Rha Goddess

And my response to avoiding the grief of that was to plunge myself into work.

Yeah.

And I just kept piling it on and piling it on and piling it on.

And it got to a point where literally I just could not get off the couch.

And I was forced to really look at what was it that had me believe that I could not stop?

What was it that had me believe that I could not slow down?

What was it that had me believe that my humanity could

was not a priority.

And that was everything from whether I ate or I slept or all of the sort of basic functional things that we need to do in order to even remotely show up powerfully for the things that are commanding and demanding our attention in the day to day.

And as I began, thank God, through the health of a therapist and a coach, as I began to unravel and really start to understand what was driving me, I was kind of floored to discover all of the narratives that I had been carrying unconsciously about why I had to show up and push and prove and

overachieve, and you know, all of the things, at least.

Right, right.

And to reckon where those messages came from and the degree to which I had so deeply ingrained and buried those messages such that I didn't even realize that that's what I was doing.

Yeah, I think for me, success had often been rooted in achievement, how much you could get done, how much you could get accomplished, how much you could amass in terms of praise or accolades or recognition or support.

And there had been a real narrative for me in terms of my father's history and coming through two decades of Jim Crow segregation that

That, you know, as a black man in America, there was a particular narrative about the degree to which people would honor, respect, appreciate or see you for your efforts.

And that was in there.

And I didn't necessarily realize that was in there.

You know, my mother, you know.

Southern Baptist perfectionist, and eyes dotted, T's crossed, speaking the King's English, pleated skirts, all of those things pressed to within an inch of your life.