“Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.” Matthew 19:24
***
I get this sort of pain in my throat every time this verse comes to pass. It’s as if all the air in my lungs release to the point that my body becomes so small, smaller than it’s ever been, and then it’ll just stay there; in child’s pose, waiting for whoever was there to leave the room.
And it’s in that moment when I realize, that’s my body telling me it feels shame.
And it makes me so sad to feel like I’m watching myself in third person, because I find myself practically drowning in empathy, just for my heart to sink at the realization that I’m not the bystander, I’m not the witness, I am this.
I’m not the jury, I’m the victim.
And as I write this, I’m winded, my breath — nonexistent.
It’s the pain of holding back tears that are strong enough to break a damn, the pain of pretending that everything’s okay because for some reason, it’s more important to me that everyone thinks I’m fine instead of knowing the truth because the truth is, and it’s a pain to know, that deep down, I’m way richer than I say I am — and that’s what’s going to keep me out of the kingdom of God. *** “Jesus said to him, “If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me. When the young man heard this, he went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions. And Jesus said to his disciples, “Truly, I say to you, only with difficulty will a rich person enter the kingdom of heaven. “ Matthew 19:21-23
On my knees, I fold. My heart tussles with the flesh; my mind falls down to it — like a beggar. We don’t need it [possessions], my lord, it cries. Surely, we could do without. But then I get whiplashed with craving, with urge, and somehow in the mix of it all, my lungs sneak in enough air to last me until the next time Matthew 19:24 decides to make an appearance.
It covers up the pain, it covers up the problem, and God’s Heavenly Kingdom.
“No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and [flesh].” Matthew 6:24
It’s the flesh, for me. I’m not rich in money, I’m rich in flesh — and it’s the flesh that’s going to keep me out of the kingdom of heaven.
I’m ashamed to love the flesh, the reward of the flesh, and how immediate it is; how its currency is so accessible that it’s overflowing — a land of its own milk and honey.
I’m hopeless. I can’t rub my eyes hard enough to see through this tunnel of darkness. They never tell you this is what faith feels like. To fall down on your knees, bow your head, and truly mean it when you say, “Lord, have mercy on me.” How broken you can feel and how desperate you can be; there are nights when you can’t sleep and days when you can’t breathe.
But this shame is meant to tell you that the beauty of feeling this way is that it means you care what God thinks of you.
And why would someone care about God if He wasn’t real? It’s because you believe that He is.
And I hope this gives you clarity like it does for me, because it means the hiding can finally be over; I don’t have to hide anymore, because I can’t. I can’t hide from God.
“…even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you.” Psalm 139:12
For nothing is hidden that will not be made manifest, nor is anything secret that will not be known and come to light. Luke 8:17
No one can make you change, but if you truly loved someone, you would. You would stop what’s hurting them and spend your days wondering what would make their better. Their problems would be yours and their goals would be too. When you love someone, your life stops being all about you and more about others. You find compassion, you find patience, and you find grace; add in forgiveness and that sums up the Lord Himself.
And just when I thought this post would be a bottomless sob fest, there’s light at the end of the tunnel after all. Kind of makes you wonder if that’s the whole purpose; to know more, to love more, to change for, to live for.
And Lord, you’re worth living for. You’re worth changing for. I surrender.
And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. Galatians 5:24
No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it. 1 Corinthians 10:13
I can do all things through him who strengthens me. Philippians 4:13 ESV
I was rich in flesh before, but I won’t be anymore. in Your name, I pray, Amen.
Bumper sticker: Life doesn’t happen for you — it happens to you.
There’s a saying at my work and it goes a little something like this: control your controllables. This line gets tossed around a lot because — and just like in life — there’s a lot of things you can’t control; however, if you can manage to master the things you can, you’ll have better ground when it comes to tackling the things you can’t. At work this means acknowledging the fact that we can’t control what people buy, but we can control what they see, and that can influence what gets put in their cart, so we adapt.
Just like any store, you’re not going to be able to miss the chocolate-covered strawberries for Valentine’s Day because it’ll always be right in front of you; the same way burgers and chips get pushed for Independence Day, skeletons for Halloween, and turkey for Thanksgiving. It’s all there, whether or not you choose to take it. It’s there, and that’s what we like to call, a controlled environment.
You can drive sales and project profit, but you can’t force the money nor the people who decide to step through the door. That fate is beyond our control.
Kinda like the phases of the menstrual cycle. You can tend to the bleeding and even pretend it’s not there, something for some reason the rest of the world expects us ladies to do — but the reality is, the blood is just the tip of the iceberg. So much more goes on during this phase than most people realize. It’s not just a matter of containing the flow, yourbody is acting on its own, haven’t you ever wondered why?
Well, prepare to learn anyway.
Let’s get one thing straight. This is biology. This is hormones. This is… The Menstruation Phase.
Let’s begin.
Phase One of the Menstrual Cycle is called the menstruation phase, and it occurs when the presence of pregnancy is deemed nonexistent and so, the uterus begins to shed its lining (you know, the layer of tissue that fertilized eggs attach to as a resting place to grow). Without a fertilized egg, there’s no use for that kind of tissue, and so the body gets rid of it, but just like when any of us peel back skin, the result is usually you’re going to bleed, and so we do. Now, some of us bleed for 3 days, others for 5, but the reality is each body is different, and the phase itself is only as uniform as its constructive goal — to shed the lining. And that, is phase one —BUT wait, there’s more.
During this process, we experience a drop in hormones like estrogen, progesterone, and serotonin. Now, estrogen is the hormone responsible for building the lining that’s meant to sustain the life of the fertilized egg, so no pregnancy means no need for the uterine lining which means no need for a surplus of estrogen. Makes sense, but here’s the catch, estrogen also influences our serotonin levels (the “feel-good” hormone), so when estrogen drops, so does serotonin — which explains why we often feel more irritable, sad, or even more sensitive during this phase of the cycle. Not to mention that the blood loss alone is what makes us feel so fatigued and the reason behind this is the fact that when we bleed, we lose what is called iron.
Iron aids in a plethora of different tasks within the body. For instance, it helps carry oxygen throughout the blood and so without enough iron, cells don’t get enough oxygen, and ATP (Adenosine Triphosphate) can’t be produced. ATP is our body’s energy currency, and cells need oxygen to produce our energy, so to put it simply,
low iron = low oxygen = low ATP = low energy = ): waaaah
Suffice to say, whether we want to admit it or not, this change in our body affects us. Progesterone is responsible for our calm state of mind, so when that hormone drops, we experience moodiness, irritability, even anxiety. And that uterine lining that sheds? Remember how I mentioned the peeling back of the skin? Well, the lining doesn’t just fall off on its own and we bleed as a result. No, it sheds by means of contractions — something we recognize as cramps. Yaaaaaaaay……
You know, I find it interesting how I’ve gone the last decade of my life just plugging holes in my body instead of wrapping my head around the concept that’s behind all the bleeding. I’ve always centered my cycle around shame and have always tried to hide it the best that I could, but the problem is, the thing I’m ultimately trying to hide from is, myself.
Mybody. I’ll say things like, “No, I’m not moody,” or I’ll spend more hours sleeping than anything else, and then I’ll complain about feeling bloated but pretend not to know why — I mean, it’s right there, at my fingertips; an opportunity to create a controlled environment, yet I’m fighting it. Why?
The truth is, I don’t like how my biology affects me. I don’t like waking up and wanting to go back to bed. I don’t like how everything I eat during this phase makes me feel ten pounds heavier than I actually am. I don’t like how I know I’m capable of running but somehow can’t bring myself to do it. And I especially don’t like that this phase that’s only supposed to last for 5 days actually takes weeks to recover from and before I know it — I’m there, again.
I don’t like it, so I think I can run from it, but I can’t. I can’t run from myself; I just have to figure out what it means to be myself.
Okay, so during my period I’m slow and less energized, so what? What do I do with that? How do I capitalize? How can I adapt and make it so that I no longer pretend to be caught off guard by this slowdown that literally happens everysingle month — like I know it’s there, I know it’s coming.
It came, and it went. And here we are, but it’s not over. Now, I’m knee deep into the Follicular Phase, and after that, it’ll be Ovulation, and then Luteal — but I’ll save those phases for later.
The point is, after all that, I’ll bleed, again.
You can’t hide from your body. It’s your vessel. It’s working for you — doing things you can’t do even if you tried to. It’s your body.
And you know, so much of life revolves around the desire of wanting to know who we are, but isn’t this a part of it?
This is who I am. I get tired and I slow down, but that doesn’t have to mean I stop. I just have to learn how to move, even if just an inch further, and accept that progress is progress.
I’ve made Tomiee Cruise out to be this unstoppable woman, I mean, on point 24/7. But that’s not realistic. It can’t be, because I can’t be — I need to change the narrative and redefine what being on point means.
So now being on point means being on track — to wherever it is I’m going.
It means moving, even if just an inch further, in the right direction. It means knowing how to aid in my slowdown, for the sake of my stamina, and surrendering to the things that are out of my control while doing my part to adapt to the things that are.
And it’s not going to happen overnight. It’ll take months, maybe even a year, because I only get one shot at tackling each phase roughly every 28 days.
But that’s okay. I’ll keep moving, because even if life only happens to me and not for me, I can be the thing that happens for life, and I can only imagine how it feels to summit that mountain.
If you keep ignoring the source of a problem, then you’ll always pretend to wonder where exactly its coming from.
Jöölai — you sly dog, how dare you start without me. I had plans, posts to write, and now the timing’s all wrong.
I practically missed the end of Jöön, the beginning of Jöölai, and Tom Cruise’s birthday on the 3rd. I mean, we’re already a week into this new month and I still have yet to welcome it.
So, what gives? Have I lost my stamina? The ability to push through hardships? Am I no longer a resource for wisdom or revelation? Is my battery dead? Is my blog going to die? Will everything I’ve done so far just be—
for nothing?
I don’t know. I didn’t go to the gym last week. Haven’t stepped foot inside this week, either. Don’t know if I’m going tomorrow — definitely don’t see myself going today. Where’s my inner Tom Cruise; Tomiee, where you at? — I mean, I have no idea what’s going on.
… Or maybe I do.
Here’s the thing, I am not Tom Cruise. I can’t fly a plane, I don’t speak ten languages, and I sure as hell can’t hold my breath for six and a half minutes under water.
I’ m not Tom Cruise.
But then again — Tom Cruise is not a woman, and I’m not saying women can’t do what Tom Cruise does, I’m just saying there are some things we have to learn how to do differently. I mean, look, I’m not trying to be Tom Cruise, I’m trying to be Tomiee, but there’s a subtle difference between Tom and Tomiee you could completely miss if you’re not paying close enough attention.
A period.
Tom doesn’t have a menstrual cycle, at least, not one that I know of.
Gaawhh, gross.Somebody —change the subject, please — come on, hurry! Ew ew ew.
But I can’t, it’s time I rewrote the narrative and finally acknowledged the source of something that’s been holding me back for so long.
You see, the problem is not the period; I bleed, so what? The problem has always been coming to terms with the genetic makeup of the period and adapting my life to make space for something that is simply out of my control.
What do I mean by this? Well, do you remember that rant I just went on? The paragraphs filled with worry and self-doubt — wondering if all is lost with no means to recover? That, my friends, is the product of the Luteal Phase, aka something we all know as, PMS. I’ve always rejected it because I hate that line…Is it that time of the month for you? No! No — yes… NO! … Ugh… just say it…
Yes. Yes, it is.
What we don’t realize, is that this phase can be up to TWO. WEEKS. LONG. I’ll get into the biology of that later but y’all… PMS for two weeks and bleeding for one? Come on! That doesn’t leave a whole lot of room for greatness.
… Or does it?
The thing is — nobody. talks. about it.
It’s not just the Menstrual Phase — it’s the Luteal Phase, the Follicular Phase, and the Ovulation Phase — that’s what makes up what we like to call, the Menstrual Cycle. There’s more than just one layer to it. Our hormonal system goes through a 28-day cycle while male hormone regulation only takes 24 hours; this isn’t a competition, but they get to experience the highs with the lows every single day while our lows and our highs get drawn out over the course of days.
Talk about a dramatic entrance for Jöölai, but that’s what this month’s about — not breaking down barriers, but learning to work around them, with them, for them.
And so, maybe this chapter is for the women — I know, I know, but it matters. Though, whether or not you bleed once a month, I’m sure there’s something we can all take away from this and that’s to accept the things that appear small and miniscule — whatever the case may be — but are actually roadblocks to achieving a greater sense of understanding who we are.
So, grab a pad — I mean pen— and let’s get started.
ALERT: This blog post is unlike any other I’ve released before. You can now tune in to listen HERE:
Now, back to your regular programming…
Every day is a Monday if that means I can start again.
When I was in the 6th grade, I thought that if I held in my stomach, no one would know I was fat. A fool-proof plan, really, except for the fact that no one told me that when you suck in your stomach, your chest pops out, your shoulders lift, and your neck is practically nowhere to be seen.
Now, if you’re shaking your head thinking that’s not the case, either I’ve been doing it wrong this whole time, or you’ve never felt guilt and insecurity deep enough to test the theory and if the latter one fits your bill, allow me to be the first to tell you….
You’re privileged. You, my friend, are PRIVILEGED — hear me out, I’m not poor sport, but you’re privileged. I said it.
Privileged.
Anyway, one day I was standing by my classroom, minding my own business mind you, when the coolest kid on the block was about to pass by. Now, this was during a purely innocent time in my life when you just had to like the coolest kid in school. That was the way. There was only one way, and that was it. He was cool, and I liked him. Where do you think they get that idea for the movies from, huh? Us. Kids like me. Truly, there’s nothing new under the sun. He was the Gotta Love It from Cold Stone’s, and I was ready to eat. Saw my prey, knew what I wanted, and the mission was clear — it was stomach sucking time.
And with my shoulders up, chest puffed, and neck on vacation, I was ready. Now, I say this laughingly because at the time, I literally had no idea any of this was happening to me. I genuinely thought I was the skinniest girl around and skinny equaled cool, so in my mind, this kid and I were in the same league. Little did I know though, I was about to get the roast of a lifetime that never ceases to amaze me whenever it pops back up in my day-to-day world.
And the funny thing is, I don’t even remember that much about the kid…other than his tight curls of course, his golden-brown skin, a jawline that could cut paper, hazel eyes, pretty sure his name started with a T… Tyler? Ty? I don’t know, something cool. Doesn’t matter, in five seconds, he’ll be within my reach and I could have sworn it would be the meet-cute we’d be telling our kids someday. I was about to get some heavy screen time on this one.
But my role ended up being a part of a comedy film rather than a romance.
Now, the kid had a posse with him at all times. Typical, really, but I didn’t mind witnesses to such a beautiful scene.
He’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming!
My skinny body never felt so confident. And just like that, we lock eyes, he stops, and I’ll never forget the immortal string of words that left his mouth that day.
“Dude, you look buff.”
And he walks away, his posse laughing in the background.
OK. I’m just going to say it. Buff me had no idea what buff meant, but I’d later find out and Ty, if you’re reading this, I’m just going to say one thing.
Buff looks damn good on me now.
The truth is, weight has always been a problem for me, I’ve always been led to believe it’s more about the look than it is the performance. However, and this has always been a shameful truth of mine, I’ve always leaned more towards the performance, which is why I never know when to be satisfied with the look. If you were to tell me I need to lose weight, I’d feel pressured enough to lose it, sure, but I wouldn’t know how much to lose because you’re the person I’m trying to satisfy; I’ll keep losing until someone tells me to stop and that’s the problem. You see, I don’t know how I should look because I don’t stand in the mirror everyday obsessing over every detail of my face or my body. No, I change according to the people who actually interact with me because they’re the ones who have to deal with my appearance.
I don’t suppose you’d call that selfless, now would you?
I digress. I’ve always wanted to do strong things, hard things, but I struggle with this constant need to get confirmation from others that I look good. I can’t tell… and I am heavily convinced I don’t know how.
But that’s why this part of Jöön matters. So, here’s my strategy — not a perfect plan, but a working one. When we think about tackling our weight, I’m sure it’s a shared perspective that the plan is, ultimately, to lose it, but I have a different idea that requires an unconventional approach. I am going to commit to finding peace with my reflection in order to put my undivided attention towards my performance, my stamina, and my range of ability in the things that I can do.
Now, that’s not to say, I don’t care if I look good, but I want to attempt to put away my constant need for affirmation from others because the truth of the matter is taste is not a one-size-fits-all.
I like short hair. I like to live in baggy clothes and new balances. I like to wear boy shorts to bed and one-piece swimsuits to the pool. I don’t wear make-up because I don’t know how to blend it or even how to tell which formula fits my skin. I’m too afraid to wear anything other than sports bras because I don’t like the bulge it leaves in my shirts. I don’t wear skirts or short dresses because I have bruises all over my legs from lifting cars and changing tires every day at work. And I don’t like to leave the house with sandals because I hate the way my feet look in them. I have callouses from poor-fitting shoes and my cuticles are unforgiving in how they showcase my neglect.
I’m a monster, I’m a monster, I’m a monster. The thought plays over again in my mind. It’s the little things I can’t escape, like the concept of being a woman.
Boys don’t like girls who look like boys, so grow your hair and don’t bite your nails.
Eat small to keep your girly figure, men don’t like it when we let ourselves go, and wear clothes that are uncomfortable if it means they’ll think you’re pretty.
Use make-up to hide the acne because everyone likes a clear face.
And be fragile, men like a damsel in distress; to protect, provide for, and conquer. Men want to feel needed, so step down from your high-horse of independence and learn to rely on them for the things that matter.
I’m conflicted and it all stems from the trauma I’ve accrued as a child.
I wear baggy clothes because I don’t like to have anything worth staring at. I have a fear of being judged, so I like to wear shades to avoid eye-contact. I like short hair because I’m an athlete with a real hatred for blow drying something that’s going to get sweaty anyway. I don’t like things that take a long time when it comes to how I look because I care more about the things that I’m planning to do.
I’m a monster, I’m a monster, I’m a monster.
But if being a monster means choosing sweat over stillness, breath over beauty, and boldness over blending in — then maybe I’ve been misunderstood all along.
Maybe I’m not the kind of monster I’ve always been led to believe I am, maybe I’m just the kind of woman no one’s ever planned for. Maybe it’s time I redefined femininity in order to stop seeing my body as a roadblock and more of a source for strength and resilience. A foundation stable enough to build on, one that will welcome growth at every stage, unapologetically.
I’m tired of adjusting myself for the mirror when all I really want is to adjust how far I can run, how long I can swim for, dance for, or play basketball for. So now, I’m choosing a new goal: to train not for how I look, but for how I live. And that shift — that mindset — needs more than just a mantra. It needs steps. Real, actionable ones.
So, here’s my plan:
I’m going to separate the mirror from the mission — I will continue to commit to good hygiene, but I will relieve myself from the stress that comes from appealing to others. That means no more wearing makeup just to hide my acne, squeezing into clothes I wish would fit instead of rocking the ones that do, or letting other people’s distaste in my style sway me from embracing who I am or want to be. I know that if I were to write down my appearance goals versus my performance goals, the contrast would be obvious: most of my appearance goals would be rooted in how I want others to view me, while my performance goals would actually be about how I want to view myself. So, I’ll just drop the appearance goals entirely because if the clothes fit and my shoes get me from point A to point B, then it ain’t broke, so I won’t fix it.
I’m going to define performance on my own terms, so here are three goals I’d like to work on:
I want to run a half-marathon. Preferably without stopping, but if I end up running more miles than I walk, I’ll be happy. Therefore, I need to build my stamina, my endurance, and my discipline.
I want to be able to play at least three rounds of basketball straight with my friends. I give defense my all and it often puts me out after round 2, so I’d like to build up my stamina to three games, then four, and so on.
I want to eat nutrient-balanced meals. Eating better will help me improve my running, as well as my game, not to mention how I tackle the rest of the day in between. I’m already seeing the results of healthier eating since I’ve started my shopping ban, which includes no take-out (unless on vacation or spontaneous adventures because memories over macros), so it’s only a matter of time before I achieve my other two goals. But of course, consistency matters, so I consider this one a long-term goal, just as the others.
I will pursue healthy habits that will aid in my recovery and my everyday life — Referring back to what I’ve mentioned before in Jöön, Chapter Two, I will focus on intentional movement, food journaling, my water intake, and my sleeping habits.
All of this to say, I used to suck in my stomach, hoping to become less. Now, I embrace myself with the hope of becoming more. This isn’t just about weight anymore— it’s about life and finally setting aside the distractions that have kept me from living it. And a part of me has always known the truth, just as I’ve mentioned we all so often do. I’ve just been waiting for that part of me—the part that wants it enough—to finally wake up and decide that my dreams are worth fighting for.
That they’re worth trying for.
And I’m happy to report that that part of me is up, and that part of me is ready.
So, let’s begin.
What about YOU? What’s in YOUR mirror?
Think about it.
Thank you all for reading, and for those of you that listened,
Thank you so much for being here and allowing me to process my mind,
The Processing Mind 