Archives for October 2020

(Life Update) Quarantine has been so good to me!!

If you have been following me for awhile, you know I can’t cook. I’m serious. I am so bad at cooking I actually burnt boiled eggs. (Yes, it’s possible #dontjudgeme)

But due to the pandemic, I am doing something I NEVER in a million years would have thought I could do.

I’M COOKING FOR ME!!! Granted it’s frozen food & pre-cooked links–mere details! I’m growing in ways I never imagined before AND in ways required as I surrender to God’s will for my life.

My team is growing!!! I have an AMAZING new publicist!!! AND she is a millennial!!! She is brilliant & can create at the speed of my thought! Which is NO small accomplishment. Plus I have a new admin who takes care of all of my social media communications! This is a GIFT!! I feel supported & certain. Both women are exquisite & they each inspire me.

I’m scheduled for interviews through to the end of November AND today I had the opportunity to share on the eWomenNetwork Success Panel!! This is HUGE!!! I stopped collaborating two years ago when I got sick.

I love Kym Yancey. He, his incredible wife Sandra, & the Managing Directors of eWomenNetwork launched me. I would not have this life had it not been for their vision for who I could be… & I will be grateful for the rest of my life.

AND yesterday I was contacted about an opportunity for television. IF it goes forward, I will not be able to speak on it, so keep it on the hush, please. Loose lips sink ships. I feel like God is positioning for things beyond anything I can pray for.

I feel like I’m waking up from a deep coma.

I feel God moving in & through me. Hot Mess Millionaire is up on YouTube & RACKING IN views. Thursday, episode 2 streams. We screened it this past Tuesday & it was well-received so I feel good about it’s reception. Send prayers.

The Hot Mess Millionaire Facebook Group is growing like weeds!😂😂😂 It’s good. I can feel the pace picking up & I am ready.
AND I’m working with a script consultant to help me with my scripted teleseries. AND I’m exercising, rereading the New Testament, & have Jonathan Reynolds on repeat.
I guess I’m saying I’m alive again.
No. That’s not it.
I’m living again.
I’m in my life. My body is not shaking & my PTSD/anxiety is a friend now instead of a tolerated lover.
I’m at peace with it all now.
I love you Lord.
Thank you for how you love me.
I don’t deserve any of the mercies you pour on me. I’m grateful.
You are my God.
My one and only true love.
I hear you.
I feel you.
I’m ready.
In Jesus name,
Amen

I’m sorry.

We launched the Hot Mess Millionaire on Dr. Venus TV yesterday and EVERYTHING that could go wrong did.  And my anxiety got triggered big time. Really. When I get triggered I go from zero to a thousand. If I don’t catch it early, the only thing to do is let it run its course. So I did and I let you see it here.
From technology to communication to my freakin’ HAIR–everything crashed–
Actually, that’s not true.
Everything crashed–but you.
Somehow, you came through for me.
You showed up.
You shared the episode.
You left comments, sent love notes, and had my back.
You were kind when my anxiety kicked in. And you didn’t judge me for being a ”hot mess.”
I’m so sorry this was so messy. Even the marketing language was off.
I didn’t realize that going ”live” on YouTube at 4pmPST is different than going ”live” on Facebook or IG. I misunderstood the language. So I thought the episode would stream and start playing at 4pmPST, not that the episode would be available at approximately 4pmPST, for data gathering purposes. Not for marketing.
So I apologize for misleading you in any AND every way with my wording and positioning of the release of the episodes. The team I hired to help with this launch is working passionately behind the scenes to create something that will work so I can tell you the truth about what we are doing, when and how.
It’s extremely important to me that I am 100% transparent and honest with you. I value your trust, support, and belief in me. And while you may not have noticed any inconsistencies–I do.
Your trust matters that much to me.
And it doesn’t matter if it was a little off or a lot. You are mine. And if I say I love you, that means I tell you the truth. Many people lie by omission and it comes back later to trash trust. I make mistakes often, but they are NEVER deliberate or intentional misleading.
So I thank you in advance for your grace and compassion for me as a human being. My team and I will get all the kinks out of this launch and it may take more trial and error than I had anticipated.
Please be patient with me as I figure out how to produce my show on YouTube. My learning curve is more than I planned for. But you can count on me to stay the course –triggers and all–until this tide turns.
I love you.

Georgia.

Feet swollen.
Standing in line. 11 hours.
Hungry.

I don’t mind.

My grandmomma, she couldn’t read.
Back curved forward.
Handwashing White Folk laundry.
Washboard pressed against the bottom of a tin tub filled with urine infested sudsy water.

Little Mr. Timmy wet the bed at night.

Grandmomma would take me to the market with her so I could read the prices for the flour and lard.

Store owner found out grandmamma couldn’t read.
White man.

He would see how much money she had. Charge the whole sum for a tin of lard.

We would walk back from the market and she would tell me about her grandmamma.

All the way from Africa.

She told me about how her grandmamma could pick bales and bales of cotton, from sun up to sun down, bent over.

Her fingers turning into claws to dig that stubborn soft cotton out of the tight prickly bud.

Her grandmomma couldn’t read– she worked her fingers raw so her granddaughter, great granddaughter, great great granddaughter someday, one day would be able to read.

Go to school.
Sit wherever she wanted.
Just like the White Folk do.

Grandmomma would grease my scalp and braid my hair as I read the Bible to her.

She said hearing me read those stories made her strong enough to wash another tub of White Folk laundry.

I didn’t realize until year’s later she was washing those clothes for me.

I wouldn’t understand why my grandmother told me about her grandmother picking so much cotton, on her feet all day, sun up to rundown, so her daughter didn’t have too.

My mother, she worked three jobs, all hard labor.
Standing.
Pushing a broom.
A mop.

So her daughters would never have to.
My people are from Cairo.
Not that far from Suwanee.
A little over four-hour drive in the mean glare of the Deep South’s sun.

Lines.
We wait in long lines.
4 hours. 6 hours. 12.

We waited in lines to de-board those ships.
Knee high in feces.
Rotting flesh.
Death.

We stood, scared and trembling.
On the auction block.
Watching our momma’s sold away.
That’s how I ended up being raised by my grandmomma.

We stood at the back of the bus.
Then we stood with our fist in the air.

In lines.
Long lines.
Like bloodstained spiritual veins.
Linking us to all the mommas.
Who stood for us.
To have the right to stand.

The lines are long.
We don’t mind the wait.

We’ve been standing for centuries. Standing is the legacy our maternal linage bequeath us as a super power.

So we stand.

Just like our mommas did.
And we will keep standing for little Black girls who have yet to be born.

So our great-great-granddaughters will know they are loved.
Then.
Now.
Forever.
And they are free.

I’m afraid of you.

Not in a physical way–but emotional.
Like so many Black Women–actually, women in general–I had organized my life around ”making it.” So I became whatever I needed to become to be ”somebody.”
And I won.
I worked my ass off.
Got off the streets.
Went to school.
Got a job.
Became an entrepreneur.
Got married.
Became a best-selling author.
Sold out national tour.
Made millions.
Got sick.
Got divorce.
Dismantled my life.
Moved to San Diego.
Wrote another book.
Became an international best-selling author.
Chose to be an artist again.
Went back to solo performance art.
Home flooded in San Diego.
Moved to LA.
COVID-19.
Tried to get Hot Mess Millionaire up on Amazon.
Breakdown.
After breakdown.
After break down.
1st episode–the pilot–up on Amazon.
2 million streams and counting.
Exhale for first time since 12 when I started to fend for myself.
George Flloyd, executed in front of the world.
Committed all my platforms to stopping the Police from killing us.
Amazon turned down Hot Mess Millionaire Series.
Heartbroken.
Embarrassed.
Failure.
Stopped being an artist.
Went back to teaching online training.
Prayed
Prayed.
Prayed.
Prayed.
Heard God: self-produce the series.
Fear.
Felt inferior to Amazon.
Afraid I wouldn’t get NEARLY as many views on my own.
Felt inadequate.
Put it off.
Put the dream to the side.
Prayed.
Prayed.
Prayed.
Bought audiobook, ”Unshakable Trust” by Joyce Myer.
Prayed for more trust.
Prayed.
Prayed I trust you, Lord, to strengthen my trust.
So it’s with trimering trust that I am self-producing Hot Mess Millionaire Series later this month. #prayforme #sendlove
I’ve been afraid that if the series wasn’t on a big platform you wouldn’t support me.
Please forgive me for my fear.
I know you will be there for me if I am teaching you something, but I am afraid that sharing my story is not important to you because it’s not in your self-interest.
I’m also afraid you won’t like me. That once you see just how raw I am, you will wash your hands of me.
I truly AM a ”hot mess.” I’m a bunch of contradictions that make no sense–except they do in me.
I’m afraid that you will judge me and say bad things about me.
I’m afraid you will laugh at me and call me names.
I’m afraid you won’t watch because I’m nothing compared to Amazon.
I’m afraid you won’t share the series.
I’m afraid you will see all my flaws, reject me and turn your back on me.
I know you’ve been with me for a minute so please forgive my humanity. I know you have been loyal to me. But this series is not my teachings.
This series is me. Real. Raw. Uncut.
So I am going to do what God whispered in my heart: self-produce my series and let God do God.
I may fail.
You may hate it–or not.
You may judge and attack me.
I don’t know HOW you will take it or even watch it.
God is faithful.
Even to wretches like me.
I trust you Lord. It’s an imperfect trust but it’s the best that I have right now.
In the end, hopefully, the series will help somebody.
Pray for me.

Gratitude.

This has to be the BEST birthday of my life!! Look at ALL the love in the form of flowers!!!! Thank you Ivy Dawson for the beautiful pink roses!!! They brought joy to my heart. Seraphina Uludong the arrangement on the left from you is GLORIOUS!!! The red roses are from Courtney Stewart & Derrial and they just made my birthday dinner that more special. The arrangement in the glass bowl is from a younger suitor who is just precious. 🤯😅😬
But wait. It gets better.
I also received love from my birth family as well as my adopted family!!! Cousins, nieces, MY BROTHER!! My sister who is in heaven’s love, new friends and old flames. #buildingmybench
I also had GREAT conversations with people I hadn’t talked to in a LONG time. One of my boys who is now out of jail and is MARRIED with a new family that cherishes him, sent me a song and talked with me for over an hour!! #ThankYouLord
I find that the more I heal, the more space there is for me to experience just how cherished I really am. And I am grateful.
Thank you God for loving me like you do.
For your patience with me.
For providing for me in ways I could never ask for.
For holding me close and calling me your own.
For ordering my steps always back to you.
Thank you for answers prayers as well as the unanswered ones.
Because I wait in you, I am not afraid.
You are my rest.
My peace.
My point for being alive.
And as long as I live, you will be my God and your people will be my people.
You are my God.
My love my life.
I love so much God.
My life is your life.
I am your hands.
Your feet.
I love so much Lord.
Thank you for loving so completely that I am made whole in your love.
In Jesus name,
Amen.