ve always been a big dreamer. I used to dream big as a child then life dampened my ambition greatly. I went through a lot at a very young age and it killed my dreams. I thought my life would forever be a nightmare but I started dreaming again recently and I feel alive again.

3.     What is the first thing that comes to mind when you hear “woman”?

Strength.

4.     What are you currently doing in the community to make a difference?

I speak out against oppression of marginalized people quite often in my community. I speak at local high schools in my area teaching kids about race relations and entrepreneurship.  

5.     Why do/don’t you feel being a woman pushing through glass ceilings is important?

Throughout history women have been told that we are LESS THAN, that we can’t do what a man can insinuating that we are subhuman. Women have always been looked at as being “weak” or “emotional”. I think pushing through glass ceilings proves all of those things to be false and shows that our emotions are not weaknesses but indeed strength that often push us through those glass ceilings.

6.     What does creative or entrepreneurship look like in your daily life?

I travel multiple times a week speaking at high schools, colleges, conferences and churches doing poetry and speaking on a variety of different subjects. I have taken what I love and made a career out of it. I learned how to make my passion pay me and pave a way for freedom.

7.     What are some business critical items that you need to get through a day? My cell phone. It contains everything I need including a note section to type in poems that come to mind. I spend a large amount of time making phone calls and answering emails. Once I got a smart phone my business ethic actually increased.

8.     What inspires you to push forward?

My past inspires me to push forward. My strength and resiliency does as well. I am a stroke survivor and I often think about how I overcame that. About how hard it was to recover when everyone around me didn’t think I would. I had to push myself on my own to get better. My faith in God anchored me in this belief. I overcame something that has been proven to be nearly impossible. That pushes me to keep going because now the possibilities for success are endless.

9.     If you could write to your younger self, what would you say to keep pushing your younger self forward?

I would tell her that things get better and that she isn’t alone even when she is misunderstood and feels forgotten, all of the things that people make fun of her for will be the things that people love her for and that she is beautiful just the way she is. I would explain to her that being different is almost like a super power and will get her very far in life the more she embraces it. I would speak to her brokenness and ensure her that one day her scars will bring her joy and explain to others a story of overcoming the impossible.

There is something powerful about waking up and hitting the ground running, giving the day your best foot forward, and not your worst.  

For the past few weeks since being off of social media, I’ve been connecting more deeply with God in my writing.  It’s amazing what God can do for and through you when you show up to sit and listen. I have been hospitalized for the better part of these past three weeks and I’ve learned as a result humility is everything.

Humble a. Having or showing a modest or low estimate of one’s importance

You have heard me talk previously on humility before, but humility over longer periods of time really begins to let this concept sink in.  It’s hard to imagine a world where people experience humility on a daily basis.  It’s hard to imagine a Christian culture that feels this way in any sense.  We have websites with our names as the .com and we have books upon books of personal opinions of pastors, lacking actual biblical evidence.  The goal of humbling yourself is not with the expectation that God will lift you up.  That’s false humility.  That’s unfair to you and to anyone involved in that situation.  You will never know what it feels like to be human if you just humble yourself for a moment.  It is important to note the difference between being humble and being humiliated.

“You rescue the humble, but you humiliate the proud.” Psalm 18:27

Being humble is not a state of permanence, but a state of understanding and growing that will guide you in the way of the righteous. (Psalm 25:9)  It is critical to know that God does not want to humiliate you.  Humiliation brings shame, but being humble and understanding the state of humility brings glory and honor to God, as you understand your place in his kingdom.  Think about it this way: your heart bows in reverence to God, and that means that your entire heart should follow suit, including your pride.  Pride gets you nothing (except maybe a broken heart).  

So, fan base, followers, and all of the like, I’m sure you’re wondering where in the world has Gi been? Settle down, folks, I promise I’ve been around, just processing things internally a lot differently than I used to.  I’ve been off of social media for three weeks now, and as you can imagine, that is quite a bit of time in millennial world.  There is nothing that a millennial loves more than using their “social network” to “influence” people in a way that impacts their community.  Below, you will find my observations of when I was off social media for two weeks prior, hopping on, and then returning to being offline for an additional three weeks:

You aren’t really social 

As much as people think they are meeting new people online and reaching to a larger sphere, you’re actually decreasing your in person time with people being social.  New Years Eve, I was at a party where I saw nothing but people my age and younger doing the ever pressing “scroll,” “selfie,” “hold on one moment, I have to check for this notification/respond to this like.” Do you know how annoying that was? And when I went back to checking my social media the following happened...

Nothing new is ever present

I don’t know if it’s just the fact that I have only 700 social media friends, but apparently the only people who showed up on my timeline were re-sharing the same information that I already saw two weeks ago.  Literally NOTHING CHANGED!  That caught me by surprise.  People were still talking about the election results, and people were sending around the feel goods of Christmas still or what they were going to do for New Years.  It looked like the same pictures in my timeline as had been before.  Nothing was different.  Which caused me to think, is anything ever changing or are we in an evolving cycle?

Politics suck, and no one has anything nice to say

Ok, so of those 700 friends, most of them were posting their political opinion in some kind of crass or rude way.  Just because a person is rude to you doesn’t mean you have to be rude back.  Honestly folks, kindness will be the actual difference being made in the social media world.  It’s important that you know this, otherwise, you will fall into a deeper and deeper hole of black awfulness that isn’t propelling the conversations forward.

So what’s new for Gi?

It’s important that you know that Gi is still Gi, just a little different.  I don’t feel compelled to post every ounce of my personal life out there on the web, but I will share pieces of it with you here, on my Facebook, on twitter, and on Instagram.  I haven’t done much different other than I will be limiting my time spent on social media so I can actually be social.  If you would like to reach out to me to get together with me in person, please do.  I’d love that very much.  I love seeing people in person.  I’ve had more lunch and dinner dates than ever before.

The blog here will also be a little bit different.  You will see the same quirky observations, but instead, it will be a little bit more scheduled (at this very moment, I have three blogs already typed up and ready to go).  I’m going to try engaging in the online community in a very different way.  

The schedule will be as follows:

Super Soul Sunday

Motivation Monday

Transformation Tuesday

Woman Crush Wednesday

Black Excellence Thursday

Feelings Friday

There will be these various themes for my Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter feeds.  Expect to see more consistency, versus just the occasional “hey”.  I find that word vomit doesn’t do well for me anymore.  

There will be a mix of writing content here on Tumblr, Picture and video feed for my Instagram and Twitter, but definitely more positivity.  My goal for this year is to be more motivating, encouraging, and loving.  I’m learning to be gracious and merciful.  

Fridays and Saturdays I’m usually off from work, so I will answer any and all emails and questions then unless you have my personal cell number and then you can text away.

Today I got a heavy dose of lessons in humility.  Sure, I at one point have been humble, but I needed to be knocked off of my high horse and come down a couple of notches.  Here’s what gets me the most: I have every opportunity to not be a hero, and I forget about the weight that comes with it if I choose to be one.  So, bruh, let’s get right to it, shall we?

I messed up this week.  In a major way.  I bit off way more than I could chew.  I still didn’t chew any of it, and now I’m getting thrown in the fire with the wolves.  Can I laugh about it? Maybe in the future.  For now, I’m just taking day by day and learning not to say “yes” to everyone so that I don’t ruin anything.  

Reality: Mistakes happen and sometimes at the expense of others which will ultimately result in you being the butt of the joke, people roasting you for potentially the next thirty years.

Reality: Take the L.  Don’t hustle to try and save face.  If you can you can, if you can’t you can’t.  Stay out the kitchen if you can’t take the heat.

I just want to laugh with everyone, however, I’m not there yet.  And that’s ok.  Good news is, this lesson in humility that I received this week, from tearing apart someone who didn’t deserve it to not showing up with the turkey to friendsgiving (I know, right?), will result in me never forgetting to say no if I can’t and never wanting to rescue again if it’s out of my way.

There’s people you go out of your way for, and that’s great and all, but think about the motive behind it.  For me, I just thought I could do it and I should do it and therefore I will do it.  WRONG.  Not everything that sounds like a good idea really will pan out.  Everyone has commitments and priorities.  The key is communication.  I fumble with that a lot.  I also fumble with insecurity and wanting to make myself feel better, and therefore when I mess up, I guilt myself all the way until I can’t come up for air.  Not happening.  My heart hurts from doing that.  

Someone texted me a verse (well, DM via instagram, but you know, same difference).  

“see that your giving may be in secret.  Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” Matthew 6:4

Huh.  Imagine that.  Not doing anything for recognition or for someone to like you or to impress a person or just because you want to.  Do it in secret without even letting a single soul know.  Surprise those folks in the small things and/or anonymously.  

“Humility is not a sign of weakness, but a sign of meekness.” Micah Tuten

Humility is something I struggle with because I associate meekness with weakness.  Crying is somewhere on that list.  I feel really low during that time frame and when I have to swallow my pride, take an L because I played myself, and walk the walk of shame, I forget that being humble enough to genuinely say “I’m sorry” rather than pomp and circumstance with making it up will truly generate a more authentic relationship.

Humble adjective 1. having or showing a modest or low estimate of one’s own importance

verb 1. lower (someone) in dignity or importance

Meek adjective 1. quiet, gentle, and easily imposed on; submissive

As a woman, more specifically a black AND latin woman, I find that being submissive or humble is a form of weakness.  It’s a cultural thing.  I’ve watched women in my life bully people through marriages and family ties.  To me, it’s natural to be overly independent and somewhat forceful.  What I forget is the Godly definition of womanhood.  Biblically, the woman of God is meek, humble, strong, bold, tender, assertive, and every thing that is sensual when she knows how to combine all of these traits.  It takes a strong man guiding a woman into submission, and there’s nothing wrong with being submissive and being assertive at the same time.  Her true mate will love her into submission where she will want to be a help-meet the original ezer.  I didn’t grow up with this mentality, so I’m learning.  Part of that means I’m playing myself a lot in this relationship, with these friendships, and with my life.

Ezer Kenegdo 1. power 2. strength 3. the original word for help-meet

To be ezer does not mean that I am weak. It means I am strong enough to lay my pride down, submit to my covering, and to love him by praying hard in my closet and only aligning with the word of God in public.  Doesn’t sound like much, but you best believe that power is in prayer and change happens in the atmosphere.

Good news, on a lighter note, is I’m aware of this fact. I’m also clearly aware that I play victim entirely too much, push the blame on everyone else, and never take responsibility for anything.  For that, I’m truly to sorry to those I’ve hurt in the process.  My family has had to deal with this for years and just easily forgives it since they know my intent is not to be a jerk.  Unfortunately, the same cannot be true of others who are friends or otherwise surrounding me.

Today, I did all of the above sins and then some.  I’m as much of a “I’m the challenge” owner as I am an “I’m a challenge” non-changer.  I would rather not be a change agent and sit and wallow than do anything about it.  I guess you can call it being thick-headed and thinking I’m right all the time.  There’s a lot of stuff that I will say with Thanksgiving being here I should tritely be thankful for.  

I’ve got friends and family who care.  I’ve got food on the table (clearly, since I cooked a turkey today).  I have a job, clothes on my back, a roof over my head, and ultimately the comfiest bed one could possibly imagine with those million and one decorative pillows on it.  What I don’t have is honesty other than through written form.  I don’t know how to be transparent with people.  I am such a people pleaser that the minute I feel like I let my guard down people will judge me.  Which they do.  And i’m working through that.  No shame in my game.

I learned to watch funny telenovelas like Celia, and that could be contributing to my A-level sarcasm and temper tantrums I throw.  I promise, I’m super melodramatic.  Never the less, I’m human.  A real human being.  With feelings and hopes and expectations.  You can say you have no expectations, but truth is I guarantee your non-expectation is a really low bar expectation still set in place so that you don’t get too disappointed and you still get disappointed when that expectation doesn’t come to pass.  So, here is the point where I won’t give advice, but instead be honest:

I changed sleep schedules to work at 3am through the holiday season until April

I suffer major mood swings when I don’t sleep properly or wake with the sun

I don’t like being misunderstood, so instead I don’t explain and let people assume

I hate family drama, so I stay away from extended family during the holidays and love internally

I wish sometimes people could see the twenty trillion thoughts racing through my mind in a given day and try and tell me that I’m not crazy and I’m normal

Go forth and love...

We will start with some love references biblically that changed my entire world after God really hit me with it in my gut:

1 Peter 4:8

1 Corinthians 13

Matthew 22:36-40

If you don’t understand what it means to cover a multitude of sins... let me tell you exactly where I’m at.  

I’m an angry person

I’m afraid of rejection

I’m afraid of failure

I push people away and run high in the opposite direction at 120mph steam rolling people in my path as I’m blowing up land mines

Sin is a sin. The way I treat people when I operate in the above fears and emotions and reactions is ALL of the sins combined.  I’m not loving my neighbor.  I’m not loving God.  I’m not even trusting God in any of these instances.  So, when I tell you God hit me in the face with my current boyfriend being the love of my life, it was real.

On a Wednesday, I was yelling, but that was just the pinnacle.  On a Tuesday I was complaining.  On a Monday, I was ordering.  On a Sunday, I was nagging.  On a Saturday I was throwing a three-nager rivaling temper tantrum over petty things.  Dear heaven... I was probably that stereotypical vexed woman who when not getting her way became a tornado.  I was her is the key here.

Let me get onehunnid with y’all.  We are about to go there.  Love is not built in sexual relationships outside of marriage.  I think this was a big road block in most relationships today, even Christian ones.  I know.  Often, we get lopsided in things and think “when we have sex, that’s how I know he loves me.” Uh, girl, nawhhhh.  Don’t even pretend that physical intimacy builds intellectual intimacy or communication.  That is NOT where you will discover you love the person.  At least, that is not where I discovered that I loved my person.

My boyfriend did something really wonderful.  In the midst of my complaining, whining, anger, yelling, and nagging, he stood still and believed for me to come to my senses.  I guarantee you that he prayed for me, because my heart melted.  I know I prayed for myself.  We broke up for forty-eight hours.  Those were the most grueling prayers I have ever had as I spent those hours constantly crying out to God to fix me and bless him.  His patience with me when I was being a wild person was inconceivable.  The guy literally sat quietly while I yelled at him. 

When I spoke to him that Friday, things just melted and suddenly on Saturday we clicked.  I didn’t discover I loved him on Saturday, though.  I realized how much he loved me and I him that Sunday.  It was like a wave that hit me so fast, I couldn’t think.  I was suddenly misty eyed.  It was a combination of his persistence, him showing me consistently that no matter how far I push, he will push harder and draw me in.  He loved me when I felt unloveable.  He chose me when I was probably the furthest thing from his mind.  He cared for me in gentle ways that even when I complained, he knew that I would come around.

You have to understand, I have bipolar disorder, and that is not easy to deal with in the fall seasonal change.  It is very hard, and my heart sinks continuously in drowning thoughts of worthlessness and hopelessness.  He constantly told me how valuable I was.  It was more than him telling me, though.  He kept coming back, fight after fight, and took the heat for it all.  He kept coming back and apologizing for him being in the wrong, even if I was in the wrong.  His voice that Friday and that eagerness to love me even stronger, harder, and more tenderly was matched with his actions and commitment, driving down to come get me, meeting with my parents, and showing me off to his family still.  He toted me around like a security blanket, trophy, and most treasured diamond.  While those all seem conflicting, just go with me.  I was his safety when the world was crashing.  He didn’t want to leave, he wanted me to come closer and snuggle him.  I was his prize if he could salvage this relationship.  He didn’t want to feel like he failed at one, and he wanted to prove that he could win my heart multiple times over.  I was his diamond; a rare breed of woman found only in Sierra Leone, deep in the heart of a cave where he had to hunt, sift, and constantly chisel at.  He chiseled deep into my crevices, buried himself there, and did whatever he could to tear down brick by brick without smashing them into a million pieces.  This man took such care.

On Sunday, after church, I stared into his eyes deeply and drew him in.  Here in front of my very eyes was everything I could ever hope for and then some.  His heavenly ebony skin transformed his entire countenance into more than something physical.  There, in that instance, Jesus was a Kenyan man.  Jesus was a 100 watt smile with soft eyes that crinkled a little in laughter.  Jesus was cradling my face and wiping my tears away.  Jesus was burying himself deep within my heart and loving the untouchable places where people ran before.  Jesus was this man in front of me, and suddenly, I understood what love truly was.  It was sacrifice; it was never giving up; it was pursuing; it was growing and changing; it was adaptable; it was accommodating; it was everything I was afraid of and everything I so desperately needed.  I cried as I stared into the eyes of who Jesus was, and melted a million times over.  It turned into an ugly cry, for sure, but I didn’t care.  This was Jesus.  He didn’t rescue me in any other way other than loving my hard places to make them soft again.

The beauty was, it never stopped there.  He turned into Jesus again a week later when I forgot my medicine at home and he drove two hours round trip to my house to go get them.  He turned into Jesus again when all night when people were staring at us, he told me how much he loved me.  He turned into Jesus again and again and again... While I know he isn’t the real Jesus, there are traces of God’s glory all over this man’s character and I couldn’t have been more loved.  In a sea of people, in a crowd with 10 billion populants, this man chose me.  At a graduation party I wasn’t supposed to be at.  Brought me home to mom.  Introduced me as a girlfriend before I ever knew I was.  This man LOVES me... a simple girl with a broken spirit.  And for that, it has caused me to open up my bible and read of redemption over and over and over again.  There is rescue and restoration.  He prays consistently for a restored family, rather than tearing my family apart.  He wants to learn of a new culture and introduce me to his.  He knows how much he means, that he doesn’t complete me, that I’m difficult, and doesn’t take advantage of anything.  He lets me come to him, rather than turn me away when I didn’t love him back the same.

fet·ish

/’fediSH/

noun

an inanimate object worshiped for its supposed magical powers or because it is considered to be inhabited by a spirit.

a form of sexual desire in which gratification is linked to an abnormal degree to a particular object, item of clothing, part of the body, etc.

I had a fetish with white men. By above definition, I worshipped white men.  Oh, how I was oh so wrong to worship any object in general.

I realize for a number of years, I wanted someone to complete me, because that’s what I saw in front of me.  Nothing wrong with saying in a worldly relationship “oh you complete me.” But there’s everything wrong with saying “you complete me” to a man who is just a man.  A man will let you down every time.  

My obsession with white men came out of I saw an interracial relationship growing up.  My mom is a pale Puerto Rican woman whom I called white until I was about ten years old.  My dad is a very dark black man.  I was a beautiful child with decent hair, but I wanted my future children to have “good hair.” Everyone’s definition of good hair is different, but for me, that meant a really loose curl/wave with less density.  I wanted my kids to have fairer skin so they wouldn’t be picked on so much.  I wanted my children to have more “normal” eyes, not almond ones like mine.  I basically wanted my future children to be everything I was not, thinking they might have an easier time than I did growing up.  So white men were my object of choice.  White girls seemed to get a lot more attention, had less harassment, and often were still intelligent.  I mean, I was a bright kid, but there were some girls who were way smarter than I was and appeared to work less hard than I did.  Enter in fetish.

My ideal guy was a white man with blue eyes, red hair, and freckles.  Think Ed Sheeran.  That guy.  If you had an accent of western European descent, even better.  Obsessed was a mild word.  I loved milky skin.  I loved perfect grins.  And short men were like PERFECTION.  Strange, I know.  But hold on a second... let me tell you why I felt this way towards white men...

I never felt comfortable in my skin.  I wanted opposite children as a direct combatant to my own skin that I detested.  I had melanin and felt picked on, not knowing I was secretly being worshipped by those same bullies in private.  It wasn’t until later on I found out the people (especially guys) who picked on me the most loved me full hair that could have ANYTHING done to it; my slightly gappy grin, since I smiled so much; my infectious laugh; my skin that turned from the color of caramel to mocha in the summer and in the fall often lasted a brown sugar... these very people who tore me down now as I have gotten older wished to build me up.  Which made me question: if kids hadn’t been so cruel to me, would I have taken my own beauty for granted?

My boyfriend is not a white man, at all.  He is Kenyan.  Kikuyu to be exact.  My boyfriend is like a midnight covered raspberry and bursts with flavor every time he opens his mouth to tell me more about himself.  He has never ending stories about ostrich rides, being chased by a giraffe, college days... the guy is a book of stories that just add more and more sweet and flavor to my life.  But he does not complete me, nor I him.  We are really broken and fragile individuals.  This guy is more patient than any man I’ve ever met whether white or black.  This man... He is a man.  What I love most is he knew that I adored white men prior to him, but accepted that he didn’t have to bleach his skin in order to appease that small fetish I had.  Why? Because I loved my skin.  My half ebony, half ivory, slightly discolored in certain areas with beauty marks on others, brown sugar that won’t pass a paper bag test skin.  This man loved me because I was comfortable with me.  And I love him because I’m comfortable with me and him.  He treats me well.  Oh so well. He loves me in ways that no man could ever love me.

Men who knew I fetishized them treated me a certain way.  They knew they were gods in my eyes and therefore would tear me down even further to the point of a babbling brooke of tears.  These boys (not men) took advantage of my insecurity and preyed on it.  They knew I’d be easily manipulated into doing sexually impure acts, that I’d buy them the world, that I’d constantly crave for a ring but would gladly stick around and compromise playing house because I believed the lie that being the wife of a white man was better than anything in the world.  They knew they didn’t want to get married, but would string my heart along anyway.  I knew the same and let them string my heart along.  

Prayer is a serious thing.  I spoke previously about battles being won in a prayer war room, but that is only half.  You aren’t to be praying for you to be right and for your partner’s heart of stone to be removed. Pray for an unveiling in your own heart of insecurities that you may have.  Let God love you in those hard places.  You’d be surprised at what you will tolerate less or more of when you know Who you belong to and how He values you.  He cherishes you.  He whispers in your ear “I love you” in a crowd full of people.  Each of us gets that close intimate relationship and we all have a chance at mixed babies if we pray the Holy Spirit to indwell our children.  I pray for a full blooded child, though.  A prince or princess born into a lineage of grace because mommy and daddy have good hair that is numbered by God; because mommy and daddy are royalty in God’s beloved kingdom; that mommy and daddy understand the Bible so well that they pray for these children day and night, and mommy and daddy are on the same team spiritually.  I prayed for my hear to be healed and whole.  After that, it didn’t matter the color of skin of the guy coming across my path.  He could’ve been green with yellow eyes for all I cared.  He just needed to be transparent enough with me and I with him for me to see that the man (or alien) would love me unconditionally, pursue me fervently, and lead me strongly.  Skin doesn’t matter.  

If you fetishize and idolize someone because of their skin and not because of the content of their character, you will be disappointed every time.  If you fetishize anyone for any reason (whether you believe in black girl magic, white boy hair, or #operationsnatched), you will be sorely disappointed.  God clearly said no idols shall be before him.  You take your eyes off of God for a split second, God becomes my mom, grabbing your chin and asks intently in your eyes “are you hearing me?” but not in the angry way.  God does it with that ten second stare down and lovingly gazes at you with twinkles hoping you know His voice, so whomever’s voice is telling you sweet nothings or truth, you know whether His is in it.

#singlewithgi is officially dead in terms of my life, but that season brings with it much wisdom.  Part of it includes the following simple lesson 1 for Relationship 101: 

Lay Down Your Pride.

Now, I know what you’re thinking... “Of course I laid down my pride when I decided to be in a relationship with so-and-so.” No, no you didn’t.  You thought you did, but oh, you are so wrong.  Laying down your pride is a heart problem, not a suddenly-I’m-in-a-relationship-and-it-fixes-everything problem.  Truth: relationships only magnify heart issues that were never dealt with.  This is why I believe giving up on your relationships when the going gets tough is a cop out.

I know.

I gave up on my boyfriend.

But the homie never gave up on me.

Through this relationship, I have learned that his persistence is a key piece for this relationship.  This guy just won’t give up.  I mean, I bulldozed his heart into tiny little pieces.  That isn’t where it ends though. 

Let’s start back with my biggest let down of the century: I dated a guy when I was 18 years old that I thought my heart was going to marry.  Unfortunately, but still really fortunately, when I got honest and wanted to work through something with him, he was like “deuces.” He kept moving on, and I was stuck.  He took with him a piece of my heart I never thought I’d get back.  After him came a string of guys who used and abused my heart.  One guy actually made me give an argument as to why I’d be a good wife in order to gain the title of fiancé (included in this was a presentation and a begging... oh, I was desperate).  All of these men had the following thing in common: I was willing to compromise anything in order to get what I thought was everything.  To me, I idolized marriage.  And part of that put my heart in a pathway that only lead to broken spirit and crushed soul.  It takes a lot of person to deal with me after I went through all of that.  Aside from that, I have intimacy issues.  Had intimacy issues, I mean.  It’s important to know that with a heart as fragile as mine, it would take patience, resilience, practice, and a whole lot of sacrifice to make sure that I knew I was valued, treasured, cherished, and lovely.

Enter stage right the guy who I never saw coming.  I wasn’t supposed to be at his graduation party.  Quite frankly, I thought I was packing my bags and moving to Tennessee within the next six weeks.  I had a lot of plans to do a lot of different things that I saw God gave me vision for.  What I learned is, there is an order of doing things, and it requires patience and understanding season change.  Colors don’t just appear on trees.  Leaves don’t just fall when the tree has been kicked a few times.  It wears down over time.  And it still blossoms in the spring.  Winter is a season... nothing lasts forever, but the harvest needs to be timed just right.

You couldn’t tell me that I was prideful.  This was the exact reason why I was prideful.  I was so proud in being humble, you could call it a humble brag.  Honestly, it was a stone in my heart that I prided myself in holding on to, but was weighing me down.  My heart was weary and achy from the guys who trampled and destroyed my heart, showing me what little value I had.  I didn’t have a ton of female friends, either.  I also saw myself as kind of a weird tribute for God’s calling.  Like the Katniss Everdeen taking place of Prim.  I swore I was doing the world a bunch of favors, playing Jesus, but not letting Jesus’ blood be enough.  So my pride kept getting in the way because I didn’t deal with heart issues of rejection.  My boyfriend, though... whew...

I am proud to say his name, but will keep it hidden on this blog for his privacy so y’all don’t stalk him.  This guy is the most patient man with me.  He takes the heat for a lot of stuff.  He listens to my heart.  He tries his best to understand my perspective.  I had given up on the relationship for a moment, because my pride said “leave before you’re rejected.” Doesn’t that sound just like a lie straight from the pit of hell?  It was.  And can still haunt me to this day.  However, my beau decided to pursue me like Hosea and keep coming after me, asking if there was anything he could do better to make me feel more comfortable.  Who in the what? Jesus! He was trying to accommodate me and my feelings.  He was trying to accommodate my needs.  He wanted to meet me where I’m at (both figuratively and literally) in order to make things better.  He knew that if he had given in to my push, he and I both would’ve regretted it.

I firmly believe in second chances.  But this guy gives more than a second chance.  He showed me Jesus in that moment.  Arms outstretched after I had cursed him out wildly and publicly in his quiet neighborhood.  This guy I tore to shreds with my words.  Over something SUPER petty (any other Petty LaBelle’s out there?).  This guy took my heart and held it together for me, even though his own was breaking.  This guy did for me what no other man would or could... he waited for me to remove my heart of stone, pursued me, and gave me the space I needed to heal and grow. So, no, I don’t think people in relationships should just “break up” when things get tough.  You can be mad.  You can be infuriated.  Unless he’s hitting you or your children, you STAY.  Don’t worry about differences.  Be woman enough to pray through those differences.  Giving up and leaving is a cop out.  It isn’t an answer.  If a God who takes all sorts of anguish and abuse from us can forgive us of anything we have done, are doing, or will do, we can most certainly be patient with other people (especially if we say we love them), set aside our pride, and love them through a praying circumstance.  Stand firmly on the word of God that He will see you through and your significant other will change.

There are times where this blog will take a different turn in reflection.  And today is one of those times where I’m about to get really real with you, and you may or may not like it.

Recently, I experienced where I wasn’t ready for something, but I did it anyway.  Things you should know:

God will always have His way

You shouldn’t do something you aren’t prepared for

Let me explain:

I am a person that has always been head first about relationships.  Just go and the rest will fall into place is what I’ve always thought.  First and foremost, make sure that the person you’re trying to do something with is your best friend first.  Don’t just go all willy nilly thinking you can get to know a person without understanding the getting to know you part.  You end up isolating in a lot of that capacity because you want to please that person so much.  Which brings me to the fact that you can’t let that person be your god.  With a little “g”.  It’s very important to understand that God is God and gods are idols that God will demolish.  He will not accept anything before Him, so don’t even try it.  Just like Elisha (? I think it was Elisha...) called on God before the priests and priestesses of Baal and the sacrifices of the offering was consumed with fire, God will do that to you.  He will either use the fire to consume the idol or refine you.  Often times, it’s both.  

If you’re in a relationship with someone, remember that you must be willing to die to self daily.  DAILY.  That is something I’m not willing to do just yet with another person.  I’m not willing to sacrifice it all for someone because I haven’t gotten to know anyone well enough yet to sacrifice it all on the line.  I think and contemplate about giving things up.  But it’s like sugar... if you cut it dry, you will have diarrhea.  Go slow and steady, and be prepared for any repercussions that come with it.  I know for me, personally, cutting all at once leaves a mess.  I’m an all-or-nothing kind of person.  Everything is black and white.  I’m not quite ready to just go slow. So God decided He was going to make me reverse and go slower than a snail to show me patience and the beauty in the waiting.

If you’re in a relationship, give yourself time to adjust.  Give yourself some time to heal in the process.  Don’t over-expect too much of the other person.  Set a standard, observe from a distance, and watch if that person fits that standard.  I am a person that is like the puppy distracted by shiny new objects in the window.  Perseverance is not my strong suit.  That’s with anything.  So in the meantime, I will be taking a moment to just be.  Literally, being me is all I need to be right now.  I’m 25.  I serve the author of time.  There is no such thing as too late in life to have anything as long as you wait on God’s perfect time.  Don’t put a time limit on yourself.  Spend time understanding yourself in as much time as you spend trying to get to know God’s voice, too.  Over the past few weeks, I have spent more time trying to understand God and listen for the Holy Spirit, which has caused me to be as obedient as possible.  Obedience is a hard thing.

Which reminds me: 

If the Holy Spirit tells you to do something, do it right the first time, and don’t give lip. 

The more lip you give, the more that lip will swell and bleed when it’s slapped with truth.  Hard.  I’ve written before and I’ll write it again: if the person isn’t bringing you or you aren’t bringing them closer to Christ and there’s no challenge in your spiritual walk, then you aren’t doing it right.  The objective is for you to do anything and everything in your power to not hurt them in front of Jesus and get Jesus to say “well done” at the end of it all.

I may be concerned about his feelings in the natural, but I’m more worried about how badly I hurt his walk and hurt Jesus feelings in the spiritual sense and in the long run.

I appreciate all the prayers right now, fam.  Going to say mine right now.

Peace and love,