MandatoryPositive

This day last year was a Sunday. I got up early and threw in a load of laundry before    sweating it out in an instense CrossFit open gym. Afterwards, I came home, showered and threw something in the crockpot before heading to sign language class and the local community college. After class I dropped off bulk toilet paper and cleaning supplies with my favorite college student. He was excited at the huge pack of Mega Rolls of Charmin and bleach wipes.    He had no idea at the time, what a treasure that would be.  On the way home I stopped by the mall to treat myself to Fenty “cause I’m black” fly liner in honor of Black History Month.    I put it on immediately despite not having any other make up on and thought it was so fabulous that I snapped a selfie in the parking lot ( see above)  When I got home,  I enjoyed the perfect pot roast while rewatching a session of Financial Peace University, a class that I faithfully attended every Wedne...

I couldn’t sleep last night. As I looked around and saw how much I needed to do I just cried.  I could practically hear my mothers voice saying “you’re being ridiculous”.  She wasn’t one for tears for no reason.   A long while back I removed 6-8 layers of paint off doors and baseboard and window sills throughout my house.  They all still have to be sanded and either painted or stained-something I’ve been avoiding.  I’m not naturally “handy,” I’ve just been figuring it out as I go along.  It has NOT been an easy task. If I’m going to be totally transparent, there have been MANY tears along the way.   This morning my iPhone memories showed me this. Siri is petty, but this was a reminder of how far I’ve come-especially for a YouTube DIYer.  When I started I had no idea this wood was underneath all the layers.  I wonder what the previous owners were thinking when they painted each color. A murkey brown, an electric blue, several different shades ...

  In 2012 I started to face some very inconvenient truths. I dealt with this stress by walking.    One day, I found out that the local high school track was open to the public. As I was walking the track and doing a circuit in the bleachers, someone approached me about a team that they had formed. The team was going to do something called “Sky Rise Chicago.” The goal was to get to the top of the Willis Tower climbing 103 stories. 2,109  steps . Once you got to the top, you were to go out and take photos on the glass ledge. I didn’t know much about the ledge,    and I only knew Willis Tower as Sears Tower. I am deathly afraid of heights. The idea of standing out on a piece of glass surrounding the city terrified me. So I was in!  Through the summer,    I got together with the team to climb stairs at several local spots and started participating in 5K races (walking of course) I was slow, but my goal was never to win, just to finish. I later fo...

When I hear the sound of the train whistle, I think of home. Not home as in my house.  Sadly, my current house is empty now and nothing but a series of four walls, failed do-it-yourself renovations, a daily reminder of poor decisions, and an insurmountable need for a contractor. The train whistle reminds me of the home that belonged to my grandmother-one of the very few people that loved me unconditionally. I can almost see the kitchen, tiny with painted over cabinets that had ridges here and there from the chipped paint of the last color-no one thought about sanding. As a child, I personally helped paint this kitchen every year or so when my grandmother needed a change of pace. I'm pretty sure it saw every color of the rainbow.  There was a small table meant for four, but six were sometimes seated.  I think of the worn shag carpeting in the living room and down the hall. It was in shades of orange and red and faded yellow. Oh, and lest I forget the floral couches, huge l...

Years ago I was a broke college student and single mother to an infant. At times life seemed overwhelming, impossible and hopeless. I felt like I would never graduate, and I was stuck in an endless cycle of working, writing papers, being a mom, taking care of home, and trying to not to get something shut off. I realized every time someone asked how things were going, I would have to fight hard not to cry, complain or pass out in exhaustion before I squeaked out “fine”   One day when my daughter was around three she saw me crying. She put her head in my lap and looked sad herself.  I realized if I continued to lean into that feeling of despair, she would grow up without a single moment of joy in her childhood. I made a vow at that moment to try to focus on any possible silver lining to the dark clouds that seemed to be my life-the “Mandatory Positive.”  As she became older, I challenged my daughter to identify the mandatory positive in bad situations. We continue to do so ...