What do you do when the doors just won’t open for you?
You keep trying.
You keep asking.
You keep knocking.
Simple as that.
Be encouraged.
asking for A Friend, Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe
Note: I had to stop everything as my vertigo got bad enough to fell me like a giant oak. Smh.
In addition, I can’t do a lick with this Hotspot. I have to wait until I get a new modem delivered.
Annoying. I tried to make it do what it did. It didn’t.
Instead of giving in to despair, I chose to shift gears and work on some pieces. I can do SOMETHING.
Remember, beloveds, there is always SOMETHING we can do. No, things may not be ideal. We are still here.
Do what you can. Enjoy your day. Laugh at your frustrations. You may as well use them for your good!
I must admit this sustained hard, with my vertigo, has been terribly hard the past week or so. I want to do things that I can’t. I want to go places I can’t. I want….ack! I am stuck, in bed, waiting for the barometric pressure to calm down enough to stop squeezing the atmosphere.
When life gets to squeezing you, beloveds, take heart. It’s not personal. Life is just lifing. What you perceive as your fault is simply the atmosphere around you being affected by things you can’t see.
Keep going. Enjoy your life. Even with the world spinning on it’s axis…lol. We got this.
This letter, my response to your response, has been two years in the making. 30 plus, if truth be told. A lifetime’s worth, if I were to keep it 100.
These words are for EVERY heart that has ever wondered if they REALLY mattered. Mattered for more than being a breadwinner. More than being beautiful or successful or a million other superficial things that have NOTHING to do with a person’s worth.
Frank, EVERYTHING inside me has been wanting to pack up my words, 🔐 close off my heart, and join the bajillions of folk who have decided to hide in a world of mediocre survival.
Life seems easier that way. Of course, it’s not. It’s debilitating. It’s agonizing. So much so, folk turn up the noise of distraction so as not to hear their heart begging to be free. Begging to be able to be:
Foolish.
Ridiculous.
Wrong.
Loud.
Seen.
Heard.
Validated.
Since I was young, God has told me to encourage folk. To let folk know that everything really will be alright. He told me to tell folk, EVERY day, that they are loved and not alone.
My words seems as though they fall on deaf ears because I am not wrapped in money, fame, looks, stature and all the other lies the 🌎 world tells us we HAVE to have in order to be loved.
We don’t need those things. Yet, I have had to fight to regain my confidence, my self-love, and respect since a tornado 🌪 tore things up here last Memorial Day Weekend.
Every since then, I have had to remind myself I am still worthy, worth it and worthwhile. I am more than the job I no longer have. I am much more than my empty bank account. I tell myself this EVERY day.
I climb on here, every day, to let someone KNOW that they ARE valuable. Just because they were born.
I’m 56, loud but growing more silent as I wonder if it’s worth it. If the silence is worth it. If the ghosting is worth it.
I posted my encouragement to TikTok and Instagram and sighed at the seven or eight and sometimes 20 folk that stop by to be encouraged.
Then. I remember I post for them. For you, Frank. For me.
I have been crying out to God, literally, and asking what I am doing wrong? Why, can’t I get the financial doors to open so I can encourage the 🌎 world like I truly want to.
God stays silent. Through all my soul searching. Through all my job searching. Through all my GoFundMe asking. It has been embarrassing to see the 🌎 cares very little for me or my words.
Still, I shall continue to care. Why? So, I can meet a priceless soul called Frank so I can give him these words, my words, bathed in love and prayer:
Beloved, this world is short. Be loud. Unapologetically. Throw aside those fears. Take then with you if you must. I should have quit my job five years ago. Not because I didn’t love it, Frank. But, because it was time for me move on and start my channel, my blog, my this, that and the other. I didn’t.
I was afraid. Afraid that God would not catch me when I fell. God promised to be there. I was afraid to believe.
In ME. You may think this strange, Frank, but fighting with feelings of inadequacy, since the tornado, has brought out a tenacity I never knew I had soooooooooo much of.
Frank, there is so much love, peace and joy waiting for you on the other side of your fear. You have so much to experience. Go on now, Frank. Get to know you as you fight for your dreams.
I don’t have much. Yet, I have EVERYTHING. I have deep love for my fellow man. I have a wonderful relationship with God. I have family who loves me. I love nature, saying dumb things, doing ridiculous things.
I love burning brownies, making world class chili, watching cooking shows from all over the world.
I love…Ah. Aha!
Frank, your heart IS ready. What are YOU waiting for? Get out there and live. Would love to yak more. Email me at ttnette37@yahoo.com if you are of a mind.
asking for A Friend, Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe
Note: I feel inadequate today. I wish I could remove every hurt from every heart. I wish that I could remove every obstacle. I can’t. I can love. I do. I will. I am. Be encouraged. Your voice matters. It does.
I don’t know why The Universe keeps the 🚪 door closes to me. Maybe so I can keep hollering for and
Few seem to want to follow. Why I think it terribly sad how many folks are actually allowing themselves to be led, simply by following a/the crowd.
I have been working, desperately, to move at my own rhythm. Because, I want to move. Where I want to move. How I want to move.
Not because I have programmed to move hither and yon based upon duty or ancestry or a billion other ‘rys
There are days my movements are clumsy. I’m not used to going wherever I want to go, just because I want to go there.
For 50 years, I had moved because I was told to. I quieted down because I was told to, so I could survive. I kept my head down because I was told to. In order to survive.
I did NOT try this, because I was told not to, so I would survive. I DID do that, because I was told to, to survive.
I fed the all work and no play machine, because I was told I had to, to survive.
Enough survival already, my soul screamed to me!
Enough!!
My heart, my soul, ALL that was within me, screamed to live.
I was ready to LIVE, dammit.
Yes, mom died. Yet, I had NOT. Why,…hhmm.
I find myself thinking of mom, lately. The more freedom I have gotten, over the last five years, the more I want to live and grow.
I used to say I didn’t want to experience new things because I couldn’t do them with mom.
Now? Even though she’s gone, she will ALWAYS be with me. In my memories. With every cup of coffee. With every heated argument with the television over some ridiculous some such or other.
I have been thinking about the tornado. A lot. Not much choice given the awful weather, of late.
I think on it with gratitude now. I am sooooooooooo grateful.
Never for the terror surviving it. I am grateful for all the AFTER. I’m grateful for every tear as I fought my way past fear, doubt, more fear, more doubt, dread and ALL of it’s friends as I worked my way back to normal.
I have learned there will never be normal for me. Not again. I shall not allow it.
Never again, beloveds, will I allow myself to go back to the prison of “normal” thinking of moving because I had to. Going because I was told I must to survive.
To hell with that! Yes, I shall do what is needed to prepare for life’s upcoming storms.
Yet, I refuse to live in a world forever fearing imminent disaster or peril.
I was born a black woman. That comes with the peril of a society that has chosen to view me as less than simply because I am a sista.
I’m proud to be me. I love my big, loud, black self. Just cuz my voice is loud, does not mean I am less. Just means a sista can get super loud when she is passionate, or bored, or…*shrug*.
A sista loud, world. Deal with it. Deal with her. Or not. Your loss, world. I am an amazing woman.
EVERY day, I come in for no other reason than to let folk know I care. I love. I pray. Even for all the dummies who hate me just cuz. Smh.
I am blazing my own path. What about you?
asking for A Friend, Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe
Note: You don’t have to fear walking by the beat of YOUR drum. There are times where the majority is not walking according to integrity but may be chasing fame, money and all manner of things that are meaningless in the grander scheme of things…
I stopped by to check on your heart. How are YOU doing?
I’m saying extra prayers for us all. I must admit it has been mighty tough to keep negative tapes from playing in my mind. I REFUSE to allow that to happen.
The battle is ALWAYS fought, and won, in the mind, FIRST.
Be encouraged. Try not to stare too long at the waves. Just get on over to the other side.
In case no one has told you today: I love you. So does He.
Me: Isn’t the point of the race to win the trophy?
God: You tell me.
Me: The world says it’s ALL about the trophy. The bigger the better. What’s more, it HAS to be the first place trophy!
God: What do YOU say? What do YOU think? This is YOUR race. YOU are the one entered. Why are YOU in THIS race?
Me: Because…hhmm. I have ALWAYS been in a race. Of some sort. For someone. To get…*shrug*. It’s hard to keep track of which race I am running. It’s impossible to remember what trophy I am trying to win to earn validation from him, from her, from them. Real talk, I run, frantically, to keep up with everyone else’s running.
God: Why are they running? What have they won? In winning, what was won?
Me: The cheers of the crowd, I think. The feeling that came from hoisting the trophy, I suspect. I’m not sure. I’m too busy running everyone else’s race.
God: That being the case, chase the victory, not the trophy.
Me:
Beloveds, the game is NOT about the trophy. Get in there and compete. Do your best. Tip your cap to the winner. Even if it’s not you.
asking for A Friend, Cassandra
#YourLifeMattersToMe
Note: Why are you in the game? Enjoy every second of it. Most are afraid to step u to the plate. Take your swings. So what if you strike out. You don’t have to be the one hitting the home run.
