THIS is The Joy for Me. I LOVE BREAD.


I hate laundry.

A few weeks ago, I was sitting in the middle of the floor folding the never ending stream of wrinkled ass laundry that should have been folded and put away hours  Days WEEKS …  Fine MONTHS ago. I hating doing laundry. I hate folding laundry. I hate that dumb ugly ass bear that peddles smelly ass fabric softner, I hate that that fucking lint that sticks EVERYWHERE. I hate laundry.

Anyway, there I was doing the kidtv’s piles of food stained, pee drip stained, and what the fuck is this stain stained laundry when I heard it.

THIS.

I heard the “this” and ya’ll it registered immediately that I needed to look up from the superman underwear and look directly at my TV cause that was my mama’s THIS.

Okay not my real mama’s THIS. Cause MamaTV is my real Ghanian mama and her This is more like a DeeessZZ than a THIS.

However, my QUEEN MAMA OPRAH’s THIS is also undeniable.

So I heard the THIS and my head snapped up to see My beloved Mama O beaming on my TV screen as she gleefully exclaimed…

THIS IS THE JOY FOR ME.

I

Love

BREAD.


There is the video for those of you who have been living under a bread box.

I rewound it 3 times and laughed Hysterically every time. Because like 99% of all middle aged women Oprah is the joy for me.

I freaking love Oprah. LOVE her. But even though about 7 words ago I said Oprah IS the Joy for me, watching her wax poetic about being able to bless herself with bagels, baguettes, and biscuits EVERY. DAY. I realized that I couldn’t come up with any really regular ass daily thing that is: THE JOY for me.

Like of course I have my big THE joy’s: My kids is a no brainer. The three little birds are THE JOY, THE REASON, THE BEST THING. No questions. Point Blank. And EVERY period.

But that is not what this declaration of bread Joy was about. Like I know that if Oprah had to pick between Stedman or Gayle and a croissant. There would be no contest….

I think… Cause crossaints are kinda good…

Anyway… This joy was about Oprah honoring the one small everyday thing that is her JOY. And as I sat there doing the laundry that I hate. I wondered… What is my THIS?

It took me a minute and it’s not what I expected it to be.

But I love DONE.

I

LOVE

DONE.

Now I just manage it. I don’t deny myself DONE.

I get something DONE EVERY DAY.

Mama Oprah likes bread… I like done.

This is the joy.

THIS is one of those things that I feel I should have already learned about myself somewhere in my tens, or teens, or twenties. But alas here I am at 37 and 3/4’s and this feels like an Oprah double arm flung open Aha Momentous type revelation. But it freaking is. Done is my jam.

Case in Point:

You write down: Do laundry

I write down:

Sort Clothes
Put clothes in washing Machine
Refill Downy Ball.
Put Clothes in Dryer.
Fold Clothes from Dryer.
Put folded Clothes away.

The euphoria I feel as my pen glides across an item on my to-do list is straight up and down orgasmic.

I need accomplishment. The joy of I needed to do and I did it is so vital to my joy as a functioning human. But there is always a but. Because I always want the done.  Because the DONE is what keeps me going. I kept trying to DO too many things at once and falling short of done of anything.

Why does it take me forever to fold and put away laundry?

I’m a single working mother to three fucking kids, you asshole.

Fuck that damn laundry.

Lol.

I kid. Kinda… see, I am now and will always and forever be team Fuck that damn laundry.

Because… I fucking hate laundry. I’m pretty sure those were like the first words of this blog.

I hate laundry because my whites are never white enough.

I hate laundry because I never fold the clothes neatly enough.

I hate laundry because I can never match up enough socks.

I hate laundry because I don’t do it “the right way.”

I’ve talked about this before. So I won’t drag it out all over again but once again….But because life continues to drag me so I can get it:

the lesson that life would have me learn AGAIN is:

Perfect is the enemy of the good.

I can write this a million ways. You’ve heard this a million ways. But in an effort to finally learn be done with this life lesson I’ve got to look at this one again.

I do things differently. I don’t do things perfectly. I do things differently. But I do things. I get shit done. Not the way that you do but the way I do. But because of … uh, life….  somewhere along the way I got the message if I don’t do something absolutely perfectly every time the thing I did(and me) would ultimately be  a horrible terrible no go miserable FAIL…..

and when you couple that with DONE being my joy. It’s paralyzing. It’s a paralyizing loop of perfecitionism and it’s paralyzing.

So this is the loop.

Not that loop smart ass….

 

This is the loop of my brain. I want to do something. I want to done something. BUT…. I want to DONE something PERFECT.

So before I even do… I think and I worry and nothing gets done.

I worry that it won’t be jjuussstttttt right. It has to be perfect and completely done now.

I think about how I don’t have enough the time, the knowledge, the skill, the money, the ingredients, the tools, the help, the people, the music, the camera, the lights, the clothes, the shoes, the body, the hair, the this, the that, the everything and if I don’t have alllll of that….. It will not be juusssttttt right and  it willl not be complete perfection.

And if it is NOT complete and total perfection the very first time… WHY EVEN BOTHER doing it at all, SIISSS… #throwthewholeeverythingaway

I mean… Let’s just sit here spending days, months YEARS completely PARALYZED thinking about all the things you know you want to do, you know you are CALLED to do, and deny yourself the joy of done and just DO NOTHING….

Cause that’s awesome…. AM I RITE???

Lol… I mean Senam…. It’s not like if you don’t do everything perfectly this time you could like…

FIX IT LATER!

Clutch pearls gif

or just like use this experience of actually DOING it to learn how to do it better next time or…

 

or… EL OH EL… Senam mayyybbeee… you could you  just get the shit DONE and feel the euphoric JOY you feel every time something is done and be like happy with it just being good enough…… because… Good is… ummm GOOD.

 

Sooo… I need to do laundry. I sort laundry. I wash laundry. I dry laundry. I fold laundry. I put laundry away.

Not all the socks are perfect. I did not sort and bleach every item super lovingly. It is not pinterest perfect folds.

I picked up the dirty shit, Put it in the washing machine, the dryer, the basket, kinda folded it. Kinda sorta put it away in almost all the right drawers…

I did it differently. Not perfectly.

Differently is still DONE and….

I

LOVE

DONE.

Now I just manage it. I don’t deny myself DONE.

I get something DONE EVERY DAY.

THIS is the JOY.

SistaTV loves you, the way mama O loves bread, and Done.

Editors Note: I started writing this in September… 2016 and it took me until Feburary 2018 to actually come back in here, fix the two point three things I wanted to fix before posting this thing so THIS COULD BE DONE… and WELP.

Sigh. Work in progress, Sis. Work in progress. Okay now  you are done reading it, comment, share and like @SistaTV and BE DONE…

pablo (1).

 

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Welcome, Darling... So I'm supposed to write something really amazing here... But in the words of the greatest philospher of our time... Ain't nobody got time for that. I kid. I kid. Kinda. I'll update this someday... but for the time being... Just click around... and remember... SistaTV Loves You!

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1. Hey Senam, Ain't you supposed to be ack-ing a whoolllleee entire "living ya best life. What yo name is?" FOOL at the #SilverRoomBlockParty? Yes. Yes I am buttttt.... ??? 2. My block party fit and fragrance combo was certain to have somebody's son tongue tied and singing Jagged Edge before I made it to the end of the block #weaintgettingnoyounger #wemightaswelldoit  #raincheckmeboo #godblockedit

3. Instead... I'm about to put on a level four Hazmat suit, gloves, and the armor of the lawd.... smelling like Lysol, Bleach, and eau de hand sanitizer.  #nottoday 
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1. When I was house hunting... I wanted a porch soooo bad... but I would think... "come on... Senam? How you going to waste God's time asking for a whole entire Black Barbie dream house worth of stuff and then have the audacity to put a porch on top?" 2. A few weeks ago when I was shopping with Solstice. That foolywang said.... Hey mommy... how come you don't ever wear shorts? I was like "WhatEVER SUSSSS of course i wear sh-" buuuttt I couldn't think of a single solitary time in her 12 years of life that I for sure remembered being in shorts. 
3. I ordered 50-11 pairs in all lengths... 4. I been wearing them buuttt... tbh I been only wearing the longer ones out and about.
5. Brandy and Samantha have made it their life's work to constantly gas me up and insist I stop wearing so many damn clothes.... Kimmah has also joined the #issasnack choir. 
6. When I was younger MamaTV would always, always, always, call me Big Legs and say... "Looook at those big ole legs. Looookk at them...." She said it in Ewe and meant it in a good way but I didn't get then and I hated it so so much.
7. Next week, I'll be 39. Me and my big ole legs got my porch.... So...look at those big ole legs....Look at 'em. 
SistaTV loves you, 'Document the moments you feel most in love with yourself - what you're wearing, who you're around, what you're doing. Recreate and repeat.' -Warsan, and vacation soon.
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 2. Solstice tried to pack everrrrryyyyy comb in the my bedroom and hers to take with her to camp. 5 combs for 12 days, Sis. Issa NO. #alsoissaME
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5. Waaaayyyy up I feel blessed.
6. I have a million times more peace, joy, faith, abundance, happiness, health, and love than I ever could have imagined then. 
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