Is This Thing (still) On??

As I begin this post, it doesn't have a title. I may add one later if something suitable comes to mind, or it may remain untitled. My life seems to be taking shape without instruction from me, so why shouldn't my blog?

Also, I'm typing this without my glasses on, but the muse won't allow me to get up and retrieve them for fear that I'll "ooh, SQUIRREL" my way into another thing that begs to be done RIGHT NOW, so if there are typos or other weirdness, blame it on my sketchy vision.

I now have a villa in Mexico. Read that again.

Have=rent, but still... 

here I am with two places to be and only one butt to put in them.

Currently - I'm typing from my office, which has a beautiful view of a very verdant yard. I've already fashioned a makeshift VO booth in one of my cabinets that works pretty well until I can get 'hold of some acoustic foam instead of bed pillows.

Still... it's my office in the Caribbean. Huzzah. 

'Scuse me - I had to stop to scratch one of many fresh mosquito bites that have mysteriously appeared on my legs, as (I'm learning) is pretty common when one spends time in the tropics. "The JUNGLE," to be exact, as I was recently reminded by a new friend when I told her that a gecko had happened by one evening. I'm not afraid of lizards... I think they're cute! Also, they eat bugs, which I AM afraid of.

I'm guessing that you would like to know how this happened. lol (for real)

Well - I'm still wondering at that myself.

I've been in the throes of burnout since 2019 but didn't realize it then.

I think I'm far enough into this post to go get my glasses and be trusted to come back and tell you the rest. Be right back...

WTAF??🤬

(Written May 26, 2021)

🤬🤬🤬

I posted a video on social media yesterday (I'm "@NicoleJButler" on all social media except Pinterest, where I had to add a "1." 😒), letting everyone know that I'm going through cancer treatment. I mulled it over for a while to be sure it was what I wanted to do, and decided that it was. Now everyone who wants to know, can know, which allows them to process their feelings in their own time and keeps me from having "the conversation" over and over again.

The cancer center where I'm being treated offers a few *special* perks to those of us undergoing active treatment: yoga and tai chi classes, weekly sound baths, an art workshop, and 4 free "wellness" appointments including massage, acupuncture, acupressure, and one other thing that I always forget. 

Today I got a massage before my treatment. My (ahem) "area being radiated" has been very sore & swollen lately, so I couldn't lie face down. The masseuse, whom I saw for the first time last week,  told me to stay face-up and she would modify the massage. It went just fine and I floated out taller and more relaxed when I came it. I went downstairs, got my daily zap from the radiation machine, and went on my merry way. I ordered lunch for pickup (Zankou Chicken 😋), picked it up, and headed home. Once home I took my ADHD meds (which I had forgotten to take in the morning since I left earlier than usual so my "take your meds" alarm hadn't gone off yet), and because I was still in pain, I decided to take 2 acetaminophen (generic Tylenol)  capsules instead of my usual 1.

I sat down to eat and about 10 mins into my meal, my legs started itching. Then my hairline. Then my scalp, then my- OH NO - I remember this... I'm breaking out in to hives! (WARNING: If you want to see a few pix of the hives, click the link that follows this parenthetical. If you think photos of hives might freak you out, don't click the link.) Photos are here: https://photos.app.goo.gl/28g5P68swxK21ufGA

I put my lunch into the microwave, took a Benadryl, then headed straight for a lukewarm shower. The hives multiplied as I showered and I scratched as much as I dared. I got out of the shower, called a good friend who lives in my building, and asked if he would PUHLEEZE run to CVS and get me some hydrocortisone ASAP. He left immediately, I popped another Benadryl, and took pix to text to my mother, my sister, and a couple of trusted friends for advice. My mother told me to call my doctor. I called the nurse at the cancer center, told her what was happening, and asked if this was a possible side effect from radiation treatment. She assured me that it wasn't and said that she wanted to tell me to take Benadryl but since she didn't know what I was reacting to, she'd prefer that I go to the ER or urgent care. Way ahead of ya, Sis - Benadryl up to bat, hydrocortisone on deck. I talked to my friend while he was at CVS, bless his heart, and he sounded panicked. I tried to keep him calm and guide him through the store as I watched the hives continue to multiply and I continued to scratch. I literally had hives from my head to my feet. He found what I needed and brought it to me. I slathered myself in hydrocortisone, turned up the AC and lay on my bed. After about 1/2 hour, the hives on one thigh looked like they were starting to flatten out into one big lesion, and, drowsy from the Benadryls I decided that meant I was getting better and I could doze off. I vowed that if I was still all hived-up when I awoke, I'd go to the ER.

I awoke about... 3.5 hours later and the hives were almost completely gone, thankfully! As I type, I'm still a little itchy in spots, but nothing I can't deal with. 

At this point, I'm guessing it's either the massage oil that the masseuse used or the extra acetaminophen capsule that I took, or even the fact that I took a generic instead of an actual TYLENOL. I broke out in places that the masseuse didn't massage, so the oil would have had to travel via my bloodstream (which can happen) in order for me to break out all over my body. I'm also allergic to NSAIDS and acetaminophen is the only over-the-counter oral pain med that I can still take, so it could be the culprit. I hope not because the thought of getting through the final week and a half of radiation with no pain meds is daunting.

2021 seems to be the gift that keeps on giving. I'm really hoping the latter half is better than this first half has been.

Pray for me. 🙏🏾

--Nicole

Going Public

(Written May 24, 2021)

Parts of my life are public because of what I do for a living, but I'm pretty private. Not really "secretive," I just don't think every move I make is everybody's business, nor is my day-to-day life interesting enough for me to delude myself into believing that every event is newsworthy. Social media (+ blog) makes it easy to shout every thought from the rooftops, but that doesn't mean that it's necessary, in my opinion.

Lately, though, I'm having to have "the conversation" more and more, and it's tough. People get sad and don't really know what to say, which I understand completely, so I try to make them feel better, but nobody really feels good about being on either side of the "I'm in cancer treatment." conversation.  Instead of having multiple conversations about cancer, I'm going to post it on social media and anyone who's interested enough in my life & career to follow my various accounts will know about my diagnosis. After having the conversation twice last week, I recorded a video then decided against posting it. I had to have the conversation again this weekend, and was urged to "tell [my] fans." I was going to post today, but didn't want to interfere with my sister's enjoyment of her birthday, so I'll go public tomorrow.

How am I feeling? Meh. Very sore with the occasional shooting pain. Mostly lethargic and fatigued. After treatment, I feel myself getting more and more tired as I walk the short distance to my car, and I rarely get through the day without at least one (long) nap. Tylenol helps with the pain. My skin is sensitive and turning darker now (the discoloration is *supposed* to go away in time), but no blistering or anything like that. 9 treatments to go. I honor myself by accepting where I am, but do my best to avoid wallowing by reminding myself that it could be much, much worse. I'll be fine. Different, but fine.💙

--Nicole

The Things We Carry

(Written April 20, 2021)

I'm sitting at home, watching the commentary after George Floyd's murderer, Derek Chauvin, was found guilty of all charges. I only watched 3 clips (TOTAL) of the trial on social media. I feel that I have a responsibility to bear witness when I can, but this time felt like it would be too much trauma on top of all of the other trauma that I am experiencing.

In advance of the verdict, I asked friends to text me with "guilty" or "not guilty," as I would not be watching. My sister who lives in Minneapolis, called to (basically) tell me that she was waiting to see if the city will burn to the ground tonight or not. I told her that- if he wasn't found sufficiently guilty of actions we all saw with our own eyes- the entire country would be on fire in a way that would make last summer look like child's play. She told me that there is still unrest because yet another unarmed half-Black man, Daunte Wright, was murdered by the cops in her neighborhood. 

When I spoke to my mother in the Chicagoland area, she told me that there's protesting there due to a Latino child (he was 13) being murdered by the cops. 

It's all much too much. None of these individuals were "saints" by societal standards, but somehow white people are allowed to be imperfect and "troubled," while Black and brown people are dangerous and must be brought into submission immediately. The solution is not for the police to start killing white people, the solution is to reimagine policing. I'd be fine with my tax dollars going to serve and protect the community if that actually happened. Instead we are being murdered in the streets and paying for the "privilege."

When the verdict came in, I felt a brief moment of relief that THIS TIME the jury did the right thing. Then that "THIS TIME" pissed me off. Living in hopes of being validated by a system built to discriminate against you is no way to live. Knowing that if a cop (or random white citizen) decides to accuse you of something or take your life, they can, and possibly face little to no commensurate repercussion - is a heavy load to carry. And yet it is a fact of life in these United States.

Last night my father and I talked about the adage of Black people having to work twice as good to be half as far. We both know this to be true from the inside. And then when we have high blood pressure, stress disorders, substance abuse, and other illnesses, they get chalked up to EVERYTHING except the stress of living in a racist society.

But we carry all of this and more, day in and day out. Despite the toll, we do what we can to find joy. We do what we can to celebrate and validate ourselves and one another. We forgive because it's a way of holding on to our humanity and not becoming the hatred that stares us in the eyes whenever we dare take a deep breath and draw ourselves up to our full height.

We carry it.

And we do our best not to crumble under the weight.

--Nicole

File under: "Hey... YOU asked!"

(Written April 16, 2021)

Twice in my life I've been asked variants of "What do you do with your time?" and both times I was stunned into temporary silence. One such time was in 2019 (I remember like it was yesterday) and the other was actually yesterday.

The expected answer? Something like: "I work my fingers to the bone in order to earn as much money as I can. I'm very important, you see, and my body of work proves that because blah blah blahdee blah." 😝

The REAL answer? I paint, I write, I act, I take naps, I play music loudly and dance, I connect with friends, I talk smack on social media, I read, I laugh from my gut, I travel when I can, I watch tv (incl. lots of reality shows), I exercise, I journal, I eat good food, I do artsy-craftsy stuff... I do things that keep life interesting for me.

In short, I LIVE!

And sometimes I get paid for some of that "living."

Nice work if you can get it. 😉

--Nicole

Healing Continues...

(Written April 12, 2021)

It has been one month and three days since I had a lumpectomy. I'm healing steadily but much more slowly than I expected. Because of other folks' experiences and the fact that "lumpectomy" sounds like the minimally-invasive little sister of "mastectomy," I had the (erroneous) idea that I would be close to fully-healed in about two weeks. Nope. I was in a lot of pain and very frustrated about it for about three weeks, especially the lymph node removal scar below my armpit (pictured), which I did not expect to be as much of an issue as it was, but it was more painful than the lumpectomy. It's located where the top seam on just about every bra hits. Good times.

I never realized just how much of a blessing it would be to have people bring food for the first couple of weeks. I had bought "easy to cook" groceries, but the only cooking I could even wrap my head around was microwave reheating. The pain meds kept me on a sleep/wake merry-go-round, so I wasn't eating much, but I knew I needed to in order for my body to heal. My friend Mikki brought me the most delicious minestrone. I didn't get to see her when she dropped it off because I was asleep (she left it with a friend who lives in my apt. building), but that minestrone and some saltines sustained me for 3-4 days, bless her heart.

I was also very fortunate that my friend Elgin drove me to and from appointments and the pharmacy for over a week. One day too soon I decided to drive myself to the doctor and to run an errand afterwards and regretted it every time I went over a bump or hit a pothole (OUCH). I decided to check my independent spirit at the door for the time being and allow myself to be chauffeured as I convalesced.

About part-way through week 3, I was able to walk on my treadmill again. I wore a supportive sports bra and didn't push myself too much. I was able to walk for 15-20 minutes for the first couple of days, and within a week, I had worked my way up to 45-60. I found that decreased speed and increased elevation kept impact low while burning the same number of calories. 

The "little things" bring me joy. I normally sleep on my left side, which is the side where the surgery was done. When, after 3.5 weeks, I could sleep (carefully) on my left side again, I drifted off with a smile on my face. When I could drive without flinching at every bump in the road, I felt free again. When I stopped randomly falling asleep in the middle of the day, I knew that my body was on the path to wellness.

Now, at the beginning of week 5, I'm waiting to find out my oncotype score. If it's below 25, I won't need chemo and I can go straight to radiation. If above 25, it's chemo first, then radiation. I'm really hoping to not need chemo, but I'll do what needs to be done so that I can move forward and minimize the chance of recurrence.

--Nicole

P.S. - Added May 27: My score was 15, so I was able to skip chemo and go right to radiation. 

The Wellness Diaries #1 - (or "Letting The Cat Out of the Bag")

(Written January 13, 2021 at 2:35PM)

I’m calling this “The Wellness Diaries” b/c I don’t want to call it “The Cancer Diary.” We are 10 months into a global pandemic, 4k people a day are dying from COVID-19, there is a civil war underfoot, the crazy “president” has incited an insurrection and, as of about an hour ago, has earned the dubious distinction of being the first to be impeached TWICE. AND he did it in one term. How’s that for “winning?” *eye roll*

After a mammogram, an ultrasound, and a biopsy that came back with a 95% certainty that the mass found in my left breast was cancerous, last Friday, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. While I’m not thrilled about this, the toughest part so far has been telling people and holding space for their reactions. Right now, I’m only telling people in my tribe who I know will send prayers and good energy, and I don’t even know that I’ll get to all of them, b/c the conversations are tough and lengthy. I am humbled by the love that I’ve received. That said, the people who love me ALSO need time and space to process this. I don’t want cancer to color our respective relationships to one another. I don’t even have all of the details about myself yet, so (respectfully), I’m not ready for the graphic detail of what happened to someone else they know who “had the same thing.” It could be good, bad, or ugly - I’m aware. I’m expecting the good, but have mentally prepared myself for the ugly.

That said, others’ reactions make me wonder if I’m being naïve about how serious this is. I feel like I KNOW. Here are some other things that I know:

I don’t fear death, but I don’t want to die anytime soon. When my dear friend Vicki (who passed in 2012) said she wasn’t afraid to die from cancer but just didn’t want to miss all of the good stuff that comes after, I FELT THAT. There are many things worse than death. If I die, I hope to see my loved ones who have already passed on, because I miss them. If I am afforded time, I will also look back over my life and oh, what a life it has been! I have had a GREAT run, and even if I never get another day on this earth, know that I have been BLESSED. 

However, because I do enjoy life, I’d like to stay here. We’re all going sometime and in some way - I’d just like to leave a long time from now, and in a way that doesn’t involve any suffering or pain.

I also like my body the way it is (most days) and have hoped to keep everything that I was born with and whatever useful bits I've picked up along the way: they’ve been with me for a while now and we’ve become friends. In my online research over the weekend, I found a group of women with breast cancer referring to themselves as “The Shitty Titty Committee.” At first I thought that was witty 😜, but then I realized I didn’t want to use that name for myself. There is a presence in my body that is staging an invasion - rather than give all of my energy and attention to the invader, why don’t I direct my energy toward my body and give it what it needs to heal? I respect everyone’s right to determine what they want to do with their own body, but as for me and my house… we gon’ live in the light (which is not the same as “walking into the light” because I ain't trying to do that yet).

It is what it is. I’m not being cavalier; it IS! Cancer is a perfectly valid reason for me to cry and yell “Why meeee?” I don’t feel that way and I’m not faking the funk, either. Why NOT me? I’d rather be the one with cancer than for any of my loved ones to have it. Honestly, the last couple of days have found me asking if I’d rather have cancer or covid (still haven’t decided). This is why I’m understanding when folks say “the wrong thing” or don’t know WHAT to say. Some are taking it as if I said “I’m dying tomorrow.” and I GET IT b/c I have done the same thing to other folks upon hearing their serious diagnoses. Thankfully, they were gracious to me, as I graciously accept any words offered with the intention of kindness and comfort.

I’m mostly annoyed at having to deal with this at all. ESPECIALLY right now. Like what thee actual eff? Did you read that list of everything going on in the world right now?? My hope is that by early 2022, everything on that list will be GONE, and in its place, a brighter day.

We Gon' Be Alright.

--Nicole

P.S. - No idea when or if I'll actually post this, but I'll save it as a draft and write more as I feel the urge.

P.S.S. - Published on May 27, 2021.

The world is changing, and so am I.

To be fair, everything is ALWAYS changing. Sometimes things change so slowly that we don't notice. Other times we see the changes and deny them in the name of "security" so that we can continue pretending to have some control over our lives.

That artifice has been stripped away and reality laid bare. We are not in control. We never were.

"Change is the only constant in life." - Heroclitus

A (belated) Mother's Day Message

I posted this on my YouTube channel yesterday, and didn't make it over here to post.
Here's a special Mother's Day message that I hope will reach a lot of people
who feel left out of the usual Mother's Day festivities.




Wishing you joy today and always..

 --Nicole

What, then, is the difference between falling and flying?

"Perspective," perhaps?

--Nicole

Everything changes, nothing will ever be the same, but you will be ok.

I'm deep in my feelings today.  I've been thinking about life in general, things that various friends are going through, and my own life over the past year, with all of its fits and starts.  So many of us are struggling in this "season of change" that seems to be afoot.  Here's just one personal example:  A little over a year ago, a long-time good friend of mine passed away unexpectedly.  Today would have been her birthday.  I was already managing some chaos that had shown up in my life (also unexpectedly because chaos is a rude bastard who won't call ahead), and the passing of my friend was a blow that still makes me hold my chest to keep my heart from falling out of it.  To say that I miss her, and I think about her often is an understatement.

That said - we are alive, you and I.  I know that I'm alive because I can see all of the junk that needs to be cleaned up in my living room right now, and I know that you're alive because you're reading this.  So let's get to it:

Living = Changing.

That's it. 

Anything that is alive is in a constant state of change.  Of shifts, degeneration, lying fallow, and rebirth.  There's absolutely nothing that we can do to stop change.

We know this, and still we hold on to notions, people, places, titles... things that may have served us well once, but not any longer.  We will white-knuckle the hell out of something or someone because we "love" this "thing" and if we let it go, we might be worse off.  Fear keeps us holding on, and when that happens, it owns us until we open our hands.  Personally, I'm more afraid of being paralyzed by fear than I am of anything else.  Except maybe bugs.

I'm not suggesting that you blow up your life, UNLESS you hate the current state of affairs in your life, in which case you should take measures to blow it up immediately.  For the rest of us?  Most of us?  We don't HAVE to blow it up because life will do it for us.  What once existed in abundance will ebb.  Things that we DON'T want, will flow for a while.  Sometimes we feel like we are going to die (or wish that we would), but we live.  We see constant change all around us in nature, and, as much as we humans try to defy nature, we are very much a part of "nature."

So when ebb zigs when we want it to zag, and when flow does the opposite, how do we keep ourselves upright?

Sometimes we don't.  Sometimes we just need lie our asses horizontal for a while and be pitiful.  Wallow as if your life depends on it, because it might.  If the "wallow" phase goes on for too long and you can't get out of it on your own, reach out for help in the form of a trusted loved one, or a professional.  Read some books.  Find a supportive, safe space on the internet.  You don't have to go it all alone.

Once the shock and acute pain wears off, take note of what appears to be your "new normal."  Don't force yourself into old patterns - they're like old clothes that don't fit anymore.  Get butt-naked and see what fits you now.  I feel like I've been naked for about a year, and am still only partially clothed again. It takes the time it takes, and soon after you get dressed, you'll find yourself needing to get naked again anyway because, "changes."

Trust your gut - it knows the way.  This is where so many of us get stuck.  We try to be rational about our life choices, when we really are feeling beings.  When we make decisions solely from our heads, it usually makes every other part of ourselves unhappy.  This is how we end up miserable in high-paying jobs that *should* make us happy.  Or in relationships with people who, according to the checklist, *should* be a good catch.  Don't *should* on yourself.  Allow your gut (or "intuition") to gently guide you, then use your head to figure out HOW to do what your gut is telling you.

We really do have everything that we need in order to thrive, including access to people who can help us along the way, we just have to be willing to get naked and stay that way until our new wardrobe shows up.

--Nicole

Just did Bikram Yoga for the first time...

I had done hot yoga before on a regular basis.  This was seven or eight years ago when I was deepening my yoga practice, before complications from foot surgeries caused hip & back problems that left me unable to balance.

I've been doing restorative (or "yin") yoga periodically since then, trying to rehab myself.  Restorative yoga, my acupuncturist, and my chiropractors have gotten me straightened out to the point where I'm game to try hot yoga again, and there's a new-ish, competitively-priced, Bikram studio not far from me, so... Bikram it is.  Can't be too different from hot yoga, right?

I. Was. NOT. Ready.

When I checked in at the front desk, the instructor (let's call him Kevin) asked me how many Bikram classes I had taken before.  I told him I had never done Bikram, but I had done hot yoga.  He chuckled and said "Well... get ready" in a tone that sounded ominous to me, under the circumstances.  I went to the locker room to stow my backpack, then went into the studio where class was to be held.

It was hot as hell in there, y'all.  I literally said "Well, gatdam!" out loud, then cringed b/c there was a woman lying on her mat in the room.  I quickly rolled out my mat right next to the door (coolest spot in the room), and went back out into the lobby.

I don't sweat readily, so if I'm sweating I'm either working REALLY hard or it's REALLY hot.  In the 60-or-so seconds that it took me to roll out my mat, put a towel on top, and place my water bottle next to it, little droplets of sweat had formed all over my body.  I sat in the lobby, marshaling all of my mental forces and preparing for the next 90 minutes.  "Should I go in and acclimate myself, or should I stay out here and soak up all of the cool air that I can?"  I did a little of both - sat out for a little longer, then plunged myself into the heat.  Strangely, it was hot and humid, but not that "I can't breathe" type of humidity (after class, I found out that oxygen is pumped into the room along with the heat).  I lay down on my towel and prayed to God to let me live through what was looking like a terrible decision.

For me, the most surprising part of the class was that there is no "flow" to Bikram - only specific poses performed in a specific order.  Kevin, bless his tiny-trunked, bendy heart, did a short spiel for me, since I was the only newbie.  In so many words, he (nicely) told me to keep up or sit on my heels, but don't be a wuss, and don't be a distraction.  I was to stay in the room and stay present unless I felt like I was going to die or pee myself.  I nodded.  Challenge accepted.

By the second of the 26 poses, I was cussing in my head, then telling myself (also in my head) that there was no cussing in yoga.  Then I'd tell both of myselves (head, still) to shut up so I could focus.  I struggled through, determined to stay in the room, even though a couple of times I felt nauseated, and a couple of other times, I felt like I was going to burst out in tears.  When I needed to stop and sit on my heels, I did so as unobtrusively as possible.  I only drank water between poses, I stayed present, I kept breathing, and I didn't die.  When Kevin told us to lie on our mats in "savasana,"  I almost cried tears of joy, but my joy was short-lived:  In every yoga class I've ever taken, savasana (literally "corpse pose") is the final pose:  you lie on your back in relief and meditate for about five minutes until class ends.

In Bikram yoga, apparently savasana just means that you lie down on your back for about 60 seconds and then do about 15 more poses on the floor with savasanas strewn in-between.  "Gawwwwd!  Whyyyyy?!"  Screamed the Head Me that had been cursing 40-ish minutes earlier.  "Just be quiet and just don't cry or puke." came the response from Me Too.  Surprisingly, I didn't do either, and my final savasana was pure moksha.  I made it through the class (obviously) - and Kevin acknowledged that little accomplishment by asking the class to applaud me for staying in the room.  One of my classmates congratulated me personally for the same thing.  "Cursing Me," ever the smart-ass, asked "If all I had to do was stay in the room why didn't I just lie on my mat the whole time?"  "Moksha Me" told Cursing Me not to ruin her high.

I left feeling cleansed and transcendent... and all of my clothing was sopping wet - it was disgusting.  I put a towel on the seat of my car to keep it from getting sweaty, and sat for 5 minutes before driving home.  Not because of the heat or any pain, but because I was feeling so chill I didn't have it in me to drive as defensively as is required by L.A. traffic.  I recovered, and I went home.

Had you asked me yesterday if I would go back, my answer would have been an honest "I don't know."  It was hella difficult, y'all.  And I did it to myself.  On purpose.  Today, however, I can tell that I stretched muscles that desperately needed it, and I'm feeling calmer than I have since I stopped renewing my Xanax prescription.  So, yeah... I'll be back, again, and again, and again until maybe one day I don't feel like I'm going to throw up or cry and the Dueling Head Mes don't fight as often.  'Til the day when I have the energy left at the end of class to cheerfully applaud the newbie by the door who looks like s/he might throw up, cry, or run away, but stays present instead.


--Nicole

"Queen Sugar" is the TV show that I didn't even know I needed.

"UNBOWED" - Original Oil Painting
by Nicole J. Butler

One of my sisters has been trying to get me to watch "Queen Sugar" since the first episode aired, but since her viewing practices have proven to be questionable in the past, I "yeah-yeahed" her and kept it moving (sorry, Mel).

I have a love/ hate relationship with "black shows."  My early childhood memories are rooted in a time during which the phone would ring and it was my grandmother or great-grandmother calling to inform us that "colored folks are on TV."  Eager to see people who looked like us, we would immediately turn to whichever channel said "colored folks" were purported to be gracing at the moment, and watch whatever they happened to  be doing on said channel.  Usually the characters' lives centered around their respective struggles against "the man."  We watched anyway, because "we" were on TV.

Along came "The Cosby Show," "A Different World," and "Living Single,"- comedies about upwardly mobile black people with nary a housing project or food stamp in sight.  Let me pause here to tell you that I consider myself to have had wonderful family and community role models in my childhood.  My whole village raised, encouraged, chastised, guided, and supported me.  What I know now that I didn't know then was that I was hungry for images and narratives outside of my home that showed people who looked like me (black and female) thriving in the world at large.  These three comedies offered up visual affirmations on a weekly basis, delivered with a side of laughs, and they nourished me.

Somewhere between then and now, things appeared to go backwards, with way too many "black shows" being either overly didactic or outright buffoonery.  I do like to laugh, but not at the expense of my self-esteem, so over time I found myself watching fewer and fewer shows with people who "looked like me" because the characters were people with whom I would never spend time by choice.  I was offended by insinuations that, decades from the "colored people are on TV" era, I should support TV shows and/ or movies because they were "for black people."

Enter "Queen Sugar."  Honestly, I started watching because my sister keeeeeept talking about it, people on Twitter kept mentioning it, and I had run out of "must-see TV".  Plus it was from Ava DuVernay. "13th" Ava DuVernay- how bad could it really be?

Episode one enveloped me in what was truly a "moving picture."  Visually stunning and viscerally familiar, "Queen Sugar" showed me characters portraying people that I recognize from my own life experiences.  And these characters look like the people at whose feet I learned how to "be."  Flawed, to be sure, but people who do the best that they can do to get by, day by day.  Culturally authentic, there are no questions as to whether or not these characters are "black-black"* or not, but neither are their challenges intrinsic to their race.  These are complex characters FIRST... and also black Americans.  AND it's a drama; they may love to laugh and joke, but they are not performing for your approval nor amusement.

For the first time I caught myself thinking "This must be how white people feel when they watch TV."  Present.  Normal.  Centered.  Vital.

The languid pace of the show allows me to luxuriate in this world, where folks look like me and not only have issues to which I can relate, but other unspoken truths that I know intimately;  challenges and pressures that are familiar to me as my own skin, due to life experiences related to being black (and female!) in a society that undermined our worth at every possible juncture.

Representation matters.  As an professional, educated black woman, I am acutely aware of the balance between being authentically myself and performing for the white (or male) gaze.  Code-switching deftly to navigate spaces where doors close unless you know the code.  Where "white" is normal, and everyone else is "other."  Shit's tiresome.  As a working actress, oil painter, and writer, I am at once inspired and charged by "Queen Sugar."  I have a renewed sense of responsibility to accurately, honestly, and unapologetically depict the people who go unseen and unheard.  Again, I have been nourished. My charge is to pay it forward, in hopes that one day children of color won't know a time when they don't see themselves in society at large.  A time when #AllLivesMatter is really a thing.

--Nicole


*"Black-Black" is probably not politically correct (or whatever), but it is a "thing" and everybody knows what it is.  Close your eyes and picture a black person, then open your eyes.  I'll give you a moment.  Don't cheat.
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Ok-  You know that first person who popped into your head?  "Black-Black."  I'm sure of it.

P.S. - Since I began writing post this I've seen the movie "Girls Trip."  Slow clap.  Maybe the times really are a-changin'.

WHAT did I just eat??

I'm trying to be better.  Not better than anyone else, but better than I was last year, last month, yesterday.  I'm reading books by people who have manifested qualities in their lives that I would like to see in my own, figuring out what's useful to me, and implementing policies in my life that will effect growth.

I get most of my news from NPR and Twitter and check in with both throughout the day.  While scrolling my Twitter feed for the latest happenings, I happened upon a video snippet of artist, Saul Williams, giving an interview at The Breakfast Club.  What he said really resonated with me on a gut level, so I hunted down the whole interview and watched it.

Of the many truths told in the video, the one that drew me in still stuck with me.  Here, I'll let you hear it for yourself:

I've been thinking about my own "diet."  When I first started working with a trainer, I just wanted her to help me exercise away the "jiggle" that had crept up on certain areas of my body.  When she talked about diet, I would freak out.  Mentally, I knew it was irrational, but I had a visceral feeling that she was trying to take something away from me.  My reaction was to stop eating ice cream, and substitute frozen yogurt.  And to stop eating sliced bread and have a croissant every day instead, and wash it down with an "unsweetened" latte- never mind that the heated milk contains lactose (milk sugar).  Basically, my reaction was to play the shell game. I was like an alcoholic switching from hard liquor to wine, pretending that they aren't still getting drunk.

In retrospect, I had a raging sugar addiction, and the thought of not having access to sugar throughout the day every day was as scary to me as not having access to drugs would be to a drug addict.  Long story short, I did the "Whole30" for 2 months straight as a reset for my body AND my mind, and I've been able to stay off of sweets in the 2 months since then.  I changed my diet, and my body is changing for the better.  I have more mental clarity as well.

Saul Williams' video highlighted the need for me to take a close look at my intake of other consumables.  If I'm watching trashy reality shows of grown women fist-fighting on TV, being bombarded on social media by viral videos of cops abusing black people, and listening to music that glorifies violence and over a banging beat  - what does that do to my mind and spirit?  What about the things that I purchase ("consumer" is interchangeable with "purchaser" for a reason)? Do I own them, or do they keep me bound- in effect, owning me?  And regarding the people with whom I spend my time- are my relationships in line with the growth that I'd like to see in my life and the overall well-being that I'd like to manifest?  Also - what type of presence am I in OTHER people's lives?  Am I adding value or am I detrimental?  Life is precious... how am I really spending it?

I have some clean-up to do.  If you have thoughts on this subject as it relates to your own life, please comment!

If you'd like to watch the whole video (which I highly recommend), click HERE.

--Nicole

"Y'all Ain't Gon' Drive Me Crazy!" (or "Self-Care" in 2017)

Me.  Unbothered.

In January, I decided that this year would be one of unparalleled commitment to self-care.  I will admit that I have done pretty well, but at least once a day, I find myself saying (out loud) "Y'all ain't gon' drive me crazy!"

On the surface, it may appear that I am already crazy, and  To be perfectly honest, I think my mental neighborhood is "crazy-adjacent" but I'll be gat-damned if I'm gonna let some of these muhfuggs drag me the rest of the way.  Here's how I cope:

NB: I've been quiet here for awhile, and now I have some things to say.  Warning y'all ahead of time that I'm in my South-Side-of-Chicago-Girl bag right at the moment, and if you have a problem with AAVE, you may want to sit this one out.

1.)  The problem:  donald 😖 
Yes, lowercase "d" donald (y'all know who I'm talking about).  Some of y'all put this punk-ass fool in the White House so that he can pretend to run the country from his Twitter feed, now I have to see/ listen to his reprehensible behavior on the daily.  Ev-er-y single day, there's a fresh, steaming pile of madness on my doorstep.  I go to the gym, and it's on the TV, I listen to NPR and it's on the radio, I sign into my computer, and... well, there it is.  Again.

The solution:  At the first sign of eye-twitch,  I turn ALL that isht off and meditate, paint, write, work out, practice yoga, or read a book until I am sufficiently chill enough to interact with people without using cusswords.


2.)  The problem:  Family
Chiiiile - how much time you got??  'Cuz I got stories for ya.  I do love my family, and my emotional wiring won't allow me to just NOT care, but some of these kinfolk really test the limits of my patience.

The solution:  I limit my interactions with the folks that are most likely to make my head explode (some are down to birthday and Christmas texts), and I just pray for their ratchet asses them.


3.)  The problem:  Friends
I like all y'all, and even love some of y'all, but I'm good for listening to the same issue 2, maybe 3 times... then you either need to make some changes or find a therapist.  I'm here if you really need me, but not always just b/c you want me.  I know that's not the way that the BFF fairyland handbook is drawn up, but I can't even be the good, honest, respectful listener that you deserve when I spread myself thinly.  Don't call me with bullshit.

The solution:  I turn my ringer off whenever possible.  My phone is for MY convenience, and being accessible to everybody at all hours is not what I consider "convenient."  Those closest to me know how to find me in a true emergency, and know that I will make myself available when I am able to give unimpeded.


6.)  The problem: Money
This one is tricky for me, because in our "s/he who dies with the most toys wins" culture, I have figured out that I really don't care about money, but I can't ignore the fact that it's a tool to be traded for things that I need, like a ceiling, wifi, a flushable indoor toilet, and international travel (yes, that is  a need, no it's not up for debate).  As much as I do not care, I've actually come to like living indoors and not having to read by candlelight, so I have to make enough to sustain myself, plus put away enough to not have to eat cat food when Hollywood puts my old black woman ass out to pasture, as it is wont to do.

The solution:  I am not focused on getting rich or being famous, I am focused on enjoying my life.  Most of what I need in order to enjoy my life has nothing to do with money or notoriety.  For the things that DO require money, I make my money doing (mostly) things that I enjoy, and keep it moving.  Fancy high-end cars, designer labels, and expensive dinners don't move me, so that helps to reduce my overhead. For those things that require a higher level of visibility than my norm, I make sure that my hustle stays aligned with my values.


4.)  The problem: Hollywood 
Oh, honey- Hollywood will chew you up and spit you out if you tie your sense of self-worth to being validated by the movers, shakers, and gatekeepers.

The solution:  I am an artist FIRST, and keeping myself involved in various artistic endeavors depends solely on ME.  "Hollywood" is just an avenue that allows me to trade a few of my artistic abilities for money.  It's business - not personal.


5.)  The problem: Social Media
On the surface, it's an introvert's DREAM!  Like a big 'ol cocktail party where nobody wears pants and you can leave when you've had enough... and then you find out how insidious it is:  people expect feedback on the minutest minutiae of their lives.  "Did you see my cat do that thing?"  Yes, heffa, I've seen your damn cat do ALL the things, that's why I'm muting you.  Or Boo has a fight with Bae and wants the world to know how trash Bae is... until they get back together, then you're supposed to forget about that time that Bae punched Boo in the eye.

Nah.

The solution:  I use the apps that are useful for me in ways that add value to my life, rather than just sucking up my time.  I don't have FOMO from not regularly scouring my Facebook feed for the latest happenings.  I don't think people will suffer if I don't Snapchat every event in my day.  I'm just not that important to the social media network at large, and that's fine by me.  Most folks are too wrapped up in their own lives to be worried about mine, and the ones who genuinely care about my life already know what's going on.

In summation:  Availing myself to this "always-on" culture isn't good for me.  It keeps my head full of noise and makes it tough for me to hear the gentle voice of my own intuition.  Because I am constantly on call for auditions, I usually can't completely unplug when I want to.  Instead, I guard my energy like a watchdog.

• This means accepting that I can't be all things to all people.  If you need a friend that you can call up all day with "What you doin'?"  I'm not her.

• This means "They sleep, we grind."  is often just something that I read on Twitter before I drift off to a night of restful sleep.

• This means accepting that some good people will get pissy because they called me twice about something unimportant (by their own admission) and I didn't call back until the next day when I was mentally equipped to focus and engage.

I can live with all of that.

It's crude, but that's how I keep my tenuous hold on sanity and reserve energy for the things that are truly important to me.  How about you?

--Nicole

Life Changes (Us).

Some very important relationships in my life have changed recently.  Fallen away/ faded away/ ended/ rendered/ ripped/ changed.

And I'm getting to the part where I can be all insightful about it, and whatnot.  On most days, anyway.

But know this:

before this point, there was a lot of heart-wringing, stankface-making, growling, and cover-burrowing.

Before seeking the light I shrank from it - preferring the cover of darkness to nurse my despair.

But despair, like everything else, falls away if you open your hands and allow it to.

So here I am.  Standing just to the right edge of my spotlight.  A little more battle-scarred and stronger for my efforts, but I'm on my feet, and my hands are open.

--Nicole

"Once you make a decision...

the universe conspires to make it happen. " - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Or, as I often heard preachers say in church as I was growing up: "You take one step, God'll take two!" 

I didn't anticipate that my commitment to moving at a slower pace that allows me to function better in all aspects of my life (instead of the frenetic pace that has only proven to benefit me work-wise) would be easy.  I constantly have to remind myself to breathe, to let minor things go, to trust that not every situation needs my fingerprints all over it in order to work out 'right.'

Before I embarked upon this journey, I prayed a prayer that went something like this:

"Lord - you know I need to slow down, and I feel like you actually WANT me to... but you know me:  I can NOT have my life fall apart while I sit & meditate.  That just ain't gon work for me,  so please help me out here."

I started making a list of personal and professional goals for this year and then I started making changes in the way that I deal with things.  I've been auditioning, managing the things that need to be managed, and saying "no" to stuff that I either don't really want to do or that will cause my schedule to become over-full when it doesn't have to be.  I'm also taking deep breaths and trusting that work will come to me even if I don't spent every free moment beating the bushes.  I have a great team and while I think my being proactive has benefitted my career, what's it all worth if I can't take a little time to sort myself out?

Which brings me to my point:

Without any intervention on my part, here's what has happened to me career-wise THIS YEAR (today being Jan. 8):

• 2 commercial auditions
• 1 Equity audition for live theatre ("Equity auditions" is on my 2016 goals list)
• 1 TV show booking (overshare ahead:  they called & booked me while I was at home in my underwear eating a late breakfast & listening to the radio)

I feel like this is confirmation that what's for me is mine, and while I should be prepared to work hard when needed, not every situation of every day is a 5-alarm fire actually requiring hard work.

This may be elementary to some of you who figured this out LONG before I have, but bear with me.  We all have our "stuff" and this is (some of) mine.

It's a process... and I think it's gonna be ok.

--Nicole

HAPPY (Re)NEW YEAR!!

Today feels fresh.

Possibly because the holidays have brought me a lot of down-time lately, which has granted me a reprieve from my usual Tasmanian-devil-like existence of late. Maintaining that hectic pace over the last few years has brought me to this place:

A place of newness. 

I won't be making any proclamations that I'll feel pressured to live up to, because I don't want to view my efforts through the "pass/fail" lens through which I readily view my actions. To have different results, I have to try different things, and I'm willing.

What I WILL say is that I have been spinning in ever-widening circles for too long, and I need to make my orbit a little more intimate in order to be true to me. I've been feeding the voice that shouts and not the one that whispers.

 In 2016, I want more of what replenishes me, and less of what depletes me. And I think, perhaps naively, that my attitude and choices hold the key.  Not "circumstance," but (again) the lens through which I view my circumstances.

I pose the question: "What will happen if I make this year all about operating from my gut and telling my head to ride quietly in the back seat?"  It's more than a little scary - my head has been good to me in a lot of ways, but I need a change.

It could bring the serenity that I seem to always be seeking. Or I could crash and burn. I really don't know. But we'll find out, won't we? Cheers to a year of living dangerously!

 Happy 2016, y'all.

 --Nicole

"Nothing happens until something moves." --Albert Einstein

I didn't know that this was going to be a poem...

I started writing my thoughts, and this is what decided that it wanted to live in the world.

Make of it what you will.  I'm just the messenger.

--Nicole

Today, I found myself considering all of the doors that would have been closed to me
had I been born at a different time
or a different place
or into different circumstances.

I considered all of the things that I do on a regular basis 
and wondered at what I would have to subtract from myself 
in order to be "respectable:"

1. All of the things that women aren't "supposed" to do.
2. All of the things that black people "can't" do.

Tiny erasures that leave ghosts behind, howling at arbitrary injustices.

A wave of relief washed over me, momentarily, because I live in the now.
And justice imperfect and incomplete is better than complete injustice.

A sobering tsunami soon followed:
Too many people will never know the now.
Too many people born into different circumstances in different places 
still stand nose to wood
at a door that was opened to someone else
only moments before.

Putting In Work On Labor Day

Today is Labor Day, 2015. I've had a lot of solitude this weekend, which has been really nice.  Those who know me know that I tend to runrunrun until health forces me to stop, and this time was no different.   I was so fatigued by the end of last week that I was taking naps between appointments on Friday, and on Saturday I lay down for a nap and slept for thirteen hours straight. And that's not anywhere near my personal best.

Sunday found me alternately sunken into my sofa, binge-watching "Switched At Birth", and sitting on my pouffe making jewelry while watching "Switched At Birth". From time to time I would also follow my mind to the place where it insisted on poking around like a dog who has caught wind of something and insists on a thorough inspection before continuing down the road.

 What I found there is something that I've always known. 

 I found that, in order to be the best ME that I can be, I need more quiet in my life.

 My life is too loud right now.  I can blame it on any number of things (all of which are related to my choices): 

• my career ambitions in an industry that is largely about visibility and self-promotion
• my desire to help people, including other actors, which often leads to me pouring out more than I replenish 
• social media, which is an easy way to connect with people (and y'all know I love technology), but it still requires quite a bit of time and energy to actually engage with people like the actual people that they are, and not just like names on a screen
• my curiosity, which leads me to explore, try, and take on more than I am physically able.  The spirit may be willing, but the flesh done got TIRED.

Early this year, I adopted the first line of Max Ehrmann's "Desiderata" as my credo:

"Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence."

I posted the entire poem around my home, in my car, and carry it with me in my wallet as a reminder to slow down and be deliberate about my actions and my words instead of reactionary.

It works when I actually SLOW DOWN and read the friggin' thing, but on the whole, I haven't been very dutiful.

I feel like I'm going to miss out on something that I really need if I take the time to "go placidly", and the little house of cards that I've worked so hard to build will come crashing down.  I worry that someone who desperately needs to hear something won't hear it if I am silent for awhile.

But as I read further into Mr. Ehrmann's poem, I find something that I desperately need to hear:

"...be gentle with yourself.  You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; 

you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should."

Something has to change.  And that "something" is ME.

The "why" and the "how" are crystal clear.  (see "My life is too loud." and "...be gentle with yourself.")

All that's left is the "do."  And I'm good at "doing."

That's how I created this situation in the first place. 

 --Nicole