If I am the only millionaire at “The Table” I am powerless to affect change.
Surviving the Season
Two years ago, today, my brother Tory died from COVID.
Surprise is an understatement.
Here is a short video about how I’m coping with all the holiday cheer when it feels so hollow to me: https://fb.watch/hD9fYM48WX/?
Holidays have always been a bit challenging. Now I just watch them pass with very little enthusiasm. Be clear: I love all the positivity, and I’m not trying to rain on ANYONE’S parade. I’m learning how to honor my needs as much as make room for others to do what brings the peace and joy.
Simply put: I’ve learned to let me grieve instead of trying to feel “merry.”
Here are three strategies I use to survive the holiday season:
1. I let myself grieve. Grief comes in waves and when it wants to. I allow myself to feel and don’t invalidate my process.
2. I tell the truth about what I have emotional capacity for. I let a friend know that I’m grieving and will not have the emotional capacity to engage up until the new year. By so doing I’m honoring our friendship instead of going ghost and having people worry about me.
3. I focus on the future. I’m still alive so I get to do what God has called me to do. I can grieve and grow and create. Yes, I may take some cry breaks. That lets me know I am healing in a healthy way instead of stuffing it and pressing through.
I hope these three strategies help you cope with the inherit stress of the holiday season, especially if you have lost a loved one.
Please know you are not alone in this.
I’m right there with you.
In my mind all of our loved ones are looking down from heaven cheering us on!
And I am grateful.
I love you,
Nanna’s Love Kept Me Alive
If I tell the truth, I have considered death instead of life.
For many years I related to being alive as Hell and death as Heaven.
If I tell the truth…
…as my head was being bashed into a wall or stomped senseless
or made to swallow…
I prayed God would end the pain by ending my life.
I have, in socially acceptable ways, tried to kill myself, without raising alarm.
—Putting my finger down my throat to puke.
—Red wine in a brown paper bag.
—Hot tubs of water.
Self-harm is the precursor to suicide.
When I was in graduate school for my first master’s degree, I became depressed. I was isolated in Ohio among covert racist white people. Peers and faculty.
I felt alone.
I starved myself down to 99 lbs.
When Nanna saw me she started to cry.
Nanna is not a crier.
I told her I was fine.
She took me home.
She loved me back to life.
She cared for me.
She let me know I was not alone.
Truth be told, Nanna has saved my life more than once.
She is the only reason I haven’t ended it.
I just couldn’t stand the idea of her crying over me.
Nanna has been saving my life ever since I was sixteen. She has loved me into wellness. I couldn’t decimate her love by taking my life.
She made it safe to tell her how I was truly feeling.
She bought me Freedom from Anxiety and Depression tapes when I couldn’t get out of bed for six months.
She never judged me for all the bad things I did to stay alive during my childhood and on the streets.
She took away the condemnation.
She gave me personal development books.
She took me to transformational seminars.
She let her lights be cut off so she could send me money while I was in college.
She LOVED me.
Nanna’s love saved my life.
From the streets and from myself.
You never know whose life you are going to save.
You don’t know what people are carrying.
Here’s the truth: checking on a person, listening with a compassionate heart and a kind word can be the difference between ending it all or trying again tomorrow.
In the wake of ‘tWitch Boss’ suicide, (husband, father of three, celebrity) I’m reflecting on why I’m still alive.
And the answer is not my will power, success, accomplishments, degrees. or millions.
The answer is love.
Nanna cared enough to be kind.
Nanna, my 9th grade math teacher, cared enough about a smelly, dirty teen who only came to school to get the free lunch was kind.
I was too beaten down by life to ask for help. All I could do was pray.
Nanna was the answer to that prayer.
She was and will always be the truest express of God made manifest in a human body in my life.
I am so very grateful.
And I am alive.
He came out of the shower naked!
Happy Holiday Season!
I know it’s been a long minute since I have written. I’m creating a new offer for experienced, established but EXHAUSTED BW Entrepreneurs who are ready to hit the million dollar mark in one year or less. Plus the tech gremlins were having their way with my CRM. So we couldn’t send emails for the past few weeks.
I hope you did.
I missed you.Things are looking up and I’m excited about sharing what my God has empowered me to create!All is well.
With that being said, can I just “honey drip” for a moment?
A friend of mine, (let’s call him Mr. Postman), has given me permission to call him anytime, day or night. We’ve known each other for since 2020. We’ve never met in person. But we connect deeply and he is a safe space for me to me messy and human.
Today, after I was more than 3/4 finished with feedback on my slide decks for my new hotness for BW entrepreneurs (THEY ARE STUNNING!) I face timed him.
I call him when I feel overwhelmed or lonesome to be heard and understood. I talk to him about everything from the Bible to workout goals. He’s attentive, brilliant, playful, and kind.
He’s not trippin’ off of my PTSD and makes me feel normal.
So today, to rest my brain, I call his number.
The phone rings several times and just before I disconnect he picks up.
The camera comes on and I stopped breathing.
THIS BROTHER WAS GETTING
OUT OF THE SHOWER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Chocolate brown skin GLISTENING with water in the shape of rain drops.
My jaw dropped to the floor.
Sheepishly he says, “I said I promised to always pick up when I called.”
I was speechless.
Then I started to giggle uncontrollably!
“Are you naked???”
“No I have a towel on.”
“I don’t see a towel!!!!”
He chuckled softly, “I would have to angle the camera lower and I don’t want to offend you.”
I started to blush.
So we talked while he got dressed.
I did not know how SEXY it is to watch a grown man get dressed.
The beard oil.
The gold chain.
The hair brushing.
The light jacket.
The lip balm.
He flirted with me shamelessly with his eyes and words. But I wasn’t offended.
It felt intimate.
Like he was letting me in his world.
To see him.
I felt special for some reason.
And a bit terrified but not afraid.
He speaks to me with such gentle reverent class and esteem, I kept losing my train of thought.
We talked about motorcycles and tattoos.
“I told you I had a tattoo.”
I saw it. On his chest. I wanted to trace it with my fingertips to understand how his skin feels.
“I don’t remember you telling me.”
“I know.” Then with a smile in his voice, “I remember everything you tell me.”
I laugh nervously. “So you’re tracking me?”
Mr. Postman became stone cold serious, “Yes, I am. I’m tracking you queen.
Every word you say.
Every facial experience.
Every tone and every tear. I am tracking you.”
I broke eye contact first and scurried off the phone.
I thank GOD “Mr. Postman” lives across the country.
Will You Help Me?
I’m listening deeply to God and have chosen to focus my new business model on experienced but EXHAUSTED Black Women Entrepreneurs.
In truth, I struggled with this.
I always feel some kind of way when I DON’T include everybody or feel like I’m leaving someone out. Be it early-stage entrepreneurs, or Black Men, or White Women, or ANYBODY—I have felt guilty.
I took it to God and surrendered my arrogance.
No one person can be EVERYTHING to EVERYBODY.
God guides me. I see that in order to truly make a difference with my life, I must focus on the most effective leverage point I am qualified to help.
For me, that’s Black Women entrepreneurs who have been trying to break the million-dollar mark, but for various reasons have not. These sisters are AMAZING but are working WAY TOO hard! But they only know hard work, so the can’t scale.
It use to take me three years to get a Black Woman Entrepreneur to the million-dollar mark.
Now it takes less than one.
I’m designing a no-cost Mini-Course:
One Million Online: In One Year (or less)
For Experienced But EXHAUSTED Black Women Entrepreneurs Ready to (FINALLY!) Break The Million Dollar Mark WITHOUT Live Events, Launches, or ANY Social Media.
I am going to record the training next Sat Nov 12, 2022, 1-4pmPST via zoom.
Will you help me make this the BEST it can be by attending, feeding me positive energy, and offering loving and constructive feedback? It suck’s making videos in a vacuum. At least it does for me.
To get accurate feedback I need women who are my target market for this offer.
If you are a purpose-driven Black Women Entrepreneur who has been in business for at least three years, has a successful multiple six-figure business and are truly ready to do what it takes to hit the seven-mark in one year or less please:
◦ email me @firstname.lastname@example.org with “Millionaire-In-The-Making” in the subject line
◦ your number
◦ your url if you have one.
◦ Confirm you can attend the entire time
I will reach out to you directly with the details.
I thank you in advance for your help with this. Your energy, support, and feedback will empower me to empower us as a people.
I love you sis.