Archives for October 2021

He’s teaching me how to cook.
Nothing major. Just breakfast food.
He keeps buying me groceries.

Is this normal????

My refrigerator has NEVER been this full!
He buys foods I like and then makes a game out of cooking them.

First he does it, then I want to try.

We live in the same state but in different cities. I try cooking scrambled eggs (pray for me!),
I send him a photo.
Then I call for direction and send the final result.

He celebrates my efforts like I just won an Olympic gold medal for best breakfast.😂

Cooking makes me feel close to Him when he is away.

I miss him when He is gone.

To help me not miss Him so much, he sent me a stuffed animal, Pepe Le Pew, which Happy tries to eat. Every time.

I have Pepe by the television in my bedroom that I NEVER turn on.

Unless He is here.

He had an unexpected loss and I sensed he needed a hug. We don’t live in the same city but I would have driven to give him a hug and turned right back around.

He is a proud man.
He brushed off my offer for a hug.
My feelings were hurt.

I went quiet and got off the phone.

It’s very hurtful when I try to take care of him but he won’t let me.

I feel deeply wounded and guilty.

Here’s this Black man taking care of me on damn near every level, yet my love offerings keep being turned down.

I feel diminished.

But I honor his wish.

Later that day he sends me a love letter pouring out his heart about not knowing HOW to let me love him my way.
He is used to being strong.
But I was right: he did need a hug.

He wanted to feel safe.
Held.
Like a little boy.

He permitted me to baby him the upcoming weekend.

Both of us have businesses and full lives. We have to schedule to see each other, which works for both of us.
I became excited about nurturing him for the weekend.

I created a series of things to nurture the little boy in him so he would feel loved, nurtured, and cherished emotionally.

I went to the store and bought out the little boy toy section! I hung streamers and wrapped gifts just for him.

When he arrived, I bathed him. Scented candles and rose petals I sprinkled on him in the bath. He fell asleep in the tub.😊
I cooked my version of a gourmet breakfast (WITHOUT HIS HELP!) and made it look beautiful.

He was awkward with each love offering. He was not used to being nurtured and loved.

But he tolerated my antics!😂

 

I don’t know if he actually let the love in.
He so identifies as “man” it’s hard for him to receive my love.

Right after our couple’s therapy session, we got into an argument because I was trying to love him spiritually and he missed it and dismissed it.

That broke my heart.

I felt like he had not only pissed on my love offering but also my faith in God.

My relationship with God is all to me.
I was offering my faith to activate his faith.
He scoffed at it.

I folded in.

I haven’t made it back out yet. Not fully.

Upon reflection, I can see I was trying too hard to help. He was managing a major loss for himself, and my attempt was too early.

I apologized.

We both are healing in service of the hopes of a long-term significant relationship.
I’m not always confident we will make it.

Black love is fragile.
It’s tender and raw.
Being vulnerable feels like an exposed nerve that screams when the wind blows on it. Even accidentally. For both of us.

What I love most about Him is his tenacity. He has a steadfast willingness to heal and grow with me. He puts in the work.

He stands for an “us” that’s healthy and whole.

He takes the time to hear my hurt.
He almost ALWAYS disagrees with me about it. 😊
This forces me to keep communicating; to continue to stand for myself in this relationship until he hears me, instead of leaving.

Sometimes I yell.
Sometimes I hang up on him.
Sometimes I make him the bad guy.

He waits me out.
He takes a day or two to self-reflect.
He gets in my world and on my side.

He becomes responsible and accountable for his words and actions.
He puts in the correction.

We try again.

I am learning not only how to be in a healthy relationship.

Through his example, I am learning how to stay in one.

And I am grateful.

I thank God for Him.

 

By: Dr. Venus Opal Reese
Date: 10.29.21

He wants to marry me.
He’s not rushing me.
He’s just helping me understand his intention.

He is teaching me how to cook.
Not in a “barefoot and pregnant” kind of way. But more like fun things we do together.

He nurtures me.
He saw that I didn’t have a television.
So he took me to the store and bought one for my bedroom.

He is getting me a big one for the living room. I don’t think I need it but he tends to take care of me in terms of what he wants for me. It takes some getting used to.

I am growing in making room for him to love me his way. It’s getting easier.

He takes care of me.

He washes my clothes, feeds me with his hands, and bathes me.
Each time he kisses me, Happy climbs up his body to kiss his face. And he lets him. Every time.

He encourages and supports me to keep my routine. I don’t have to sacrifice my prayer life, workouts, or space to be loved by him.

He got a therapist to tend to his wounds so he didn’t act them out on me.

He hired a couple’s therapist to learn how to talk to me so he doesn’t trigger my PTSD.

We play ol’ school video games together.

He makes my heart smile.

I’m learning how to trust and love a Black man.

He wants to marry me.

I’ve never been married to a Black man before.
I have never been so cherished.

I am learning to let my guard down.

He waits on me.

He won’t take money from me.

I tried to buy dinner one time and he flexed.

It shocked me. “You are MY woman. I will take care of the bill.”
I wanted to argue for equal partnership in our relationship, but something in his eyes let me see that this was intimately important to him so fell back.

Am I getting weak?
Soft?
Being a punkass?

Or am I learning to let myself be loved by a Black Man?
Perhaps all of the above.

I don’t know.

He’s a protector and a provider.
I have never been protected or provided for.
He buys groceries.

It’s fun going food shopping with him.
It feels like home.

He let’s me tend to his beard.

I got beard oil and tiny scissors to trim his mustache.
He says it makes him feel loved.

I don’t know if we will get married.

It’s ok if we don’t.

I’ve never been the sort of woman who dreamt of a big wedding to feel complete.

I am very moved and thankful that he sees me and treats me like the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

Very few women, worldwide, will ever experience the level of care he gives so freely and consistently to me.

It heals me.

And for now, that’s enough.

By. Dr. Venus Opal Reese
Date: 10/20/21

I feel sick to my stomach.
Overwhelmed.
Nauseous.

I think I’m about to vomit.

My consulting producer has cut a sweet deal with a production company to “shop” Hot Mess Millionaire to networks and streaming platforms.

I should be happy but all I want to do is puke. Cry. Crawl into the closet and hide.

I’m deadass about this.

My stomach is in knots.
My sleep is in the toilet.
My mind is all over the place.

To add insult to injury I need an entertainment attorney. If you know one who has integrity and patience, holla at your girl.

The more I talk to the attorney’s the worse I feel.
I can feel my confidence draining from my soul.
I feel myself regressing to a baby who cries with her whole body because words are too small.

The contracts are labyrinths.

The language includes phrases like “lock-in,” “for life,” and “all rights.” I feel like if I sign, I’m serving 25 to life.

#imfeelingsickagain

I miss touring.

Just being with, training, and loving on my sisters.
Hollywood is stressing me right now.
And yet I know I NEED to walk this out.
I NEED to finish this.

Hot Mess Millionaire on Amazon Prime has over EIGHT MILLION STREAMS IN A YEAR AND A HALF!!!! With a 4.6 out of 5.0-star rating.

I had a production company make a verbal offer within two days and send a contract in less than a week.

I need to finish this.

If I don’t try, I will never know.

God would not give me a dream that wasn’t already manifested in the mind of God.

I must finish this.

“It is finished.”

A rallying cry from Calvary.

Lets me know I’m not the only one who the Call physically hurts.
I must get an entertainment attorney to keep me from signing my life away or walking away from ALL of this!

Pray for me.

I’m clear this is “good” stress but my body doesn’t care. I want to cry, puke, and hide in the closet and rock.

Good stress.
Bad stress.
Stress is stress is stress.

AND my hormones are completely out of wack!! I am getting a new hormone doctor to help me not want to pimp slap people for breathing my fuckin’ air!

I quit today.

I just want Happy and Mr. Mine right now.
If life were a boxing match, today I lost this round.

By: Dr. Venus Opal Reese
Date: 10.14.21

When bad things happen in the past, they can only be healed when they resurface, specifically in one’s current relationship.

Letting myself love another and be loved by a Black Man reveals ALL the places I have been emotionally wounded.

I have to fight to stay.

I know I suck at maintaining my personal boundaries, specifically when it comes to someone I choose to love.

On the streets as well as being raised in violence, personal boundaries were nonexistent. I did, like so many of us, what I had to do to survive.
I don’t talk about it.

It’s too graphic and I don’t want to trigger you. What I can say is the more I let myself love, the more afraid I get about losing myself.

I worry if I am yielding too much.

Accommodating too much.

Putting his wants above my needs too much.

How do I love God, love him, and love me?

I don’t know right now…

In truth, I have never known a love like His.
He fights for me.
He grows to be with me.
He takes care of me even when I block him out of my life for my well-being protection.

Special needs are special.

When I feel my special needs are not being met, I fold in.
Check out.
Leave.

He sends flowers.
Groceries.
Stuffed animals that make me smile.

When he gets triggered, I hear Momma.
I’m back in the streets.
I’m no longer safe.

My chest hurts.
It’s hard to breathe.
I need Happy.

I pray.
I sit with Nanna.
I talk with my therapist.

He is human.
He is healing, too.
He acknowledges his triggers.

We are starting couple’s therapy at his request. “I want to learn how to talk to you so you don’t have to get triggered by me.”
In the past, when triggered, I would drink. I’ve been a dry alcoholic since 3/3/11. I refuse to go back.

I cry in my heart for his commitment to keeping me well.
I didn’t realize letting someone love me, a Black Man, would take me back to the streets.

Back to choosing to stay sober.
Back to reliving trauma that is not His fault.
But at the same time, it’s driving me deeper into my healing and my relationship with God. I worry can I love God and a man simultaneously?

I so quickly over-give when I love.
How do I pace?
How do I lean on God and make room for Him?
I don’t know.

What I do know is that He is willing to put in the work to be with me in a significant long-term relationship. He has his own therapist, as do I, and he found, vetted, and booked our couple’s therapist. I’m discovering I have to continually choose to stay while we learn each other.

My feelings get hurt, though.

Him leaving a room in a huff feels like rejection and punishment. His tone can bring tears to my eyes. Not because he’s being harsh but because I value what he says so much. I endow his words with authority because of his consistency. So when I ask him his opinion, I get crushed if it’s not affirming out the gate.

I think that’s too much love.
It’s too thick.
Too extreme.

My Circle of Trust of sister girlfriends giggle at me and say no it’s not.
That’s being in love.
Am I in love????
#wtf 🤯

Impossible.

I thought in love was joy and romance.
This feels like shit.

It feels like a janky rickety rollercoaster that can fly off the rails into the abyss of Hell at any moment.

It’s too extreme.

And yet, I forgive him every sin.

I soften with him.

I grant him grace I have never granted another.
I don’t know if I’m in love or not.
I do know that he REFUSES to give up on me. On an “us.”
While I have to revisit the past to heal it, I am grateful he is willing to do the same.

Through the tripwires of loving another, I am very grateful for his emotional maturity.

His relentless persistence.
His belief in our love.
I think we are healing together.

As far as I’m concerned, our mutual healing, individually and together, is a gift from God.

And I am grateful.

By: Dr. Venus Opal Reese
Date: 10.06.21

God’s favor is real.
Even for a street urchin like me.
I don’t deserve this life.

I remember an old hymn by Fanny Crosby that had a phrase in it, “saved a wretch like me.” That’s how I feel.

But God.

My life imploded three years ago.
I moved to LA two years ago.
I had a dream of being an artist.

Hot Mess Millionaire was created.
Amazon green-lit the 1st episode.
Amazon declined the rest of the series.

I chose to produce the entire series myself.
I chose to trust God’s whispers.
Over four million streams in less than a year.

Pandemic hit.
Covid shuts down the world.
George Floyd.

Lose my brother to Covid.
#hopeleftwhentorydied

Cocoon in God.
Reread the New Testament.
Prayed without ceasing.

Felt guilty for being alive.
Prayed.
Prayed.
Prayed.

Focused on social change.
Focused on healing.
Focused on having a reason to live.
A purpose that was worthy of my life.

Birthing 100 Billionaire Black Women through technology and content became my reason.

Threw myself into creating my digital platform for and by Black Women at breakneck speed.

Crashed.
Realized I was burning myself out.
Took time to do personal development work.

God said slow down and let yourself be supported.
I created that who I am is the possibility of loving leadership, support, and empowering partnership.

Realized I still had the dream of being a full-time artist.

Realized I didn’t think I had the right to “jump the line” in Hollywood because I hadn’t earned the right by paying my dues.

Realized that God’s favor supersedes all human conventions, timelines, and norms.

Within 48 hours of surrendering my will to God’s will about my artistic dreams, I am in dialogue with a Black Woman producer (with a current hit TV show on air) about walking in/shopping Hot Mess Millionaire into networks and streaming platforms.

Turns out that BECAUSE Amazon said no and forced me to self-produce the Hot Mess Millionaire series, having two best-selling books, and having an engaged tribe of hundreds of thousands of Truth Tellers I can jump the line.

I just signed the shopping contract.

All my social change posts have reached millions of people. Only God could have known that grieving George would have me reach the world.

Only God could take the grief of the loss of my brother and position me as a media mogul in climates LOOKING for Black Women in tech.

Only God could take my brokenness and heal me to the point I no longer have to do it alone.

My consult producer is a gift from God.

She loves God, is great with my PTSD, loves Happy (she has two dogs and a cat!), and empowers my raw truth instead of shying away from it.

My life is a miracle.

Here’s the proof. While in Vegas, a beautiful sister and I were walking toward the ladies room chatting away. When I stopped to ask her her name, she gasps and her eyes teared up.

She recognized me from Hot Mess Millionaire on Amazon.

She said to me my Hot Mess Millionaire Show changed her life. She shared about surviving cancer, her amazing TEDx Talk and her dreams of hosting her own show.

She thanked me for telling the truth.

I offered to take a photo with her and have included it here.

Her name is JayBee please check her out.

She is a sister I want to empower to monetize her mess into millions. She, and sisters like her, inspire me.

Meeting her in Vegas let me know that God is saying to me it’s time.

My life is a product of God’s love.
God’s favor is real.
And I am grateful.

Title: God’s Favor Is Real
By: Dr. Venus Opal Reese
Date: 09.30.21