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But as a young woman, I wanted to do things my own way. January 9th, 2017 I got an early morning call from my dad. I talked to my mom nearly every day and it was nearly never that my dad called me. He said “Your mother’s having a stroke…it’s bad.” My mind went straight into denial, “What?”. I just didn’t understand. He explained that the paramedics were there and I figured out that I needed to get on a plane that day. Mind you, the year before my mom fell down the stairs and broke her leg. Prior to that she had broken her elbow in a car accident. A Type II diabetic, I look back at this as the consequence of uncontrolled disease that may have caused mini-strokes or cognitive impairment. I always wished she took better care of herself. It was quite the point of contention between us. But on that Monday I could only think of being by her side. I stumbled through the workday and by 2am, I was where I needed to be. Fast forward two years later and what was life altering at the time, has settled into a comfortable routine. I went through all stages of loss and grief, regret and remorse. I wish I was more kind, I wish I wasn’t such a smart mouth at times, I wish I was more grateful…and then I woke up and realized that she is still very much alive. the best parts of my mom are still here, and the stroke didn’t take away her ability to speak. I get to dress her up, fix her makeup and hair, read her stories, laugh at her inhibitions, truly, deeply care for her. If anything, I would say that my love for my mother has grown more through this event. I count each day as a blessing and a gift because I know many who do not have a good relationship with their mother. Some have been deeply wounded, abandoned, or neglected by their mother. Others do not have their beloved mothers to hold, as they have passed away. One day, I too will come up on Mother’s Day with bittersweet reverie as her body will return to the Earth and her soul will return to her Maker at the appointed time. Until then, I will cherish all the moments I am given with my beloved Mother. I pray that each of you who are blessed with a living, beloved mother will celebrate her as often as you can; and that those who are in need of a loving mother will find one. My mother was always willing to care for those she did not birth. She taught me that motherhood was beyond the womb and that I could also welcome mothering from others in areas she could not provide. I’m grateful for that. Happy Mother’s Day.

I know I look so calm, cool and collected, right? You would never know I was a total hot head. If you’ve ever got yourself tested on the Enneagram, you might recognize me as an “8” through and through. If I sniff injustice, I’m ready to fight. in fact, I think I’m just in general always ready for a fight. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a highly expressive family where you had to speak up to be heard, but watching my kiddos have mini-blow ups of their own, I think this pattern might have been encoded somewhere in my DNA, and was activated by epigenetics. However I got it, my hot head has gotten me into trouble plenty of times, but it also has gotten me pretty far in life because I do not hesitate to speak my mind. (If I see something wrong, you will hear about it!)

But let’s face it, there comes a time in every strong, black woman’s life when you just have to look in the mirror and acknowledge the vulnerable, girl within. Standing (or usually sitting cross-legged) behind the powerful Warrior-Protector, is a playful, curious spirit Woman-Child. When the Warrior leads, she will find a battle. But if the gentle Woman-Child is allowed to come out and play, she will find that there is so much more to explore. The trouble is that so many of us women, regardless of race/ethnicity have been wounded by our past experiences or had our childhood innocence foreshortened. Those of us who group up “big and strong” sometimes leave behind that “weak one” who couldn’t defend herself or got trampled. This can show up as a general defensiveness in love and life, or as more prominent self-destructive, self-sabatoging behaviors.

How do I cool off my hot head? The first step to recovery is recognizing you have a problem! Instead of righteous indignation, I learned to label my anger and take note of when my blood is boiling. My favorite tools to cool down include the “take a walk”, “take a time out”, “tap out”, “sleep on it”, “vent without sending” , and the ever faithful: “take it to my therapist”. Most of these are self explanatory. They do require intention and discipline. I used to fire off emails like I was on a shooting range, but now, I will “draft” that email to myself and leave it unsent. You would be surprised how many things do not require a response at all. Calling my character into question? Stealing my work and calling it your own? Passing judgement without knowing my story or qualifications? These are all triggers for this chick to lock and load. Thank God, that in my post-40 year old wisdom, I no longer need to respond to these real-life (and recurring) examples of blood-boiling circumstances. Instead, I take a long, deep breath through my flared nostrils and remind myself that “it’s not about me”. I will chose to pet my dog, hug a kiddo, admire a sunset, or just feel the warm sun on my face in order to ground myself in the truth that I am safe, and don’t always need to defend myself. I get to be weak, vulnerable, naive, unsure, and curious. And so do you, my friend.

A heaping helping of humility with a perspective-taking chaser is a quick remedy for a hot head.

-dr. glenda

     2019 began with me taking on a new creative skill: bullet journaling (belovedly called bujo by its fans) . It has been quite the journey and so much fun! I started out completely intimidated by what I saw on Pintrest, and have settled on a comfortable pace of developing practical and personal pages. One of my bujo pages is called “awesome words”. They include robust words like sophrosyne, and cute but shockingly mighty words like sisu. But one of my favorite words is offing, which means the “part of the deep sea seen from the shore” or “the near or foreseeable future”. I found this to be a very curious definition.

     First of all, the word looks and sounds like a profanity, or something obscene you would do to someone you were angry at. Quite the contrary, the definition itself speaks to something you know is true even though it’s far away. To me this reflects echoes of the essence of hope. Looking out into my own future, I see the offing as strewn with smoky, cumulonimbus clouds that are  backlit with hues of amber, violet, and crimson. I sense a vibrant season of luscious sunsets calling me to cherish the journeys that have come and gone, and sit in patient expectation awaiting the brilliant bursts of sunrises that will greet me as I face new challenges. The wisdom of my current lifestyle has not come easily or effortlessly, but in my own recovery from a life of workaholism and unrestrained ambition, I have learned to value doing things easily and effortlessly.

   All our life stories are being written with impermanence, and memories of who we were are carried only on the lips of those we have impacted. It is a fragile existence easily threatened by suffering, longing, and sorrow. So what are we mere mortals to do with our measured set of days? I hope that we do everything with the knowledge that there is more out in the offing. Whether that is the hope of tomorrow or the hope in an eternal future, each of us can look up from the focus of a very painful now, and take comfort in an infinite hope.         

We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope. — Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.