tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12588664737593617392024-02-08T09:04:11.407-05:00The Well-Fed SpiritThe mission of this blog is to feed your spirit. I try to offer perspective, a listening ear connected to a kind heart, or maybe just a different point-of-view. I will sometimes get in your face and step on your toes, but it's never with malicious intent. Submit your questions, requests, etc. to drmccoy@thewellfedspirit.com and I will respond here without judgment, only love and kindness.Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-7878547325275812752016-09-16T09:58:00.004-04:002016-09-16T10:16:21.021-04:00Just Get Over It Already!<div class="MsoNormal">
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A few years ago when I was still a stay-at-home mom, I was
making one of my usual trips to the grocery store. It was probably my fourth
time there that week, which was far from out of the ordinary. I parked, grabbed
a cart from the corral, and proceeded to enter the store. If you’re like many
busy people in this country, you’ll understand that I was in rush mode. I had
so many things to do and a limited amount of time in which to do them. We’ll
talk another time about how bad rush mode is for the body and mind. There was
an elderly gentleman in front of me entering the store and, in my hurry, I
accidentally hit the back of his ankle with my cart. The howl that emanated
from that man’s very soul still haunts me to this day.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Of course, I profusely apologized. I felt horribly for
hitting him. I was mortified. His response, in a loud, barking voice was, “I
know you’re sorry!” I immediately took offense. How dare this man yell at me!
Can’t he see that I’m sorry? Can’t he see how sincere my apology is? Why is he
being so mean? I stormed off and left him leaning against the wall in the
vestibule and never thought about him again. Until now.<o:p></o:p></div>
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You see, I had hurt him. And even though I apologized and my
apology was sincere, that didn’t take away his pain. He was still hurting from
my actions, unintentional though they were. He was still feeling the sting of seventy-pounds of steel smashing into his Achilles tendon, and he wasn't yet in a place to be all warm and fuzzy with me. He wasn’t
saying, “I don’t accept your apology.” He was saying, “Give me minute. This
still hurts.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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If you’re wondering why someone you’ve wronged is not yet
over it, you have to give them a chance to stop feeling the pain. Sometimes
what seems like a superficial transgression, turns out to inflict a much deeper wound. It
might be over for you, but they’re still feeling the sting. They probably have
already accepted your apology. They might not feel any hostility or ill-will
for you. But it still hurts.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Give them a minute…even if that “minute” turns into several
months or years. <o:p></o:p></div>
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You have no right to tell someone how pain affects them. You
have no right to expect them to “get over it” on your timetable. We all
experience life differently. We all handle triumphs and tragedies differently.
The way I process information is different than the way you process
information. Do you know why? Because I’m not you. Because you’re not me.
We’re as different as night and day and those differences should be celebrated.
They should be cultivated. We should allow someone the space to hurt as well as
to heal and to expect the same courtesy in return.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Give them a minute, will you?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Until next time,<o:p></o:p></div>
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Feed on love; subsist on peace.<o:p></o:p></div>
Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-28314564160152128242016-05-01T15:40:00.000-04:002016-07-18T20:54:34.065-04:00IntuitionMy husband and I were separated for the better part of 2012. During that time I lived about twenty miles away in a different county. When we separated, it was right in the middle of the school year. Not wanting to put my kids through anymore drastic changes, they stayed with my husband during the week for school, and then they would spend the weekends with me. It was difficult being away from them, and I was terribly lonely.<br />
<br />
In my new neighborhood, I was the only single woman. There were families and there were single men, but no other single women. The women in the neighborhood had an automatic disdain for me until they learned that I was, in fact, a lovely person. Not only was I lovely, but I had no intentions on having torrid affairs with their husbands.<br />
<br />
I was friendly to everyone in the neighborhood (it was something like a cul de sac, but not quite), but I never quite made friends with any of them. I would sometimes stop and have brief conversations, but no one invited into their homes for tea and vice versa.<br />
<br />
One day, when my kids weren't there and I was all alone, my next door neighbor, a single man who lived alone with his dog, struck up a conversation with me as I walked to my car. Now this is a guy who had given me the creeps since I moved in. I try not to judge people in general, but the energy signature this guy exuded made me nervous. Up until this moment, he and I had barely spoken a word to each other outside of "hello."<br />
<br />
He started to tell me about his aquarium, and all the fish that he had in there. I politely nodded, but really, I just wanted to go to my car and leave. At some point in the conversation, he asked, "You haven't seen it?" Of course, I hadn't seen it and he knew that. Remember, this was the longest conversation we'd had thus far. I said no. "Come on," he said. "I'll show you."<br />
<br />
At that moment, every single hair on the back of my neck stood up. I felt an intense sense of fear as I hesitantly said, "OK." I followed him up his walkway toward his home. As I did so, I looked around to see if anyone else was around. This was a neighborhood that was <i>always</i> bustling with activity, but not today. There wasn't one person outside or, as far as I could tell, even looking out a window. Where the hell were the nosy neighbors when you needed them?<br />
<br />
<b><i>Against my better judgement</i></b>, <u>because I didn't want to hurt his feelings</u>, I followed him into his house. I'll let that sink in for a minute. I followed a man I didn't know or trust into his home when no one was around to witness it. Because I didn't want to appear impolite.<br />
<br />
When I walked into his home, my nose was assaulted by the foulest stench you could imagine. To this day, I couldn't tell you what it was. His house was filthy, it smelled horrible, and his fish were swimming around in cloudy water. The water looked like he hadn't ever changed it. Luckily, the fish tank was right off the kitchen area, which wasn't that far from the front door. Even luckier was the fact that he didn't try to hurt me or otherwise take me prisoner in his filthy home.<br />
<br />
I said, "Oh, yeah. Those fish are really nice." Then I power walked out of his house. The reasons? Eight percent so I wouldn't get sick from the smell, seven percent because I was still uncomfortable, and 85 percent because I didn't want to take my last breath in a place like that. You know how, in the movies, a person will be close to death and they say, 'it can't end like this, not here?' Yeah...I was having that exact inner dialogue.<br />
<br />
I made it out safely, but the moral of this story is to always trust your intuition, even if it means you must be impolite to others. Even if others will think you're a bitch for doing it. Trust your intuition.<br />
Ted Bundy killed many women because he made them feel sorry for him. Even though their intuition was probably screaming at them to walk away, they couldn't say no to an injured man. It cost them their lives. This could have easily been the case for me. Every time I think of this story, I get chills at the thought of what might have happened had this guy been a different person. Think about it with me: I lived alone for the most part, so no one would have noticed my absence for at least a work week. No one was around to see me enter his home, so there would be no clues as to where one might start looking for me. I would have been one of those people who seemingly disappeared from the face of the earth. My family would have spent the last four years wondering where I was and what happened to me. My children might have believed that I abandoned them. And all because I was afraid to be impolite.<br />
<br />
Women are taught to be polite to a fault. If we don't, people will label us as bitches. And oh my God, we can't have that, can we? People will think I'm a mean person, so I must risk my safety in order to avoid offending anyone.<br />
<br />
We have to stop that. Listen to your inner voice. You instinctively know if something is bad for you. You can sense a bad vibe. Even if you have no evidence to support your instinct, listen to it anyway. For instance, my neighbor didn't do anything to hurt me, but that doesn't mean my intuition was wrong. What if he lost his nerve? What if he wasn't expecting me to turn around and walk back out so fast? I could have thrown him off, or he could have tripped when he turned around to catch me. Maybe I slipped right through his fingers.<br />
<br />
I'm not saying you should stop trusting people; I just want you (and me!) to listen to your intuition. It exists for a reason. Humans are the only beings that will ignore their instincts. If a gazelle senses a lion stalking it in the jungle, it doesn't say 'I'm not going to run because I don't want to hurt the lion's feelings.' To the contrary, it runs like hell and doesn't stop until the danger is gone or it gets caught. But at least it tries to save itself.<br />
<br />
That's all I'm asking you to do. Save yourself. You're worth saving.<br />
<br />
Until next time,<br />
<br />
Feed on love; subsist on peace.Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-78249036436063923512016-04-07T23:27:00.000-04:002016-04-08T12:28:04.337-04:00"Sensitive" People...of Color<div class="getty embed image" style="background-color: white; color: #a7a7a7; display: inline-block; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue',Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px; max-width: 507px; width: 100%;">
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<br />
Crybaby. Punk. Soft. Weak. These are but a few of the names that I have been called in my lifetime because I was a sensitive person. I still <em>am</em> a sensitive person. Growing up in the African American community was difficult for a little girl like me. I was never told to "man up" like I suspect many sensitive little boys are, but certain respected members of my family have said that I have "soft" feelings and "God, what's wrong with you <em>now</em>?" Labeling you as a person with soft feelings is a polite way of saying you're weak. It's a way to gaslight you into believing that people should be able to say whatever mean, nasty thing they want to you, and you should endure it with a straight face and even laughter. They're just kidding, after all, and you should learn how to take a joke.<br />
<br />
I was an awkward little kid. I never quite fit in with my classmates, the neighborhood kids, or even my family members. I didn't know why. I thought my uniqueness was something of which I should be ashamed. I was bullied and abused because I just wasn't the same as everyone else. I tried so hard to fit in. I tried so hard in fact, that I began to hide that sensitivity from not only the world, but also from myself. I built a massive wall to protect me from the teasing, the name-calling, and the physical attacks. I developed a thick skin. <em>That's what normal people do</em>, I told myself. People will eat you alive if you show vulnerability. And black people? Forget about it. I might as well walk up to someone and <em>ask</em> them to kick my ass.<br />
<br />
People of color, and of course I can only speak from my own experience as a black woman, have had to be strong for so long that any display of vulnerability is seen as weakness. We're not allowed to be sensitive. We're not allowed to be weak. Weakness, or even the <em>appearance</em> of weakness, is a disgrace to people of color. I cut myself so far off from my feelings and emotions, that it got to the point where I no longer knew how to show emotions. Sure, if someone died, I would cry. That was pretty much it, though. I got married, had babies, enjoyed beautiful experiences... and barely shed a tear.<br />
<br />
Even though I built the protective wall, I could still <em>feel</em> so much. I felt deeply. Everything around me seemed to have its own energy, its own life (of course, I now know that everything <em>does</em> have its own energy). I could be having a wonderful day, then I'd walk into a room and be overwhelmed by all the feelings in that room. It would instantly change my mood because, at the time, I didn't know how to block and/or channel that energy into something positive. I didn't even know what that was; I had no name for it. Friends and family would call me 'moody,' and not knowing what to call it myself, I accepted that I was a moody person.<br />
<br />
Every now and then, the pent up, denied energy would overwhelm me to the point of explosion. I would cry and not know why. I would be enraged and not understand what had happened to bring me to that point. When it was over, I would start the cycle all over again. The vicious, counter-productive cycle. <br />
<br />
Then I met a woman, a white woman, who told me about what it means to be an empath. Her race is relevant because I could not, would not have sought out information like that from my own community for fear of being snubbed and looked down upon. I felt a tremendous weight lifted off of my shoulders. Empath. I finally had a name for the ability to feel other people's feelings like they were my own. Empath.<br />
<br />
In the years since meeting that wonderful woman, I've become better at recognizing my feelings, differentiating between my own feelings and someone else's, and communicating my feelings with others. I'm not afraid to show my softer side. I no longer feel the need to be "hard." <br />
<br />
There are some ways in which I've learned to honor and protect myself as an empath and I'd like to share them with you in the hopes that some struggling empath will benefit from them.<br />
<br />
1. Spend some time alone. There are times when it's overwhelming to deal with both my own emotions and those of others. Spending some time with just yourself will give you a break from the many energies you encounter within a day's time. You might be surprised at how rejuvenating solitude can be.<br />
<br />
2. Set boundaries. When you are spending time with yourself, make sure you set clear and firm boundaries that that time cannot be interrupted by anything short of a true emergency. You honor and respect yourself when you honor and respect your boundaries. And when <em>you</em> honor and respect your boundaries, others will, too.<br />
<br />
3. Meditate. Meditating is not as daunting a task as you might think. Simply take some time to breathe, relax, and bring yourself back to the present moment. Sometimes, more often than not, I let my mind wonder. Problems seems to work themselves out that way. But if letting your mind wonder just stresses you out more, focus on bringing yourself back to the present moment each time you find yourself thinking of anything else. And breathe. Deep, slow, long, cleansing breaths. It might also help to play soft, relaxing music in the background.<br />
<br />
4. Tune out. I no longer watch the news on television. It's so mired in negativity and hostility that I feel attacked when I watch it. When I <em>feel</em> attacked, my body reacts as if it's being attacked. When you're stressed, your body releases a myriad of chemicals and hormones to defend itself. Those hormones serve a purpose and are beneficial in the moment (if you're actually being attacked), but if you're in a constant state of "fight or flight," those substances stay in your body. That's not good. I know that you probably like to know what's going on in the world, and that's fine. Everything in moderation. You don't have to tune out completely, just be mindful of how much chaos you allow into your psyche.<br />
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5. Spend time with positive people. This is sometimes easier said than done. Chances are, you work with or know someone who is an energy vampire. Energy vampires suck all the positive energy out of you and drain you dry. When they leave the room, you feel like all of your energy has left with them; you're exhausted. Some of these vampires might even be in your family. Well, you may be obligated to work with them or to perform family duties with them, but your free time? That's all yours. You get to spend that with whomever you want. Make good choices about the company you keep.<br />
<br />
These are a few simple things that help me navigate this big, wide world of emotions, and I hope you will find them helpful in your life. It's entirely possible to be protective of yourself and yet remain open to possibilities and experiences. It's all about balance.<br />
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Are you an empath? How do you honor and protect yourself? What challenges have you faced being an empath of color? Share in the comments. Let's get the dialogue started so that empaths no longer have to feel alone.<br />
<br />
Until next time,<br />
<br />
Feed on love, subsist on peace.<br />
<br />
***Author's note: If you are someone who suffers from bipolar disorder or any other mental illness, this article is not for you. Please seek the help of a licensed psychotherapist and/or psychiatrist. In the Baltimore area, you can click <a href="http://www.mosaicinc.org/">here</a> for resources.<br />
<br />
***Author's second note: This post was inspired by a wonderful woman who did a video about being a black empath. Her video spoke to my very soul and I wanted to link her to this post, but of course, I wanted to get her permission first. It's such a humbling and beautiful experience to find like-minded souls in this world. Please visit <a href="http://www.clear-understandings.com/">Ifasina TaMeicka Clear</a> and show her some love.<br />
<br />Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-59410715650480579372016-01-08T12:30:00.000-05:002016-01-08T12:30:04.951-05:00Breaking the PatternGood day, friends.<br />
<br />
It's been awhile since we've spoken. Some of you have, no doubt, moved on to bigger and better things. Congratulations! You absolutely deserve it. Me? Well, I've been doing the same things I'd spoken to you about before I last left you. I'm one course and a dissertation away from getting my doctoral degree in Metaphysical Humanistic Science. That means I'm one step closer to what I believe is my true purpose in this lifetime. <br />
<br />
I didn't come here to talk about me, though. Well, not <em>just</em> me. <br />
<br />
Today, I found myself in a funk. Something happened in my life that upset me so much that I wanted to revert to some old habits. One of my go-to old habits was emotional eating. The pattern was: let someone upset me > completely disregard any progress I've made > eat everything in sight. I would tell myself, in that moment, that I didn't care whether I got fat or not. Who cares that I feel better when I eat better? Who cares that I don't have bouts of IBS when I don't eat meat? (TMI, I know) Who cares? There I was: all prepared to eat healthy snacks and a healthy lunch, but in that moment, all I wanted... was cake. Or pie. Or Doritos. Or, God help me, McDonald's fries.<br />
<br />
If I followed the old pattern, I would be upset <em>in the moment</em>, I would eat everything and then afterward, <em>the next moment</em>, I would feel horrible. In the next moment I <em>would</em> care, but by then, it was too late. On top of being upset by whatever had triggered my binge-eating, I would then also be upset with myself for the binge-eating I'd done. My self-esteem would dip really low; and the cycle would continue.<br />
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Not today, though. Today, I saw that old, ugly pattern breaking through the surface and I recognized it for what it was. I asked myself, why am I letting someone else control how I feel about myself? If you think about it, that's exactly what was happening. I allowed someone to upset me (that was my first mistake), I then internalized that pain as something that I deserved to feel, then I turned that pain against myself, which would have manifested as an eating binge. Sure, I know that people can take you to horrible, emotional places. I recognize that we are human, and we will sometimes not be in a place to handle emotional warfare. I get it. But I also get that once you let someone anger or upset you, you have handed over your power to them. You're essentially saying, "Here, you control me for a little while."<br />
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Now, everyone who's read this blog even once, probably knows that I have control issues. Trust me, I'm working on it, but it's an on-going process as you well know. The fact that I have issues giving others control is the very thing that should stop me from handing control of my emotions to anyone, especially people who have no impact on my existence.<br />
<br />
So, I came here today to ask you, to implore you to take your power back. Ask yourself if you're letting others control how you feel about you. It's called <em>self</em>- esteem for a reason. The only person impacting it should be you. When someone upsets you, when you're experiencing emotional difficulty, acknowledge your feelings in <em>this moment</em>, then do what you need to do to get to the <em>next</em> moment. And once you get to the next moment, do something to nurture yourself so that you maintain your progress, your sanity, your self-love. What you do in that next moment could change the course of your life. Or it could keep you stagnant in old habits that you wished you'd given up a long time ago.<br />
<br />
What did I do? I reached into the fridge for my carrot sticks and hummus. And I didn't hate myself afterward.<br />
<br />
Until next time,<br />
<br />
Feed on love, subsist on peace.<br />
<br />
Happy New Year.<br />
<br />
Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-79678106916287233672013-07-14T12:11:00.001-04:002016-03-09T13:20:08.881-05:00A Hurting Nation<br />
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<br />
A nation is hurting today. Even those who believe that justice prevailed in the case of Trayvon Martin's murder are hurting. And they don't even know it. You see, nobody wins in a society where human life, any human life, is devalued. Nobody wins when "my" life is more valuable than "yours."<br />
<br />
Many people are angry right now. Understand that anger is a secondary emotion. Nobody is born angry. The natural disposition of the human race is happiness. Then tragedies happen, travesties happen, hell, bad hair days happen and we allow ourselves to be knocked off our naturally happy journeys. <br />
<br />
So no, anger is not primary. Anger happens usually as a result of fear. Take the situation that is upon us. Think about your own reaction to the not guilty verdict. Why are you angry? I'll tell you why I'm angry: because I'm scared out of my mind. I'm scared that my sons could be killed and no one would care. I'm scared that my sons will believe that their lives are expendable. I'm scared that my sons will grow up jaded and believe that no matter what they do, no matter what they accomplish, it will never be good enough. I'm scared that my sons' lives are irrelevant to those that would have them die untimely and senseless deaths.<br />
<br />
I'm scared.<br />
<br />
So I am angry because I know none of that is true, and I can't fathom a world where others don't know that, too. I'm also angry because I live in that unfathomable world.<br />
<br />
But the anger is not what matters here; it's how we choose to channel that anger that matters. I choose to hug my sons (and daughters) and tell them emphatically that their lives matter; to look into their eyes and tell them that they are relevant and important and loved. <br />
<br />
I choose peace. I choose love. I choose life.<br />
<br />
What do you choose?<br />
<br />
Be comforted by the knowledge that only light can smother darkness. Only love can triumph over hate. And Karma...well...that lady's a bitch.<br />
<br />
<br />
Until next time,<br />
Feed on love, subsist on peace, and hug your babies.<br />
<br />
Mrs. HydeDr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-9004840383539861692012-02-19T13:49:00.000-05:002016-03-09T13:20:57.757-05:00Get In Your Own Way<br />
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<br />
<br />
As I was engaging in my favorite way to waste time and push all of my goals to the back burner (Facebook), I came across a post that said,<br />
<br />
"The more you try to be someone else, the more you find yourself getting in the way."<br />
<br />
And there it was, right there in black and white, before my very eyes, the main reason why my failures are failures. I'm trying to be someone I'm not.<br />
<br />
I have this beautiful dream where I'm this calm, peaceful person all the time. Nothing bothers me, nothing makes me angry or sad. I make people think, but I don't cause trouble. People see me as the loving, compassionate, soft-spoken, Mother Theresa-type.<br />
<br />
My real life friends are laughing their tushies off right now.<br />
<br />
I know a woman who is all the things that I envision myself to be. Everyone loves and adores her. When she gets sick, people flock around her bedside and fight over who gets to help her. That must be a wonderful feeling; to have people want to do for you because they love you so much.<br />
<br />
<i>Or</i> maybe I would feel like all those people are suffocating me.<br />
<br />
For the longest time, I wanted to be just her. All my prayers and meditations would center around finding a way to be so peaceful and calm, that just being around me would make others peaceful and calm, too. But no matter how much I prayed, no matter how much I meditated, I never even came close to being like her. It's true, I have my peaceful moments. I am a kind and compassionate woman. I do genuinely care about others, and my first instinct is to love and not harm.<br />
<br />
But...<br />
<br />
I'm a troublemaker, a wave-maker, a shit-starter. I don't mean that I'll see a person living a perfectly happy life, and then I'll go turn their whole world upside down. I mean that in <i>my</i> life, I don't accept the status quo. In fact, the status quo bores me to tears. I never automatically accept someone's word as law; I always ask questions. Sometimes I'm loud, maybe even a little obnoxious. Other times, I'm low-key, sitting back and being observant. I <i>can </i>be that peaceful, calm woman to whom others like to talk, but I'm not her all the time. I have two completely different sides to my personality.<br />
<br />
And I love them both.<br />
<br />
Somewhere along the lines, I got it in my head that my alter ego was "bad." People frowned because she challenged them and shook their heads because she would not be controlled. When you're young, being rebellious invigorates you, but when you're one month away from forty, and you still have some rebellion left in you, you start to believe that you haven't grown up.<br />
<br />
NOT TRUE!!!!<br />
<br />
It's just who I am. No matter how hard I try to deny my other side, she will be heard. No matter how much I try to be like someone else, <i>she will get in the way</i>.<br />
<br />
I love her for that.<br />
<br />
I love her for challenging me as well as others. I love her for helping me to question the beliefs that I'd been taught and to make my own decisions about what I choose to believe. I love her for protecting my heart when others try to hurt it. I love her for recognizing people, situations, and things that don't serve me well. I love her for doing all those things even though I try to suppress and ignore her. That's true love, y'all.<br />
<br />
Today, on this chilly February afternoon, both of my personalities challenge you to get <i>in</i> your own way, if what you're trying to do is deny what truly makes you happy. You were given this life because you are the perfect one to live it. So do that.<br />
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LIVE...with no regrets because even your mistakes are the ones that you need to make to get you where you need to be. See how perfect you are? Even your mistakes are correct!<br />
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If only I had listened to Nikki Giovanni when I was in college...<br />
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Until next time,<br />
Feed on love, subsist on peace, and don't deny your true self.<br />
<br />
Mrs. Hyde<br />
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<span style="color: purple;">****To read Nikki Giovanni's poem, <i>Ego Tripping</i>, click</span> <a href="http://nikki-giovanni.com/page_51.shtml">here</a>.Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-42043703988630098692011-11-23T09:08:00.000-05:002011-11-23T09:08:16.290-05:00Don't Laugh at My Pain<a href="http://vi.sualize.us/view/069dcd78e6ea4410d6e79d532f7c9451/"><img alt="I should probably cut my hair soon." src="http://cdnimg.visualizeus.com/thumbs/06/9d/baby,cry,haircut,crying,bonitinho,adorable-069dcd78e6ea4410d6e79d532f7c9451_h.jpg" /></a><br />
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While sitting in the waiting room of my doctor's office yesterday, I decided to pass the time by checking my Facebook news feed. Sure, I could have been writing my first blog post in three months or getting some of my coursework done, but that would have been, you know, productive. One status update caught my attention simply by the sheer number of comments it received. This is what it said:<br />
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<i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px; text-align: left;">RANDOM THOUGHT: to all the sidechicks around the world the holidays are fastly approaching...................</span><wbr style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px; text-align: left;"></wbr><span class="word_break" style="background-color: white; display: inline-block; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px; text-align: left;"></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px; text-align: left;">.............................</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">.that's is all just wanted to remind you not to call as often and not to get upset when he doesn't answer his phone. LMAO</span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">One hundred six people found this comment hilarious enough to "like" and/or comment on this post. They thought it was so funny that those "hoes" would be sitting around on Thanksgiving with nothing more than a turkey drumstick to keep them company. Of course, you know I wasn't amused. Not because I don't have a good sense of humor or because I don't enjoy a good joke. I do. I'm just not big on laughing at another's pain.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">I know some of you will think I'm defending the wrong team, but you're wrong. I'm not defending anyone. I just feel bad when a woman finds herself in a relationship with a person who puts his own selfish needs ahead of all else; a person who doesn't care who gets hurt, as long as his needs are met. And why should he care? He wins either way. If Ms. Sidechick doesn't like it, she can leave and he will still have his wife/girlfriend. And if his wife/girlfriend finds out about his infidelity and dumps him, guess what? His sidechick is waiting with open arms.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">But you, Ms. Sidechick? You <i>lose</i> either way. You're either waiting around for his phone call, being on his schedule because he can only see you at times that are not suspicious, and giving him your body before he goes back to his wife <i>OR</i> he decides that he likes it better at your house, makes you his main woman, and does the same thing to you that he did to her. You call that winning? What the hell kind of prize is that? </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">That's not winning. Trust me. <i>Trust me</i>. I'm not just blowing smoke up your, um, chimney. I know this because <i>I know this</i>. You know what winning feels like, and it's a feeling that you never forget. This ain't it, honey.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">It breaks my heart to see a woman who thinks so poorly of herself that instead of being with a man who wants to love her unselfishly and who would never dream of hurting her, she opts to take any pathetic thing she can get. Any crumbs or scraps that her lover man throws from the table of his primary relationship. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">This time of the year brings joy and love for many, but for a great number of us, it brings deep pain and sorrow. If you can surround yourself with people who genuinely love you and care for your well-being, count yourself among the lucky ones. But if you find yourself alone this holiday season, I challenge you to spend the next year getting to know the most important person in your life ---you. Find out what you truly love. Find out what makes you happy. Find out what makes you <i>un</i>happy and toss it in the trash where it belongs. Find out who you are. Not the labels that we give ourselves: mother, sister, cashier, basket weaver, but who you <i>really</i> are. When you uncover the real you, shower that woman with unyielding love, laughter, joy and hope. She needs it, but even more than that, she deserves it.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">A wise man once said to me, "When you know who you are, no one can lead you astray." </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Amen, brother. Amen.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Here's to all of us who are on the path to uncovering our true selves. My wish for you and me is that next year this time we will each be the happiest person we know...with or without a man.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Until next time,</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Feed on love, subsist on peace.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;">Happy Holidays!</span></span><br />
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</span>Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-25023311908274890462011-08-08T01:12:00.000-04:002011-08-08T01:12:40.972-04:00You Can Co-Depend on Me<a href="http://sasstrology.com/"><img height="270" src="http://sasstrology.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/codephandcuffs.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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I recently learned that I am codependent. Well, that's not entirely true. Anybody with eyes could see that my husband and I were in a codependent relationship, so I already had an inkling. But I thought that <i>he</i> was the one who depended on <i>me</i>. I thought he needed me because he didn't have a clue as to how his life should be lived without my considerable knowledge and expertise. I mean, when you look up the definition of codependent, it says, "unhealthy psychological reliance of one person on another." That very clearly says to me that he is the codependent one. <i>He</i> needs<i> me</i>. Makes sense, right?<br />
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Wrong.<br />
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Dead wrong.<br />
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I am the codependent one. Codependent people need other people to need them. They believe that it is their job to not only decide what would make someone happy, but also to bring that happiness to fruition. They do this to the detriment of themselves; ignoring their own needs for those of another. All this time I was thinking it was such a travesty that my husband, kids, other family members, and friends depended on me so much, when in truth, I didn't give them much choice in the matter.<br />
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<i>How did this happen?</i> you might wonder. Well, I sure as hell wondered it, anyway. As with many of life's lessons, both good and bad, I learned this one in childhood.<br />
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Unless you're relatively new to this blog, you know that, as a child, I believed that God hated me. I reasoned that if He didn't hate me, He wouldn't let such horrible things happen to me. After all, almost every adult I knew told me that God protected His children. "Jesus loves the little children," they said. Why, then, had He not protected me?<br />
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<i>I must be a terrible person.</i><br />
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Nothing else made sense to an eight-year-old girl who had been sexually abused more times than she could remember, and by just as many people.<br />
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</i><br />
<i>I must be a terrible person.</i><br />
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Nothing else made sense to the child who cried herself to sleep every night because she couldn't understand why she was abandoned by both of her parents.<br />
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<i>I must be a terrible person.</i><br />
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The only way to redeem myself to God, I reasoned in my innocent naivete, was to show Him how good I was by making other people happy. Surely, He would see that only a truly good person would dedicate her life to the service of others.<br />
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And so the cycle began, in the ingenuous mind of a well-meaning child. That cycle has had a good run in my life, but today I celebrate the death of my self-destruction. So many people fear death, but death is not only the end of the old; it is also the beginning of the new.<br />
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Take a moment to tip your hat, shout hurray, raise your glass (be sure to pour some out for the homies who ain't here) and join me as I celebrate the birth of the new, <i>in</i>dependent me.<br />
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Until next time,<br />
Feed on love, subsist on peace.<br />
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<i>For more information on Codependent personalities, click <a href="http://www.innerworkspublishing.com/news/vol8/relate.htm">here</a>.</i>Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-63096183609856658712011-07-07T22:22:00.000-04:002011-07-07T22:22:09.082-04:00Affirmation<a href="http://infobarrel.com/"><img src="http://www.infobarrel.com/media/image/27646.jpg" /></a><br />
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“Change the voices in your head, make them like you instead.” You've heard me quote this before, haven't you? That is a verse from one of my favorite songs by the artist Pink. I listen to this song every day and sing it at the top of my lungs, as if those powerful words are coming from my very heart. You see, I have always known the right words to say; I have always known the correct actions to take. I was at the top of my Psychology classes in college. I was an avid Oprah viewer. I have always been the person to whom everyone came for advice. My problem has never been <i>knowing</i>. My problem, instead, has been <i>doing</i>. Or, <i>not</i> doing, if you will.<br />
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During the course of my studies, I learned that procrastination is a symptom of unhealthy self-esteem. I knew I was a procrastinator and I knew my self-esteem was non-existent, but I'd never correlated the two. I would put off any activity that would affect me in a positive way. For instance, it took me five years to write my novel because I kept starting and stopping the creative process. Now that it’s finished, it’s taken me another two years to get up the nerve to send out query letters to literary agents. I even put off completing my PhD courses when I know my goal is to finish the degree program before my fortieth birthday.<br />
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I have also come to realize that I have been an impostor. I smile and go about each day pretending that I’m the happiest person alive, when inside I am berating myself for how much weight I’ve gained and how I’ve done nothing with my life. I’ve been unhappy for a large part of my life, but to the outside world, I am cheerful and friendly.<br />
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Starting today, I'm going to do things a little differently. We've been creating positive affirmations in one of my courses and my new, positive affirmation is this: “I am a strong, healthy, happy, and capable woman. In a word, I am <b>perfect</b> - just as I am. When I set my mind on a goal, I work at it until I have accomplished it. I can and will do any great thing I decide to do. I, alone, am responsible for my life and I choose to make that life a great one. I choose happiness. I choose to love myself unconditionally.”<br />
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Won't you create a positive affirmation, too? Together we will tell our inner voices that <i>we</i> are the ones in charge. Every time it whispers something negative in our ears, we will counteract that negative with something powerfully positive.<br />
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Let's choose happiness.<br />
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We deserve it.<br />
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Until next time,<br />
Feed on love, subsist on peace.Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-53449619190537843452011-06-14T23:32:00.000-04:002011-06-14T23:32:10.148-04:00A Year of Love<a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://fineartamerica.com/images-medium/twin-flames-dedric-whittington.jpg&imgrefurl=http://fineartamerica.com/featured/twin-flames-dedric-whittington.html&usg=__aS7ATOjlPLnnY1hrczYbVkvbV8A=&h=700&w=525&sz=104&hl=en&start=88&zoom=1&tbnid=z_oPJ1wlqoc3fM:&tbnh=165&tbnw=125&ei=iSL4TdiXGcfDgQeE4amIDA&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dtwin%2Bflame%26hl%3Den%26biw%3D1366%26bih%3D643%26gbv%3D2%26tbm%3Disch&itbs=1&iact=rc&dur=393&page=5&ndsp=25&ved=1t:429,r:24,s:88&tx=73&ty=62"><img height="640" src="http://fineartamerica.com/images-medium/twin-flames-dedric-whittington.jpg" width="480" /></a><br />
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We've spoken of soul mates before, but this time I want to speak of something that is both similar and completely different at the same time: twin souls. The definition that most people apply to the term "soul mate" is more accurately the definition of what is referred to as a twin soul or twin flame. When you think of a soul mate, you usually think of the other half of your soul. The only other soul out there in the world that is searching for you as desperately as you are searching for it. We've <a href="http://thewellfedspirit.blogspot.com/2011/03/whole-new-definition.html">already established</a>, however, that that is not what a soul mate is. The soul most people are looking for is their twin.<br />
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I think, too, that when searching for the mate or twin to one's soul, most of us believe that it will complete us. That it will take the empty half of ourselves and fill it to capacity. If that were true and we did, indeed, need another to make us complete, then I've been lying to you this whole year. I've been telling you that your are enough. I've been insisting that you are whole and complete all by yourselves. I've flat out declared that you don't need anyone else to make you happy because true happiness comes from within. I've said that it's <i>your</i> job to make you happy, not your partner's. Or your kids' for that matter.<br />
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Did I deceive you?<br />
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According to the website <a href="http://www.harusami.com/soul2soul/twinsoul.html">Soul2Soul,</a> "It is said that one does not meet their Twin Soul or Twin Flame until they have learned many lessons of love, loss and forgiveness through close soul mate relationships, that the heart is made resilient and strong through pain and loss, and must be so to face the intensity of being with the other half of their soul."<br />
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When one soul has learned the lessons that make it possible for him/her to be spiritually and emotionally whole, then and only then can one reconnect with their twin flame. I refer you to ninety-five percent of the posts on this blog to further echo this point.<br />
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I've been officially touting healthy self-esteem, self-love, self-acceptance and all other manner of self-appreciation for a year now. In addition to that, my loyal readers, I have brought you along on my own journey to self- completeness. You have <a href="http://thewellfedspirit.blogspot.com/2010/07/project-mom.html">laughed</a> with me, <a href="http://thewellfedspirit.blogspot.com/2010/10/farewell-my-friend.html">cried</a> with me. You have <a href="http://thewellfedspirit.blogspot.com/2011/04/second-best.html">inspired me</a> and been <a href="http://thewellfedspirit.blogspot.com/2010/12/big-freaking-deal.html">inspired by me</a>. You have <a href="http://thewellfedspirit.blogspot.com/2010/10/life-after-death.html">offered your love and support</a> as often as I have <a href="http://thewellfedspirit.blogspot.com/2010/09/negative-is-absence-of-positive.html">offered mine to you</a>.<br />
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For this, I thank you.<br />
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It has been a year of ups and downs, <a href="http://thewellfedspirit.blogspot.com/2010/12/ive-gotta-be-me.html">triumphs</a> and <a href="http://thewellfedspirit.blogspot.com/2011/03/support-in-lieu-of-judgement.html">tragedies</a>. I'm so glad that each of you decided to come along for this ride.<br />
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In this next year and, dare I say, the rest of my years to come, I will endeavor to bring more peace, more love, more forgiveness, more tolerance, more positive energy to every soul I am able to touch. If I have touched your soul so far, I thank you for allowing me access to the most vulnerable parts of yourselves. Please know that each of you have touched my soul; whether in a small or big way is of no importance. When a person touches your soul, they become a part of you forever.<br />
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We are a part of each other forever. That means try as you might to stop me from scratching at the recesses of your brain, it ain't gonna happen.<br />
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So while I may not be your twin soul, I am one of your many soul mates and you are mine. I hope that each of you, as well as myself, is lucky enough to reconnect with your twin soul in this lifetime. Not because of the intense bond and unconditional, ego-free love that will unfold, but because you will have finally learned that you, all by yourself, are enough.<br />
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Until next time,<br />
Feed on love, subsist on peace<br />
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P.S. Did I tell you I made the honor roll last quarter?Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-60964359522471553522011-05-23T12:44:00.001-04:002011-05-23T13:21:49.016-04:00Live Like We're Dying<div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">In light of the narrowly escaped (!) apocalypse on Saturday, I'd like to take an opportunity to play back some old hits. Not songs really, just some things that I have said in the past that I think bears repeating.</div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">For months leading up to May 21st, the internet was rife with apocalyptic exclamations. There were articles about what one should do to survive an apocalypse. There were ads offering to take care of your pets during the post-apocalyptic chaos. Considering that no one on Earth has ever survived one and no one would be around after one, these articles and advertisements seemed, to me, frivolous at best. </div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">If the world was indeed coming to an end soon, what would you do differently? I'm not talking about some person who, insane or not, sincerely <i>thinks</i> it's going to happen; I'm talking about if there was irrefutable proof, scientific evidence that the end was near. What would you do? </div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Would you learn to fly a plane? Would you climb a mountain? Would you take a trip around the world? Would you volunteer at a children's hospital? Would you start an animal rescue? Would you make yourself appreciate your life and all the blessings you take for granted? Would you stop stressing about small things? Would you stop being afraid to express your true feelings?</div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We always make the mistake of thinking we have more time. "I'll do that tomorrow," we say. "Oh, there's plenty of time to get that done," we reason. "I want to mend fences with my mother, but I'm not ready. I need more time," we rationalize.</div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I have a friend who just recently lost her father. He was perfectly fine one day, and he died from a heart attack the next. As I spoke with her, she recalled her last visit with him just days before. They were talking about building something together, and she said to him, "Oh, Dad, we have time. We don't have to do it now." But they didn't. After telling me that story, she said to me, "People always talk about living for today, about living like it's your last day on Earth, but until you actually do it, you don't really get it."</div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I couldn't have said it better myself. </div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">So in the spirit of the Well-Fed Spirit oldies but goodies, I leave you with this: stop living your life like tomorrow is a guarantee. The only time that matters is now because it's the only time that truly exists. Learn to fly a plane RIGHT NOW. Climb a mountain RIGHT NOW. Build a fire pit with your dad RIGHT NOW. Not later today. Not in ten minutes. Be the person that you want to be, live the life that you want to live.</div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Right now.</div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Come to think of it, I will play a song. If you're having trouble with the Right Now Movement, this song should get you sufficiently ready.</div></div><div><br />
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</div><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/YbfeSImDntw?fs=1" width="480"></iframe><br />
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</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Until next week(ish),</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Feed on love, subsist on peace.</span></div>Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-68995301300128406132011-05-05T13:10:00.000-04:002011-05-05T13:10:07.469-04:00Naturally Beautiful<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.naturalhairgrows.com/images/african-american-natural-hair-styles-02.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.naturalhairgrows.com/curly-hair-styles.html&usg=__Nikh0onx__cQL-RS_OOTCjB-75Q=&h=268&w=404&sz=81&hl=en&start=21&zoom=1&tbnid=WK4wf5b_KxDUPM:&tbnh=147&tbnw=196&ei=FNfCTcCeIsLiiAKWsqWkAw&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dnatural%2Bhair%26hl%3Den%26biw%3D1366%26bih%3D643%26gbv%3D2%26tbm%3Disch0%2C500&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=128&vpy=145&dur=4374&hovh=183&hovw=276&tx=144&ty=110&page=2&ndsp=24&ved=1t:429,r:0,s:21&biw=1366&bih=643" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img src="http://www.naturalhairgrows.com/images/african-american-natural-hair-styles-02.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This isn't me in case you're confused (!).</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Many of you know that I've been waffling back and forth trying to decide what to do with my <a href="http://thewellfedspirit.blogspot.com/2010/10/operation-for-love-of-me.html">hair</a>. The only thing I was sure of was that I was tired of the brittle, broken, unhealthy mass that sat on my head and dared call itself hair. I stopped relaxing it in January, but still couldn't commit to cutting it. There were patches at the top and back where my hair had just fallen out. Still, I couldn't cut it.<br />
<br />
I searched the internet for hours to see what could be done with very short, very curly, natural hair. I searched for ways to make it grow strong and healthy. I searched for ways to make me feel good about the whole process. I must have spent 20 hours total combing the internet, no pun intended. Then, on Tuesday, May 3 I said, "I'm done!" I called a friend and asked her to cut it all off.<br />
<br />
So now, I sit here with very short, very curly, un-relaxed, natural hair...and I LOVE IT! Sure, I was afraid to leave the house the first two days, but I got over that. Today, in fact. I'm so proud of myself for even walking out the door and allowing other people to see me with the shortest hair I've had since my oldest son was a baby, and <i>never</i> was it natural. No, that's not true. My hair was natural up until about age eleven, so that's 28 years since then.<br />
<br />
Lots of new beginnings happening for me.<br />
<br />
While I was doing my research on natural hair, I came across some disturbing trends in the "Natural Hair" world. It seems that in their quest for hair freedom, many women have come out on the other extreme of self-hatred. I found that many women who were "happily" natural find it necessary to look down their noses on women who are not. They call them "slaves to the perm" and proclaim that women who relax their hair are addicted to "that creamy crack." One woman who has a YouTube channel and website devoted to giving tutorials for natural hairstyles and selling all-natural hair care products received a horrible backlash when her website offered colorful fake hair clip-ons. <i>How can she be natural with a piece of fake hair in her head?</i> they asked.<br />
<br />
Are they serious?<br />
<br />
I find it very disturbing that a group of women who supposedly decided to embrace their natural hair because they didn't want society or anyone else defining beauty for them are now judging other women for doing the same thing: defining beauty for themselves. Somebody is sorely missing the point.<br />
<br />
If I want to embrace my God-given beauty and decide for myself what beauty means to me, that doesn't give me any right to judge what another woman decides is beautiful to her. She has every right to relax, weave, perm her hair as I have not to. Just because my hair is now natural, oh, don't think I won't still put a wig on my head from time to time. I'm still a goddess, after all. <a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.free-smiley.info/winking/winking-smileys-emoticons65.gif&imgrefurl=http://www.quartertothree.com/game-talk/showthread.php%3Ft%3D61356%26page%3D4&usg=___HXyBvIMnD5mq_35VRuXKJulQ08=&h=15&w=15&sz=1&hl=en&start=63&zoom=1&tbnid=vcnqFG3HNAoPEM:&tbnh=15&tbnw=15&ei=qNnCTZqgKe7KiALGkvWLAw&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dwinking%2Bemoticon%26hl%3Den%26biw%3D1366%26bih%3D643%26gbv%3D2%26tbm%3Disch0%2C1800&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=311&vpy=297&dur=2497&hovh=15&hovw=15&tx=82&ty=9&page=4&ndsp=21&ved=1t:429,r:15,s:63&biw=1366&bih=643"><img src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS5yb-AegvnPoUyPcr5Gr09aRAupKOAaFjbY4TFL5Sta_RFaA-tVg" /></a><br />
<br />
It's my choice. And no one has a right to take it away from me. Don't let others judge you for your choices. Good or bad, they belong to you. <br />
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Until next week(ish),<br />
Feed on love, subsist on peace.<br />
<br />
P.S. I'm rocking that Ph.D course! Just got 100% on my first exam. Yay me!Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-43905751217722906592011-04-19T20:01:00.001-04:002011-05-27T23:00:43.185-04:00Hitch Your Wagon to a Star<a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://cybermushroom.files.wordpress.com/2011/03/shooting_star.jpg&imgrefurl=http://cybermushroom.wordpress.com/&usg=__duRZ0Z7WCALQPOnkprNB31EpXCw=&h=752&w=1024&sz=32&hl=en&start=0&zoom=1&tbnid=wyw2X9X65k7HxM:&tbnh=139&tbnw=211&ei=QyGuTZ3vLIygsQOY37WSAw&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dshooting%2Bstar%26hl%3Den%26biw%3D1366%26bih%3D643%26gbv%3D2%26tbm%3Disch&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=550&vpy=133&dur=1732&hovh=192&hovw=262&tx=191&ty=121&oei=DCGuTZPuA4nDgQfA8fWMDQ&page=1&ndsp=18&ved=1t:429,r:2,s:0"><img height="293" src="http://cybermushroom.files.wordpress.com/2011/03/shooting_star.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<br />
Those of you who follow my alter ego at <a href="http://abitchcalledmom.blogspot.com/">A Bitch Called Mom</a> already know the reason for my absence these past two weeks. For those who don't, I've enrolled in an accelerated Ph.D program, so soon it might cost you a pretty penny for my sage advice. I kid, of course. Well, sort of. Why I didn't just finish school when I was there the first time is beyond me. It would have been a whole lot easier to complete a paper on Thomas Campbell's Big Picture Theory of Everything (yes, that's a real thing) if my ten-year-old didn't feel the need to interrupt me every fifteen minutes with some hilarious video she found on YouTube.<br />
<br />
It really is true that youth is wasted on the young. When you're young, you have lots of energy, a body with all its working parts, and the world at your feet, but you scarcely realize it. I think it would be great if we received our wisdom as young men and women. We would have both the wisdom to seize great opportunities and the wherewithal to do the seizing. But alas...wisdom comes with experience.<br />
<br />
I spent a great many years proclaiming to anyone who would hear me that there was no way in hell I would ever go back to school. "I wouldn't go back to school if <i>you</i> paid <i>me</i>," I'd say, secretly wishing that I had the time and/or money to do just that.<br />
<br />
Then an opportunity presented itself that I could not pass up. Sure, I could weigh the pros and cons of going back to school, but time would be ticking away as I teetered on the edge of indecisiveness. It occurred to me that I should take some of the advice that I so freely dole out on this blog.<br />
<br />
If someone asked my opinion on their going back to school to get a Ph.D, my answer would be a resounding yes! I would tell them that there is no time better than right now. There is no moment better than the present moment. There will always be reasons not to do something. If you take them all into consideration, you will never get to do what it is that you really want to do. See, it's easy for me to play cheerleader to others, but far more difficult for me to cheer for my own team.<br />
<br />
Today, two weeks ago actually, I chose to cheer for me. I chose not to consider the obstacles, the problems, the haters. I chose to do what I've wanted to do since I was in middle school. I chose to become a doctor!<br />
<br />
Better late than never, right?<br />
<br />
For the next twelve to twenty-four months, my posts might be sporadic. Once a week is not a lot to ask of a blogger, which is why my posts here are weekly. But since I have all these wonderful new responsibilities, I'll probably need to get a groove going before I'll have enough brain power to continue posting on two blogs regularly.<br />
<br />
I am <b><i><u>not</u></i></b> shutting either blog down. I still will post on both. I just don't want you to have to wonder where I've disappeared to. I don't want to leave you hanging.<br />
<br />
If there is something that you've been wanting to do, I say that there is no time like right now. Time doesn't get longer; it gets shorter. You will never have more time to fulfill your heart's desire than you do right now.<br />
<br />
Just do it.<br />
<br />
Until next week(ish),<br />
Feed on love, subsist on peace.Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-83875863510065360272011-04-05T11:23:00.000-04:002011-04-05T11:23:49.208-04:00Second Best<a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.awardstudio.com/webdocs/photos/XR-282_SECOND_PLACE1.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.awardstudio.com/webdocs/Items/Details378.cfm&usg=__ztBthVfN-1OxqxBRW2KLNQuiWCA=&h=406&w=250&sz=27&hl=en&start=0&zoom=1&tbnid=FNSKxZWlRgpMvM:&tbnh=151&tbnw=93&ei=JzCbTZT-D5DfgQfmzvCGBw&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dsecond%2Bplace%26hl%3Den%26biw%3D1366%26bih%3D643%26gbv%3D2%26tbm%3Disch&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=632&vpy=99&dur=445&hovh=251&hovw=154&tx=102&ty=179&oei=BDCbTfyTMYzpgQeLzum0Bw&page=1&ndsp=21&ved=1t:429,r:3,s:0"><img src="http://www.awardstudio.com/webdocs/photos/XR-282_SECOND_PLACE1.jpg" /></a><br />
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I've been married for seventeen years and in all that time, I can't ever remember feeling like I was enough for my husband. The circumstances under which we got together were not ideal. We were both coming out of relationships; his was serious and long-term, mine was melodramatic and not-so-long term. But then, all my relationships were like that.<br />
<br />
We were each other's rebound partner. I just recently realized that and I must admit it hurts me to acknowledge it.<br />
<br />
As a teenager and young woman I was consumed by melodrama. Everything was a tragedy; it was me against the world. My relationships, if I can even call them that, were tumultuous at best and all of them were the great loves of my life. I longed to marry these men one day and I daydreamed about how our children would look. And I didn't even want kids. Enter the theatrics.<br />
<br />
The last "relationship" I had before I met my husband was with an older man; I was nineteen, he was twenty-seven. I was fascinated by his wisdom and worldliness. He was both the daddy I wish I'd had and the experienced lover who intimidated and excited me all at once. His only attachment to me, however, was that he loved bragging to his friends that he was banging a hot nineteen-year-old. He told me that we were not boyfriend/girlfriend, that we were just friends who had sex. "Friends with benefits" before the phrase was coined. This was my first experience with something of that nature. I had had friends that would sleep with men without the benefit of the "girlfriend" label, but I had never done it myself. I had only recently discovered the pleasures of sex with a man and I didn't know how to separate my body from my emotions. When he continued to date other women, it hurt me to my core, but I didn't want to seem like a baby. I pretended, not very well, that it didn't bother me. I had cried and screamed and had all sorts of emotional breakdowns. By the end, I was just numb. I just didn't care what he did to me anymore.<br />
<br />
In my husband's case he had been dating his high school sweetheart since tenth grade. She was a year older than him, so when she left home for college, he counted the days until he would graduate and join her. They still would see each other on holidays and some weekends. They talked on the phone a lot and wrote long love letters. A year later when he joined her at school, it didn't take him long to notice that something was different. They weren't as close as they used to be. She was drifting away from him, but he didn't want to admit it to himself. Even then, he didn't like change. He fought for her until it was clear that he had lost the battle. By the end of his sophomore year in college, it was very clearly over for them.<br />
<br />
That summer is when he met me. His relationship had recently ended and I was still ensconced in my non-relationship. I didn't like him at first. He annoyed the hell out of me. <i>But</i> he made me laugh...that was all it took for him to turn my attention away from the guy who was everyday breaking my heart. He made me feel like I deserved to be respected, that I deserved better. I will always love him for that.<br />
<br />
Recently, we've been trying to provide some gentle guidance to our teenage son about his current relationship. It seems to me that my son's relationship is going in the same direction as did my husband's teenage romance. I was thinking that my husband should share that with him: how he loved her throughout high school, how he followed her to college, and how they had grown apart. Thinking about those times so many years ago made me recall things that had happened in our marriage over the years with regard to this woman he had once loved so passionately. Like how curious he was about 'what she's doing now' for years after they broke up. Like how he always knew where she was working or what was going on in her life. Like how he was secretly calling her when I was pregnant with my first son. Like how he would get his car repaired at the place where her father was a mechanic.<br />
<br />
I thought about these things and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I knew the answer to the question I'd been asking for almost nineteen years (including the 17 years we've been married).<br />
<br />
<b>I never felt like I was enough for him because I wasn't his first choice.</b><br />
<br />
God, that hurts. You can imagine, I'm sure, the pain that I'm feeling right now. But if I'm honest with myself, somewhere way in the back of my head, behind my thin layer of self-esteem, I always knew. I didn't care because I never thought I deserved better. No, that's not true. <i>He</i> taught me that I did deserve better. I guess I thought that his love, divided or not, was better than no love at all.<br />
<br />
This week's lesson, then, is not to settle for being second best. You deserve someone who loves you above any other person, besides himself, of course. You deserve that great love that comes only once in a lifetime, twice if you're lucky. You deserve to look in the mirror everyday and say to yourself, "I am enough." Because you are.<br />
<br />
You are good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, sexy enough, skinny enough, rich enough, tall enough, short enough. Your lips are thin enough, thick enough, pouty enough. Your eyes are round enough, big enough, brown enough, blue enough. Your hips are round enough, thin enough, wide enough. YOU are enough. You are exactly who you are supposed to be at exactly the time you're supposed to be it. "There's always room for improvement," some might say. So improve if that's what you want. I just want you (and me) to know that if you don't do one more thing, if you don't improve upon who you are one iota, it doesn't even matter. Because right now, in this time and place, you are enough.<br />
<br />
I love my husband, I really do, and I have no doubt that he loves me. But if I had to do it all over again, I hope that I would choose not to be his consolation prize.<br />
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Until next week,<br />
Feed on love, subsist on peace.Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-20145139327777595452011-03-23T09:34:00.003-04:002011-05-27T23:18:29.041-04:00Support In Lieu of Judgement<a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.eargasm.nu/images/Japan.gif&imgrefurl=http://www.eargasm.nu/index.php/2007/10/01/&usg=__g7nowialz3P9YOyVDY8Ebf9d-Qg=&h=334&w=500&sz=4&hl=en&start=58&zoom=1&tbnid=yJPFpFyg8wCjlM:&tbnh=137&tbnw=182&ei=X_SJTa69A4LPgAf0n8zNDQ&prev=/images%3Fq%3Djapan%26hl%3Den%26biw%3D1366%26bih%3D643%26gbv%3D2%26tbs%3Disch:10%2C1327&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=705&vpy=343&dur=62&hovh=183&hovw=275&tx=165&ty=115&oei=MvSJTdzJE5HUgQerjK3HDQ&page=4&ndsp=19&ved=1t:429,r:3,s:58&biw=1366&bih=643"><img src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSVQisdW_Qu7ZxObfFPKjSH0dYDuzogPl1eF1XTft0Gl_M0us69" /></a><br />
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I read an article yesterday that made me cringe. In it, the writer expressed his thoughts on Japan's recent tragedies. From a pros vs. cons perspective, he told of both the positive and negative aspects of the natural disasters and their aftermath. When stating his positive point, he compared Japan's disaster to that of New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina. Here is a quote directly from the writer himself:<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><i>you do not see any of the Japanese people looting, stealing televisions, or getting mad at the lack of help. I think the people of New Orleans should be forced to study this disaster and the people of Japan. I am sure that they could learn something from this disaster and how the people of Japan have behaved during this tragedy</i>."</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">One of his readers commented, "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><i>I was humiliated to be a resident of the coast after Katrina and the fact that New Orleans and it's broken levees got national news with it's lazy fat welfare thieving people got coverage...</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><i>and no one deserves help, it is a gift.</i>" She said a few other things that I would deem hateful, but then I've given her too much attention as it is.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">I will not tell you where I read this article or provide a link to it because I don't want anyone to storm to his website, hopping mad, and start a racial war. We have enough of those already and furthermore, that is not the point of this post. In fact, this writer is someone that I have come to enjoy and respect. Just because I enjoy reading his work, however, doesn't mean that I agree with everything he says/writes. This particular article being one of them. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">The actual point of my post is that it's easy to judge a situation when you're on the outside looking in. When you can turn down your nose and rant about how wrong "those people" are, it's easy to forget that you are, in fact, one of those people. Americans, in this case. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">I have never personally experienced a natural disaster and judging solely from the writer's lack of personal disaster references to strengthen his argument, neither has he. We both watched in awe and disbelief as these tragedies unfolded...on TV. We saw what the media wanted us to see. Everyone who has ever dared to watch the news for longer than ten seconds knows that they choose the stories and opinions of stories that will get them the most ratings. In this country, those things happen to be the ugly side of things. We pretend that we want to hear and read about human interest stories. We pay lip service to how negative and skewed the media is, but if you pit a life-saving three-year-old against a crime spree, the three-year-old would get lost in the mire of darkness. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">I'll go one better. If the Japanese tragedies had happened on the same day as Hurricane Katrina, which aftermath do you think would get the most press? </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">We love darkness. We feed on negativity. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">I know this to be true personally. Everyone knows that I have two blogs. Big whoop, I know. A Bitch Called Mom, which I call my "bad girl" blog gets way more followers, comments, and reads than this, my "feel good" blog. I have readers who will go all the way back to July 2010, the beginning of the bitchfest, just to read every bitchy word I've written over there. Of course, it makes me feel good that someone wants to read every word I write (if only one of them were an agent!), but I have to wonder why I don't get the same response over here. I'm still the same person on both blogs. The difference is here I'm trying to help us all live happy lives and there I tend to bitch about the things that make life unhappy. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">I understand that misery loves company. I understand that connections are fostered by things we have in common. But while we're building those connections, can't we show some compassion and understanding for others at the same time? Must we connect over our mutual judgement of others?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">I could further pick apart the above referenced article and its subsequent comments, but again, that's not the point. Instead, I submit that when tragedy strikes anywhere in the world, we look beyond what the media tells us, and offer our support to the human beings being affected by said tragedy.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">That's who they are, you know. Human beings. Just like you, just like me. Not the unknown "they" that we wish them to be so that we can go on judging them and feeling superior.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">To the citizens of Japan, I offer my prayers. I offer them my love and positive thoughts. I offer them what money I can spare from my family's budget. I offer them my support.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Without judgement.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Until next week,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Feed on love, subsist on peace.</span><br />
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</span>Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-37790408974100608202011-03-12T01:03:00.000-05:002011-03-12T01:03:50.010-05:00Perfect<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/mLPC_Cs4Gtk?fs=1" width="425"></iframe><br />
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</div><div>If you follow me on Twitter or if you're one of my Facebook friends, you know how much I love this song. I've included the clean version here because some followers of this blog may or may not be offended by the uncut version. Both of my personalities like this clean version, but on the other hand, we both <i>feel</i> the uncut version.<br />
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I was watching a Tivo'd episode of Oprah recently and she said something that I have always said to people, but just not as eloquently as she. She said that we "teach what we most need to learn." My sister and I have conversations to that effect all the time. I do it all the time right here on this blog. It's easy for me to tell you what to do to feel good about yourselves. It's easy to drill into your heads that your are perfect just the way you are. It's easy because I know, logically, how this thing called life is supposed to be done. What's <i>not</i> easy is doing it. The phrase "easier said than done" applies here.</div><div><br />
</div><div>You know how sometimes when you're talking to your friend about a problem she may have and the solution seems so obvious to you that you can't understand why she can't see it herself? I mean, it's right there in front of her face. Why can't she see it? She sees it. However, it's far less painful to pretend she has no clue than it is to resolve the issue. I don't know about you, but I do that all the time. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Here's the thing: I know me. I'm aware of all my issues. One of the things I know is that my cursing so much is a defense mechanism. It says to people, "That is the wrong woman to mess with. Don't try to take advantage of her or otherwise get on her bad side because things will not go well for you." I know that I developed this defense mechanism as a result of not feeling protected as a child. I had so many horrible things happen to me and I would wonder why no one would come to my defense. No one brought food to my siblings and me when our mother disappeared for days at a time. No one objected when she sold me to a man for drug money. No one stopped the man in the stairwell from trying to rape me when I was six-years-old; I stopped him myself. I kicked and scratched...and I screamed curse words at him...until he let me up off the concrete floor. I knew what he wanted to do to me and I was damned sick of being a victim. At six. That's when I learned that cursing can make people leave you alone. Kicking and scratching don't hurt, either.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I didn't know why my mother didn't love me and the only reason I could think of why God didn't love me was that I was a bad girl. I was bad and that was why bad things always happened to me. That was why God let them happen.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I spent a large portion of my life trying to make up for being bad. I let people take advantage of me and treat me unkindly. I was fully aware of what they were doing, I just wanted to redeem myself in the eyes of God. I had to somehow get back into His good graces. People called me names, I said nothing. Some would physically attack me, I didn't retaliate. Others betrayed me, and though I was hurt, I let them get away with it. You see, I felt I deserved their mistreatment and hatred. Because I was a bad girl. I was a bad person.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Then, one day I got pissed. I tell you today that <i>nothing</i> cures despair like anger. Don't ever let anyone tell you that anger is counterproductive because it definitely is not. All emotions serve a purpose. This post is not about anger, so I will tell you about channeling it properly some other time. Right now I want to tell you about how getting angry repaired my broken spirit. At least that's what I thought at the time.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I thought, "Why the hell don't I deserve to be protected? What makes me so evil that the whole world can dump all over me without consequences?" I didn't remember doing anything that would warrant God's hatred, so I had had enough. I went from the extreme of being a doormat to the extreme of being in constant-anger mode. But again, we'll talk about that in a future post. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Even after I learned to calm myself and be a little more peaceful, I still had this one issue that wouldn't go away: I was fat. It was more than that, though. I would gain weight, be horrified by my reflection in the mirror, then lose weight. Lather, rinse, repeat as needed. I used to think that I had a love/hate relationship with food, as in: I love it, it loves me, and I hate that it loves me so damned much because it has a tendency to stick around long after I'm done savoring its deliciousness. I've realized, later than I would have hoped, that my love/hate relationship is with myself. I absolutely love to hate myself. I've become quite good at it, too. I call myself names, I physically attack myself (in the forms of overeating and other self-abuse), I betray my own sense of self-worth by doing things that make me feel horrible about myself. Does any of this sound familiar? </div><div><br />
</div><div>Why do I do this to myself?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Because somewhere, not so deep down inside myself, I still think I'm a bad girl. I still think I deserve to be mistreated only I've made it clear to others that they can't do it. So who does that leave to treat me like dirt? </div><div><br />
</div><div>Me. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Isn't that something? I've fought most of my life to be respected and here I am disrespecting myself. If you recognize yourself anywhere in this post, let's stop this abuse of ourselves. Let's take a stand against the one person we thought would always have our backs. Let's defend ourselves...against ourselves. Don't defeat yourself before you even begin by saying how hard this is going to be. I'm a firm believer that you can do whatever you think you can do. If you think it's going to be hard, it'll be hard; if you think it's going to be easy, it'll be easy. Let's come up with strategies and game plans as if we were facing our greatest enemy. Let's find ways to cut him off at every pass. Let's be on the offensive. Let's attack before the "enemy" gets a chance to. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I'm going to take my first step today. When I finish this post, I'm going to walk over to my dresser, pick up the bottle of diet pills that I pay $40/month for and I'm going to throw them in the trash. I'm going to continue on the blood pressure pills I take to counteract the effects of said diet pills, but only for a month. And hopefully, once both medicines are out of my system, I can reclaim the libido that has been lost from taking the blood pressure meds. As you can see, I gave up a lot to my inner enemy; my health, my womanhood. And if that weren't enough, those pills turn you into a raging lunatic. Some of you have benefited from that lunacy on <a href="http://abitchcalledmom.blogspot.com/">A Bitch Called Mom</a>. I guess we'll have to see if I have any 'bitch' left in me once the diet pills are all gone.</div><div><br />
</div><div>I suspect there's plenty to spare.</div><div><br />
</div><div>"Change the voices in your head. Make them like you instead." ---P!nk<br />
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Here's to self-love, self-worth, and self-respect! Please send positive vibes, thoughts, and prayers my way and I will do the same for you.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Until next week,</div><div>Feed on love, subsist on peace.</div><div><br />
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</div>Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-90203164537988704402011-03-03T12:10:00.000-05:002011-03-03T12:10:46.942-05:00A Whole New Definition<a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://cosmicpsychic.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/SoulMates-large.jpg&imgrefurl=http://cosmicpsychic.com/tag/what-is-a-soulmate-where-is-my-soul-mate-who-is-my-soulmate-soulmates/&usg=__lqOb7t_1Qragl6zDhvQBf_xydZg=&h=400&w=500&sz=23&hl=en&start=39&zoom=1&tbnid=oHB6c3xWUkD1FM:&tbnh=148&tbnw=218&ei=RMtvTc2WLNHpgAevn6BC&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dsoulmate%26hl%3Den%26biw%3D1366%26bih%3D643%26gbv%3D2%26tbs%3Disch:10,1100&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=332&vpy=231&dur=5552&hovh=201&hovw=251&tx=163&ty=104&oei=HctvTee8CYG3tgfJlrmQDw&page=3&ndsp=22&ved=1t:429,r:9,s:39&biw=1366&bih=643"><img height="320" src="http://cosmicpsychic.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/SoulMates-large.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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I was thinking about the word 'soulmate' today. I don't know why, sometimes stuff just pops into my head. I was home alone, there was quiet time to think, you do the math. It's one of those words that I have believed in the past to be grossly misused. Everybody, it seems, is looking for his soulmate. The person who will march into your life and magically change it for the better. The only reason why your life isn't the picturesque masterpiece that you desire is because you haven't yet met your soulmate.<br />
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I wondered: does a soulmate <i>have</i> to be someone with whom you have a romantic connection? Does it have to be your spouse or life partner? If you believe in multiple incarnations of the soul, as I do, I submit that the answer is no. <br />
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Think about reincarnation for a minute. Energy never dies, it only changes form. That means that because you are pure energy, when your body dies, your soul lives on and may manifest into some other living phenomenon. Consider also, that the people you know and/or love and/or hate now are the same souls that you've encountered in all your other lives. You run in the same circles, if you will.<br />
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If all that is true, doesn't it stand to reason that your soulmate could be <i>any</i> of your treasured souls? For instance, if my husband is my soulmate, I may have been his best friend in another lifetime. Or his favorite teacher that he adored for years, or his brother with whom he was very close. Maybe he's not my soulmate at all. Maybe my soulmate is my youngest son over whom I'm so fiercely protective or my sister to whom I'm so close, we joke about being the same person. If a soulmate is truly your soul's mate, he is with you through all your incarnations, probably in different capacities.<br />
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I don't think of my soulmate as someone with whom I'm meant to spend my whole life, but rather the soul with whom I share <i>all</i> my lives.<br />
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I know I'm weird. I make no apologies for that. <a href="http://thewellfedspirit.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-am-what-i-am.html">I am who I am</a>.<br />
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But you know what this means don't you? You no longer have to bang your head against a wall wondering where your soulmate is and what, pray tell, is taking him so damned long. You no longer have to despair that you will never meet the "right" person for you. You have already met him. Time and time again. When you meet him in this lifetime, your soul will recognize his soul; your energy will be in tune with his energy.<br />
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Because you already know him. You already love him and he already loves you. You are connected by something far greater than you can even begin to understand on this earthly plane. And the best part is, you always will be.<br />
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Stop wasting every ounce of your energy and focus on sending fear into the universe. You may already know your soulmate in this life, but you're so busy looking outside of yourself for happiness that you're ignoring the blessings right under your nose. Send out love out into the world. Send out openness. Let God know that your are ready to accept the powerful blessings of love that are rightfully yours.<br />
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One day when you least expect it, your soulmate will walk through the door.<br />
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Or maybe, just maybe, you will carry him next to your heart for nine months before birthing him into another manifestation of his life. <br />
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Tell me what you think. Do you believe you already know your soulmate? Is he/she who you thought it would be?<br />
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Until next week,<br />
Feed on love, subsist on peace.Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-15576939117464971002011-02-25T00:29:00.003-05:002011-02-25T01:45:13.735-05:00Misuse of Power<a href="http://www.clker.com/clipart-13493.html"><img alt="Power On Off Switch Red Clip Art" src="http://www.clker.com/cliparts/3/e/7/1/119709197585381818TzeenieWheenie_Power_On_Off_Switch_red_2.svg.med.png" /></a><br />
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"If we know anything, it is that if virtues do not equal powers, the powers will be misused." --T.M. Alexander from the book<u> Black Like Me</u> by John Howard Griffin.<br />
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When I first started blogging almost nine months ago, my intentions were pure. I wanted to give a voice to those who might feel like they had none. I wanted to help people. I wanted to teach people to accept and love themselves as they are. Even when I created <a href="http://abitchcalledmom.blogspot.com/">A Bitch Called Mom</a>, it was still my intention to help others and give a voice to moms who felt as though their frustrations could not be understood.<br />
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Recently, I believe I did something that bordered on cruel, a gross misuse of the power entrusted to me. On February 16, I did a blog post called <a href="http://abitchcalledmom.blogspot.com/2011/02/it-wont-kill-you-to-be-normal.html">It Won't Kill You to be Normal </a>on ABCM. This was a post about a woman who was on a television show proclaiming to be addicted to makeup. I tore that woman to shreds and many people agreed with my assessment of her situation. It proved to be a very popular post, further proof of how I misused my gifts of healing and teaching.<br />
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Up until that post, even as I bitched about motherhood, unemployment, and the pitfalls of hiring friends, I still believed (and I still do) that there was something in each post that could have been learned or could otherwise make people feel that they were not alone. For instance, in the post <a href="http://abitchcalledmom.blogspot.com/2011/01/dear-mrs-hyde-abcm-version.html">Dear Mrs. Hyde</a>, the lesson there was to stop focusing on what you haven't accomplished, but instead to channel that energy into getting what you want out of life. The message in <a href="http://abitchcalledmom.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-resolveto-not-resolve.html">I Resolve...To Not Resolve</a> was to stop being so hard on yourself and lighten up.<br />
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When I penned the February 16th post, I told myself that there was a lesson, and there was, but the lesson got lost in mean-spiritedness. I apologize for misusing my talents. For misusing my voice. For misusing the voice that I was to give to another.<br />
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I will try not to do it again, but I am human. I will make mistakes until the day I die. If you don't make mistakes, how will you know when you've made a wrong turn? That you have stepped off the path to your destiny? This is not a lesson that I have learned easily because I'm the type of person who doesn't like to be wrong. I understand now that mistakes are apart of the learning process. I must make mistakes in order to continue to grow.<br />
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You, dear reader, can trust that when I do err, I will always own up to it. I trust that you will keep me on track and call me on my BS when I veer off-course. Just as I promise to continue to do for you...on both blogs.<br />
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Now in the spirit of forgiveness that I preach so much about, I hope that you will forgive me. I hope that Maureen forgives me. Sincerely, I do.<br />
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But even if neither of you choose to do so, I have to forgive myself.<br />
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That is today's lesson, in case you missed it. Learn from your mistakes, own up to them and apologize if necessary, forgive yourself, and continue on your journey.<br />
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What's the greatest lesson that you have learned so far?<br />
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Until next week,<br />
Feed on love, subsist on peace.Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-54937704657003448122011-02-16T08:10:00.000-05:002011-02-16T08:10:50.338-05:00Repost: To Thine Own Self Be True<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;">I'm going to have to ask for your forgiveness and understanding this week. I've been (and I still am) feverishly looking for a job. It has taken up my blog-posting time for the past three days, and it shows no signs of letting up. Please wish me luck and enjoy this repost from June 2010. It was my very first post (officially), so not many of you have had the opportunity to read it and comment on it.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> </span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">There's a reason why Shakespeare was Shakespeare. The man was a genius. His writing delved into the very core of the human spirit. But I don't want to talk about Shakespeare today; I want to talk about you. I want to talk about how his powerful words, "To thine own self be true", can open the door to fulfilling your life's true purpose.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">For many of you, I know, those words feel selfish. Looking out for number one feels like the rest of the world is unimportant. Nothing could be farther from the truth. All the greatest, wealthiest, most influential people in the world put themselves first. As it should be.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">I'll give you another, equally dynamic quote: "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." Now while I don't know who coined this particular phrase, I recognize that it's the same compelling sentiment. Think about it. If you give everything to others, what is left over for you? If there's nothing left over, won't you feel drained? Depleted? And ultimately, resentful? Give and give and give, and watch how fast others take and take and take. You may not have noticed by now, so I'm here to tell you that people treat you the way you treat yourself.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">So I beg you; be kind to yourself. Give yourself compliments. Take note of how gorgeous you are when you stare into the mirror naked. Surround yourself with beauty and beauty will emanate from within you. Fill yourself up and you'll overflow with energy, love, and countless other marvelous things to offer the world. Respect yourself and others will respect you. Love and cherish yourself and you will attract to you people who only want to love and cherish you. If you are whole and complete, you can't help but be a better wife, husband, mother, father, daughter, son...you get the point.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Happiness begins with you. Start today. Be happy</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><i>now</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;">Have you gained wisdom from a favorite poem or quote? Please share it with the rest of us.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Until next week,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Feed on love; subsist on peace.</span>Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-25759635415588365982011-02-09T12:12:00.000-05:002011-02-25T00:54:35.864-05:00I Am What I Am<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You know how people always say, "It is what it is"? That saying drives me crazy. I don't know if it's because it's so overused or because it's a vague, catchall that has basically come to mean "I don't know what else to say, so I'm done with this conversation." I dislike it, and because I dislike it, I'd tossed it into the useless-words pile along with 'diva' and 'soul mate.'</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today, though, something happened that made me reconsider throwing that axiom away.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I visited a website called Cafe Astrology.com to obtain my natal chart. A natal chart gives you more than just your zodiac sign and it's basic characteristics. It's a detailed compilation of who you are astrologically. Say what you want about astrology, but I believe you are missing out on some valuable information that could very well help you understand yourself by dismissing it.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This chart didn't give me a general description of the person I may or not be, it broke me down into little chunks and explained why I am the way I am. It didn't just say that I love my family, but I've had many challenges in my life. That's a given for most people. No, it was surprisingly accurate. For instance, this is what it says about me as a person born when the planet Mars was in the sign of Taurus:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;">It is almost impossible to get these people moving once they've made up their minds on a matter. You want them to go shopping with you? Unfortunately for you, about half an hour back, they've kicked up their heels, changed into something comfortable, and they simply won't budge."</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">I was giddy with excitement when I read that because I do that to people ALL THE TIME! I'm talking that very specific example that was given. Yes, that one. I do it all the time. I have a friend who will call sometimes and ask me to run to the store with her. If I've already changed my clothes and gotten comfy, she can forget it. Still not convinced? Try this one: for about four years I was a huge fan of <a href="http://www.raylewis52.com/">Ray Lewis</a> of the Baltimore Ravens. I was such a fan that the only thing that stopped me from being a groupie was my marriage. (I've told you before that hubby keeps me out of trouble) Well, one day hubby and some friends were at Ray Lewis' restaurant and he came in. They struck up a conversation with him and soon he was seated at their table laughing, drinking, and having a good time like old friends. Hubby, awesome guy that he is, told Mr. Lewis that his wife was a very big fan, to which Mr. Lewis responded, "Call her up and tell her to come down here so I can meet her."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">Hubby calls me up and relays the message. Normally, I'd be ecstatic and would have flown down there on adrenaline alone. But...I had already undressed and gotten comfortable for the evening and I didn't have any plans to leave the house again that night. I thought about all I'd have to do. Get dressed, put on full make-up, drive 20 minutes..."You know what? Just tell Ray I said 'hey'."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;">I can't tell you how peaceful I feel after reading the report. Many times either people have asked me or I've asked myself why do you do that? Or why are you like that? Normally, I'd hunch my shoulders and offer a confused facial expression that says 'when you find out, let <i>me</i> know.' Now I do know. After reading that because of when and where I was born, I </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;">feel the need to 'redo'" myself often and that I "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 18px;">cannot stay in the same place, likes change even if it means a backward step in her professional career," I know precisely why I do the things I do. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">It's because I am what I am. I am <i>who</i> I am. I was born to be the type of woman who rocks a long, auburn weave this week and a short, black pixie cut the next week. I was born to be a person who wants to live in every American state and several different countries. I was born to be the friend who loves you very much, but will not get out of bed at 5 AM to take you to the airport. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">I am who I am. Which means, I'm exactly who I'm supposed to be. So...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">I don't have to stop daydreaming in the middle of the afternoon. I don't have to stay in the same job for 30 years. I can paint my living room a different color on a whim. I can change the way I dress and cut my hair every eighteen months. I can get a job in yet another industry if I am so inclined. I can go back to school and major in something entirely different. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">And it's okay. Really, it is. I'm only being me.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">Go ahead, my friends. Keep your saying, "it is what it is." Keep referring to yourselves and others as 'divas.' Keep pronouncing every man you meet as your 'soul mate.' You're just doing something you were born to do. You're just being you.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">And that's okay. You're okay. You are who you are.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">By the way, my chart also stated that I often get bored, I am mischievous and even precocious and as such, I am easily led astray. I just wanted my husband to keep that in mind the next time he has to come to my rescue. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">I'm a handful, I know, but he loves being my hero.</span><br />
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</span><br />
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</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">Until next week,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 18px;">Feed on love, subsist on peace.</span>Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-63885338252804845662011-01-30T16:46:00.000-05:002011-02-09T11:16:28.613-05:00To Right a WrongFor several months now, since this blog's inception, I've been urging people to send in questions or issues on which they'd appreciate a fresh perspective. In all that time, I have received one email to that effect. This week, though, another woman has dared to reach out for assistance. She has chosen to gain responses from both <a href="http://abitchcalledmom.blogspot.com/">my alter ego</a> and me. She's a brave woman to say the least. Like the <a href="http://thewellfedspirit.blogspot.com/2010/07/its-personal.html">previous inquirer</a>, she wishes to remain anonymous. Let's hear what she has to say.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Okay, here's the deal. At my job, there was a rumor going around that one of the married women in my department (Mrs. K) was slipping down to the mail room and having noontime quickies with a guy down there. Now, I don't really like Mrs. K--she's the kind of person who is always talking about her new this or that. I can barely afford to put gas in the car. So, like everybody else I started whispering when she disappeared at lunch time.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Last week, I just happened to be in the mail room when she came down with her lunch. I hovered around to see which guy she would disappear with... Well, they didn't disappear. Her and the dude who wears eyeliner (Mr. E) were watching Ellen on a portable tv.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">So, now I feel like an ass, and I'm not sure what to do. Mrs. K notices that people are acting funny around her, but I don't think she knows why. I don't want to point out the obvious (Mr. E doesn't seem to be interested in women) because that's an HR violation.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">What should I do?</span></span><br />
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I find that most of the time when someone asks my advice about a wrongdoing they've committed, they already know what to do and they're looking for my permission not to do it. In other words, they want the culpability removed from them. No one can blame them for doing something different because I told them it was okay. Don't blame me; blame Mrs. Hyde.<br />
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I'm not going to let you off the hook that easily. Sorry if that's what you anticipated happening. You were wrong. Own up to it and rectify it if you can. You know exactly what needs to be done, so I'm not going to spend one second, and neither should you, pretending otherwise.<br />
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What I would like to discuss is why you felt the need to whisper behind her back and spread (untrue) rumors about her. I don't buy that you did it just because you don't like her. I have met many people in my lifetime whom I disliked, but that doesn't mean it's okay for me to gossip and spread lies about them. Let's look at the story behind your dislike.<br />
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You stated that you don't like her because she flaunts her success in your face. How does she do that exactly? Does she do it by wearing designer clothes? Does she do it by driving an expensive car? Does she have a big house? You said that she is "always talking about her new this or that." That leads me to the conclusion that you, by contrast, are not proud when you are able to afford nice things. Otherwise, you wouldn't begrudge her her pride. Let me first offer that there are plenty of poor people who wear designer clothing, drive cars that cost more monthly than their rent, and live in big houses that are one paycheck away from foreclosure. If you are not one of these people because you live within your means, give yourself a pat on the back. You're a rare breed in our country.<br />
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But let's cut the bull, if you don't mind, and be honest about the real reason why you dislike Mrs. K: <b>she is everything that you aspire to be</b>. I would even take it a step further and say that you feel like, at this point in your life, you should be exactly where she is right now. You're upset that while life presented many obstacles that either hurled you completely off your path or stymied your forward progression, Mrs. K seems to have fared just fine. Why was she allowed to succeed and you were not? It's an old story, really. Poor(er) people tend to have a disdain for rich(er) people, simply because the rich have money and the poor don't. I hear you grumbling, but you and I both know it's true.<br />
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While you, clearly, have chosen this woman onto whom to project your frustrations, the person you're really upset with is you. You are in charge of your own destiny. You are where you are today due to a series of choices that <i>you</i> have made. That doesn't make you a failure. It makes you human. Sometimes humans make the wrong choices. Sometimes those choices can be reversed, we can change our minds and go in a different direction. Other times, the choice yields a result that we are stuck with; there's no turning back. Still other times, we <i>believe</i> that a choice is the wrong one, when, in fact, it couldn't be more right.<br />
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Let's say that you loved writing as a young girl. You'd initially had dreams of being a writer/poet/actress, but the older and more mature you got and the more you were told that those dreams were unrealistic, the more you leaned toward a career in healing. You wanted to be a pediatrician which became a psychiatrist which became a psychologist because you, eventually, decided that you wanted to find out why people did the things they did. If one day you <b>choose</b> to have unprotected sex, it may result in a pregnancy that may prevent you from finishing college. Once you give birth to the baby, you could go back to college, but you <b>choose</b> instead to get married and stay home with your baby. When the baby is no longer in preschool, you could finish school, but you <b>choose</b> instead to get a job. In fact, you seem to hop from job to job to job because none of them are satisfying enough to a woman with your potential. Years go by and you're so far removed from college that <b>you</b> think it's just pointless to return. Besides, you've had two more babies since, and it's unfathomable that you'll have the time, let alone the money for school. <b>You</b> continue alternating between job hopping and stay-at-home mothering until you look up one day and all of your children are school aged. You're a stay-at-home mom who's at home all by herself. <b>You</b> think about finally getting a 'real' job because, truth is, your children don't need you nearly as much as you think they do. But who will hire a college drop-out who hasn't had a steady job in sixteen years?<br />
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You may feel bad that your life took a detour, but it's all about perspective. It's how you <i>perceive</i> your life that makes it worthwhile or not. You may look at the above described life and see wasted potential and failure. When I look at that same life, my life, I see a glaring success. I have an awesome relationship with my husband. It wasn't easy to achieve, but we did it, and not a lot of people can claim that. My children are happy and healthy and thriving. Of course that wasn't easy either, and again, there are people for whom this isn't true. As for my own personal dreams...well, one day I discovered a novel writing contest which stirred in me a desire to write again. Writing that novel made me remember my original passion for the art itself. Years later, while in a bookstore, I discovered something that renewed my desire to heal and now I am studying the healing arts. You see, my life has come full circle. I'm both a writer and (soon) a healer.<br />
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There are no accidents. You may have been thrown off your path because that was not the path you really wanted to take. Maybe the skills and knowledge you acquired on your detour were meant to serve you once you had come to the point in your life where your dreams really could be realized. I believe, and this is just my humble opinion, that if you focused more on being grateful for what you have now, that you could have everything you could ever possibly want.<br />
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Instead of being jealous of Mrs. K, be happy for her accomplishments. Instead of beating yourself up for not having met past goals, trust yourself enough to realize that you can have anything you want. You can have everything you need, but all of those things will elude you until you do one thing: believe. In yourself, in your ability, in your potential, in your worthiness, in your God.<br />
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Stop wasting precious time being angry about the success of others and spend more time focusing on what you want out of life. Take some time and really think about what it is that you want.<br />
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You may find that it's not what you thought it was.<br />
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Until next week,<br />
Feed on love, subsist on peace.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">***If you have additional words of encouragement for our inquirer, please add them in the comments after this post.</span>Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-69952836930407308692011-01-23T12:09:00.000-05:002011-01-23T12:09:29.800-05:00The Invitation<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I came across a poem the other day that encompasses everything to which I aspire for myself as well as everything I wish for you: my friends, family, and loyal readers. It says it all and once you read it, you will never be the same.</span><br />
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<b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Invitation-Boxed-Set-Oriah/dp/0061139092?ie=UTF8&tag=thewefedsp-20&link_code=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969" target="_blank">The Invitation</a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=thewefedsp-20&l=btl&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0061139092" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /></b> by <b>Oriah Mountain Dreamer</b><br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Invitation-Boxed-Set-Oriah/dp/0061139092?ie=UTF8&tag=thewefedsp-20&link_code=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969" imageanchor="1" target="_blank"><img alt="The Invitation - Boxed Set" src="http://ws.amazon.com/widgets/q?MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL160_&ASIN=0061139092&tag=thewefedsp-20" /></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=thewefedsp-20&l=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0061139092" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /><br />
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<b>It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.</b><br />
<b>It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.</b><br />
<b>It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have reached the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.</b><br />
<b>I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.</b><br />
<b>It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.</b><br />
<b>I want to know if you can see beauty, even when it's not pretty, everyday, and if you can source your own life from its presence.</b><br />
<b>I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"</b><br />
<b>It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.</b><br />
<b>It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.</b><br />
<b>It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.</b><br />
<b>I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.</b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I urge you to meditate on this poem; print it out and read it over and over again. Hide it in your heart, as my mama used to say. I firmly believe that the lessons contained within it can sustain you and help you get through anything life throws your way, as well as any self-imposed hardships. And make no mistake, most of our hardships are self-imposed.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Learn the lessons, hold them dear. Be happy for the rest of your life. Seems unfathomable, doesn't it? It's not. It's absolutely possible.</span><br />
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<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #797979; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">If you have a situation about which you'd like to get a fresh perspective, please email me at</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #797979; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #797979; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><a href="mailto:thewellfedspirit@gmail.com" style="color: #517cc5; text-decoration: none;">thewellfedspirit@gmail.com</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #797979; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">. In 2011, let's turn this into the blog I meant for it to be: one that offers a listening ear connected to a kind heart. I'm listening. What do you have to say?</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Until next week,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Feed on love, subsist on peace.</span>Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-51934739331229774012011-01-19T23:08:00.001-05:002011-01-19T23:09:44.171-05:00Inherited InsecuritiesI was seated at the dining room table, having breakfast alone when my nine-year-old walked in the room. She was still wearing her nightgown, but of course, she had nothing on her feet. It was chilly in the dining room and she wanted to stay and chat with me, so I said to her, "Go upstairs and put something on your feet and your chicken legs." She feigned hurt feelings, drama queen that she is, as she sauntered up the steps to comply with my request.<br />
<br />
While I sat there, alone again, I realized that though I didn't actually hurt her feelings, I may have made her self-conscious about having skinny legs. I may have thought of it as a harmless joke, but maybe it wasn't so harmless.<br />
<br />
When I was a little girl, I was teased about my thin frame all the time. Chicken Legs, Olive Oyl, Skinny Minnie, I heard it all. And those were just the names my friends called me. If I put my hands on my hips, my mother would say, "Girl, get your hands off your imagination." You see, in my neighborhood, being "thick" was something to which one should aspire. Men and boys alike would drop their jaws at the sight of a woman with thick thighs, big hips, and a rotund backside. I didn't have any of those things, so while my feelings weren't exactly hurt by the skinny jokes, I didn't think I had the right kind of body. I wanted to have all the boys looking at me when I walked down the street. I wanted to be thick. (As an aside, I later received all that attention from boys when my boobs came in. I didn't like it. I still don't like it.)<br />
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Can you imagine wanting to gain weight? I spent years of my life eating excessively so I'd gain weight, and now I spend a large chunk of my time trying to stop eating excessively so I'll lose weight. Somewhere in the midst of all those skinny jokes, I received a message that my body wasn't good enough. How does a woman reprogram herself? When all the information you receive tells you that your "ideal" weight is 130 pounds and you are not even close to that, how do you feel good about the body you have?<br />
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When you find the answer to that one, let me know, will you?<br />
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I put forth a lot of effort trying to prevent my weight issues from becoming my daughter's. I've stopped calling myself fat. I threw away my scale. I try to make it seem as if weight and body size are no big deal. That's the way I want to feel. That's the way I want her to feel. Then I hear myself teasing her about her size and I realize that I'm doing the same thing to her that was done to me. I may not have the quick-fix for me, but I have a good idea of how to fix it for my daughter: stop it before it starts.<br />
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When she returned to the dining room, now clad in super skinny<a href="http://www.amazon.com/BASIC-Southpole-Juniors-Skinny-Leggings/dp/B00436FDG8?ie=UTF8&tag=thewefedsp-20&link_code=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969" imageanchor="1" target="_blank"><img alt="BASIC Southpole Juniors Knit Skinny Denim Leggings, Khaki, 5" src="http://ws.amazon.com/widgets/q?MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL160_&ASIN=B00436FDG8&tag=thewefedsp-20" /></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=thewefedsp-20&l=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B00436FDG8" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /> (yes, that's a cut of pants now) jeans and flip flops, I apologized to her. I explained to her how I was once her size and people teased me, which caused me to be obsessed with my weight. Now 30 years later, I'm obsessed with the opposite spectrum of my weight. I told her there is nothing wrong with being thin and that she is perfect just as she is.<br />
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Now if we could only get her mother to learn that lesson...Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-16917774580408313212011-01-10T21:24:00.001-05:002011-01-10T22:43:08.413-05:00Worth Fighting For"I did not! You're just lying to get me in trouble!"<br />
"Yes, you did! You said the 's' word. I heard you and I'm telling."<br />
"No, I didn't! I hate you! Ugly troll! You're always trying to get somebody in trouble!"<br />
"KAM IS IN HERE CUSSING!"<br />
<br />
This is a conversation I once happened upon between my youngest son and my oldest daughter. In case you're wondering, the 17-year-old girl was tormenting the 11-year-old boy. My son was breathing heavily, his face was red, and he was shouting at the top of his lungs. Meanwhile, the mean-spirited teenager, who I sometimes hesitate to admit is my child, was perfectly calm. You see, it's easy to harass someone; it's much more difficult being the one harassed.<br />
<br />
I sometimes let them hash these things out on their own, but because my son looked dangerously close to having a heart attack, I felt the need to step in. I'm not going to repeat what I said to the teenager, that's a conversation for my <a href="http://abitchcalledmom.blogspot.com/">other blog</a>, but let's say I expressed my dislike of her childish behavior. Then I made my son take ten deep breaths because, frankly, his heavy breathing was scaring me to death.<br />
<br />
The situation made me wonder...why are people willing to fight for things that don't matter? Why do we fight to be "right?" Why is being right so damned important?<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/New-Earth-Awakening-Purpose-Selection/dp/0452289963?ie=UTF8&tag=thewefedsp-20&link_code=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969" imageanchor="1" target="_blank"><img alt="A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose (Oprah's Book Club, Selection 61)" src="http://ws.amazon.com/widgets/q?MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL160_&ASIN=0452289963&tag=thewefedsp-20" /></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=thewefedsp-20&l=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=0452289963" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /><br />
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When you find yourself arguing with someone over something that you know to be true, remember this: the truth does not need to be defended. The truth stands on its own; it doesn't need your help being true. The truth remains the same whether someone believes it or not. That means if you tell me the sky is red and I look up and it is clearly blue, I can walk away from you knowing that the sky will remain blue whether or not I debate the point with you.<br />
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Because the truth doesn't need defending.<br />
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I have seen people fight over some really silly (read stupid) things over the years. I have seen women fight each other over a man. I have seen men fight over a woman. I have seen fights because someone stepped on another's brand new shoes. I've seen fights about who gets the last donut. I've seen fights over political differences. I've seen "religious" people fight someone who doesn't believe as they believe, in the name of God, no less.<br />
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A guy selling newspaper subscriptions wanted to get into a with fight me because I didn't want to buy one from him. I have neither the time nor the inclination to read a newspaper, and I'm not in the habit of wasting money just to please strangers. He called me stupid because I'd rather pay $1 for the Sunday paper which I purchased occasionally than pay $10 per week for three days worth of papers that I wasn't going to read. Now, ever since I was a little girl, it has infuriated me to be called stupid. I don't know why. The memory connected to that hurt is buried somewhere deep inside my psyche. You could say almost anything to me, but if you called me stupid, somebody was going to get his feelings hurt. Lucky for me (and the newspaper guy) that I have since grown up. Yes, I could have fought him, and believe me, I wanted to, but I just laughed at him. The truth is, I'm quite intelligent.<br />
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And the truth doesn't need to be defended.<br />
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Let's suppose the newspaper sales guy calls me stupid everyday for the rest of his life, will it somehow affect my intelligence? Will all of my life experience, acquired skills, and lessons learned find themselves lying on the ground in a sad little heap because someone <i>said</i> I'm stupid? Does someone's expression of a thing automatically make it so?<br />
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We've been taught since we were young that truth is something for which we should fight. It was Superman, I believe, who told us to fight for truth, justice, and the American way. It seems like someone is always telling us to fight for something. Fight for what's right. Fight for your beliefs. Fight for freedom. We're born innocent and loving and kind. Then someone looks us in the eye and informs us that we will be fighting all our lives.<br />
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Stop fighting. It's not good for you. Physically, your body's response to fighting and stress slows down or inhibits sexual and digestive functions. Translation: erectile dysfunction and constipation, to name only two. Prolonged stress can cause chronic suppression of the immune system. Translation: you're fighting so much that your body can no longer do so. Emotionally and spiritually, you're just an unpleasant person to be around. Sure, people think it's hilarious when you curse out the cashier for not taking your coupons. They're laughing <i>at</i> you, and meanwhile, their immune systems are stronger for all that laughing.<br />
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If you want to fight for something, fight for <i>your</i> laughter. Fight for your own happiness. Because truthfully, happiness is something for which you don't really have to fight.<br />
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<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #797979; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">If you have a situation about which you'd like to get a fresh perspective, please email me at</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #797979; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #797979; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><a href="mailto:thewellfedspirit@gmail.com" style="color: #517cc5; text-decoration: none;">thewellfedspirit@gmail.com</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #797979; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">. In 2011, let's turn this into the blog I meant for it to be: one that offers a listening ear connected to a kind heart. I'm listening. What do you have to say?</span><br />
<br />
Until next week,<br />
Feed on love, subsist on peace.Dr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1258866473759361739.post-90962778676671993482011-01-02T17:53:00.000-05:002011-01-10T22:44:49.975-05:00Let Go"First thing Monday morning, I'm gonna pack my tears away.<br />
Got no cause to look back.<br />
I'm looking for me a better day.<br />
You see the thing of it is we deserve respect,<br />
But we can't demand respect without change.<br />
There comes a time when we must go our own way.<br />
Just let go...<br />
Let it flow, let it flow, let it flow.<br />
Everything's gonna work out right, you know."<br />
<br />
Do these words sound familiar to you? If not, I'd say you're long overdue for a healthy dose of Toni Braxton.<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Secrets-Toni-Braxton/dp/B0000013GH?ie=UTF8&tag=thewefedsp-20&link_code=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969" imageanchor="1" target="_blank"><img alt="Secrets" src="http://ws.amazon.com/widgets/q?MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL160_&ASIN=B0000013GH&tag=thewefedsp-20" /></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=thewefedsp-20&l=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B0000013GH" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /><br />
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A very dear blogging friend of mine, <a href="http://www.micaelchadwick.com/">Rabbit</a> from The Long Journey to the Middle, did a <a href="http://www.micaelchadwick.com/2011/01/letting-it-be.html">post</a> about how every new year he picks a word and a song that reflects how he wants his year to go. That is one of the best ideas I've heard about beginning a new year. In this spirit, I think I'll make <i>Let It Flow</i> my new ringtone.<br />
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This is the time of the year usually reserved for taking stock, reassessing priorities, and making resolutions. People all over the world are looking back at 2010, putting the pros in one column and the cons in another. They are re-evaluating choices and mistakes they have made. Then they are devising a plan to make it better in this the brand new year. If you are one of these people and if I may be so bold, allow Toni Braxton and me to offer you some advice.<br />
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Let go.<br />
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That's all. Nothing fancy, just let it go. I believe that most of our problems stem from our insistence upon holding on to the past. The past no longer exists. Everything that happened in the past, good or bad, no longer exists. The mistakes you have made...gone. The good choices, the bad choices, the ugly choices...gone. <b>The only thing that binds you to it is your memory of it.</b> (I took the liberty of highlighting that sentence for you)<br />
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I believe that the reason we're blessed with memory is so that we learn from our mistakes and remember the things that have caused us happiness. Memory is there to make your life better, not so that you can beat yourself up for an eternity. Let go.<br />
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If I had to choose one thing to urge you to let go of first, it would be insecurity. If you've read more than two posts on this blog, you should have seen that one coming. I spent the better part of 2010 trying to get you to realize that you are enough. God doesn't create half-people. When He decides to create something, He makes it whole, beautiful, and perfect. That goes for flowers, sunsets, thunderstorms, volcanoes, elephants, and people. To name just a few. I don't like when people say, "nobody's perfect." I wholeheartedly disagree. Everyone is perfect. They are the perfect Patricia, Mark, Cyndi, or Tom. Only they don't know it because their whole lives they've been told they're not. <i>Not</i> perfect means <i>not</i> good enough. Why, that just flies in the face of everything I'm trying to say on this blog! All this time you've been unwittingly saying to yourself that you're not good enough. The very first time a parent ever told his small child that "nobody's perfect," I'll bet that child was surprised to learn that he was not the brightest, cutest, most amazing child ever. Of course he was, but after that he never thought he was good enough again and he spent his whole life chasing something he already had.<br />
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Insecurity has proven time and again to be counterproductive. It stops us from following our hearts. It prevents us from living our dreams. It shackles us to people and situations that are not good for us. Stop letting it control your life! Take your power back from the demon that whispers in your ear that you are not whole, beautiful, and perfect. Let it go.<br />
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If you have allowed insecurity to run your life and are uncertain as to how to regain control, here are two scenarios paired with power-gaining thoughts to consider.<br />
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1. Your best friend's actions have consistently proven that she does not have your best interests at heart. She bad-mouths you behind your back and then says she's just kidding when you find out about it. She tells your secrets to her boyfriend/husband and now you feel awkward around him because he knows intimate things about you. When you go out, you always wind up paying for her food, drinks, and/or cover. When your dad died, she made up a lame excuse for not going to the funeral. She is almost never there when you really need her, but you make sure that you are always there for her. You have been best friends since first grade and you love her like a sister, with all your heart. You can't imagine not having her in your life.<br />
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<b>Thoughts to consider<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">: If <i>you</i> loved <i>you</i> with all your heart, there is no way you'd allow yourself to be unhappy. When your child is unhappy, what do you do? Move heaven and earth to bring a smile back to his face. When your significant other is unhappy, what do you do? Remind him of all the reasons he has to be happy. When you're unhappy, try pretending that you are someone that deserves all your love, since pretending is what it might take, and then make it your life's mission to bring about your happiness. You know what else you wouldn't allow if you loved yourself with your whole heart? You wouldn't allow <i>anyone</i> to treat you like crap. Enough said.</span></b><br />
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</b><br />
2. You are sad and lonely. It's been two years since you've been in a serious relationship. Most of your friends have steady girlfriends and even the ones who don't are dating regularly. You have no one with whom to share special moments. There is no one to come home to at the end of a long day. When the clock struck midnight, signifying a brand new year, you were the only one at the party who had no one to kiss. It seems like your life consists of going to work, coming home, eating a frozen dinner, watching TV, and going to bed. You don't understand what it is about you that is so undesirable that you can't find a woman who wants to date you for more than a month. Then you meet a really nice lady. She is funny, attractive, sexy, and attentive....maybe a little too attentive. You thought it was cute when she showed up at your job unannounced just to say hi. You thought it was sweet when she insisted on meeting every last person in your contact list. It was a little weird when you came home late from work and found her sitting outside your apartment building, but you let it go because she was just being concerned. Now it's six months later and she won't let you go for drinks with your friends without a big production. She gets upset when your friends call you on the phone because that means your focus is not on her. She stalks your Facebook page. Your friends express their concern, but you just ignore them because this woman loves you. No one has ever paid as much attention to you as she does. It feels good to know that someone cares. And did I mention how hot she is?<br />
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<b>Thoughts to consider</b>: What you might need is something called a therapist, not a girlfriend. If you're willing to let someone control your every move, there is definitely something going on that is bigger than your desire for companionship. There is no shame is seeking help. Sometimes you need an impartial person to listen to you vent about the chaos in your head. Many times after just speaking to someone who will not judge you, you can figure out the answers for yourself. If you think your friends will make jokes at your expense about seeing a therapist, three words: don't tell them. Besides, half of them probably see therapists, too. Oh, and see <i>Thoughts to consider</i> from the first scenario.<br />
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I realize that most guys, by nature, wouldn't remain in the relationship described above, but roll with it. I have a tendency to forget that I have male readers, so I made it a point to include them this week.<br />
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I could be here all day with scenarios and thoughts, but I believe you get my point. While it's true that insecurities are designed to protect us, it's also true that they protect us from things that don't really exist. They may have existed at one time, but not anymore. The things that have scarred you and caused you to build a fort around yourself in fear are in the past. The things that make you cling to someone for fear of being alone are in the past. Whether it was twenty years ago, 3 months ago, or yesterday, it's all the past. Let it go.<br />
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Be happy. Control your life. Chart your own course.<br />
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And let it go.<br />
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If you have a situation about which you'd like to get a fresh perspective, please email me at <a href="mailto:thewellfedspirit@gmail.com">thewellfedspirit@gmail.com</a>. In 2011, let's turn this into the blog I meant for it to be: one that offers a listening ear connected to a kind heart. I'm listening. What do you have to say?<br />
<br />
Until next week,<br />
Feed on love; subsist on peaceDr. McCoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02785824680618255554noreply@blogger.com11