MONDAY THOUGHTS: TODAY

It's been a very nice day. 

The weather was pleasant, and lent itself to more walking that I usually do on any given day.

Early morning business was handled with ease. It was so easy, I was almost mad at myself for procrastinating.  

I ran into an old friend, and enjoyed reminiscing, but not hearing about the losses she's suffered in her family. However, it's always amazing how encouraging and positive and helpful people can be, when they’ve lost so much.

I discovered a new popcorn brand, Rocky Mountain, at Union Station (Yes. That's a big deal. Have you met me?), did some window shopping, found an elusive action figure for a steal at F.Y.E. (which will significantly increase my "cool aunt" points, I hope), and navigated the Metro--well sort of. 

I don't remember the last time I was on the subway. 

I will hop into a taxi in a heartbeat, but today, I thought, "Take the train for a change." 

I used a Smart Trip card for the first time. I'm sure I looked like a tourist, and had to ask for directions. 

I think the last time I rode the Metro, specifically at Union Station, was in 1977 when my big sister thought it would be fun to take a ride —before the system was completed. 

It's still quiet and clean. 

After I exited the Red Line train, with every intention to go straight home, I admit I enjoyed my accidental ride on the Yellow Line. 

The views of the city on trains headed to Virginia are beautiful, but I wasn't supposed to be seeing them. I was supposed to be on the Green Line. 

I got off of the train at Pentagon City, thought about going to the mall, but changed my mind. 

I got back on the Yellow Line train headed in the opposite direction, and was determined to pay attention. Color codes really are our friends.

I rode the train all the way to Southern Avenue Station, and boarded a bus that I was sure would take me practically to my doorstep. Instead, I ended up taking a nice 7 or so block walk home. 

I patronized stores in my neighborhood that I'd never entered before. I remembered how often I used to walk or ride my bike on the same streets, when I was a kid.

To add to the day's niceness, I got a call from someone whose testimony of healing was only eclipsed by the fact that he had a voice; I could actually hear and recognize his voice. 

Once again, the one who I should have been lifting up was, instead, blessing and encouraging me.

I'm more convinced than ever, that things really don't happen accidentally...: )
 

SATURDAY THOUGHTS: KIDDIE PARTY!

Chuck E. Cheese's Greeter: 

"Oh. You all don't have any kids with you. Come on in. You're alright."

Seems to me that anyone showing up kid-less at the Kid Capital of Kiddiedom, would have to produce some ID, but the greeters know exactly who you are. You're THE RELATIVES. 

All you have to do is give the secret code: The name of the ecstatic little kid currently on a sugar high, who you've come to celebrate.

You walk through Chuck E.'s domain like a mouse in a maze. 

You hope you're at the right one, because God knows you had to talk yourself into coming. 

If you didn't truly love the kid of the hour with all your heart and soul, you'd be anywhere other than the surround-sound experiment that is Chuck E.'s. 

You try to recognize your people, but everyone just blends into one big ol' extravaganza, so you really could just sit anywhere--except the floor. You'd be trampled for sure...tiny little footprints all over your face.  

Kids screaming, running, laughing; cheesy hands, and chocolate covered mouths and faces, and smiles on top of great big smiles, are everywhere. Bells dinging, whistles blowing, music playing, little voices singing, lights flashing...WHEW! 

It's a sensory overloading experience for you, and heaven on Earth for the kids. 

You realize you are officially old. 

Chuck E. will do that for you. 

You look around, and there are parents sitting in catatonic states, hoping that some other responsible adult will keep an eye on their kid, and not let them exit the front door. 

Other parents are directing traffic and singing choruses of "Lord, have mercy" and "Wait. WAIT! I'll do it!" 

The adults are munching on celery (because that's the only thing on the table that the kids don't eat), and conversing about the mess they saved themselves from having to deal with at home. 

Kids are roaming freely, happily befriending other kids, without even the slightest hint of prejudice, sporting their snazzy rubber crowns, and browsing other tables, because of course, it's their party and everyone (including you) is there for them, right? 

So what if some strange little kid walks up to your table, and asks for a slice of pizza, or just helps him or herself to a couple of chicken nuggets and an ice cream cup? 

It's THEIR party. You are merely a guest. 

You're too big to be in there, anyway. 

Just leave your gift on the table, take a few photos with your phone, go sit in one of those corners designated for senior citizens, and try to stay out of the way. 

The kids do say, "Excuse me!" as they run, and they're running--non-stop. 

They know they're on a clock.

By far, the funniest sight of all are the little goggle-wearing, plastic bag-toting kids getting in to the ticket-blowing-machine-blaster-capsule-thingy, and just standing there marveling at, and delighted by the thousands of tickets swirling around their little heads, as their frantic parents stand on the outside waving and yelling, "Don't just stand there, Honey! Grab the tickets! Grab the tickets!" 

God Bless Parents. 

Chuck E. KNOWS he knows how to throw a party. 

Lawd! 

That Blue Bunny chocolate ice cream isn't bad, either.

When your time is up, Chuck E.'s staff goes into clean-up mode with all the enthusiasm of a kid in a candy store. 

I have never seen people clean up with such happiness and vigor.

 

You, and your birthday kid (who may have wanted to get into the ticket-blowing-machine-blaster-capsule-thingy more than his, or her fair share of times) are leaving. 

They give you all the bags and boxes you will ever need to pack up your left-over pizza and cake, and politely admonish you to get out. 

They do it graciously, but when you see the spray bottles come out, you know it's time to go.

God Bless the angels that are the Chuck E. Cheese workers. 

One has to really want to work there. 

One has to really, really like, and understand little kids. 

One has to have Job's patience (and a couple of other people's, too).

You have to be physically and mentally fit for Chuck E. Cheese. 

It's not for the frazzled. 

Nervous Nellies need not enter. 

When you see little kids successfully scale Chuck E.'s theater platform, then look around to see if their parents are watching as they attempt to climb in and stand along side mechanical Chuck E. as he lip synchs, you have to look away. 

If you ran or flinched every time it looked like some kid was going to hurt him or herself, you'd be running and flinching all day. 

While you're there, you'd better be prepared to sing along, and you will know the lyrics to at least one new, repetitive song by the time the party is over. 

My personal favorite of the day: 

"Going on a picnic, leaving right away. 

If it doesn't rain we'll stay all day. 

Did you bring the sandwiches? 

Yes, I brought the sandwiches!..."

It's so ironic that it rained today.

Fortunately, I noticed Pier One was close by, as we left Chuck E.'s. 

We strolled around slowly and examined every pillow, candle, vase, mug and chair, as our blood pressure and heart rates stabilized. 

Once in the car, I don't think I've ever so greatly appreciated the calming voices that are so characteristic of National Public Radio.
 
There's a lot of joy in seeing a happy little kid. 

It just warms your heart, and makes you remember your own childhood. 

I have to hand to all of the parents who thought to treat their little ones today--even if what delights them makes all of the adults in the room suddenly stare off into space while muttering prayers, and twirling their hair around their fingers.
Whomever invented this fun-packed place is a genius. These days, frankly, it's refreshing to see kids being kids.

Until next year, Chuck E., because no matter how many times you hear, "I'm not doing this any more", you know exactly where the kiddie party is going to be until the kiddies in your life grow too big for the seats. 

You're going. Of course you are. You'd better be there, because your darling little relative expects to see your smiling face, and you'd do anything to see them smile, now, won't you? 

Yes, you will.

FRIDAY THOUGHTS: THINK

Thinking before speaking is a wonderful habit.

Finding out truth, facts, and details before formulating an opinion, or making an inflammatory or blanket statement is, too.

It's amazing how people set out to be hip, original, revelatory and radical in their speaking and thinking, and end up sounding and looking positively foolish.

Grandmothers everywhere have warned, "Just because you think it, doesn't mean you have to say it".
It's one thing to spark lively discussion. It's another to seek to get a rise out of people, incite strife, or start confusion. 

It's unfortunate, when one spews what boils down to stupidity, under the guise of challenging or correcting the concepts and ideas of others.  

It's even more unfortunate when one doesn't know when to shut up. 

Some are so consumed with arguing, that they don't even acknowledge points of agreement.
When others run out of points, referring to people as "deep" is supposed to serve as an insult, but it often backfires.

I have a feeling that "deep" is, sometimes, the word trotted out when people are too arrogant or ashamed to admit that THEY don't understand. 

It's okay to be wrong. 

It's okay to not know something. 

What one shouldn't do is endeavor to remain that way, staunchly defend ignorance, or get all snippy and argumentative with people who actually DO know what they're talking about ( and have legitimate documentation to back it up ).

Don't allow your dislike of someone to cause you to engage in debate without taking your brain with you. Is it too much to bear to agree with someone for whom you have zero fondness? Sometimes, one is so anxious to shoot others down; get a dig in, or bring others down to size, that one diminishes oneself. Maybe that annoyance one feels, when faced with knowledgeable people, is just a warning to check oneself; do better; expand one's mind; stop carrying books, and actually open and read them. 

Reading AND comprehension are fundamental.

One of the best skills to have, is knowing where, and how to look for information. 

Information, these days, is too readily available for one to remain in the dark about anything that one truly wants to know. 

It's definitely too readily available to repeatedly put one's foot into one's mouth, and expose one's cognitive shortcomings.

If you're constantly accusing others of being too smart, too deep, too profound, then....well...I guess you told them, huh? 

Hear that laughter? 

Make sure it's the coveted "WITH you" variety.

WEDNESDAY THOUGHTS: OVERAGES

I should probably stop staring at my cell phone bill. The numbers aren't likely to miraculously change. I logged on to my provider's website just to see who the heck I've been talking to more than usual. I know I didn't make any calls from Egypt. What gives?
When the bill came in the mail yesterday, I opened it and wondered if I had accidentally been given a bill that belonged to someone else. Nope. There was my name, and there was my number--and some other numbers whose grouping wasn't appealing at all.

"OV" doesn't stand for "Our Vanessa". It stands for "overages". Since when have I had overages? I looked at my cell phone as if it was some kind of alien monster that had turned on me. It looked back at me and said, "What?"

$219.35 that's what. Maybe that's not a lot compared to other people's bills, but $105.00 has generally been tops for me, unless I contributed to a charity via text message or something. Two hundred-nineteen dollars and thirty-five cotton-picking cents. SMH.

I looked again. Yep. It's still there. It's not a joke or a figment of my imagination. What happened to the $69.99 the salesman quoted in May, after he laughed at my ancient cell phone and informed me it was past time for an upgrade? 

With my ancient cell phone, (which, by the way is only worth $5.00 now ) my bill was never $219.35 no matter who I talked to or where they were! 

With the premium data add-on charge, it should read no more than $79.99 + tax and those lovely charges. What happened to THAT? And what in the blue blazes is a "District of Columbia State- telecom Service Tax"? ( Funny how DC suddenly becomes a state when it's convenient. )

I can imagine the conversation held in the ivory tower of my cell phone provider's headquarters: "She's been accustomed to an unlimited plan and consistent bill all these years. I think she can pay us more. Let's tell her we can save her some money--a lot of money-- but conveniently leave out that, after talking an average of 8 days, she should either resort to text messages only, or turn the phone off and put it back in the box for the rest of the month.  If she must communicate, perhaps she can invest in a homing pigeon, two cans and a string, use snail mail, telegrams, or dust off her home phone."

Good grief. The sooner I pay this bill, the sooner I can recover from the shock and just go back to an unlimited plan. "Anytime" clearly doesn't mean any time. 

I have not been paying attention. They got me. Good one.
For now, the iphone is going dark during the day, unless I need to snap a photo of a cicada or something. 

I'm going to conduct a bit of an experiment titled, "What Will It Take For My Bill To Go Back To Hovering Near $79.99".
In the meantime, while the sun is shining. it's going to be, "Hello, there nice Home Phone, ol' buddy, ol' pal". 

If my home phone could talk, it would have a rather bitter tone and sarcastic attitude. "Oh, so I'm good enough for you to use now, huh? I mean more to you than access to the front door and gate now, I see. Um hmm. I knew you'd be back."

SATURDAY THOUGHTS: KNOW THYSELF

Writer, Adam Smith said, “The first thing you have to know, is yourself. A man who knows himself, can step outside himself, and watch his own reactions like an observer.”

I submit that his philosophy applies to women, too. 

That's just what the heck I'm doing--stepping outside and observing,  and it's kind of amusing.  It's official. 

I can't hang anymore. 

I know it. 

Rest is quickly eclipsing other things on my list of dire needs.

I'm drinking tea, eating dry toast, and looking for the Visine. 

I've stretched so much, I think it could count as a legitimate fitness work-out. 

It's a good thing I'm not a drinker of hard stuff, or I would be an even hotter mess-- with more, about which, to amuse myself. 

I'm tired, and I know I slept last night. I have the embossed lines in my arm and face, hair all over the place, and remnants of a dream to prove it.

I'm glad my sister called around 9:30, or I would still be dreaming. 

That old school telephone ringtone I chose, is probably not the sound to which you want to wake up. It is so very-old school-black-rotary-phone-like, and might be mistaken for something coming from a good ol', classic program airing on Antenna TV, whereby one would ignore every actual, incoming phone call.

The lovely event at La Fontaine Bleu, last night, ended with dancing and socializing, but what is that after 11:00 PM? 

Good grief. 

All I wanted to do, after the very engaging preacher/MC said "Amen", was take off those silver pumps, and replace them with my trusty black patent flats. (Thank you very much, Target.)

Someone commented that, back in the day, we would just be getting ready to go out, deciding where to go, or leaving one place to go to another. That got a collective, hearty laugh from the circle of 50-somethings, who'd just celebrated a 65 year-old.

 The hippest and only place to be, these days, at or around 11:00 PM, we concluded, is somewhere near, or completely buried under the comforter in one's bed.

I'm ashamed to say, my childhood friend and I left the event, while people who I'm sure had us by 15 years, were still alert and tearing up the dance floor. He didn't even have to ask me if I was ready to go. I do believe if he hadn't been, I may have lost all sense of decency, and stolen his car. I'm even more ashamed to say that we walked out ahead of a man in a wheelchair. 

*sigh*

It occurred to me that I have two things to do today. I'm going to see "Sparkle" this afternoon (for the film of course, but mostly for the popcorn. Have you met me?" )

This evening, my little sister is in concert at Blues Alley. I'm going to the 10:00 PM show. (Have I met myself? )

My mantra? 

"I will stay awake. I will stay awake. I WILL stay awake." 

It's not like I have to drive, or work, or do anything at either place except sit, and be thoroughly entertained. It's the getting ready to go, however that is challenging me today. 

Today, I needed a running start. You know:

Wake up, 

realize you're awake, focus, 

remember where you are, look around, 

thank God you're coherent and conscious, restore feeling to one or more extremities, remember what day it is, and identify the blinding thing bursting through the blinds as the Sun.

My other mantra today? "Do not dawdle. Do not dawdle. Do NOT dawdle." 

Whew. 

Where are those vitamins I bought and never opened? 

I'm pretty sure they'll be more effective, if I actually ingest them.

Lord, thank you for strength to open the child-proof bottle...: )

WEDNESDAY THOUGHTS: REWIND

I went through all of the cassette tapes. 

Two drawers full. 

That's right. 

Cassettes. 

Those plastic rectangular things, with the two holes just big enough for a number 2 pencil to go through; those things that we used to think were so much better than vinyl records and 8-Tracks.

I have 4, unopened Memorex DBS 60 minute tapes in the red wrapper. 

I wonder if the Smithsonian is interested. 

After listening, there's also a blank Radio Shack XR120 extended range, a Radio Shack High Definition 90 minute, and one Maxell UR IEC type.

I labeled and cased the unmarked ones after listening. 

I heard some of the very  first "Vision" rehearsals. 

The whole cassette search was actually inspired by Richard inquiring if any of us remembered what was the first song he taught to us, on that wonderful musical night back in 1995, in the sanctuary of the old Metropolitan Baptist Church in 13th Street, NW. ( As of today, it's a toss up between "Bless The Lord" and "Total Praise". ) 

I couldn't help smiling as I listened as he introduced "Angels". 

I'd forgotten what a horrible sore throat I had that night, but I still got my wish to sing with one of my favorite psalmists, whose name at the time was Maurette Brown.

I heard Veda McCoy and Kathy Gorham singing as if it was their last time at one of Steve Lawrence's awesome Christmas Cantata rehearsals. 

I heard Raymond Reeder teaching a group of DC summer youth workers. 

Another tape archived the first time Winston Chaney played "Angels" on the radio.

There was an interview with Tracy Morgan (Super Tracy!") on Heaven 1580, just before the Alliance Tour, an interview on Chicago's WBGX 1590, and an entire Marsha Sumner radio show on 90.1 WDCU FM.

(You know how we used to put the blank tape in the dual cassette player and walk away. Don't deny it. You know you did it, too...Hey! Remember Detroit's "War on Sin" recording, "Couldn't Keep It To Myself"? Marsha called it "staunch gospel"). 

There's a radio spot with boutique owner Pat Bell when she partnered with Mano Schwarts furrier. 

(She subsequently gave 50 copies of my first CD to her customers.) 

There were demos with John Stoddart, and rehearsals with V. Michael McKay and the Mt. Jezreel BC Choir.

I'd accidentally left the tape recording on after a rehearsal at Ira Aldridge Theater. My Lisa is on it. She was in high school. We can be heard walking to the car. It must have been raining because you can hear the windshield wipers. We went to McDonald's and got filet of fish meals, and strawberry sodas, and chatted and laughed all the way home. )

I'm going to blame my motherhood and teaching history for the TWO copies of "The Chipmunks Greatest Hits".

I found more than I was looking for, and frankly, am grateful for the time to have done it. 

There's a tape on which Pastor Will Cain spoke a prophetic word to me and three of my friends, Troy Edler, Annie Moore and Bryant Pugh. 

I hadn't heard it in 10 years. 

It's so amazing, but, 10 years ago when I got back home from that North Carolina revival, wanted to be reminded of what was said, and played the tape, the message wasn't there. 

All these years, I'd concluded that his words had been cut off.

I forgot how much I used to love the songs, "Something Inside So Strong" and "The Word of God" when I listened to another tape.

It's been a nice, memory-lane trip, and spring cleaning- type experience. 

However, there were some cases that had liners, but NO tapes inside: 

Kirk Whalum "In This Life", 

Maurette Brown Clark, "How I Feel", 

Rev. Milton Brunson "Greatest Hits: Volume 1", 

Sly and the Family Stone "Greatest Hits", 

Richard Smallwood Singers "Testimony", 

Take 6 "So Much 2 Say", and 

Terrence Richburg, "Rich Spirit: One".

 

They must be somewhere. Were they the only thing the thief got when my car was broken into, years ago? ...Who knows?

Yippee for technology. I can always download the mp3's-- and yippee for the Duracell batteries that brought my Radio Shack cassette players back to life, even though they have to be held together by a piece of adhesive tape.

I think I'll find out what's on the 4 , unmarked micro cassettes next....: )

#musicmatters

#cassettes

#cleanup

HIS WAY

I think God cares whether one believes the whole of what He's said, but he's not going to change Himself, His standards or requirements if one doesn't--patient and loving though he may be.
As a parent, my child simply wasn't going to tell me what to do, how to feel, or what to be. I established rules and expectations that I fully meant for her to follow, and live up to. Fortunately, she exceeded them AND is a believer in the God I love. Now if she'd chosen NOT to be saved; NOT to believe in God; NOT to adhere to His word, I would have been devastated, but I wouldn't have stopped loving her. I also wouldn't have adopted a "good people go to Heaven, too" philosophy, or petitioned God to alter His word to accommodate her rebellion and rejection. I may have been praying profusely like a freakin' maniac that she would change her heart and accept God's mercy and grace, or that she WOULD hear the words of someone else who could better articulate God's love for her, but thinking that God would change to appease her decision? Naaah.
The last place I want my child to go is Hell. No. I don't want it to even be on the list of destinations. I spent 32 days in Louisiana in May. It was some kinda new hot down there. I spent 10 days in Cairo this month, and to say its climate was hot would be a gigantic understatement. Just about everyone was smoking, and between the exhaust from vehicles and the thick air, it's official. I don't want to go to Hell, either. When I tell you I love my daughter to pieces, I mean it. If she weren't my daughter, I sure would be honored to have her as a friend. Knowing that she would be destined to eternal torment is the worst thought ever, so training her up in the way she should go, was ALWAYS the plan knowing full well, of course, that a relationship with God was ultimately her choice.
The Bible says "There is a way that SEEMS right to a man, but in the end it leads to death." Sometimes people get mad when they realize that their way is not THE way and God has no intentions of humoring them or accommodating their ideas. HE is God. Perhaps that's our biggest problem. We want to be the gods of our lives, and want Him to cosign what we do and say. When our ways clash with His, we get amazingly creative with the Bible; downright arts and crafts-y. We have questions, we don't like His answers, so we get our scissors and white-out. We tear out whole pages and specific passages and glue them back together so they will be more appealing and congruent with our choices. We reduce God to an inept, confused being who desperately needs us to give Him a makeover. "He couldn't possibly have meant THAT", we say. So we justify how we play with His word--to our own peril.
We have such a problem when people want to make us into something we are not, flat-out lie on us, or put words into our mouths--and Heaven help you if you mess with our children. What makes us think, then, that God gets a kick out of that? Like it or not, His way--not our interpretation of it-- is right. We just need to get with His program, not the one we proposed for Him to adapt to so we'd feel better.

SATURDAY THOUGHTS: SMALL TALK

Grandmothers everywhere were right. 

"A dog that will bring a bone, will carry one, Baby."

 

One must consider why one is approached and fed certain information, or asked certain questions. There's a difference between small talk and an interrogation. 

Know when your thoughts are being sought, and when you're being baited for information intended to be used against you, or to drive a wedge between you and someone else.

Speculation is often the unfortunate result of a failure to obtain the information one seeks. 

It shouldn't be done where others might hear, though. One will only appear weak and foolish while groveling, backpedaling and apologizing for /believing spreading tall tales.

If one wants to know something, one should ask--provided, of course, that the information desired is any of one's business. 

What one shouldn't do is make up stuff to satisfy one's own prejudices, opinions, hopes, or love affair with strife and general messiness. 

Sometimes the truth simply isn't as interesting as one would like. It can be downright boring. That's still no excuse to lie.

When one is seeking to cover one's less than ethical tracks, it's not unusual to see others thrown under proverbial buses by way of less than truthful words. It's a common practice for people to either demonize, trivialize, or ostracize those who fail to go along with the program. 

Being an individual, or having a mind of one's own isn't always encouraged or applauded, especially in a climate that thrives on confusion.

When one is looking for a way in, or a way to stay in the good graces of others, becoming a gossiping, scheming, two-faced, spying, brown-noser can't be the only option. 

(How DO people talk about others so negatively, and then seek them out; hang around them, and smile in their faces? I have NEVER figured that one out. )

Too many people are wondering why they are no longer the persons in which others confide; they're wondering why others have decided to keep their distance. Eventually they will figure out that the reason has a lot to do with a failure to master honesty, loyalty and trustworthiness. 

With some people, you have to limit your conversation to bland subjects like "the weather" and "the time of day". That way, if you hear your contribution to conversations being repeated by someone else, it won't be quite so shocking.

Often people will confer to discuss what's wrong with you. 

Why aren't you talking? 

Why aren't you joining the crowd? 

Why aren't you going along to get along? 

It's not that you're introverted, stuck up, mad, or anti-social. What you are is observant. 

You know how guilt by association works. 

What's "wrong" is that you're not a fan of cattiness, gossip, or any other brand of inappropriate social behavior, and you try to stay as far away from it as you can. 

Grandma was always spewing gems and you remember them: "If they'll talk about them to you, they'll talk about you to them."

Making a point to avoid confusion won't stop people from indirectly drawing you in. 

There's not much you can do about that, I suppose. Fortunately, Truth has a way of standing strong and needs no defense. 

No matter what others do or say, be honest. 

Be truthful. 

Recognize boundaries. 

Shun messiness. 

Sharpen discernment. 

Know who's in your company. 

Seek wisdom. 

Think before speaking. 

Use those filters. 

Worry less about fitting in, and more about integrity.
Keep your nose clean. 

Mind your own business. 

Weigh your words.

THURSDAY THOUGHTS: ASSESSMENT

Some situations are merely the last straw laid on the back of a lingering issue that, you have to admit, you allowed to linger while hoping for it to change. 

Folk may not understand, as you try to work out in your brain the culmination of years worth of stuff. All they know is you're not your usual self.

"What's wrong with her/ him?", many wonder. Nothing, except you finally, finally got a clue. Getting a clue can often bring your customary happy-go-luckiness to a screeching halt. 

It doesn't stop you from getting the current job done (you haven't totally zoned out), but it will dramatically color how, when, where, with whom, and within what parameters the next job, and the next one, and the next one after that, will be done.

Hoping that people will do right by you, is a nice thing to hope, I suppose, but if it consistently doesn't happen, there's someone to blame-- and that person is in your mirror.

Painful though it may be, there are times when you have to admit you allowed yourself to be shortchanged, cheated, overworked, underpaid, used, taken advantage of, and undervalued. 

You allowed your resources to be depleted. 

You allowed your time to be absorbed. 

You paid to play when you should have been working to earn. 

You complied with all sorts of unreasonable demands. 

You left yourself unprotected. 

You signed away your rights. 

You did the work, the extra work, and the work of others. 

You always cooperated. 

You always smiled. 

You always said an enthusiastic, "Yes". 

Then, you find out that in spite of all you have done, you are no more respected, trusted, or regarded than anyone else. 

There is no real confidence in you or your ability. Your sacrifices, time, energy, effort and work meant little or nothing. You are dispensable, problematic, and treated harshly the minute you need to say/ dare to say/ have the nerve to say, "No".

The person with which you have the biggest issue, now, is yourself. 

You effectively taught people how to treat you. 

By:

never pushing back; 

never standing up, or speaking up for yourself; 

never being honest about what you needed, and wanted; 

never knowing what you should expect, or what was fair; 

never asking questions, doing research, and always accepting what was woefully inadequate without complaint, 

you communicated that you were easy; a pushover. You communicated that you had no clue of your own worth.

Waking up to who the people in your life really are, and how you are truly regarded by them, can be a little shocking, especially if you are passive and relationship driven. 

You have to be on the same page as others. 

You have to, or you will forever be blindsided, disappointed, and confused. 

You can't operate from a relaxed, trusting, casual, friendly, naive place if others are in strict, unyielding, cold, business mode. 

You can't just put your life or livelihood in the hands of others and expect that they won't look out for their own interests above yours. 

If people find they can get something for nothing, can you blame them if they grow accustomed to it? 

If people think more of what they have to offer than the people who contribute to the success of it, can you blame them if undying gratitude, blind consent and indebtedness is always expected?

It's never easy when you open your eyes, and what you see isn't familiar any longer. 

It isn't easy when you have to admit you've been ignoring what's been there all along. 

Your decision to be a little more hip to what's going on in your own life than you usually are, might make some waves. 

Your sudden leap into Assertive Land, may appear to others to be unreasonable, selfish, rude, ungrateful, odd or over the top--even if it is characterized by silence, contemplation, or separation. 

For you, however, making a few changes is just right, and the notion to do so couldn't have come at a better time. 

For you, it's waaaaaaaay past time to assess every aspect of your life, and change some things--not out of anger, or bitterness, but because it's just plain necessary. 

Some folks who've been watching from the wings will be applauding--crazily. They didn't want to say anything, but they've been wondering when you were going to grow a spine--or take the one you already have out of the moth balls.

Don't beat up on yourself. 

Dust yourself off, and keep moving. 

Learn the lessons. 

Know who's in your life, why they are there, and what their respective roles are. 

Set boundaries. 

Know your worth, and the state of your affairs. 

Open your eyes.