Morning Devotion

Cast all your anxiety on Him (Jesus) because He (Jesus) cares for you (1Peter5:7).

imageI know a lot of us face anxiety on a daily basis dealing with all kind of situations.. but we must not lose heart but give it to Jesus.. your peace might come over night but will come.. I have been dealing with this health situation for four years now but does that mean that God is a liar, surely not.. It means that He will either heal me on this side or give me the strength to endure to be a witness either way of His goodness..  healing does not always come on this side of the world.. some healing will only come when we reach glory (heaven).. just remember God is not on our time table.. He loves us and wants the best for His children..

The Original Me Ann..



imageWell today was a good day.. I enjoyed spending it with family.. and the food was delicious.. but I couldn’t over indulge.. I guess because of the ACV .. I drink at least three times a day.. quick note don’t drink it straight.. not a good ideal at all..

The only thing I missing is the shopping.. I can’t do it anymore.. and believe me I loved it.. something about the atmosphere, the game face , adrenaline rush.. I loved the feeling..

So now my greatest joy besides being with family.. is listening to my mother scream for Dallas Cowboy.. like they can hear her.. and the occasional threat of getting put out if I don’t stop cheering for Washington.. I was a Dallas fan when I didn’t know any better.. I really wish I could use emojis.. but anyway I’m riding with Carolina but I got love for Seattle too..

It’s just now 7:00 and I feel like my bed is calling me.. I always wonder why old people went to bed so early.. but I honestly believe their bodies starts to just shut down on them.. I’m not old but I tell you the truth.. I could close my eyes right now..

Kohen wanted to spend the night but I told him grandma is hurting to bad.. that’s the problem with chronic pain.. even the best grandmas have to say no sometimes..

Well tonight as you close your eyes.. remember how blessed you are.. and how today you made it.. even if it was just for a few moments of being outside your comfort zone.. you did it..

original me

Black Superwoman Syndrome

Depression and the Black Superwoman Syndrome
Josie Pickens shares her personal bouts with suicidal thoughts, and how counseling and sharing burdens with others makes for stronger mental health

by Josie Pickens, April 15, 2014

After reading the news of For Brown Girls creator Karyn Washngton’s passing, I immediately went to tapping away on the keys of my laptop. The late 22-year-old’s story of dedicating much of her daily life to empowering Black women, and even the possibility that she ended her own life, felt eerily familiar and close to home.
The peculiar thing about doing the work to uplift others is, the world often forgets that the worker also needs uplifting, that the work becomes heavy, that frequently the work is being performed to soothe one’s own soul. And that when one lives even a small portion of her life publicly, that public too often expects perfection. The expectation is that s/he has conquered those challenges s/he advocates against, and that s/he is therefore the face of overcoming.
The reality is, however, that there’s sometimes no such thing as overcoming—not wholly, not forever. Overcoming is daily work, and we often fail miserably at it. Many days we are doing our best to survive, and some of those days we may not be 100% sure that surviving is what we truly even desire.
And we are dying…
Masking up as superwomen is killing us—whether we meet that death as a result of suicide or the stresses that lead to heart disease and other serious, life-threatening illnesses. According to Lottie Joiner’s recent post at The Root, stress accelerates the aging of Black female bodies, and Black women between the ages of 45 and 55 are “biologically 7.5 years older than White women” of the same age.

I don’t know Karyn’s personal story enough to comment on why she possibly chose to commit suicide. But I know for certain my own story. I’ve battled depression and anxiety much of my adult life, with some bouts making me feel like I was stuck in a cave-sized hole that I was unable to climb out of.

A most recent period of depression came as I was building a name for myself as a writer, particularly a writer who’d struggled through many of the difficulties Black women face and had come out on the other end. A bit bruised, but smiling. What my readers may not have known was that, upon moving back to my hometown due to some legal and child custody issues, I was struggling daily to get out of bed, to eat, to sleep, and to care for my daughter.
Honestly, there were days when I felt that breathing was an impossible task, and sometimes I wondered if things would be easier if I stopped.

How does one share her struggles with mental illness when she’s convinced the world that she is strong, when she has somehow become an example to others? I suffered silently, and the little I did share was met with the common responses we as Black women frequently hear from our families and friends. “You’re strong,” or “you’ve been through storms before,” or “you just have to pray and trust God.”

I honestly believe we’re so accustomed to delivering the strong Black woman speech to ourselves and everyone else that we lose our ability to connect to our humanness, and thus our frailty. We become afraid to admit that we are hurting and struggling, because we fear that we will be seen as weak. And we can’t be weak. We’ve spent our lives witnessing our mothers and their mothers be strong and sturdy, like rocks.

We want to be rocks.
Somehow realizing I wasn’t a rock (and that I had honestly never been one), I fought my way out of bed and onto my therapist’s couch. I became exhausted with carrying all of the masks and the capes. And I knew if I didn’t get help quickly, I wasn’t going to survive.
I’m grateful to still be here, but my struggles aren’t over. Recently, I’ve been contemplating how my life and the stresses I face are affecting my long-term health. As with many of us, I’m working to improve my diet and incorporate more exercise into my daily life, but the stresses of wearing the capes and masks are doing damage as well.

To battle against the challenges I face regarding both my physical and mental health, I’m taking the following actions:
Practice self-care. I’ve gotten into the habit of scheduling spa time, girl time, therapy, meditation and more in the same ways I schedule work meetings and my daughter’s field trips. We have to remember that we can’t be good mothers, partners, daughters or friends if we’re not good to ourselves first.

Share the load. Often we adopt the idea that it’s easier for us to do it all ourselves, but we have to remember the long term affects of that behavior. We need to begin asking for and accepting help, because we need and deserve it. Start with small tasks and work towards larger ones.

Seek professional help. I always say that if I had Oprah dough, I’d pass out therapy the way she passes out her favorite things. Your girlfriends, as well meaning and supportive as they are, have their own Superwoman capes to throw off, and they honestly don’t know the answers either. Seeing a mental health professional to confide in and ask direction from can mean the difference between life or death—for real, for real.

Josie Pickens is an educator, cultural critic and soldier of love. Follow her musings on Twitter @jonubian.

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imageWell gurl I thought I would give you a call and drop some knowledge on somebody.. like me cause I could use it.. my day has felt some what calm.. I still have thoughts of him coming into my head.. but my daughter ask a tough questions..

Mom why do you think, he’s the best you can do .. why don’t you think you deserve better.. she said well you do .. and I’m here to make you see it..

He isn’t the best I can do.. I believe that.. it’s just I felt responsible for him.. in so many ways.. and I just knew God sent him to me.. to help me out of depression and deal with the pain.. but like I said that was not the case..

I know I deserve better.. but I’ve never felt pretty or sexy.. It’s seems like my body was never good enough.. growing up I was emotionally abused.. and so I could never see myself  as nothing but an ugly mistake.. I feel better about myself but it’s hard to be around a group of  black men I don’t know.. I don’t speak.. I just look down at the ground or floor.. I feel awkward even now..

I read a blog today..  “You’re As Beautiful As The Moon” and it was a beautiful read about body types and shapes.. and I’m not gonna tell the rest go the link and read for yourself.. it’s really nice..

So Drea and I working on my outside.. and Jesus is working on the inside.. so I’m be alright..

original me

Something To Sip On

imageI remember being in the tenth grade.. and I had photography.. well I was in there with this white guy I thought was cute and nice and when the teacher would go in the dark room to help other students develop pictures.. Anthony that ways his name would let comb his hair and put all kind of crazy styles in it.. I wonder to this day what he is doing.. it’s just amazing that it was never no Angela you can’t touch me because you’re black.. don’t get me wrong we did have some racists people at our school.. with us we just saw each other as Angela and Anthony..

TexT Message

imageI am looking so farword to laying in my bed  as long as I want tomorrow.. I had my grand babies and doctors appointments this week.. and tomorrow is my day.. but I also need to rake the leaves.. so my plan is the rake and sit methodology.. sit as much as I need too and rake at my own peace.. who cares if I don’t finish till next May.. it’s my yard..

I got a text message last night from him.. but the more I think about it.. I’m sure it was for her.. but I am pleased to say I’m doing better with that situation.. I have accepted that he never loved me.. I could tell that by the way we had sex.. we might have made love twice in a year and half.. the rest of the time I was just something to f***.. and you know the sad part it wasn’t even good.. so why in the hell did I put up it.. that’s what I don’t understand .. I  knew I was broken but I didn’t know how broken I was until now.. when I let my mind go back there to the women.. I use to encourage and say it’s gonna be okay.. but then the tables turned and I was one of those women.. who had no strength to leave.. I had sank so low that I could not even find the beauty in me.. the more I think about it what kind of woman say “her day doesn’t start until her man get off work..” a weak ass woman, who look just like me.. my God in Heaven how did I get to this place.. and most of all how do I get out of here..

Original me