Daddy's Girl

Let me first explain why I am purposely using the term “Daddy” versus “Father.” And this is just my own personal opinion. A father is someone who believes that by donating his sperm for your creation, he has done his duty in life. A dad is someone who gets up every day and does whatever he can to put a roof over your head, clothes on your back and food on your table. He might have to dig ditches, flip hamburgers, deliver pizzas, work in a factory — or all of the above. He might not own a suit and tie. He teaches the value of hard work not because he’s looking for help mowing the lawn, but because he knows idleness leads to trouble. He realizes his job is to make his children productive citizens, and to do that, he can’t always be his child’s friend. A “daddy” is a man who steps up to be there, no matter what, in a very special way. He does not solely donate sperm or simply raise productive citizens. A “daddy” actively participates in his daughter’s life. He attends her sporting events, recitals, and concerts. A “daddy” is the first man to teach his daughter what it is to be special. He is the first man to recognize and acknowledge both her inner and outer beauty. He is the first man to believe in her and to help her believe in herself. He sets the bar against which every man in her life, thereafter, will be measured. Before my daddy walked me down the aisle, he said to me, “Remember, nobody will ever love you like your Daddy.” And in many ways, he was right.

Men, seemingly, have no idea how important it is to be a good daddy to their daughters. It’s not solely about providing food, clothes, and shelter. It goes a helluva lot deeper than that. Our daddies are our first “boyfriends.” Daddies are supposed to teach us how valuable we are and set the standard for how a man is supposed to treat us. A daddy’s love for his daughter, or lack thereof, has the capacity to empower or destroy a little girl and the woman she will become. If you didn’t know that before, now you do. Daddies are important, especially in the lives of little black girls.

I am simply devastated by the number of women I have seen professionally, and met socially, that tell the story of “looking for love in all the wrong places” because their daddy was either physically absent, intoxicated, emotionally unavailable, or a combination of all three. Our daddies are the first men who tell us that we are pretty. They are the first men to say,” I love you.” They are the first men who look at us dreamily. They are the first men to hold our hands. Daddies are the first men with whom we laugh, with whom we have fun, and with whom we feel “special.”

My daddy and I watched cartoons and ate Fruit Loops together every Saturday morning. My daddy taught me how to read when I was four years old from a book titled, “Joey’s Horse.” My daddy was my soccer coach from age 6 to 14. In high school, he forced the school to let me play on the boys’ varsity team because the school did not have a girls’ varsity team. He was at every game. I remember one game in which I had the wind knocked out of me by a hard-kicked soccer ball. My coach took me out of the game and had me laying on the sideline with my knees up trying to catch my breath. When, I heard my daddy’s voice, I realized that he was standing near my head asking my coach, “Why is Renee out of the game?” My coach replied, “She got the wind knocked out of her, Mr. Godfrey, and I didn’t want her to get hurt any worse.” My daddy chuckled slightly and got the sly grin on his face that he always gets when he thinks he knows something you don’t. He said, “Hurt? She’s not hurt. She’s as tough as, if not tougher than, these boys out here. Now, she wanted to play with the boys, so let her play with the boys. She’ll be fine.” My coach then asked my daddy, “Are you going to take responsibility if she gets injured?” My daddy replied, “Yes, because I know she can hold her own.” My coach looked disbelieving and said, “This is not Little League; and as her coach, I have to do what I think is best for her and the team.” Before my daddy turned to walk away, he said, “Coach, I have been her coach since she first began the sport and I have been her father since the day she came into this world. I know my little girl and she’s tougher than you think. Put her back in [the game].” Then, my daddy reached down, took my hand, and pulled me up to a standing position. He looked me straight in the eye, cracked that unique smile of his, and said, “Now, get out there and show those boys how it feels to get their asses kicked by a girl.” Although I didn't play soccer through college, I did play as an adult in the Georgia Amateur Association. And again, my daddy was at every game. He was my number one soccer fan.

Most of the time, my daddy made me feel like I could do anything. He was my knight in shining armor. He could do no wrong. And then he left. When I was 13, he walked out of the door and out of my life. I waited by the window all night, crying & begging him to please come back. After he married my stepmother, and had my half-brother, his focus changed. I no longer felt “special.” I no longer felt loved. I felt abandoned by the one man in my life who, I thought, believed in me & would have my back. I felt like I had been fired from my position of “daddy’s girl.” My relationship with my daddy was never the same after he left and started his “new family.” I was never the same after my daddy left. My heart was broken like it would never be broken again. As Daddy’s little girl, I had lost my first love. And I started to believe that if my daddy - the one man who is supposed to love me - didn't love me, then nobody else would either. It created an emptiness that I eventually learned no one else could fill. Over the next 10 years, my daddy and I had a very rocky relationship. What made that 10 years even harder was the fact that I still loved my daddy like I’ve never loved anyone. And all I wanted was for him to love me too. So, my goal in life became to make my daddy proud – to prove that I was [good] enough for him to love me again. To this day, I am not sure if I accomplished that goal. However, I did reach another goal that had been buried in my subconscious, I guess – I came to a place of understanding and forgiveness.

In my early 20s, my daddy explained to me that my stepmother was the absolute love of his life – his true soulmate. He explained that as much as he hated the way he left and hated that my little brother and I got hurt in the process, he felt like that might be his only chance to be genuinely happy. I understood his reasoning and respected his honesty. I realized that one day, all the kids would be gone, and my daddy would be left with his spouse. So, of course, I wanted him to be happy just like he wanted me to be happy. I couldn't deny him that; so, I forgave him for walking out on us.

Now, 20 years later, an oncologist has suggested that my daddy has an “average” of 55 months to live with combination chemo/hormone therapy, 40 months with hormone therapy alone, and 18 months with severe pain with no treatment at all. WTF?! This is MY DADDY! And the tears started rolling and haven't stopped since. In fact, I can only get through about 2 sentences at a time as I write this blog post before my emotions become overwhelming. We all know that we are going to die. We all know that one day we are going to lose our parents. But we think of that time in a vague, abstract sense, not in terms of a finite number. As a therapist, I remind people all the time to live their lives to the fullest, to create good memories with those they love, to say “I love you” and “I’m sorry” today, and to not ever take time for granted. Now, I have been slapped in the face with my own accountability.

Have I lived my life to the fullest? Has my daddy? Have I created good memories with my daddy? Have I said “I love you” enough? Have I ever said “I’m sorry?” Have I taken our time together for granted? This incurable diagnosis has shaken me to my core and has me taking a real inventory of my own life and my relationship with my daddy. So, these are the thoughts that have come to mind so far:

1. My daddy is the absolute love of my life and I can’t imagine life without him.

2. My daddy has a dry sense of humor that is hilarious.

3. My daddy is not perfect, but he is mine.

4. My daddy taught me the joy of reading and encouraged my love of learning.

5. My daddy bought me an inflatable swimming pool when I was a little girl that had a palm tree in it, and it was the best inflatable pool on the block.

6. My daddy doesn’t talk about his feelings, so I am concerned about his journey through this cancer fight.

7. I don’t like it when my daddy doesn’t feel good. As a nurse, however, I know that bone cancer is incredibly painful and I know that chemotherapy wipes people out – making them nauseous, extremely tired, and even shutting down their tastebuds so food tastes like nothing. So, I don’t want him in pain, but I also don’t want him sick or exhausted.

8. I hope my daddy has no regrets and can truly enjoy the rest of his time here no matter how much time that is.

9. I hope my daddy is proud of me.

10. I hope I have been a good daughter in my daddy’s eyes.

11. I need to visit my daddy more often.

12. I need to call and text my daddy more often.

13. I need to take more pictures with my daddy.

14. I need to record my daddy’s voice so I will never forget it.

15. My daddy gives great hugs.

16. My daddy always gives good advice and I always know that I can go to him for objectivity.

17. My daddy always puts on a strong face no matter what is going on in his life; and as much as I know he doesn’t like tears; I don’t know that I will be able to control mine. At the same time, I know I must.

18. At least God has given me time to make some new memories with my daddy.

19. My daddy taught me how to ride a bike.

20. My daddy invited me to a bar on my 21st birthday and introduced me to Patron tequila which I still love to this day.

21. My daddy only spanked me one time in my life – when I drew all over the walls, that my daddy had just painted, with a big, purple crayon - and I think it hurt him just as much as it hurt me.

22. My daddy taught me to cook soul food.

I’m sure more memories, concerns, thoughts, smiles, laughs, and tears will come. And I know all my memories are not good. My daddy has hurt me in the past; but knowing that I am going to lose him - this time forever - is the worst hurt ever in life. So, I choose to focus on the good and happy moments and to create more of them. I encourage all of you other “daddy’s girls” out there to cherish every moment with your daddy. Let him know, TODAY, how much being his little girl has meant to you. Let your daddy know that you love him, forgive him, miss him, need him, or whatever. Share your favorite memory, of the two of you together, with him. If your daddy is alive, it is not too late. And don’t ever apologize for being a daddy’s girl! Feel free to share your comments about your experience as a daddy’s girl.

Living in Darkness Dying for Light

“Why did you try to kill yourself?” …………………………………. “You told me to be happy.”

I have asked people to tell me what their depression feels like and I’ve heard things like: dark, empty, lonely, scary, exhausting, bad, heavy, and more. When I asked a friend how his depression felt, he said, “Being sad for no particular reason and not knowing how to fix it.” When I asked one of my clients how her depression felt, she said, “I wouldn’t even call it a feeling. It’s not a feeling because you feel nothing.” Nothingness, a black hole, a never-ending pit, a vast cavern where hellacious voices echo. For the past 29 years, for me, depression has been a roller coaster that, at times, has delved into the fiery, darkness of hell where I saw nothing but death as a solution. It feels like standing on the edge of the lip of the Grand Canyon, trying not to fall over; and the balancing act is beyond exhausting – physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

But, everyone experiences depression differently. Depression is expressed differently by each individual who experiences it. And ultimately, most people find a way to overcome depression – whether through talk therapy, medications, combination therapy, prayer, meditation, or other methods. The goal is to identify one’s triggers and implement the healing process.

“Sometimes when I say ‘I’m okay,’ I want someone to look me in the eyes, hug me tight, and say, ‘I know you’re not’.”

One of my favorite music artists, Eminem, puts it like this:

              You smile but you’re not really happy.

              You ask but you don’t want to know.

  You talk but you aren’t saying anything.

  You laugh but you don’t find it funny.

  You cry but it doesn’t really mean anything.

  You get up but you’re really not awake.

  You sleep but you aren’t resting.

  You’re alive but you aren’t really living.

Depression is living in a body that fights to survive with a mind that tries to die. Depression is a prison where you are both the suffering prisoner and the cruel jailer. Depression is putting on a fake smile so you don’t have to explain why you’re not happy. Depression is that feeling when you’re not necessarily sad, but you just feel really empty. Depression is saying to yourself, every night, “This will be the last time.” Depression is like a war; you either win or die trying.

“Depression can seem worse than terminal cancer because most cancer patients feel loved and have hope and self-esteem.”

I hate to hear people say, “I suffer from depression.” To me, that is a defeatist attitude. I have lived with depression for most of my life. Depression can be caused by a chemical imbalance, extended grief, trauma, job loss, retirement, being broke, and whatever else you can think of. Depression is lonely. Depression is scary. Depression sucks.  Depression does not discriminate by race, creed, socioeconomic status, gender, age, or sexuality. One is not immune from depression because of level of education, amount of money in the bank, marital status, or length of time in therapy. Sometimes, it hits me out of nowhere, all of a sudden, this overwhelming sadness rushes over me. I get discouraged and I get upset and I feel hopeless, sad, and hurt. And once again, I feel numb to the world. “But you’ve got it all,” people say, “a doctorate, a private practice, two real careers, blah, blah, blah.” And yet, I continue to question whether I have met my own “good enough.” Worse still, I question whether I have met God’s expectations for me. Have I fulfilled my purpose?

“If you could read my mind, you’d be in tears.”

Despite all that I have and all that I have accomplished, depression can sometimes still consume me. My days get dark – just a constant shade of gray. My medication doesn’t seem to be working. Therapy is starting to sound like Charlie Browns’ teacher – “whah whah whah whah whah whah.” But, every morning, I am met with the same choice – get up or not, go to work or not, see clients or not, stay late to do notes or not, get rest for tomorrow or give up, pray for another day or pray for death. Most people I’ve talked to, admittedly, “don’t understand how a person can get to the point where they want to take their own life.”

“Right now, I really don’t see the reason for trying, or for talking, or for breathing. I’m just done.”

I think “not understanding” is actually a better place in which to live because when you do understand “how a person can get to the point where they want to take their own life,” you have seen the depth of despair. You see, there are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds. There have been times that I would rather be a “cutter” than have suicidal ideations. How sad do you have to be for death to really be a fucking option?! At what point will it no longer be on my list of options? I’m exhausted from trying to be strong. I’m empty from giving everything I have to others. I’m tired. I’m sad. I’m angry. I’m frustrated. I’m disappointed. I’m unhappy. I’m scared, no, terrified. Because once again, I am on the edge of the Grand Canyon, teetering on the edge; trying to keep my damn balance so I don’t slip over the edge into the abyss. What most people don’t understand is that when you have made the decision that death is the only option, it doesn’t mean that you are no longer afraid. It simply means that you are so tired of being hopeless, hurt, lonely, sad, disappointed, misunderstood, and “not good enough” that you welcome the eternal silence. You breathe a sigh of relief that you have found a way to end your suffering, to stop having to depend on others to love you, to stop feeling like a failure, to stop hurting, and to stop wishing that life would be better only to be disappointed repeatedly. It’s a lonely, scary place to which you never want to take your “friends” or “family.” It is that place in which the person who tries to keep everyone happy ends up being the loneliest person.

“No, I’m not okay. But I haven’t been okay since I was a teenager. I am still here though. I’m still breathing. For me, sometimes, that will have to be enough.”

I no longer want to die – not like I did 26 years ago. I’m not even asking for help. I’m just sharing with you, my readers, that even the best of us go to that dark place. And even though I know that I want to love this difficult life of mine, the thought still crosses my mnd after 29 years, that I could just end it all and never have to feel lonely, inadequate, hurt, ashamed, disappointed, or shitty ever again. I want, desperately, to believe that:

Depression is useful. It signals that you need to make changes in your life. It challenges your tendency to withdraw, it reminds you to take action.

No matter how deep my sadness or how hopeless my despair, I pray that God will help me to sustain my strength as I face each new day.

Too Busy to Live

We exist in a society in which being driven, working hard, and being successful are not just applauded but expected; any less than that is seen as a problem. We function in a society in which money drives and decides many, many things. We spend most of our days hustling non-stop from dawn to dusk only to go to bed, wake up, and do it all over again. For what exactly? To pay bills? To make sure we have a bunch of money in the bank? Society's mantra, lately, seems to be: "Live to work; don't work to live because you'll have plenty of time for that later." But the truth is: every day we wake up, we are one day closer to the end of our lives.

The latest statistics from the CDC (2014) report that the average life expectancy is as follows:

Hispanic male = 76.2 years (914 months or 3962 weeks or 27,813 days or 667,512 hours)

Hispanic female = 82.2 years (986 months or 4274 weeks or 30,003 days or 720,072 hours)

White male = 73.2 years (878 months or 3806 weeks or 26,718 days or 639,475 hours)

White female = 79.3 years (952 months or 4,124 weeks or 28,944 days or 694,668 hours)

Black male = 69 years (828 months or 3588 weeks or 25,185 days or 604,440 hours)

Black female = 76.3 years (916 months or 3968 weeks or 27,850 days or 668,388 hours)

So, for the purposes of this blog, let's use the overall average life expectancy from birth of 76 years (912 months or 3952 weeks or 27,740 days or 665,760). Looks like a lot, doesn't it?

Let's break it down even further (based on the US Dept of Labor & Statistics 2015 Time Survey):

Sleeping = 25.3 years (304 months/1316 weeks/9235 days/221,628 hours). So, we have 50.7 years left (608 months/2636 weeks/18506 days/444,132 hours).

School K-12 (@ 7.5 hrs/day & 181 days of school/yr) = 2 years (24 months/105 weeks/736 days/17,654 hours). So, now we have 48.7 years left (584 months/2532 weeks/17,776 days/426,624 hours).
Eating = 6 years (72 months/330 weeks/2312 days/55,480 hours). Now we have 42.7 years left (512 months/2220 weeks/15,586 days/374,064 hours).
Work (40 hr/wk) = 11 years (132 months/582 weeks/4073 days/97,760 hours). Now, we have 31.7 years left (380.4 months/1648 weeks/11,571 days/277,704 hours).
Bathroom = 1+ years (13 months/55 weeks/386 days/9,272 hours). Leaving us with about 30.5 years left (366 months/1586 weeks/11,133 days/267,192 hours).

You get the picture. Once we include housework, childcare/elder care, running errands, etc., and account for time lost due to obesity, smoking, cancer etc., we are roughly left with about 2 years (24 months/96 weeks/669 days/16,060 hours) worth of time for leisure, love, hobbies, and other pleasurable activities. It doesn't seem like so much time now, huh?

So, when was the last time you slowed down to "smell the roses" so to speak? When was the last time you took a walk - not for fitness - just to feel the breeze through your hair, to feel the sun on your skin, and to simply admire the beauty of nature? When was the last time you did something philanthropic just to share the joy in your heart with someone else? When was the last time you sat quietly with your significant other, without saying a word, just experiencing the warmth of their touch and the connection of your hearts? Do you feel like you need a vacation from your life? Then, you are TOO BUSY! If you find yourself talking about, "One day, I am going to...," versus "I am so glad I...," then you are missing out on life. What if "one day" doesn't ever come? Why can't "one day" be today?

With all of the technology we have available today, one would think that people would stay in touch and communication would be improving in our intimate relationships. But, people are more out of touch than ever. It takes less than 2 minutes to send a text message that says, "I'm thinking about you" or "I miss our friendship, let's do lunch." The thing is: we make time for what's important to us in life. If we are sick or in pain, we make time to get to the doctor. If we need to deposit a check, we make time to go to the bank. Therefore, if we wanted to have a relationship, we would have to make time to meet someone, get to know them, and spend time building that relationship. If we wanted to buy a house, we would have to make time to go look for a house. When I wanted to learn how to play golf, I had to make time to go take my lessons and to go to the golf course to practice. It's that simple!

When you look back over your life, do you want your memories to be filled with the meetings which you attended, the amount of money you made, how much stress you were under, how many family events you missed, how many things you did not get to do on your bucket list? Or do you want our memories to be filled with the places to which you've traveled, the long talks with your friends, and the romantic moments you spent with your significant other? When your eulogy is being read, I promise you that no one is going to talk about how much time you spent at work. They may mention that you were driven and successful but that can be said in one sentence. What people will talk about is the things you did in your life, the memories you made with them, and how much they will miss spending time with you and being in your presence.

As much as you may think that it is not important to slow down, I beg to differ. Personally, I want to be able to think about all of the things I did to have fun and enrich my life - not about having perfect attendance for the past 30 years at the same job. I want to experience exotic beaches, like Fiji, unquestionable love that takes my breath away, roller coasters, every different color of roses, and a lot more. My challenge to you is twofold:

Take at least 5 minutes a day to reach out and connect with someone that matters to you and

Make "one day" TODAY (or at least sometime within the next 30 days).

2016 Vision

My vision for 2016 is simply not to have a vision. I typically do a vision board every year – posting those things I plan to accomplish or on which I plan to work. At the end of the year, I usually realize that I may have done one of those things; but most of them have not been accomplished. For example, for the first time since my divorce, I actually thought I wanted to get married again; so, I posted it on my vision board. I was in a long-term, committed relationship and we had actually talked about things going that way. However, as most of my relationships do, it ended with him saying he couldn’t give me what I needed. So, mission not accomplished. I was also supposed to start working on my other two books after I finished my dissertation – but that didn’t happen either. I did finish my doctorate, however, so mission accomplished there.

So, going into 2016, I have decided to have no vision, no mission, no goals, other than to accept life as it comes. That’s not to say that I will not be doing anything. I will be pursuing my sport psychology business and my teaching career. I just have no expectations of where they will go. If I blow up and actually get picked up by an NFL team, great; if not, that’ll be okay too. I am not looking for a relationship because I’m tired of hoping and trying. I even met a guy right before the holidays who seriously checked off every box I had on my wishlist – only to be told I moved too fast towards girlfriend versus friend but was never told how. Mind you, I didn’t make any sexual advances, say I wanted to marry him, try to go to his house, try to meet his kids, or anything I can think of that constitutes trying to be someone’s girlfriend. We talked for hours and hours, we both admitted we felt a connection, I hugged him when I met him because I was excited to finally meet him, we watched football, we talked a lot more, I sent dinner home with him for him and his son, and I gave him a PECK on the lips when we said goodbye. I am totally clueless as to how that constitutes trying to be someone’s girlfriend – but, oh well. I’m sick and tired of trying to figure out what men want and trying to adjust accordingly. Hell, I am ME and I LIKE me; if they don’t, then fuck them because ME is the only person I know how, or choose, to be! So, needless to say, a relationship will NOT be on the vision board for 2016.

I think maybe I will put three words on my vision board for 2016: BALANCE, HAPPINESS, and SELF. I need to have balance in order to make sure that I am taking care of myself and creating my own happiness. I need to find happiness in being alone because I’m tired of just being content with my life and “alone” is most likely how I will spend the rest of my days. I need to focus on self because, like I said in my end of the year post last month, I do not believe that anyone can meet my needs except ME. So, I need to figure out “good enough” for me. I need to find happiness for me. I need to create the life that I want for myself – regardless of who’s in it and who’s not. Part of creating balance is going to be not giving so much of myself. I’m tired of depleting myself - being thoughtful, being giving, being selfless – and not receiving the same in return. I must learn to save my compassionate and giving spirit for myself. Part of creating happiness will be to create more time to do the things I love to do – riding Hershey and playing golf, for example. The “self” part of my 2016 vision is simply to do what’s important to me – to try to read my Bible every day, to get a massage as often as possible, to go to the spa on a regular basis, and to be okay with being single and enjoying my own company.

So, for 2016, I am going to take things one day at a time. I am going to learn to accept things as they come. I am going to withhold some of my generosity. I am not going to open my heart up to another relationship. I am simply going to focus on ME – whatever that looks like from day to day.