Healing Over Hustling – The Reset

 

Healing Over Hustling – The Reset

I had been trying to wrap my head around why it has been so hard to get out of this hole. How it seemed like no matter how hard I have been grinding, hustling, putting one foot in front of the other, up with the chickens and down with the crickets, I was getting no further along.

Wake up exhausted, go to bed exhausted. Can’t fully sleep because as soon as I close my eyes my mind wakes me up, reminding me of all the many things I have undone, unfinished, stuff in limbo — and if not that, it is a phone call from a loved one or close one needing assistance or utilization of my resources, skill sets, or assets.

Ever be built for problem solving but be like, “God just hide me because I don’t want to solve not nan other problem?” That’s me. Exhausted from surviving… surviving the 12–16 hour day gig work grind.

As a creator and small business owner, I would judge myself by my measurable productivity until it became unrealistic and, in this meaning, poisonous to my holistic welfare. I know we throw around the word “toxic” so much in this postmodern world that it has lost its real qualitative value, but for me in this equation:

pp = tp
poisonous productivity = toxic productivity

Literally meaning killing myself by this unrealistic rubric I was living by.

If I am completely honest, I am still in recovery. Trying to relieve myself from guilt and shame of being so equipped with training, talents, and hidden treasures yet to be discovered, only to be in disastrous and chaotic need again.

How can I (still do help) have helped, aided, and come to the rescue of so many, and don’t know but one person outside of my household I can ask for twenty bucks? This has me in a grappling grasp on reality and the gravity of how this hurts.

I did the whole — asking for help — and it got me nothing, honestly. I am so very humbly grateful for those that extended me an olive branch many times from their tree of needs themselves.

Once I was so very excited to be chosen to take a major step for my businesses and my brands. I sought out the help from whom I thought were my supporters and graciously I was “gifted” the chance to make a difference in a cause I believe so deeply in. Some of those same supporters offered to continue support for new endeavors, but when I was completely transparent that I would use the support as a building block, it was met with resistance and no assistance.

Why am I being so transparent? Because I know I am not the only one suffering from hustle overload — working hard to make a difference for your family, the community you live in, all while building a legacy that is believable and can be built upon.

These keystrokes are offering me a leap pad toward my healing, toward a freedom of not being ashamed that my hustle is failing me — not because I am lazy, not because I do not care, not because I am living above or beneath the means I have in my possession, not because my dreams are unobtainable — but because the shift happened.

Last year, a dear friend helped me eat so many times without ever judging me. Not once made me feel small because I didn’t have it or asked embarrassing questions about how I can own a business and make sales but still can’t afford to feed myself.

So many times over the last two years in particular, my presence was required in spaces that, had I not shown up or been present and accounted for, the outcome for those connected to me would have been gravely disastrous. Being present in those moments saved lives, built bridges, healed hurt for those I had to stand in the gap for — but it also cost me leverage to build for current and future financial needs.

I am exhausted with not having enough.
I am exhausted with always being the one that gets called on but can’t call no one.
I am exhausted with having to choose between paying for one necessity and going without the other.

Something as simple as buying laundry soap versus paying my mobile phone bill should not cause me to cry myself to sleep.

How can I be facing being unhoused again, disconnections again, auctions again, zero mobility again, when all I ever do is fall asleep and wake up (outside fear of notices and lockouts) dreaming about ideas, drawing plans, and creating programming for those in need around me — but can’t climb out and stay out this hole again?

I am not broken, but my ability to pay attention to the things I know I am called to has shifted into exhaustion — from being scared that I will not have something I really need so I can continue to fight, create, and build on these thoughts, ideas, and plans that never died, even in the midst of facing immediate personal calamity.

What does it mean that I have nearly 25 months being the exact resource those around me needed, but no one sees or cares about what I need?

I am exhausted from struggling.

Struggling to continue to hustle.
Struggling to choose between bread or peanut butter to go on the bread.
Struggling to choose between gas or water (water won, of course).
Struggling to give when I have nothing left but the lint in my pocket.

Struggling because I am overworked and undersupported — and those words fall off my lips easily, but they only scratch the surface.

I believe in this movement.
I believe in the momentum it will create.
I believe that this collection will give visualization to something bigger than this gray-haired grandmother.

When you read these words, I want you to hear my heart.
Hear my pain.
Hear my desire to break the chain of being ashamed and feeling guilty.

And when you wear one of these tees, I want you to hear my healing as people read the words.

They’re not just random words I threw on a tee to make another urban wear collection line for another money grab. It is the very existence of where I am as I penned these words, and it is the very needful springboard I want to use to share, find, and use my voice for others who can’t.

Join me as I divorce hustle culture and work on my healing over hustling.

These last two years have taught me that culture to nurture didn’t fail me — but hustle did. Better yet, my form of hustling did.

I see you all on the other side.

Love and Light,
Peace and Blessings,

Coach A

This may be my story to tell, but it’s our journey to share.

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The Weight of Disconnection

In a world where so many are disconnected by varying degrees of separation—via circumstances attributed to lack, need, and isolation—why are the people who claim to be about community so comfortable not actually and actively building and maintaining connections?

People in these spaces, people in need of communal love and connection, often only hear certain questions after a breaking point or tragedy reveals the depth of their suffering—or their death—due to lack, need, or isolation:

• Why didn’t you call?

• Why didn’t you ask for help?

• Didn’t you need help last [fill in the blank]?

• You probably need to change your [fill in the blank].

• You probably have a disconnect  or error in the way you exercise your faith.

But when attempts from those in lack, need, or isolation do reach out—only to be met with malice, prejudice, ghosted, or left on read—it breaks more than just the moment. It destroys faith. It erodes trust in human kindness.

“You will have the poor with you every day for the rest of your lives…”
—Matthew 26:11, Mark 14:7, John 12:8 (MSG)

These scriptures hit differently when you're the one in need.

My heart is deeply aware of how people who have, and those who have not, operate with a distinct line in the sand. We’ve all heard it:
"If you ever need something, just ask..."

But what most people mean is:
"Only ask for what I think you should need, when I think you should need it, and only if you look like you’re struggling."

If you don’t appear visibly broken—if you’re not on a corner begging, or if your needs aren’t publicly known—then you’re on your own.

Today, my spirit grieves. I’m tired. Because I know how it feels to be tired of always being there for others, only to be shunned or ignored when it’s you who needs help.

This isn’t a call for pity.
It’s not a performance of pain.
Not even rehearsing past trauma.

It’s simply what it looks like to tell the truth in a world that doesn’t always know how to receive it.

If this resonates with you, share or comment—community begins with acknowledgment. Want to explore “The Weight of Disconnection” more deeply? Click here to purchase and download my ebook at buymeacoffee.com/ZepsGarden.

Managing Memories - #mySUGAHFoote

 Good morning, beautiful souls. Today marks a tender milestone—five years since my grandson, my heartbeat, Zephaniah, flew on ethereal wings to join the ancestors. He was a tender age, just 13 months in this realm, yet he remains timeless in my heart.

In the dance between sorrow and joy, we find ourselves pirouetting on the edge of tears and smiles. Beloveth, grieving,  is not a straight path—it's a labyrinth of emotions, each turn a new facet of love, pain, and remembrance. So if today, or any day, you find your spirit heavy, know that it's alright to carry that weight while still finding moments to soar.

In this never-ending dance, let's pause and ground ourselves with a meditative embrace:

1. Seek sanctuary in the quiet corners of your mind, eyes closed.

2. Breathe—inhale the love you've known, exhale the pain that grips you.

3. Envision a celestial garden, where the blossoms hum ancestral lullabies. Your loved one is there—a flower glowing with ethereal light.

4. With each deep breath, let your souls converse. Share a smile, a tear, an unsaid word.

5. As you open your eyes, let this heavenly tableau accompany you, softening the edges of your earthly journey.

Let us not wane in our pursuit of life even as we honor those who have transitioned. For in our living, their light finds resonance. Through our tears and our laughter, they live on.

Today, I honor my grandson and your angels, too. May they twinkle in the celestial garden above as we strive to make our earthly gardens below worthy of their legacy.

#ZEPSGarden #mySUGAHFoote

#ZNAourDNA #myFIRSTbornFIRSTborn #daZepofdaGarden #mySONSson

#griefdoesntEXPIRE

Unlocking All The Pieces 🔓🧩

When I say to you .... BUT GOD!!!! Whew I am so full I could burst! I am UNLOCKING all the pieces! That moment when you FINALLY realize you do DESERVE to have the DESIRES of your DREAMS! When you look into your eyes, see behind the image looking back at you and you welcome the truth behind the lenses! When you know your hard work is paying off. When  you NOW wake up every morning giving God the glory and fulfilling  your dreams more ENERGY than you ever have before! When you replace EXCUSES with EXECUTIONS! When you say "NOPE NOT TODAY" and serve "EVICTION NOTICES"  to all the freeloading unhelpful voices in your head who have lived rent free for years. When you get out of your own way and tell the pieces of your past selves "Hey either get onboard or get lost!" When you decided to believe it when God said "It's your time", When you develop a nothing and no one will stop you from reaching your next level ATTITUDE! That moment when you realize you've spent more time in private developing yourself and healing! This is that moment!  So if you've missed me, couldn't get in contact with me, or noticed my absence just know I have been over here UNLOCKING ALL THE PIECES!!!! 🔓🧩 #BeFreeBeloveth💖 

Good Bye Jan 1st Good Morning Jan 2nd

It's 3am in the morning and I can't sleep. This is much to my dismay most late nights / early mornings. My mind is like the opening data programming screens of any well written software or app. 

I spend countless hours reviewing, and rewinding sometimes in  regret of the choices I made the day, week, month  or even the moment before.

I hunger for success as a plant hungers for water. It keeps me up at night and makes my pen empty from drawing and scratching and scribbling over, over, and over again.

I stay in prayer asking, crying, pleading, with God to grant me access into a space where I stop finding myself guilty of failing  from my missed steps but gleaning from the ones I got right.

I am not perfect nor do I want to be. I know I have everything inside of me to conquer this new hill in this valley of hills and mountains of my life. 

Tonight as I sat with God in prayer crying inside and listening to my playlist a new song came through my headphones .... the lyrics pierced my internal cry and made me begin to cry out loud!

Music is the iambic pentameter of my soul, it is water for my thoughts and fertilizer for my growth.

As the words sifted through my soul I leaped up to see who was this guest liturgical maven … her voice carried my tears down my cheek and caressed my hand and I penned these words from my thoughts. 

The song …. You Say by Lauren Daigle searched me out and I found a space to feel humanity to be honest, to be vulnerable, and to believe. 

This may be the last thing I scribble but at least I didn't let the beauty of the moment live only inside of me. 

Good Night January 1st and Good Morning January 2nd.

The Queen Has Spoken from @ZepsGarden 

#BeFreeBeloveth #GrowthlivesHERE

www.communalconscientiousness.com

Be Kind and Lead with Love

It's become so easy to point at what we consider others shortcomings. We have outgrown the polite society i.e. the polite communities i.e. the polite neighborhoods we grew up in. 

Nope none of what many of us experienced was perfect (heck far from it) nor was it without harm or residual interwoven mental malaise. 

 But what it was - FAMILY! BUT what it was - COMMUNAL! But what it was - LOVE! 

 So many youth, young people, young adults, young parents don't have a fighting chance to get it (whatever it is) together because the community has turned into 1 or 2 things rapidly these days. 1 either it's me and mine or 2 stop by, drop in, photo opt, post it, check a box, move on to the next "community" you are helping with your "presence"! 

Yes. Assistance is often met with resistance but who here amongst us came out the door trusting an outsider? I am exhausted cause we that are they whom are them who have given their complete adulthoods and part of their childhoods for the betterment of the communities we have resided in see this slippery slope of selfishness, one sidedness, and greed preventing Wholistic Health and Healing for our families and our communities. 

When was the last time you got out of your comfort zone and just gave someone a compliment? You will be surprised how much you can infect the chemical makeup of the culture in your community simply by making someone smile or laugh. 

I am not asking you to be fake or phony. Just give off some good positive vibes. Stop projecting your lens onto someone else's lifestyle. You don't have to agree with it. But find a different way to encourage and foster change without being so negative. 

We are so caught up in likes, posts, and reels no one cares to be genuine, to be real, to be kind. And if someone is, they get JUDGED harshly for doing so! 

You know we are living in an upside down world when being kind is suspicious behavior but a scripted reality show making millionaires from falsities is the norm and "goals" for so many. 

I am always be kind. I am always talk about God. And I am always lead with Love! 

 I am the Queen Has Spoken from @ZepsGarden 

 #GodPourSUMmo

EYE Loved His Glass

 

When I was a freshman in college I met one of my best friends. He was too funny. We'd have sooooooo much fun doing silly simple stuff, like going to the movies all day. We'd take a break go grab a bite to eat and then go back. We'd rent videos from RAO and binge watch them. We’d go riding and see how many numbers he could get from women.  We would take his uncle with us to the store just so we could watch his eyes light up when he'd see pretty women. We'd play cards, and dominoes. We'd barbecue, try to go fishing, etc. We had so much fun. 

When I met him he was sickly but that never stopped him from doing anything. He had his good days and his not so good days. He never really let me know the severity of his illness until he started to push me away after being home bound for a week. He wouldn't answer my phone calls and didn't call me. So I decided I am not going to lose my best friend like that. I went to his house and after he cursed me out for a good five minutes (but seemed like hours, he was a good cuss-er) he let me in. Once in the house I could see in person why he'd been so distant. He was in some serious pain and this pain was doing him badly. He explained to me exactly what was going with him and how in the past he'd just push people away because he didn't want people to see him like that. Oh we cried that day.

His illness began to take a real toll on his body causing him to have to quit work. We could no longer ride out like we used too. So we changed how we hung out. When he could handle a car ride we rode and when he couldn't we didn't. Eventually his illness caused him to be completely confined to home and most times in his bed. Before he gotten this sick he tried to be a good best friend slash uncle to my son by trying new stuff. He attempted to baby-sit. He attempted to cut my grass in 100+ degree weather.  He attempted to barbecue. He was not good at many of those attempts but I loved the fact that he tried.

My best friend lost his battle with his illness. Although I miss him so very much knowing that he didn't have to suffer no more was ease enough to accept him being gone. Here is what I had to learn and make adjustments to having a terminally ill best friend. Every time he got sick it wasn't like with me where I could just either wait it out or go to the doctor for some meds to get better. For him every moment he got down sick it was a chance that he may not recover or that his standard of living may change. While I knew death is inevitable for everyone, he lived with the fact that his days to death ratio were closer than most. He pushed people away not to be selfish but because he didn't think he deserved to be loved due to his illness.

He never saw the glass half empty. He always saw the glass half full. He taught me a meaning (l have learned others ) of carpe diem “Seize the Day” or better for him “Seize the Moment”. As I have been blessed to reach what many would say mid-life I say holla at me when I am fifty then we can add mid-life. I am humbly blessed to have lived past forty and I am sneaking up to that fifty gracefully. The tapestry of my life-long friends keeps changing as well as my socio-geographical pinpoints of those I knew when. It seems that every month now I am either learning of a home going service of a loved one, peer, family member, or friend. Also I am watching the many behind the scenes stories being unveiled of those who have been suffering in silence for long periods of time.

We own our stories and that knowledge should prompt us to want to share them but for so many we don’t we hold on to them.  We often leave our left behind ones with the solemn responsibility to grapple with how to share our stories or our memories. If you have/or are battling an illness terminal or chronic let people in and trust that you can share of yourself on your terms. 

If you are chosen to be a part of the last moments of someone’s life make them lasting moments. Consider how you would want to be treated if you knew that your days to death ratio is drawing nigh. Even if you’re not suffering in these manners and consider your life to be better than the next do know that your days are numbered as well. We have to learn to treat people daily how we want to be treated not just when the chips are down. Show some empathy for the consistent changing mind set and mental framework of someone who is suffering a chronic or terminal illness.  True enough no one wants to be treated in a manner they are displeased with no matter how the person that is treating them that way is fairing in life. All I am asking is that we move beyond tolerance and shift into a space of understanding others plights albeit same or different than yours.

So today let’s move to a unified communal space of embracing the fullness of life.

 

Peace and Bountiful Blessings,

The Queen Has Spoken

8.9.2015

Salute Best Friend EYE Miss You!