What didn’t make the highlight reel

As you may have figured out by now, writing is my therapy. If there is an issue I am struggling with – the first thing I think to do is write about it. Similarly, when a great idea strikes, “I’m thinking where is my journal?” In fact, I have several journals that I’ve started over the years because when inspiration hits, I have to get it down immediately – but I also have somewhat of a short attention span, so each journal probably only has about 5 entries before it got trapped in a bookshelf never to be visited again.  So when I started this blog I decided to keep an electronic journal – basically a word document in which I free-write and shape my thoughts. It isn’t as pretty and there is something missing by not being able to put pen to paper, but I like that I can go back and re-read everything from time to time. Doing so really takes me back through the memories and emotions of every single post, and lets me re-live those moments that I hold so dear.

Today, inspiration struck! Over the past week or so, a particular scripture had been running through my mind so I decided that today was going to be the day that I write it out and see what I come up with. As I opened my up “Journal” document and started to scroll towards the bottom to find an open space to write, all of the titles of my prior entries began to jump out to me and made me scroll a little slower… so much so that I just started reading entry after entry until I got to the end. And with each passing entry, my mind changed about what to right about next. “Oooo, I should write a follow up to this one,” I thought, “No, what I need to do is explain how my views changed on this one,” next. But then I started to get to some entries that I hadn’t posted. Some that I didn’t even finish because they were too hard…

The last post I made public was for my birthday, over eight months ago, and the one before that showed a 3-month gap – effectively confirming that it has been almost a year since I was publishing blog posts on a regular basis. Clearly, the writing never stopped, but the publishing did. And it goes to one of the points that I dislike about social media: people only really share their highlight reels.  When I turned 30 I struggled with measuring my life against others’ and one of the tips that I shared in my post “Tips for 30” was that we’ve got to stop comparing our lives to what others choose to post about theirs because it isn’t the whole truth. In carrying that thought further, I find myself wondering that “since we all go through struggles from time to time, what is the purpose of hiding that truth about ourselves?” We post literally everything we do and think on a daily basis – except the tough parts.

In my case, it’s no coincidence that the dates when my blog posts stopped coincide with the fact that I was going through a breakup. I mean, who wants to write about that, right? Her Lenox Stoop is supposed to make me feel empowered and unstoppable not depressed, heartbroken and scared. I was trying to move past it, not dwell in it. Plus, why would I want everyone in my business?! Though, for some reason, I wasn’t so concerned about people being in my business when it was something good happening for me… Despite the fact that people go through breakups all the time, and my perspective on the matter might resonate with most, I just couldn’t bring myself to air this dirty laundry to the world.

So what’s the point?

If you’ve read any of my other posts, this is right about where I would drop some gem of knowledge or insight or food for thought. But not today. Today, I encourage everyone to do some self-reflection – and I mean everyone, especially those who think they are hiding it well. Sit in a quiet place, close your eyes, quiet your thoughts and take some deep breaths. In your nose and out of your mouth. Let your mind wander to the deepest corners of your consciousness, where you are holding something you just don’t want to talk about, think about or deal with. Go there. Sit in it for a couple of minutes. Cry if you have to. Do whatever you feel moved to do to let it out. And when you are ready, open your eyes. But don’t wipe any tears away that may have fallen. Instead, go to a mirror. Look at yourself. Truly see yourself in your reflection. Feel proud that you let yourself be vulnerable, that you loosened the fists you were clinching, even if only a little bit. Stand a little taller, hold your head a little higher. And wink at yourself. Whatever it is that you’re going through hasn’t broken you. You’re stronger than you think you are. You have the power to change your situation. You have everything you need, already inside of you.

However, if you don’t think you can go it alone, I am also an advocate of therapy, I encourage you to find someone you can talk to. Mental health should be taken just as seriously as physical health and spiritual health. We all need a little help sometimes, and there is no shame in asking for it – in fact I believe that is a sign of true strength.

Cheers to Thirty Years!

My sister and I are the babies of our family, but in just ten days we will be turning the big 3-0. And all I have been able to think about lately is the day one of my older brothers turned thirty – I recall my naïve barely-twenty-something-self asking him, “How does it feel to be three… DECADES… old” (yes, with all that dramatic effect), and him just looking at me and saying “sheesh, thanks sis.”

To me, turning thirty just seemed so old and so far away… but that was eight years ago, and now time is knocking on my door. About a month or two ago it started really setting in that I was turning thirty. I was overcome by a confusion of mixed feelings ranging from excitement, to fear, to curiosity, to disappointment – a reaction I had never experienced with any of my previous birthdays. I didn’t know what it meant or which feeling was the right one.  I always sailed through previous birthdays with no problems. So what’s the deal with 30 and why does it feel so different?

After a lot of thought and reflection on this, I’ve come to the conclusion that the 30th birthday is big because it is the first birthday that solidifies you as being “grown.” You’re normally done with college and even some higher education by that time, have started your career, and may be married or buying a house or checking some other very grown-up item off your life-goal list. But I think it’s also a time where you reflect on the things that are still left to do from that list and wonder if you are on track for the grand life plan you’ve always had for yourself.

You start to feel proud of all the things you’ve done so far, but also freak out thinking about all the things you still have not done. I’m starting to smile and cry all over again just thinking about it! So what is one to do to tackle the two-headed monster that forms inside of you as your 30th birthday approaches??

I didn’t have the answers… So I took it upon myself to ask some very wise friends and family members what advice they would give their 30-year-old selves. “If you were talking to the 30-year-old you,” I asked, “what would you tell her?” And I got some really great answers! There was also quite a bit of overlap – which, in my opinion, just reinforces the advice – and one person in particular, my linesister (and my new self-imposed life coach), dropped all kind of gems on me!! So I happily share these #TipsFor30 with any of you who may be struggling with the same feelings and concerns.

In no particular order, they told me the following:

1. “Don’t spend all of today waiting for tomorrow, enjoy right now!”

 

One of my best friends, Jahmese, reminded me that there are so many exciting things to look forward to in life, but it should not be at the cost of overlooking the amazing blessings of right now. Similarly, my linesister Marcuetta (see the reference to my life coach above), said to stay in the present moment and don’t say things like I will be happy when xyz happens.  No, be happy with what you have now. Wake up every morning and be thankful for the life you already live.

2. “The prescription for life that has been handed to us by society isn’t a one size fits all.”

 

Marcuetta also shared that many of the decisions that she’s made in her life often weren’t of her own accord, but rather because she felt the pressures of societal expectations to meet certain standards by a certain age or for other superficial reasons. She would tell her 30-year-old self to do things not because other people expect it of you, but do it because it is what you want.

3. “Give yourself the room and freedom to make mistakes, learn, and live.”

 

That came from the homie Katherina! And another friend echoed that sentiment by reminding me that we can’t be afraid of the reset or hardship; it builds character, teaches you about your own strength and prepares you for the greater that is to come. Marcuetta spoke to my spirit on this one too (oh y’all thought I was playing when I said she drops those gems on ya!). She said that while we are given a lot more permission to make mistakes when we’re young, we should always remain open to making mistakes because that is how you learn.  And you know what they say, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!

4. “Comparison is the thief of joy.”

 

Another wise linesister of mine, Jasmine, introduced me to this saying. She so eloquently said, “especially in the world of social media, it is incredibly easy to constantly compare yourself to what someone else carefully selects to share with you. Sometimes we’re so focused on what someone else has (that in many cases, we don’t even want right now) that we can’t appreciate the joy, blessings and accomplishments that are happening in our own lives.” This one really hit home for me, because it’s so true! And, yup, you guessed it, my girl Marcuetta made me jump out of my seat on this one too!  She said we shouldn’t compare our “every day lives” to other people’s “highlight reels” on social media. The only person you need to compare yourself to is who you were yesterday. (Preach!)

5. “Celebrate Yourself”

 

You need to celebrate every single thing along the way.  Every single accomplishment.  Every single achievement.  And don’t do it just to stunt on the ‘gram, truly celebrate yourself.  (Y’all already know who told me that — Marcuetta!)

6. “You’re only 30, relax… you’re NOT OLD.”

 

My sister in law, Dani, said it plain and simply. Despite what I thought when my brother turned thirty, she reminded me that “You still have the rest of your life ahead of you!” Some even say that 30 is when life truly begins.

7. “Everyone is going through life a little bit afraid, even the grown ups.”  

 

My dear friend, Diana, confessed that her initial reaction to so many things is fear, or a sense that she can’t do something or she’s not ready for something. But she reminded me that being a little bit afraid doesn’t mean you can’t or you shouldn’t. Her advice is that it’s ok to keep going, even if you’re a little bit afraid. Another friend told me that being afraid or nervous about something does not mean that you’re immature or incapable, it just means that whatever is making your nervous actually means something to you and is something that you value. So pull up your big girl pants and go for it!

8. “Don’t ignore health issues that run in your family.”

 

My mother reminded me that we all need to focus on our family’s historical health issues to see what we can do to prevent ourselves from going down the same path. Diseases that inflicted our parents and grand parents at old ages are starting to creep up at younger and younger ages. And besides that, most of them are wholly preventable. We just have the discipline to do our research and make informed decisions in our diets and lifestyles today – and stick to them.

9. “What someone thinks of me is none of my business.”

 

My friend Katherina also cracked open this fortune cookie for me. She said that once we stop caring about other people’s opinions, or at least what we think they think about us, we allow ourselves to accept who we are and to truly love ourselves. And I just think this is so important because all our lives (or at least mine) we’ve been trying to please those around us – and it’s such a liberating feeling to not care what others think.

Then, to round it out, I came up with the tenth “tip” on my own…

10. “Stop playing scared.”

 

Over the next year I’m sure I’ll have to periodically remind myself, “you’re 30 now – you know yourself and what you’re capable of.” Don’t stay in situations that aren’t working for you. Say what’s on your mind. And do all the things you’ve wanted to but instead always managed to find an excuse not to. Go out there and have the confidence that the last 30 years has earned you!

I hope these tips help you as much as they helped me! I am so grateful to all of the family and friends who contributed to this and who always take the time to build me up and support me.

Now let’s raise a glass, and say: Cheers to Thirty Years!

Relationship Insomnia

What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do? The answer to that question obviously changes as we go through this thing called life and deal with the various upsets, trials and tribulations it brings.  As we mature and grow, things become easier or harder for us to do.  But, if I had to answer the question right now, my answer would have to be: break someone’s heart.

When it comes to relationships, I’ve always been the type to put my best foot forward – give it the real boy scout try – so that if I get to a point where I feel like I’ve given it everything I’ve got but it still isn’t working out, I’m able to break ties and move on with clear eyes.

But there’s something different this time. I think that perhaps this time is the first time I’ve truly loved the person back.  That it’s the first time I could see that he was giving it the good ‘ol boy scout try just as much as I was – more even. The first time I’ve had to remind myself that I’ve given it everything I have because I keep coming up with reasons to stay.  And the first time I’ve had to convince myself that it’s time…

My sister hates watching movies with me because I always figure out the ending half way through, ruining it for her. And something similar happens for me in relationships – I can see very early on if it’s something that’s worth the time or not. And if I’m being truly honest with myself, I knew before this relationship began that it wasn’t going to work.  So why did I even indulge? Why did I even put the both of us in a situation I thought was likely to fail? Because I was hoping that I was wrong.

There was a glimmer of a chance that things would turn out differently than what the tealeaves had suggested, and I wanted so badly to believe it. Here was someone who was fun and interesting and dragged me out of the house at a time when I needed it most. Here was someone who valued family and relationships in the same way I do. And here was someone who truly believed I could do anything I put my mind to, and loved me with everything he had. So I thought, “maybe.” Maybe I just need to give our seed the opportunity; place it in the ground and see if it would grow.

But the elements just never seemed to work in our favor for some reason. It felt like the sun would come out for a few minutes, only for a set of clouds to breeze in and camp out. The rains came just frequently enough to keep the dirt from getting hard – no more and no less than the minimum water needed to keep us alive. And it seemed like the bees loved all the flowers except ours. Still, two years later, I faithfully go to the window every morning to check on our flowerpot – hoping to find new growth but, instead, seeing a little less life than the day before.

So when I woke up this morning in tears, something inside me knew that no matter how hard we try, the result (for me) would be the same. I then asked myself what any person in my position would wonder: do I sacrifice something that is fine for the potential that there may (or may not) be something that is great? What if I end up never finding what I think is out there; wishing I had left well enough alone? Is “good enough” worth it?

The answer:  “Anything less than mad, passionate, extraordinary love is a waste of time. There are too many mediocre things in life. Love should not be one of them.” (Dream for an Insomniac)

Seeing that quote reminded me why this nagging feeling was never going to go away.  I’ve seen marriages where the couple is still passionately in love 30 years later and I’ve seen marriages where the flame has dwindled but they’ve stayed together anyway.

In full disclosure, generally the couples I grew up around and were most influential in my life were the latter.  And while I know that each of those couples love each other, they have set the example for what I don’t want my future marriage to be like. Each created a comfortable, safe life for themselves, and it works for them. But that’s not what I want for myself. I want to automatically smile when I see my husband walk in a room. I want to go on dates until we’re old and gray. I want him to still hold the small of my back when we’re 50. I want passion! And while I know that no relationship is perfect and you’ll have to fight for it every single day, I have to follow my gut when it tells me that this one just isn’t it. I’m content, but I’m not truly happy.

And, more than that, it’s unfair to string someone along in a relationship I no longer believe in. Because while he may be convinced that this is what he wants or needs, that cannot overpower my own feelings. It’s definitely going to be difficult and knowing him he won’t go down without a fight, but I pray that one day he sees that while I have to do this to be true to myself, I also have to do it to be true to him. And that I refuse to selfishly keep him from the woman out there – whoever she may be – that he truly deserves.

This is one of those hard conversations that I think is so important for us twenty- and thirty-somethings to have. I’ve said it before; social media has a way of making you think everyone’s life is great but yours. Yet, that’s rarely the truth.

Because we often only post and share the greatest moments of our lives, we convey to the world a false euphoria, a mirage of the Promised Land. But the point of Her Lenox Stoop is to face the tough questions head on. To challenge societal norms and start a dialogue about the real issues we go through every day. I lay my vulnerabilities on the table not only to get them off my own chest, but so that others just might feel comfortable enough to do the same.

My truths set me free, especially the hard ones. And they say the biggest regrets in life are often the risks we didn’t take.  So today I face my hardest decision, with both sadness in my heart as well as a hopefulness for the future.

Faith… especially when it scares me.

On this day in honor of Martin Luther King, Jr., one quote that kept jumping out to me as I scrolled through my Instagram timeline was: “faith is taking the first step even when you can’t see the entire staircase”. Please understand, though, it’s not that these particular words were the most posted quote of the day, it’s just that it’s the one that stood out to me.  And as I laid my head down to finally go to sleep, I couldn’t get it out of my head…

The concept felt as though it had been an overarching theme in my life for the past few months.  Most recently, I had a very honest conversation with my cousin about what I’m starting to believe is my life’s dream and why I have taken zero steps towards accomplishing it.  Trained as a transactional lawyer, my most marketable skill-set is to contemplate every possible scenario – good or bad – from a potential decision, and to plan an appropriate safety net for if the unthinkable happens. I help my clients protect their interests before entering into any venture by preparing them for the worst, and as helpful as that is for them, it has become a serious hurdle in my own ambition. For every great idea I come up with, and every possibility my heartbeat skips for, there are twice as many red flags that go up. In the legal world it’s referred to as “the parade of terribles,” as we think of one worst case scenario after another. So in my personal life, by the time I’m done brainstorming, I’ve actually talked myself out of pursuing whatever it is that I was contemplating.

For a while I thought that it was a “millennial” thing. I’ve been heard in numerous conversations trying to lump all twenty-somethings and thirty-somethings into my own sphere of indecisiveness. My boyfriend is working on an artistic piece centered around black millennials in relationships, and I can be heard in my interview saying that we are a generation of too many options. There, I concluded that since there’s no rule book for us anymore, so many of us find ourselves trapped at crossroads between what was the norm of prior generations and what is the unchartered course of this generation. However, when I re-listened to my interview tonight a light-bulb went off as I heard my voice explaining the theory. It isn’t all millennials, it’s me.

I don’t know at what point in my life I became so scared to make a decision. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been the embodiment of that children’s book Amazing Grace by Mary Hoffman. I remember that Grace wanted to play Peter Pan in her school’s play, but one of the other students told her she couldn’t because she was black and a girl – I don’t remember all of the details but the takeaway from that book that always stuck with me was Grace’s nana saying “you can do anything you set your mind to.” And for as far back as my memory serves, I have done just that. In grade school I wanted to play basketball but there was only a boys’ team, so I was one of the founders of my school’s first middle school basketball team for girls. When it came time to pick a college, certain people in my life – very important ones – told me that passing on a scholarship to a nationally ranked, predominantly white university in order to go to a historically black college (regardless of its preeminence in that sphere) would be a mistake; but, I trusted that the way I felt when I walked on Spelman’s campus was indicative of a life-changing experience that I wouldn’t ever get otherwise, and I was right. And when I decided to apply to Columbia Law School knowing that the likelihood of getting in was slim, not one bone in my body hesitated.

So why, as my 30th birthday inches closer and closer, has the overarching theme in my life as of late been to avoid any form of risk-taking? If nothing else, the last 20 years should be proof enough that “I can do anything I set my mind to.” Yet somehow every time a hard decision comes up about my career, my relationships, my dreams and desires, I let the parade of terribles reign over my mind to such an extent that I literally become paralyzed – afraid to move forward or backwards, just stuck wherever I am. Thinking about that made me recall the sermon I had listened to earlier this morning.

Yes, I was bedside-Baptist today and watched a sermon that my pastor in New York gave last week instead of going to a church here in Atlanta. So I re-watched it and, you guessed it, I got my answer.  Pastor Mike asked us: “can you let go of the life you planned for the life that’s waiting for you?” He said that when you “lean in to new beginnings it’s not about whether you can chart the course or craft the script, it’s whether you can lean into a space where the only thing you’re sure of is that this space is inhabited by God.” He went on to say:

“I know there’s a part of you who cannot handle that because you need to know, you have to understand. You wish that God had a way of telling you the story before it began… But here’s the good thing, what God gives you to get you started has nothing to do with the journey or the destination, it has to do with you trusting in God’s presence…to begin your new journey!” [See the full sermon here]

And I can’t deny it, Pastor is right. I’m paralyzed because the ideas in my head and the dreams that fill my heart, are not the life I planned for myself. It’s easy to take risks when you have the world at your fingertips, but when you start to get settled into a comfortable lifestyle and start feeling the benefits of years of hard work and sweat, it’s hard to think about sacrificing it all for a plan that may not work. I did everything I said I would do, got to where I wanted to get to, and now I’m supposed to just give it all up? What if it doesn’t work? What if I lose everything I’ve worked for and can’t get it back? For some, the question might be what if I lose him? What if I end up alone? But what I realized today is the part I was forgetting to remember is that I know who I am. That no matter what comes my way, I have a strong will, a strong support system, and a strong faith in God and in myself.

They say we are born fearless and only develop apprehension over time as we experience the world. As we mature from children to adults, life’s lessons help develop our consciousness but can also cripple us if we let them. So I choose today to not only trust in God and the desires that God placed within me, but to remember to trust in myself. To trust that I can do all things I set my mind to… especially if they scare me.

How much trust do you have in God?

This past Sunday, I was proud of myself for getting up and out bright and early to try a new church. As many of you know I moved to Atlanta a few months ago, but what you probably don’t know is that I have yet to find a space that is as fulfilling as my home church, First Corinthian Baptist Church in Harlem, NYC. So, with a new recommendation in-hand, I was excited to try out this potential church – even if it was a 45 minute drive. As I told my friend the night before (in my best southern accent): “I’ll travel for a good Word, now.” However, to make a long story short, I did not have the name of the church completely right, and I ended up being what seemed like the only American-born African-American in the room. Part of the service was even in another language! I was very uncomfortable and wanted to run out immediately after I realized the situation. But it was too late – the way the rows were set up, I’d have to make the entire row of 30 or so people get up to let me out. So I took a deep breath, and thought to myself: you’re here now, might as well give it a chance. And I kid you not, the very next song that the choir sang was one of my favorites (I’m Chasing After You) so I was up out of my seat dancing and praising just like I would back at FCBC.

Then, when the guest preacher came up, one of the first things out of his mouth was “I believe each and every one of you is here for a reason.” And when I tell you that hit my soul like a baseball bat, chile! I was no longer focused on finding the exit, and instead was focused on hearing the Word – and I was not disappointed. I failed to write down the scripture, but the message was basically if you’ve given it to God, then let God have it. There’s no point in stressing about it, dwelling in it, or talking it to death. God said, “Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). And that Word was on [pause for dramatic effect] time! I had been stressing like crazy the past few days because I knew that the coming Friday would be the day that I found out whether or not I passed the Georgia bar exam. Normally I don’t stress about things like that because I try to go into them well prepared, but that was not the case this time. While studying for the test, I had been working full time while also trying to explore and enjoy life in a new city, balance the demands of being in a long-distance relationship and fit in opportunities for much-desired time with my nieces and nephews. So when I sat for the test and the very first question stumped me, I knew it would be a long road to the finish line. I kept my head up and finished as best I could, but “as best I could” was different than “my best” – so I’ve been quietly panicking inside ever since. I prayed before and after the test, but was beating myself up because to some extent the blame was on me for not making studying the priority it needed to be – and if I didn’t pass I knew I wouldn’t be able to blame anyone but myself. Still, I prayed. And prayed. And prayed some more. Because I was still stressing about it.

Then the last nail was placed in the coffin…The preacher said that what confused him the most was that we are so willing to put our trust in other people yet not willing to have any trust in God. He said “think about it, every time you step foot on an airplane you are literally and physically putting your life in the hands of another person – and it’s normally a person you don’t know and haven’t even seen.” With that, I was on my feet. Anyone who knows me knows that whenever I take a flight, I’m sleep before the flight attendants even give the safety instructions and I don’t wake up until I feel the wheels hit the ground. So how is it that I am so willing to load onto a man-made machine, walk past a closed-door cockpit without questioning who is behind the controls, settle into my seat and fall asleep (i.e., the ultimate sign of trust and relaxation) without questioning for a second that I will get safely to my destination, yet stress about what God has in store for my life? The same God who promised never to harm me but to see me prosper.

My head was spinning! I was wracking my brain trying to figure out how to find the peace that God desired of me. Then, like clockwork, the preacher reminded us that God is always with us. He told us that often times when we feel like God has abandoned us, God isn’t the one who pulled away – it was us. And that made perfect sense given my personal situation. Ever since I moved to Atlanta, I haven’t been going to church, I haven’t been going to bible study, I haven’t been praying and communicating with God like I used to. I am the one who pulled away. And then I wonder why I don’t feel his protection? I haven’t been holding up my end of the bargain! To find the peace I was looking for (and that God wants for me), I needed a way to rebuild my relationship with God. I needed to commune with God again. I needed to ask God to guide my feet and learn to trust again in where the Spirit leads me. I needed to board God’s flight.

During the church announcements it was mentioned that the church was planning to fast during the coming week and to meet periodically for communal prayer. So I decided I would also fast that week, and try to figure out a way to replace food with spiritual nourishment. I hoped to rejuvenate my relationship with God, find the peace my spirit desired and perhaps learn a little bit about the path God wants me to be on. So on my 45-minute drive back into the city, I called my health-conscious, vegan sister and we figured out a game plan for my 5-day fast. I was nervous but excited at the same time!

She wasn’t quite convinced that I could do it, though. She knows that I have no self-control when it comes to food – I want what I want when I want it. She said, “plus you literally get hangry. Imagine if you can’t eat for 5 days. You have coworkers and a new puppy to think about! They are going to meet a side of you they may not want to meet.” And she wasn’t wrong. This was absolutely going to be one of the hardest things I’ve had to do, but I reminded her that fasting is about sacrifice. If I want God to move in my life, I have to be willing to sacrifice something to get there. So she wished me luck and I pulled into Target for supplies… excited to board my flight with God.

I’m Good on Engagement Rings…

I want to revisit a topic covered in one of my original HLS posts, “Glitter vs Gold.” A little over a year ago, I met my now-boyfriend and wrote Glitter as an outlet to think through the issue that was confronting me at the time: standards set by me (with some help from our friend, society) that were grounded in wants rather than needs. Fast forward to present day, the same issue continues to transform and plague us as we move through the different stages of our relationship.

And, as a side note, I think it’s so very important to talk about the struggles in life as well as the good things because social media has a way of creating perceptions of false euphoria… Our natural tendency is to post and share only the good things that happen in our lives, and as a result people don’t always see or understand the not-so-good things that we go through. To the world, our lives our perfect! A woman who posts cute pictures of her newborn might never signal to her followers that she is actually struggling for the first time with not living in the same city as her larger family; similarly, a man who posts amazing group brotherhood photos at his best friend’s wedding may not tell you that he’s sleeping on that same friend’s couch while he tries to figure out his job situation; and a couple that shares pictures of their new house may show no signs of the stress they are under to continue to make ends meet. So I never want people to read Glitter or see bae and I holding hands on IG and think, “they have it figured out,” because we definitely don’t. But what I want you to know is, that’s Ok!! We don’t need to have it all figured out, we just have to be willing to be honest and put in the work… Anyway, I’ll step off my soap box and get back to the regularly scheduled program.

I realized today that I don’t want an engagement ring. Not that I don’t want to get engaged, just that I don’t want the diamond. As many of you may know, the coveted “diamond engagement ring” is a concept that was actually created from a marketing campaign run by the DeBeers diamond company in the 1930’s and 1940’s. The strategic plan included not only traditional advertisements (where they coined the slogan “a diamond is forever”), but also a meticulously planned campaign to show diamond rings in romance films, highlight diamond purchases by celebrities in local newspapers, and even send lecturers to speak to high school students across the country! The entire effort was designed to make women believe that no courtship was adequate unless a diamond was involved and to indoctrinate men with the belief that romance requires a diamond ring, the bigger the better. And guess what? They succeeded. Before this campaign, diamonds were seen more as gems for aristocrats and the uber-wealthy, but this effort brought the diamond market to the living rooms of main street America — where 80 years later the impression remains.

And while this was a genius move for their bottom line, the effect has been not so great on the pockets of the everyday person. There’s even a rule of thumb that suggests a man should spend an entire month’s salary on a diamond ring – Oh, OK.

Understanding that personal debt is one of the top causes of stress for us millennials, I think that we are the perfect generation to start challenging this supposed “life requirement”. Why bend over backwards to reach outside our means for a material object that can be lost or stolen, will make rich people richer at our expense, and that may not even increase in value over time?? Personally, I would much rather my potential fiancé take that $3,000-$5,000 (which is just the average cost!) and surprise me with plane tickets to an awesome adventure that will give us memories for a lifetime. I’d even take a deposit slip for our “saving for a house fund”! Anything that is thoughtful, from a heartfelt place, and designed to enhance our connection with each other or our position in life would suffice in my opinion. In fact, unless he’s wealthy and sees it as “that little ‘ol thang”, proposing to me with an extravagant ring would actually have the opposite effect and make me question his judgment. Especially since what we often fail to realize is that once you get married, his debts are essentially yours and vice versa – so there’s no better way to start a marriage than by making better financial choices for ourselves.

Don’t get me wrong, until this point I have never questioned my own expectation of getting a diamond ring one day – and in full disclosure, it’s only coming up now because I understand the financial limitations of my significant other. But after thinking long and hard about it, I came to the conclusion that the point of the engagement ring is to symbolize commitment. It represents an unconditional love that yields the desire to spend an entire lifetime with another person. And if that’s really and truly what the purpose is, then there is no right or wrong way to make that commitment to someone.  Simply put, as much as I would love to have a nice shiny rock on my finger, forcing someone (either explicitly or implicitly) to reach beyond their means to prove to me their willingness to make that commitment just does not sit well with me. So I have made the decision – for myself and where I am in life – to not require an engagement ring. In my opinion, that is unnecessary glitz that I would happily sacrifice for the right person…

Keep in mind, though, that this post is not intended to shade those women out there who do have or want an engagement ring (whether extravagant or not). As always, I just simply encourage you to think critically about why you want whatever it is and what you think you’re getting out of it. And I can only hope that if it’s simply the glitter, that you aren’t sacrificing the gold.

Wake Up Call

Last week I received one of those calls no one ever wants to get. At 6:19 am on a Monday, I woke up to “your brother is in the hospital.”  You could replace “brother” with child, parent, grandparent, best friend, or any loved one and your heart will drop just as fast.  It’s never a good feeling to think that someone you care for is in pain – and an even worse feeling to know that their life could be in danger.  In this case it was diabetes, or what I am now calling the silent killer.

My brother had been experiencing certain symptoms for a few weeks – namely, constant thirst and urination, but also a lack of desire for his favorite food: snacks. And because it runs through our family, he immediately thought he might be developing diabetes. When I spoke to him the Saturday before he promised me he would be making a doctor’s appointment first thing on Monday.  So to find out that he never made it to the doctor on his own, a different kind of alarm bell was going off for me that morning.

In the early hours of Monday morning he had experienced dizziness and started losing his vision. So he went to the emergency room around 5 am and when they measured his blood glucose level it was 861. The normal range for a non-diabetic person’s blood glucose is between 70 and 130, and since his was so high his body was bordering on a complete lack of insulin and he was instead developing ketones in his blood, so they diagnosed him with diabetic ketoacidosis.  With blood sugar levels that high, they said he could have slipped into a coma or worse.  So they gave him IV’s of saline, potassium and insulin, and moved him to the ICU on a 24-hour watch until his levels normalized. Needless to say it was a rough 24 hours.

The American Diabetes Association asserts that, compared to the general population, African Americans are disproportionately affected by Diabetes, and estimates that 13.2% of African Americans are diagnosed with diabetes as compared to 7.6% of whites. Hispanic Americans are up there too, with 12.8%. The ADA also reports that diabetes kills more Americans every year than AIDS and breast cancer combined. So to find out that my brother could have died when really the only symptoms he had were thirst and frequent urination not only brings tears to my eyes but also sends panic through my entire body.

You’d think a disease so serious would have more serious symptoms, but it doesn’t – so many people go about their daily lives never even knowing that they have it or are developing it. Normal “blood work” during annual physical examinations doesn’t usually measure blood glucose and unless you have a relative or other loved one who has experienced it, you may never think to ask to have your blood tested.  Even as someone who has a history of diabetes within my immediate family, I never thought about either.  To me it always felt like something I may have to deal with when I’m 50, 60 or 70 years old – but my brother will be turning only 43 next week.  So this has rocked my world almost as much as it has rocked his.

So what does this mean for me and other black and brown twenty-somethings out there? If there’s one thing I know about us, we like convenience. Unfortunately, that can mean fast food restaurants and other quick meal solutions that could just end up pushing us even further down the path to diabetes.  And being someone whose weekly menu consists of bagels, burgers, cakes and cookies, nobody knows better than me how difficult it is going to be to shake those habits.  But the other thing I know about myself and us as Millennials, is that we know how to be informed. Small changes as simple as reading labels and cooking at home rather than eating out can make a huge difference on your health (and on your wallet). Knowing that it isn’t just sugar in the traditional sense that can cause a problem, but rather carbohydrates overall as being potentially harmful when consumed in excess, also helps us to make more informed choices out of the food options available to us.

For me, this was definitely a wake up call to change my eating and lifestyle choices while I still have the chance. It isn’t going to happen overnight, but at least I will no longer be able to feign ignorance – from here on out the choices I make will be conscious, and I hope yours will, too.

This Little Light of Mine…

Last weekend my cousin came to visit and one of the things I love most about our times together is that we talk about very real things. She’s one of those people who is simply insightful – and blunt about it! Of course she’s respectful and thoughtful about HOW she delivers the message, but you will walk away knowing exactly what she thinks about the situation, and I love her for that. But I digress…

So after we did the whole life-updates thing, we talked about families and friends, bounced around ideas about our big business venture, and then somehow got on the subject of churches. Both of us shared a pastor when we lived in NYC but now that we’ve both moved to other cities we feel like there’s a void that still needs to be filled. I won’t speak for her, but for me my church in New York was a part of me. It literally turned me into not only the God-fearing Christian I am today but also the autonomous, free-thinking, daring to dream woman who challenges preconceived notions, asks questions and seeks to always be a visionary.

And, if I’m being honest, I don’t think that any other pastor on the planet would be able to connect with me on the level that my current pastor does. That’s the appeal of his church, I think, and why people from around the world flock to First Corinthian Baptist Church (FCBC) and tune in each week to hear him speak. Ashley (that’s my cousin) thinks that Pastor Mike (that’s our pastor) is so effective because he is a teacher first. He has a way of breaking down the text to make it relatable and, more than that, to make you question everything! To make YOU come to your own conclusion; to make you take ownership of not only your relationship with God but also of your life and your decisions. So I don’t care what anybody says, in my mind the likelihood of me finding another pastor to do that for me is pretty slim.

The cherry on top of this whole situation is that I’m back in the south — the “Bible Belt”, as it’s called. Down here there’s no buying liquor before a certain time on Sunday, homosexuality is still very much a taboo topic and you better be wearing Sunday’s best when you walk through those church doors. So I told Ashley that rather than look for a church home here, I was planning to simply stream FCBC’s services online every Sunday and leave it at that. And she agreed!  But then Ashley started to recall something that Pastor Mike had said at a bible study one night. When asked by another member as to what his advice would be for finding a church home when moving to another city, he told her something along the lines of “not to worry too much about it because if you believe in the God that moves in FCBC, then you have to believe that the same God exists in other places”… I told you he was good.

But more than that, God is working! It was in that moment that, through Pastor Mike’s words, God actually put something on my heart: maybe now it’s on each of us to spread Jesus’s teachings the way Pastor Mike did it for us! I’m not saying to open or pastor a church or go door-to-door spreading the good news (not even close to what I’m saying), rather maybe it’s on me to take these new ways of thinking about God and religion that FCBC instilled in me and share them with others. For me (and those who feel similar to the way I do) to go into those other churches, become members and challenge the things that we don’t agree with. If we see discrimination towards people with non-traditional beliefs or ways of life, it’s on us to speak up and it’s on us to show what it looks like to still love them despite their difference. If a preacher explains a message in a way that we don’t agree with, maybe the correct reaction is to go up to him or her afterwards and talk it through rather than leave the church altogether.  It’s only after we start to walk in love, ask the difficult questions and challenge the lessons we are taught that we will start to break the subtle (and the not so subtle) biases and metaphoric chains that have been indoctrinated in religion – Christianity in particular – and which have served as polarizing forces over the years.

Maybe then we will start to see the freedom in others that has already been let loose in us… “Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.” (Matthew 5:15, KJV)

Where’s the Stoop?

One of the most common questions I got after posting “My Dear New York” a few weeks ago was whether I was planning to continue Her Lenox Stoop. Obviously, as most indicated, the title poses as issue now that I’m living in Atlanta, Georgia rather than my brownstone apartment on Lenox Avenue. My sister-in-law even jokingly suggested that I now have to change the name to “Her Atlanta Terrace”!

However, shockingly to some, the thought never crossed my mind that I would have to change a thing about this blog. I started it as an outlet to share my experiences and to think through some of the issues that plague this twenty-something and others like me. Her Lenox Stoop was birthed when I decided to take control of my life and to be completely vulnerable in the process. A time when I was standing at a fork in the road, deciding which way to go. The intent was to challenge what might be considered the “ideal” paths and choices of life and to instead think critically about the things that I really want and that are important to me.

Although I’ve passed the initial crossroad and made that choice of left vs. right (in other words, New York vs. Atlanta), every day I am challenged with new questions. Up or down? Circle or square? Black, white or grey? Questions that continue to require me to be vulnerable, open and honest with myself. So while this writer is no longer physically sitting on Her Lenox Stoop, she is very much still pondering the issues of being a young, black, female professional in this world.

So whether I am in Harlem, Atlanta, Santorini or Bali my heart and my mind will continue to be right there on Her Lenox Stoop, questioning it all…

My Dear New York…

My Dear New York,

I came to you at the time in my life that was filled with utmost promise, and I walked into your open arms with expectation. You lured me in with your infectious energy, constant hustle and limitless possibility — now almost 7 years later I can honestly say that you’ve lived up to your name…

Our time together brought out sides of me that had been itching to be freed as well as sides that I hadn’t even known were there. You allowed me to experience people, places, foods, cultures and styles that ultimately gelled together to create my own unique sense of self. You absolutely made me realize that I’m one of one! You strengthened me by bringing me closer to God, helping me develop lifelong relationships, and pushing me out of my comfort zone. So there are no words I could say that would adequately express my gratitude.

I’m leaving you not because you’ve hurt me in any way, nor because I don’t think we work well together. I just have to follow my gut and my heart — both of which are pulling me to Atlanta. You were my own personal Mecca where I found a sense of self and laid the foundation for my life, my career and my family. But the black Mecca of the world is calling now. She’s calling me to take that foundation and expand it. To lay down roots and sprout branches that yield delicious fruits and span out to the horizon.

Because of you, New York, I now return to the arms of Atlanta, again with expectation, but this time the bar has been set and the challenge declared. The woman returning to the Peach State this time is a more autonomous, empowered, and fortified version of the girl who left all those years ago — and it’s all thanks to you.

You will always hold a very special place in my heart’s memory, and our years together have been forever inscribed on the scrolls of time. 

Love Always,

Marissa