Archives for June 2023

I ran. I didn’t look back. Until now

I ran away from Baltimore when I was a teenager. I had to get out. The violence, vulnerability, and being “out there” was killing me.

The attacks.
The drugs.
The roaches.
The rats.

My childhood was littered with makeshift homes; condemned buildings with plywood covered windows to keep the cold out or the heat from the gas lit stove in.

I was used to eating food out of trash cans.
Sleeping at a girlfriend’s house only to have her father slip into my bed.

Through it all I had one person who was there for me: my Uncle Jay.

Uncle Jay is a handyman and has had his own business since I can remember. He, by his example, instilled in me the value—and freedom—of being an entrepreneur. He is a master electrician, plumber, and carpenter.

When I fled Baltimore under the auspices of education, I left my family. All the pain of my childhood was in the marble steps of Heinemann Street; the steamed crabs smothered in Old Bay seasoning, and the three story high row houses of Baltimore.

I ran and did not look back.

This past weekend, I went back to Baltimore and took the opportunity to visit Uncle Jesse.

He looked like the picture in my mind of him when I was a teen.

Then I saw it.

I saw it in his hands first.
Then his eyes.
Then his jaw.

Uncle Jesse was old.

I don’t mean in years as much as life.
Life had aged him.
His joy was gone.

We sat.
I listened.

I heard his heart weeping for his deceased daughter. He weeps on the inside when we talk about her. I weep visibly for them both.

I saw the sadness in his drooping cheeks from feeling like people, family, didn’t see all he had done for us.

I felt the labor of his breath as he talked about the loss of his sight, and the loss of his car.

His lack of a vehicle is where his voice breaks.

The breaking of his voice breaks my heart.

I tend to him.
I speak life over him.
I let him know he is not just my uncle.

He is my father. He is ALL of our fathers; the lost kids in the neighborhood who didn’t have a daddy.

He saved my life when a gun was put to my head.

He helped Nanna get me off the streets.

He sent me money when I needed it most—without me having to ask.

I realize being with Uncle Jesse, and other members of my birth family, something profound and raw.

When I “got out” of Baltimore, I threw away my family.

The fear and damage was so strong, I left it all behind, in order to survive. Looking back now, I can see I threw out the baby with the bath water. I also can see that the choice to stay away was attached to fears of retaliatory attack. I couldn’t chance it. My mental and emotional stability was too fragile to gamble with.

I helped out when I could with essentials like a washer and dryer, or a new bed, or funeral arrangements. I watched from afar and received updates from my baby sister.

I have beautiful nieces and handsome nephews (WHO KNOW ME!!!) my sister, cousins, and friends! I had conflated them all with the violence acted out on my body in Baltimore. I left it. No. I left them all behind.

Not any more.

I am not certain what God wants me to do. I just know that it truly IS good to go back home.

I had a gift made for Uncle Jesse: a bracelet with his three children’s names on it, including his deceased daughter. It was for Father’s Day but arrived weeks late. I put it in the mail today.

I’m reaching out to one of my nieces to help Uncle Jesse to schedule his appointments, (the elderly get ignored without someone advocating for them in person) and get him to and from the eye doctor for his cataract eye surgery.

I’m getting him a truck. He didn’t ask for it. But when I took him to look at trucks, he started to act like a little kid! He doesn’t want anything fancy. He wants a used old truck. Something to put his tools in, “just get around” and he can fix if it breaks down.

He and Happy bonded!🤣🐶🤣

I dressed Happy up—tie and groomed—to meet his Uncle!🤣 It was love at first sniff! They took to each other. It was beautiful seeing them play and laugh. My heart was full with joy by witnessing their joy.

Walking Happy and driving through Baltimore, I wasn’t afraid anymore. If anything, I felt a fondness for certain places. Nostalgia washed over me when I saw the graveyard me and my brother, Tory, run through when chased home by bullies. The various streets, locations, and smells in East Baltimore, held no emotional or physiological charge.

I could not have done this before now. It has taken over 30 years to go back home, I’m afraid. I don’t begrudge the time. It takes time to break generational curses and heal historical trauma passed down.

The time away has equipped me to love without fear and to live without regret. So I thank God for my walk, my life. I embrace it all.

God sent me home to realize three things:

—how much I have grown
—how much I can contribute
—how much I have healed.

I have nieces and nephews who welcome my wisdom and knowledge. Some of them are entrepreneurial!

This excites me!

I can now see a clear path of no longer being the only millionaire in my birth family.

It’s not about the money.

It’s about transforming the emotional and economic trajectory of my birth bloodline.

I thank God for removing me from my childhood environment so I could come back whole.

It’s miraculous what healing can do.

Because I’m healed, I can help.
Because I’m healed, I can hear and feel love.
Because I’m healed, I can go back home.

It’s good to go home.😊

The biggest mistake I’ve made…

The biggest mistake I’ve made… in my adult life is mistaking people’s kindness for love.
It’s a blind spot.
It’s been my Achilles Heel.

As a child I was told I was ugly, stupid, and a piece of shit.

I was told that I would never amount to anything.

I believed what I had been told.

So when someone is kind to me I think that is love.

It’s a child’s logic.

I was so maliciously beaten, diminished and belittled, ANY type of kindness was like a drop of water in a desert.

I have traded my body for love.
My money.
My self-respect.

I have compromised my sense of self for people SO extremely, that I people-pleased to the point of degrading self-sacrifice.

I talked to God about it.

I wondered will I EVER move beyond the wounding of my childhood, inflicted by people who said they loved me?

It sucks when the people who say they love you conflate love and violence.

The blending of love and violence creates an insatiable craving FOR love and kindness.

I’ve been listening to pastor Dr. Myles Monroe a lot lately. He is a pastor from the West Indies who is no longer with us. His teachings are profound and practical. They really cause me to rethink just about everything I have related to as “truth.”

Especially self-love as a single woman Believer.

He argues that If I love God, but don’t love myself, I don’t love God. (I’m paraphrasing.) That thought broke my brain. Since I’m made in the image and likeness of God, I am an individual expression of God.

To reject me, to criticize me, to pimp me out emotionally for scraps of attention and affection; for value and inclusion—is akin to spiritual blasphemy.

There are times I don’t feel well enough to distinguish kindness from just good manners.

I am now clear that when I love God, I have to love myself BEFORE I love my neighbor.

I must take the love of God as true love and let God’s love be my “go to” to feel love.

Once I love me, my OVERFLOW of love can THEN be poured on others. Whether they are kind or not.

I’m realizing that people can be kind for their own character, spiritual beliefs, or agendas. Simply put: other people’s kindness has nothing to do with loving me.

People can be kind for myriad reasons:
—they were raised to be kind
—they are kind because their faith requires it
—they have ulterior motives
—they are empathetic beings fulfilling a need
and many more reasons.

I have to turn to the kindness of God instead of craving it from people. It is a hunger no human can satiate.

So I will spend time in deep prayer and possibly fasting, until God can replace my need for human kindness with God’s love.

Thanks for witnessing.


Dr. Venus

Happy Juneteenth + TV Show Competition (That Honors Our Ancestors)


On June 17, 2021, Juneteenth became a national holiday. It is the oldest commemoration of the ending of slavery in the United States.

On June 19,1866 our ancestors in Texas celebrated their freedom, two and half years AFTER Emancipation Proclamation.

As far as I am concerned, Juneteenth ins OUR Independence Day. It represents freedom from the residue of bondage that has been passed down generationally.

When you are free, you can, with support and encouragement, fulfill your dreams.

I believe our ancestors died so we could live the American Dream.

I believe the Juneteenth commemoration is more than a block party and red punch.

I believe Juneteenth reminds us to keep the faith; to keep dreaming until our dreams come true.

So, in the spirit of dreaming of a brighter tomorrow, I am lending all my platforms to an extraordinary Sister Entrepreneur who, like Juneteenth, had to wait and pray for her own emancipation in order to go for her dreams.

My friend Ronica Marable is a Black Woman budding TV chef!!!

Go here to vote for her: <<<

Ronica grew up, like so many of us, in abject poverty and is the first person in her family to go to college.

She lost her mom to cancer and her father to addiction.

She is legally responsible for her handicapped adult twin siblings.

She is a therapist, and she loves the Lord.

She wants to teach how cooking got us through slavery and is a legacy that keeps us alive.

She believes that cooking is healing for the soul.

Ronica has dreamed of leaving her day job and making her brand “Cooking in Heels” a household name in honor of her dearly departed mother and aunt who taught her our history. With your free vote, she can.

Ronica has lived a selfless life. Like so many “strong Black Women” she has put her family and her people BEFORE here own dreams. She can cook her HEELS off, but she needs our support. She DESERVES to be supported the way she has supported SO many people as a therapist—including rehab counselling for addicts of all races.

Here’s what I believe:

I believe in Black Women Businesses thriving.

I believe EVERY Black Woman needs to be supported to have her dreams come true.

I believe Ronica’s genius as a chef is therapeutic healing THROUGH cooking (which we inherited from our Ancestors) NEEDS to be televised.

So, on this Juneteenth Weekend I invite you to support our sister in success to fulfill her dreams simply by voting for her!

It’s simple and its FREE!

Go to this link:

Vote NOW!

And Vote for the next 5 days.

She is tottering between the number 1 and number 2 spot! Your votes could tip the scale to get this Black Women Chef on TV!!!

Do you have to do this: absolutely not.

AND if you took the 2 minutes to sow this seed of support into a Black woman’s dream, I say you make room for someone to do the same for YOU, right when you need it most.

Vote here now:

Go to this link:

Ps Love Note

I love you, Ronica. I believe in you. My tribe believes in you.

As a Black Woman who has self-sacrificed so much for so many, please know that you have our support. You are an AMAZING chef! This is YOUR victory! And we are behind you all the way to the win!

I know you don’t care about you winning—but I do. I am standing for you to win so you know that you are worthy of your being supported and deserve to live your dreams.

As far as I am concerned, that’s what our ancestors wanted for us. You are our ancestors’ dreams realized. And I am SO proud of you!

I abide in God.

I abide in God.

The Holy Spirit abides in me.

Jesus is the vine.
I am the leaves.

God is my tree.
I am God’s branch.

God is the Sun.
I am God’s sun ray.

God is the ocean.
I am God’s wave.

God is the Source
the Energetic force
that animates Life
coursing through me.

God is breath.
God is blood.
God is bone.

I dwell in God.
I abide in His presence.

I see God everywhere.
And nowhere.
ALL at once.

God is big enough
to be Alpha.
And small enough
to live inside of this
finite body.

I love you Lord.

I can feel you
filling me up
so the holes
in my soul—
stop bleeding.

God, my precious Lord
You are good.

You are faithful to me.
Through it all.


You are a God
who never judged me.

You meet me where I am.
And forever.

I can feel you gently
seeping into my pores
as quiet certainty
arising in my chest.

I feel you ordering my steps.

Speaking when I talk.
Taming my tongue
so I do not harm.

Your love turns
appetites into options.
Mercy into my lifestyle.
Trust as my “come from.”

You show me how
to love me
instead of hoping
someone else will.

I love you Lord.

It is a blessing to be
your hands
your feet and
your voice.

I thank you
for choosing me.

I thank you
for using me.

I abide in you Lord.
You are all to me.

Thank you
for being my God.

In Jesus name,


I quit

Today is a gentle day.
Happy, my Service Animal, is curled up beside me napping.
My private clients are finalizing contracts and wires.
My curls are POPPIN’ after I fingered coiled them, DRY! (That’s a first.)

I feel pretty.
I feel safe.
I feel peace.

I’m falling in love with my 51 years thriving body.

I’m learning how to feed me.
I’m learning to relate to my body as God’s Temple.
I am seeing it as the vehicle by which I get to do God’s will.

I am looking for a home church where I can serve and be fed. I’m an eMember at the Potters House, but I want to be with people in person. I’m hungry for community that serves.

I attended a Biker Church, my Nanna’s online Bible Study, as well as a Bible study about 45 minutes from home. Each experience had its own charm.

I feel like I am finally starting to settle into midlife.

The biggest joy of my life in this season is Happy.

I sincerely enjoy the company of my dog.
He is a character! He is opinionated, assertive, and quite communicative about what he wants! I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been “barked out” because I took too long playing in my hair when he was ready to go outside and run in the meadows!

Boy, does he let me have it!🤣🐶🤣

Happy makes me laugh. He kisses (aka licks) away my tears, and helps me to regulated my sympathetic nervous system.

As my central nervous system relaxes and regulates; as I follow Spirit’s order for my life, I realize something that has given me a peace that truly does surpass understanding.

The more I heal the less I need people.

Hear me out. Please.
I’m not replacing people with my puppy.😊
I’m reorganizing my life to go to God instead.

I didn’t realize how most of, if not all of, my relationships where in someway or the other tied to a wound I didn’t know I had.

From personal to professional, all of my relationships were survival strategies to either —be somebody
—prove somebody wrong or
—get somebody to love me.

These “needs” are the source socially acceptable acts of self-hate such as:
—people pleasing
—making things work

AND being successful.

In healing, I no longer crave appreciation or to be understood or heard.

I’m learning to love myself, my body, and my life as I let go of the past in a deeper way—including ALL success and accomplishments.

I realize now that “accomplishment” is just another form of a socially acceptable act of self-hate.

Behind every successful person, I believe there is a wounded child running the show.

I’ve evolved in my healing to truly own that being a Stanford Ph.D., a self-made millionaire, traveling the world, best-selling author, and national tours, ALL THE THINGS—as Saul turned Paul says—counts as “dung.”

It means nothing.
It’s all survival to feel better about myself.
To stop feeling like a piece of shit.

And it did.
Until it didn’t.
Then I was driven to accomplish MORE.

the cycle is endless and exhausting.

So I quit.

I no longer have anything to prove.
I have no desire to be a self-made millionaire ever again.
I surrender ambition or getting ANYWHERE.
Being “somebody.”
Proving them wrong.

I’m done.

My desires are to:
—be within my mom, Nanna, as she gets older.
—birdwatch, walk in nature
—marvel at God’s creativity
—watch the seasons change in the caverns
—run with Happy in the meadows so he knows he’s loved.

My heart craves:
—making a difference using my creativity in connection with the alchemy of my fierce intellect as well as my money-making ingenuity.

My soul seeks:
—the presence of my God
—to dwell in It’s presence
—to be God’s hands, feet, & voice.

My body requires:
—full acceptance and approval
—my forgiveness for villain-fying her for being vulnerable and feminine
—an active lifestyle that is fun for me.

My spirit relishes:
—the company and conversation of kind people
—laughter, good food, and collaboration
—time with God alone and in community.

I’m thinking about writing a new book.
The tentative title is, “God-Made Millionaire: From Survival-Driven Success to Spirit-Guided Affluence.”
It’s been hanging out in the corners of my mind.
Popping up in my prayer life.
Jotting notes in my journal.

I’m also thinking through a new docuseries for Brothers. I’m feeling led to teach them how to make money from what they “know” instead of what they “do.” This idea has legs already. So I will be moving forward with this.

I recently hired a paid speaking booking agent. I am committed to speaking and writing, creatively, for the rest of my life. I’m thinking about touring next year as well.

But in the meantime…

…I’m going to run in the meadow with Happy and thank God for loving me to wholeness.

It is a beautiful thing to go within for love, approval, acceptance and peace. Instead of clawing externally for something people are not equipped, capable, or designed to give.

Please keep me in your prayers as I walk in faith into the future God has for me.

No pushing.
No hustling.
No exhaustion.

Just joy, fulfillment, and freedom.

I’m going to wake Happy up now, so we can go play.

Thanks for witnessing.

I love you,