Friday, December 18, 2015

I have become addicted to TED Talks.  My new goal is to become a Ted Talk speaker and to maybe even organize a TED TALK event here in Dallas, TX.  Let me explain why I like this venue.  My simple description of what TED TALKS is cliff notes on life.  Some of the speakers are very engaging and the topics range from finding your passion to global warming.   And, the speakers only have eighteen minutes to get their message across.  Are all of the speakers I have seen phenomenal?  No, but they are passionate about their topics.  Passionate… something we should all be about what we do.

Many of you know that I have not been gainfully employed for quite some time.  I have allowed myself to fall into a stress filled existence literally on the verge of begging someone to give me a job, any job.  I want and need to be self-sufficient for me.  But alas, no one was feeling a Black woman of a certain age no matter how great her skill set was.   And do trust that I have a nice set of skills that any executive would benefit from by hiring me.  I know you may be asking “so what has this got to do with being passionate?”    Stick with me, I’m going somewhere with this.

In my stress filled existence, I decided that no job was too lowly for me to accept.  I’d clean toilets if necessary and I’m that woman who would rather pay someone else to clean her own house.  But guess what, I could not even get a job as a bathroom cleaner.   I have a couple of very dear friends who have contracted with me to run errands.  But just how many errands does one person need – especially a self-sufficient woman?  Very, very few.   But I ran the errands and supervised the lawn care provider.    I did get a seasonal job with a company out of Ft. Worth and I also worked a couple of weeks for one of the largest online services in the world.   But none of what I did had anything to do with my passion.  Yes, I said the P word.

Ya’ll know I am good at giving advice.  I love to encourage people to work through their issues or to just have a wonderfully blessed day.  I can listen to someone else’s “stuff” and come up with that thing they need to do to move them forward.   It took me a while to figure out I should be giving myself advice.

Talking is one of the things I love most coming in second only to writing.  So, what was the problem?  If talking and writing are the things you are most passionate about then do it.  Right?  I wish.  The problem is while I was encouraging others, I was not encouraging myself.   I love to speak.  Give me a microphone and I am on it.  I can write.  I know this and I’m passionate about what I write.  Then why not do something with the talking or writing or both?  I was scared.  Scared that I wasn’t good enough.  Scared that I did not have the experience or credentials to consider myself a professional.  I was so deep into self-sabotage that it became my reality.  Then I met Jeffrey.  But more about him later and no, it isn’t a love story.  Well, it kind of is but not in a traditional sense.

Suffice it to say that I am putting fear in its place.  I know you heard fear is just false evidence appearing real.   And it is.  The little nemesis is bolstered by the self-debilitating things we tell ourselves and even the negative chatter we hear from others.  It is self-doubt and criticism.  It is also a big liar.  I personally don’t believe in giving a liar space in my place.  So that fear thing has got to go.

Now if you know me you know I have a lot more to say.  If you don’t know me let me introduce myself – My name is Sonia and I always have a lot to say.  I also know that I need to write less, post more and entice you to follow my blog.  Yes, this is it for today.  But I promise I will be back blogging at least once a week and I really hope you will check my BlogSpot often.  Please, please share it with your friends, families and others.

Just a woman finding her way,

Sonia J




Monday, July 27, 2015

Hello ladies. I have been MIA for a minute. It is not because I haven't had anything to say - most of you know I am hardly ever without something to say.  I've just been trying to figure out this life God has gifted me with. Like many of you I want to do this second part a little bit better than the first part.  Anyway, I'm back!-sj
Somebody quick! WTHGO?

I am a woman of a certain age and frankly I am loving it almost exclusively.  There are, however, a few little nuances that are causing me to reminisce and reflect back on “the good old days”.  Let me stop those of you who want to lambast me for thinking about the good old days in a format that is reminiscent of my own emotional memory. But, that is what this is about – my own emotional remembrance and the lack of estrogen in my life.

It’s simple really. I’m sure many of you reading this will understand where I am coming from as you read on. 

The other morning I was tweaking my locs. They have a tendency to want to make love to one another getting all wrapped up and tangled together if I am not diligent about their grooming.  As I was tweaking and twisting, I noticed a large part in the crown of my head.  A large “part” translates to a “bald spot”.  WTF!!! Now, my hair has always been on the thin side but a bald spot!
You know I went straight to my friend Google to see if I could find out why this was happening.   I mean my locs have grown past my shoulders and look pretty healthy.  So why is it thinning in the top? [taking a deep breath] It is thinning because I am getting older and my estrogen level ain’t what it used to be.   This is one of the nuances I mentioned earlier.

In the good old days my estrogen levels soared. There was no hair on my face that had to be waxed, plucked or shaved weekly.  There was no gray sprigs growing around the edges of my once sandy red mane.  And, most importantly – although less available to public scrutiny, the hair down there was not sparse nor was it the color of salt and pepper.  

Yes, I’m talking about the good old days when my thighs weren’t riddled with dimples (aka cellulite). A time when I could sit Indians style on a concrete floor, stand up and do jumping jacks without my knees locking, screaming and threatening to not function at all.  Back when I could resist the urge to pee until the feeling to release was gone. Now, when I feel the tickle I had better find the nearest restroom or I will be wishing I were wearing Depends.

I want to write a book and scream from the roof tops.  I want to tell young women to get their shiza together now so they can play later.  I want to warn them about all the damage they are doing to their minds and bodies.  And, I want my Marvelously Mature sisters to not only help me spread the word, but to also start taking better care of themselves.


I have so much more to say about this subject but for now I think I’m just going to grab a class of Moscato.  WTHGO?!!