Dr. Venus Opal Reese

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,


Simply The Best R.I.P.

Tina Turner’s life is a lesson in accomplishment. As far as I’m concerned, Tina Turner was, is, and will ALWAYS be, “simply the best.” Here’s why.

For starters, Tina Turner sold over 100 million records worldwide in her lifetime.

Tina Turner did more than make music.

She broke racial/gender barriers for women, all over the world.

She became a Guinness Book of World Record holder for the largest paying audience (180,000) for a solo performer. #micdropped

She was awarded TWO stars on Hollywood’s Walk of Fame.

She received a Lifetime Achievement Award from President Bush.

I have been reading tons of articles about the life of this legendary icon. Almost all of these accounts address her past personal life.

I wish to honor Tina Turner’s life with a list, literally,  of some of her most extraordinary accomplishments.

Tina has a Top 40 hit in each decade for 7 decades.

Tina has 12 Grammy Awards.

Tina has a Barbie Doll made for her.

I don’t want her accomplishments to be reduced to overcoming trauma. If the staggering range of her accomplishments is not shown, the world will remember her based on other people’s pain not her spirituality, her self-love, and her sheer genius.

Tina Turner is more than “What’s Love Got To Do With it.”

Tina Turner is more than “Eat the cake Anna Mae.”

Tina Turner is more than “Nutbush City Limits.”

So much more.

The string of accolades and accomplishments listed below give a more holistic view of this extraordinary human being.


I thank Wikipedia for doing the leg work. I encourage you to support the valuable work of this organization: Here is the link to find out more: https://wikimediafoundation.org/support/

Thank you Tina Turner.

You are, simply the best.

Rest in peace.

My God Is A Gangsta-Just Like My Dad

I used to think that people were just triflin’.

That the ugliness of their actions was an expression of their character. 

I used to think that people were vicious violent animals, wolves in sheep’s clothing, preying and devouring the most vulnerable in our society. Actually, in the world really.

And I use to marvel at the cult-like fervor of a people’s willingness to murder, maim, and lynch a helpless people for the sake of land.

As a young girl, I would steal books from the Baltimore Public Library to escape the cold reality of living in condemned buildings on the East Side of the city.  I read books like, “Sweet Whispers, Brother Rush”, “Roll of Thunder Hear My Cry” and “Freaky Friday.” I would read them under the sheets on my palette on the floor, trying to stay out of harm’s way

Sometimes it worked. Most times it didn’t.

Due to the extremity of my youth, I formed an unbreakable bond with God.

Not the God in the sky but a God that looked like my father if I had ever saw him. The God of my understanding was based on the Brothers on the corner and the stories I had been told about my birth father. Like so many Black Men in the early 70’, my father was a gangsta with his own crew.

He ran his own “trade” and was in and out of jail. He was a ruthless man. So much so he let my birth mother take the fall for him, which landed her in jail. With me in her belly. 

Needless to say, there was bad blood between them forever after.

Be that as it may, my visual of God is that of a gangster. And I love my God with the conviction of a child who never had one.

As I have matured in my faith, I realize the very nature of sin is survival. 

Human beings are wired to survive.

Survival makes people do bad things. Including fathers who leave their children  unprotected.

As I heal and emotionally evolve, I no longer relate to the ugly behavior of people as character flaws.

I relate to the behavior as a spirit instead of a character trait.

The spirit of fear.

The spirit of depression.

The spirit of jealousy.

The spirit of hate—

When I relate to my own ugliness as a spirit instead of my character, I have the power to tend to it. I’m not my body. I’m a spiritual being and l have human experiences. So it makes sense to my logic that spiritual warfare would be a battle of spirits not flesh and bone.

My God is a gangsta.

He is protective and kills for me.

He is everything I wished my father had been for me when people violently beat and maimed my body. 

Penetrating it in ungodly ways because my father was gone. 

As I heal, I’m reading new books that help me see my father as more than a huster.

He is the reason I am alive.

He kept my mother from aborting me.

Just like God knew me in my mother’s womb, so did my father. 

My birth father and my heavenly father both have loved me and kept me alive.

Perhaps my fathers failings are the key to my faith.

I do not know.

I do know that I am my father’s daughter.

I claim all the blessings that are my  birthright through his lineage—including all the survival he had to endure in a society that tried to kill him.

My father was an ingenious business man. 

He was charming, charismatic and able to flip money fifty ways.  

He was a leader.

Had he had the opportunities I have  he too would  have been a multimillionaire, but legitimately.

Black men have NEVER been positioned to make millions for themselves legitimately. From slavery to Jim Crow, to Convict Leasing, to the Three Strike Rule, Black Men have ALWAYS been positioned as the labor force for white wealth. Be it the prison industrial complex, to professional sports, to entertainment, Black Men can only make money for White wealth and NEVER for his bloodline. 

Even if we point to the “exceptions,” those 

extremely rare occasions when a Brother has his own wealth, he still has to answer to a government that can, legally restrict or burn down his wealth. Tulsa is an obvious example.

My point is this: as God lifts the spirits of fear, anxiety, depression, overwhelm off of me, I am claiming the following  generational blessings from my paternal lineage: genius, leadership, fearlessness, power, empathy, compassionate ruthlessness, charisma, collaboration, partnership, insight, wisdom, strategy, inspiration, and unconditional love. 

The more I heal, the more I embrace the best parts of my blood.

Thank you God for continuing to  heal me.

I now embrace and pimp my father’s love.

Belated Mother’s Day Lovenote

Dearest Nanna,

I know you will never read this.

That’s ok.
I’ve no doubt you feel my eternal love and gratitude for your presence in my life.

I will keep this short.
You hate things that are not direct.

Thank you for mothering such a damaged soul as mine back to life.

I am alive because of you.
I am well because of you.
I keep going because of you.

You found me when I came to Northwestern High School smelling like urine and beer.

Dirty from sleeping in an alley near Monument Street in Baltimore.

The kids ridiculed me in the hallway.
The teachers turned their backs, went in their rooms, and closed the door.

You told me to go sit in your class.
From that day to this, I do what you say.😊

Happy Mother’s Day, Nanna.

I know you will never read this.

I know you don’t want anything from me for any holiday.

I know you love me as God does.
Just as I am: flawed, bruised, and broken.

And that is enough.

Your love, then and now, heals me.
You keep me alive on so many levels.

May you feel my boundless love Nanna.

Each time I say thank you for saving my life, you brush it to the side—too embarrassed to accept my gratitude.

Uncomfortable with my tears.

It’s ok.

So I’ll tell you here, on this white blank page that I fill with shapes that make up letters, sentence, and paragraphs you will never read…

…you are my Mother.

You are my confidante.
You are my safe space.
You are my home.

And while it’s not your way to receive any sort of thanks from me in any form, I live my life as a living testimony of your love.

Your life-saving love.

I love you Nanna.

Right now, as you sit in the living room, on the other side of this door, me writing words you will never read, never hear…

…may God in heaven whisper in your heart every bit of love, thanks, and gratitude I have for you for saving a wretch like me…

Happy Mother’s Day, Nanna.

With all the love my heart can hold…

Your daughter,


No mom—I’d rather walk” 🐶🤦🏾‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️

Happy is not simply my service animal. He is my fur baby. So like any good mom would do, I try to find outfits for Happy that are both cute and functional.

Yesterday, we went to the pet store to return a harness Happy REFUSED to wear. I thought it was cute, simple, fashionable AND it would keep Happy from pulling every time we saw a dog.

Happy wasn’t having’ it!🤣🐶🤣

So I returned the harness. The sales representative suggested I look around. If I found something that I—I meant we—liked, I could make an exchange.

I wanted to go hiking with Happy and decided to try out a dog backpack just in case his little legs got tired on a long walk.

Look at Happy’s face!🤣🤣🤣

He is like, “Nuh mom—I’d rather walk.”

I love my pupper!
He communicates SO clearly!!!🤣🤣🤣

As a woman who cannot have babies, I thank God I have Happy.

I’m clear Happy is NOT a human baby—nor would I want him to be. Think about it. Human babies talk back, stress you out by who they date, and need money for college.

And braces.
And extracurricular activities.
And clothes they eventually grow out of.

Not so for a dog.🤣

I never have to worry about pregnancy.
College tuition.
Or in-laws I can’t stand!

And while Happy had done things that scared me silly—like jumping out of the window of my car at a full gas station near a busy highway (that was my fault🤦🏾‍♀️) I wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.

As a fur mom, I will go to jail over Happy.
It’s true. If you mess with my dog, you are jeopardizing your life! Recently, I was at a conference and some mindless woman bumped Happy.

Can we say RAGE in 0 to five seconds filled my body to the point I started to shake. She better thank God for grace and mercy.

I almost lost my religion.🤬

I love my dog like you love your first born. Happy is a trained Service Animal. He is what my therapist termed my “secure attachment.”

Truth be told, Happy is a working dog.

He is a structure that:
—wakes me in the morning
—makes me sit down when I’m doing to much
—has me play when I feel like the world is caving in on me
—when I cry he climbs up my body to my face to lick away my tears.

When the spirit of anxiety and/or overwhelm covers me, he climbs in my lap or on my chest and just lays there until my breathing and heart rate settle down.

If need be, Happy will pull the blanket off the bed or jump on me so I sit up, then quickly lay down on my pillow so I can’t go back to sleep!🤣🤣🤣🤣

I can’t have babies.
Bad things happened to my body when I was a child that made me not want to have kids. I was to afraid to bring life into this world because I was afraid I would act out the violence that was acted out on me.

So I didn’t try.

In my forties I discovered I had large tumors in the walls of my uterus that were pressing on my kidney valves and I had to have an emergency hysterectomy.

I often wonder if women who have experienced violence and violation of their bodies get tumors in their life-giving parts as a survival strategy against the trauma we have survived.

I don’t know.

What I do know is that I thank God for giving me Happy as my very on “little one” to love and cherish.

I don’t know what kind of mom I would have been to a baby, but I can say with complete confidence I’m the BEST and most fun fur mom, for my baby, Happy!😊🧡🐶

I wouldn’t change that for the world!

So for all the mom’s in the world—
—fur moms
—step moms
—grand moms mothering grand children
—foster moms
—single dad moms
—queer moms
—trans moms
—auntie moms
—traditional moms
—God mothers
—work moms

Your job is the most essential work on the planet!!!!🤣🤣🤣🤣

It’s a thankless job that when done with love, creates a more loving world!

Happy Mother’s Day to ALL THE MOMS in the world!!!

Natural Hair + Water—-NOOOOO!

Just a few weeks ago, I had my natural hair colored and styled. I had a riot of lovely soft curls and felt pretty.
Not sexy.

None of these.

I felt like a pretty girl! And I loved the feeling.

I’m in the process of evolving and I am choosing to not add hair to my hair of any sort.

Be clear: I love all of my looks.

I’m just in a season where I want to feel like, my brand looks like how I feel inside, instead of what I think people think is pretty—meaning long straight hair.

My internal compromise was to rock braids and faux locs instead of a perm or straight hair wigs.

I’m in a season where I am learning to love me with what God gave me.

(I hope that makes sense.)

Yes, I color it and may even do silk press but it is because it makes me feel good about ME to me.

I’m committed to growing my natural hair long and healthy with my Colorist. I scheduled to be in her chair every two weeks getting my hair treated and styled.

I was feeling so good about my hair I decided to get it blown out for an entrepreneur and leadership conference where I would be introducing my new project.

What had happen was…

Monday, I had my hair professionally blown out. I really wanted to feel confident for an upcoming event. Before going to bed, I plaited my hair up so I could wear a twist out at the Good Soil Entrepreneurs Training, produced by T.D. Jakes Enterprises.

Tuesday, I went to put my shower cap on my head and didn’t realize water from my previous shower was STILL in the shower cap.🤦🏾‍♀️ When the water hit my freshly blown out hair I could hear my curls crying out, NOOOOOOO!

The back of my hair shrunk in my hands as I tried to soak the water out of my plaits with a dry towel.

Wednesday morning, even after a day of drying and praying, I had two different textures of hair in my head. Curly/thick in the back; straight/fine in the front. I felt myself starting to get anxious.

So I prayed.

Spirit whispered into my heart that I am beautiful and so is my hair. I felt my chest starting to relax. I went to the mirror and started to speak life over myself.

I am beautiful.
I am respected.
I’m covered.
I accept me.
I approve of me.
I embrace me.
I love me.

Then I started to remind myself that I am God’s favorite.
I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
I am the head and not the tail.
I am the righteousness of God.

I hugged Happy 🐶 and got dressed.

Afterward, I started to play with my hair. I discovered that if I brushed my hair, it lays down! I didn’t know this.

I discovered I LOVE diamond and/or pearl hair jewelry! Pretty bowrettes make me feel like a girl. The more I played in my hair and affirmed myself, the better I felt. The better I felt, the more I accepted and approved of me.

By the time Happy and I headed out for the training I felt like a ROCKSTAR!

Here’s the truth: God answered my prayer. By the time I arrived at Good Soil I was completely confident!! 🤣🤣🤣

I am learning to love me in the way God loves me.