These Three Words

• I was listening to this song earlier and I got all teary eyed. I really listened to the words and thought about my own family. My father has made his transition, but not one day has gone by since he passed that I haven't thought of him. Prior to his death he had Alzheimer's Disease. The last few times I went to see him, he no longer remembered who I was. We were always close, and seeing that he didn't know who I was really hurt. My step mom is still alive and I call her often. My birth mother is also alive. Our relationship is not what I would like for it to be, but I have made peace with it for what it is. I have three brothers living, and two that have passed away. I only have a relationship with one of my brothers, but it is not because I haven't tried. There is something about me that makes my older brother uncomfortable, and he lets me know each time he sees me, so I stay away from him to avoid feeling his wrath. My baby brothers - Ronald Greene and Gregory Little - I love you dudes to life. I have four sisters. Two of them I grew up with and I know and love them dearly. I also love my two absent sisters.
  
  Families are some funny things, aren't they? We don't get to pick our family. We are born into it and are expected to love and die and fight for one another. Sometimes we don't even like each other, we have to learn to find the great things about each other and love and applaud those things, you know. I am always talking up my brothers and sisters, from Big Momma who used to tear my butt up if I acted up to Gregory who followed me around when he was little because he thought I was special. I can still smell my hair frying every Saturday afternoon while my sister pressed it until it was laid to the side! When I went through my "Angela Davis" phase and didn't want straight hair, my sister Debra Blount would hook it up with some serious cornrow styles. I think about my grandmother's homemade cakes, her fried fish and fluffy buttermilk biscuits. I think about my tiny little grandma Maranda Blount and how she made the best grape preserves, pickles, and pone bread. I remember sitting across from my brother, Tyrone and making plans to get together with him the following week, but he died before it happened. I know my little brother Gregory feels he has lost his place among us, and that keeps him from taking that step. That's why whenever I talk to Mommie; his mom I always, always asks about him and tell her to give him a hug and kiss for me. She told me that he wanted his own copy of my books and how he was bragging to his coworkers on Wall Street about his big sister writing books and how big time I am. (not really, but I won't clear it up). My arms are open for when he is ready to walk into them. Just three words! I love you! Plain and simple. Yet for some of us they are the hardest words to say.

  

  These Three Words - Stevie Wonder

  Uploaded by J. Boutte

  Stevie Wonder

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How Fibromyalgia Changed My Life

I have always been a very active person. I like to get up early to start my day, usually arising around six in the morning. I exercise each day with one of the many DVDs I have on file as the start of my day. Being OCD I cannot leave out of my bedroom without first making up my bed for the day. I get my bedroom totally organized before moving on to anything else. After my shower, I start breakfast and make sure everyone in the family has a good meal to start their day. 

I had a list of things I wanted to be when I grew up. I wanted to write books and share stories with other people. I wanted to plan parties, and cater events. I wanted to own a bed and breakfast. I wanted to be a cosmetologist and attempted to go to school three times before I finally reached my goal at the age of fifty-two, graduating in 2010 with an Associate of Arts degree in cosmetology. I have made all of those dreams a reality, except owning a bed and breakfast. I first got a job working in a chain hair salon located at the mall. I had specialized in the care of natural hair, and I knew unless I marketed myself away from the mall, I was not going to get a large clientele working at the salon. It was during that time that I began to notice a tightness across my shoulders while working. I also would experience sharp and throbbing pains in my lower back, legs and ankles. I thought it was due to standing up long hours on the cement floor of the salon. I would just take some Tylenol for the pain and it would subside. 

In April of 2011 I opened a hair salon called Zuri Hair Studio. I was so excited. Another of my dreams was coming true! In May I signed up with a credit card processing company to process my credit card payments. Before I even received the equipment the company had taken nearly all of my savings from my checking account. I had checks bouncing all over the place and had no idea why until I went to the credit union and reviewed my account and learned who had taken my money. When I contacted the company they told me that it was processing fees! I ended up losing over $1350 to this company and only had the machine one month. I had to contact my landlord, the company I was leasing my salon equipment from and other creditors. I filed a complaint with the Better Business Bureau, the North Carolina Attorney General's office, and an attorney. It was my hopes that the company would give me my money back without a fuss. That didn't happen. My landlord was very patient with me. She allowed me to pay her as I earned money so I could get caught up. Prior to this happening, I had volunteered to provide free hair care services to the young ladies that attended the Boys & Girls Club here in Winston Salem. A company that has a natural hair care line, whose products I already used provided me all of the products I needed to provide the service to the young ladies. I invested money into getting products that would assist me in providing a wider array of services to clients and I stepped up my marketing campaign so I could get out of debt and get back on my feet. Unfortunately, things did not work out that way. In November the landlord changed the locks on the space and refused to allow me to get my items out of the space. She kept my items and had a yard sale! I still owed the leasing company for the salon equipment and asked the landlord repeatedly to allow me to get my items out of the space because they were not mine. 

The pains I had been experiencing became more intense after this happened and I ended up going to the emergency room one night because I didn't know if I was having a stroke. Even thought my blood pressure was extremely high 210/180, I was not having a stroke. I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. I really didn't know a lot about the illness at the time of my diagnosis. As I read up on and researched it I learned so much more. I was always tired and could not sleep well through the night. My body would be racked with pain from my head to my toes. I was prescribed one pain medication after another, yet the way they made me feel was awful. I knew there had to be a better way to handle the pain. I decided to keep a log of the foods I ate and the times I had severe flare-ups. I began to eliminate foods from my diet that caused me severe pain. Stress causes many of those flare-ups and I really had to give this issue about the lose of my salon to God to handle. I just could not handle it. I went to see an attorney to see what I could do about this situation. I had not paid for my salon furniture and I still had to pay for it, yet it had been taken from me and sold. I had over $6,170 worth of equipment, and another $9,000 in product, tools, decor, and other items for a total of $15,000 and it was taken and sold when I only owed $2,500 in rent. 

This past year has been very stressful for me. Besides my children, I can't think of anyone that I can discuss this with who will understand what I am going through. I keep it to myself and just deal with it. I can no longer exercise daily, like before. Sometimes just being able to get up in the morning is enough...all I can do to make it happen. I can't make plans because I don't know how I will feel from one day to the next. I have to enlist the help of the family to help around the house more, but they don't do it fast enough for me. Sometimes I will try and force myself to do whatever it is that needed to be done. I participated in a sleep study so that I could get the med and get a good nights rest. I am so tired of this little chapter of my life. I know once this issue with the landlord and the credit card company is resolved, I will feel so much better. Until then I just have to pray and rely on God to help me each day.

Girl Friends

My first female friend was a girl in my neighborhood named Juliet. She lived across the street from me with her mom and two sisters. We walked to school together every day. On the weekend we would play with our dolls, our Easy bake ovens and trying on our mom's old clothes. We had so much fun together. Being children, we of course had disagreements at times, but we were friends and always worked them out.

In high school girl friends abounded. I had several close friends that I associated with. Not even when one of my friends slept with my boyfriend did I get upset with her. Unfortunately, our friendships ended when we graduated. Over the years I have tried to maintain the friendship, but it was always one sided, with me doing all of the reaching out.

As a young adult woman living in New Mexico I developed and maintained some wonderful friendships with other women. Our husbands were all in the military and so we were all we had sometimes as our husbands were always working, out in the field, or whatever. I was always the voice of reason when my other friends would have a disagreement. I was the peacemaker.

Now as an older adult woman my definition of "friend" has become more refined. I have changed considerably over the years. What I needed from another female had not changed, but what had changed is what I would take from a person that professed to be my friend. How far I would go for someone had changed. If I can pick up the phone and call you whenever I need to talk, if I can be myself with you and not have to pretend even at my lowest, and if you have my back like I have your back, then we are friends. That is why I say that I can count on one hand the number of people I can do that with or for.

So, when I watch shows like The Real Housewives of Atlanta, Love and Hip Hop, Basketball Wives and other reality shows that portray African American women for the world to see, I know these ladies do not have an inkling of what a friend is.

When I see them standing toe to toe, calling each other all kinds of disrespectful names, screaming and yelling at each other I am totally convinced they do not know what it means. It makes me so sad when I see women like Kenya Moore who obviously has some mental issues, knowing full well that Nene Leakes does not like her, yet she decides to have a fundraiser, supposedly in her honor. The last communication they had was very violent and angry. They had not apologized to each other or made up, so I could not understand why Kenya felt that she can have this event under the pretense that it was for Nene's honor. No! It was not. Her reasons were malicious and made to make Nene look back. If Nene stays on this show, someone is going to get hurt physically. I really believe that if they keep both of these women on this show. It is inevitable. 

Imagine my surprise when someone I thought was my friend turned on me. I was working at the library at the time when I met her. She was completing some community service work for some type of crime she had committed. By the time she had completed her hours we were friends. I knew her children and she knew mine. We had shared meals together and been to each other's home. She had read most of my short stories and about four of manuscripts. Not once had she ever told me she was interested in writing. She was eventually offered a job at the library, but I left soon after. Our friendship continued regardless and sometimes we would meet up to have lunch or dinner. When I published my first book, I gave her a copy and money was never discussed. I simply gave her the book. With each of my books I gave her a copy. 

One day she told me she was working on a book and she wanted me to read the manuscript to get some feed back. She handed me the manuscript and I took it home,excited for her. That weekend I picked it up and began to read it. After the first page I was lost. I didn't get the concept of what she was trying to do. It was supposed to be the text conversations between her and her friend who was going through a breakup like her. They were encouraging each other, she said. So, I started again and still didn't get it. It seemed more like she would quote a scripture and the other woman would either repeat it, or expound on it. I just didn't understand it at all. So, I decided that I would just give it back to her and try to find the right words to let her know that I just honestly did not get it. So, we were sitting in our favorite restaurant and I told her again I didn't get it. "Just give me my stuff back! You don't get it because you ain't a Christian!" she snapped. I explained that I am a Christian, but it was confusing and anytime someone that knows you has to ask for an explanation, what are your readers going to think? But she didn't listen to me. We lost contact over the next couple of years and then one day she called to let me know she had published the book and she wanted me to see it. We met one afternoon and when I got to the cafe she had autographed a copy for me and had it laying on my side of the table. 

I was happy for her! I picked it up and looked inside. The first thing I noticed is that she had used a vanity press. "How much did you pay for the printing of your book?" I asked. "$8,000 and it was worth every penny of i! They gave me 50 complimentary copies to sell," she said proudly. "I wish you had called me before you had done this. For that amount of money you could have 5000 copies of your book, book marks, fliers, t-shirts, pens, banners, everything," I said. I had used a vanity press for my first book and I know they are in the business of taking folks money. She paid $8,000 and got 50 "free copies" of her books. "Why are you hating on me? Just give me my $15 for the book, B*tch!" she said. "Where is the price on the book?" I asked. "I'm telling you how much it costs. I'm trying to recoup my $8,000!" she replied. "But if you want them in book stores they are going to want a price on the book," I said. "You hating on me! It don't look good on you!" she snapped. I didn't have any money for her book. She kept texting me, sending me messages on Facebook, constantly asking me for the $15, yet when I went to amazon.com the book was selling for $8! 

I still did not  understand the concept of this book, so I let a friend of mine read the book. She is a church going person, so I hoped she would be able to shed some light on the book. She didn't get it either and neither did her husband, who is a minister.

Several months later, the storytelling group I am a member of was performing at the Black Theater Festival. I was nervous so I was walking back and forth trying to work off some energy and going over my story. My former friend and her co-author were sitting at a table in the lobby selling their book. I walked passed the table, not even looking at her and then I turned to walk back. I heard her say "You know I'm mad with you." I ignored her. As I passed her again, she said it again. I stopped to see what she was going on about. She let me know that she was upset with me because I owed her $18. It was out there in the universe now. She had said it! 

"Are you kidding me? We have known each other for fifteen years. You have all three of my books that I gifted you. You have never given me a dime for any of my books. But you're trying to sell me a book for more than twice the amount! And then you have the nerve to get mad with me because I didn't give you the money! I have the book today, you can have it back. You just let me know that our friendship isn't even worth $18! And that is sad!" I have not spoken to her since. She showed me who she is and there is no reason to question it. I wanted to give her book back to her, but my children talked me out of it.

I hope that a time would come when women respect each other. I hope we learn how to love ourselves first so that we can show love to others. I hope we learn the precious relationship we can have with another woman. I hope we can one day just be there for each other, to love and encourage each other. I hope that we learn to communicate with each other and not feel it necessary to use profanity to communicate or to refer to each other. I hope that we can eliminate words from our vocabulary that serve only to tear down and not to encourage, educate, or uplift.