Faith, Failure, and Freedom

It's just a look into our lives for the last two years and why we've been sorta MIA. Take a moment and chew on what we've written...and hopefully it can help you in some way. 

 

All of Our Love,

 

Julius & Rachel

 

It's been a while since we've written for this blog. When life started happening, it was the last thing we thought about. In June of 2014, we celebrated our five year anniversary and it forced us to sit and reflect on the last five years. No doubt, they've been hard, but manageable. The last year and a half presented us with new issues that we'd never thought would hit our door and forced us to become even closer to each other, but most importantly, to God. 

 

If you don't have a minute...set this down and come back. We've got a story to tell and it's a doozy.

 

Let me start this off by saying that 2011 and 2012 were very good years. Not all great things were happening during those times, but we were finally getting a handle on everything. For those of you who have been with us since the beginning, you know that for our first two years of marriage, we lived in a college dorm room. It was a sacrifice we made to get our post-graduate schooling paid for. Our kitchen was a hot plate and toaster oven on top of a bed. (Yikes!) So when we finally graduated in 2011, (him with his MBA and me with my JD) we were finally ready to leave the dormitory we called home for two years and begin behaving like adults. We were moving to Los Angeles, CA.

 

2011 was awesome because we'd graduated, were out of the dorm, able to move to Los Angeles, Julius was working, and I just passed the bar exam and got an amazing job a few months after moving to LA.

 

 

2012 was awesome because we finally started making some money. I mean the good kind. The kind that allows you to start looking for homes in Los Angeles. Yea...you know the kinda money I'm talking about. We got a dog, did some traveling and enjoyed life. Nevertheless, we still felt like we weren't being paid our worth and we were working too hard to still feel so broke and beat down. That's when it happened. We changed our prayer, and boy did it change us. At the end of 2012, we started praying for wisdom, peace, joy, discernment, and financial freedom. As I sit here writing this, I ask myself, if I knew then, what I know now, would I still have the same prayer? The tired part of me says "HELL NO!" the fulfilled part of me says "absolutely!"

 

2012 was going so good, I decided to take the February 2013 California Bar Exam. Doing this would allow me to at least triple my income, without adding much effort. Who doesn't want that? January 2013, I began studying for the bar exam, and shortly thereafter, all hell broke loose. About a month into studying for the bar exam, Julius got sick. Real sick. Not death bed sick, but sick enough for me to stop studying for a few days. I knew from a previous rendezvous with the bar that I could only afford a few days of not studying before I hurt my chances. Julius wasn't getting better and now my dog is sick too. I start having panic attacks because I'm not sure what God is telling me. Take care of my sick husband, or study so I can pass. I tried to do both. Huge. Mistake. It got to a point where I was having anxiety attacks every time I tried to even look at a notecard. All while we're doing this, we're handling a lot of things spiritually. Trying to find peace and joy when all we have is pure turmoil. I stopped studying. It was the only thing that gave me peace. Three weeks before the exam, I never pulled out another notecard. I just felt like passing wasn't worth me neglecting my husband and sacrificing my peace of mind. I still took the exam hoping that what I'd done was enough. 

 

Now while all this is happening, Julius is sick, but Julius is still working. The issue is, he had "no choice." You know those seasons in companies that have blackout days, where you MUST work. Julius's department had these four times a year, where he's working damn near 60-70 hour weeks. Did I mention he's VERY ill? At this point I'm fed up. Julius HATES his job, he feels awful, and can't stop working. Nope. I finally convince Julius to put in his two weeks notice. I'm satisfied with this request, because once I pass the bar, I can take on the finances of the household while he recoups. Plus my job was going fabulously before I went to study for the bar, so I could take it.

 

I take the bar and come back to work. A little background. I finished the bar and came back to work, and when I tell you the shit was in SHAMBLES...that's what I mean. It was like no one had done any work while I was gone. So now I'm sitting here wondering if this is really a place I can stay to keep my household afloat while Julius recovers. This is when things really get interesting.

 

Julius's last day was scheduled for 3/28/2013. On 3/27/2013 (this is also Julius and my 10 year anniversary as a couple) I receive an email saying that we should go our separate ways. I totally agreed, because it had gotten bad, but what was I going to do? We had enough savings for a few months, but nothing that would last us in Los Angeles. (Uh. Oh.) It was cool because even though I left the firm, I had back logged settlements that should hold us over until we got on our feet. Except, my boss decided arbitrarily to withhold all of my settlements and basically said, if I want them, I'd have to take her to court. Ummmm what?!? Yes. So no jobs, no income, no health insurance, and no prospects. 

 

So I'm thinking, God must have us on this bar exam. I mean, how else does this work? LA is expensive. Neither of us have other options, this must be it. Nope. I FAILED. Now we're just looking at each other and looking up...like...umm...what's the deal? 

 

Now while ALLLLLLLLLLLL of this is happening, our lease is up on our current apartment. We wanted to move out of our one bedroom and move somewhere else. Before I failed the bar, when I still had hope we would be fine, we'd already looked at a spot. It was a two-bedroom, two bathroom loft with a walk score of 97. It was exactly where we thought we should live after a dormitory and a cramped one-bedroom. I looked up, prayed, and filled out the application. Now here's the kicker. I didn't lie on the application. I said straight up, we have no jobs, no income, and no prospects. We were approved in less than 24 hours. LOOK. AT. GOD. (And Julius's credit LOL) We're moving on up. Things are tough, but we got our dream spot. Also, the other option was an Extended Stay...and No.

 

The first month things are going well. Julius is healing and working on television properties that he's pitching, and I'm working on something HUGE for Howard University. The feedback we've received has been extremely positive and now we believe we're finally working towards the goals God had for us all along. Except, things stopped going so great month two. Folks we had been dealing with went MIA. Emails and phone calls went unanswered. Our credit cards are maxed. We're either not qualified or uninterested in most of the jobs in the market, and no calls back from the few we did apply to. Now we're down to our LAST $20.00 and rent is due. We waited for eight (8) days for a breakthrough or something. Nothing. What we did get was an eviction notice. We look at each other just exhausted. We've cried too much. Argued too much. Tried too hard, and we don't know what to do. We were so broke, we were sharing Chipotle bowls, trying to get all the free extras we could. With nothing left to do, Julius calls his father. 

 

He explains to him the situation and without hesitation he transfers the exact amount Julius asked for to his account. LOOK. AT. GOD. Now you know, the LAST thing we wanted to do is call our parents. ESPECIALLY to cover our expensive CA living expenses. But the truth was, we didn't have any other options. Julius had relapsed. I woke up each morning with panic attacks and gastrointestinal issues. Even if we wanted to work, physically we couldn't. We were emotionally, mentally, and spiritually drained.

 

There were some days we just spent in dark spaces. Words like divorce and separation seemed like foregone conclusions. Prayers were seemingly going unanswered and while all of this was happening, the world continued to spin as if ours wasn't in complete shambles. In fact, the only person that knew of what we were going through was Julius's dad. No one else knew. Many of our closest friends and family members are reading about this for the first time, right now. To the rest of the world, we were just on our grind trying to make it happen. Our world was completely falling apart. 

 

Each month we got new hope followed by major disappointment. Each month, we had to cry and make another phone call. Each moment, we were praying that this is what God wanted for us. This has been the pattern and remains that way to this day. 

 

Fast forward to May 2014. At this point we're debating leaving California so that we can pursue our endeavor with Howard University full-time. We're admittedly reluctant because the University has been less than helpful, but we believe in our work and that ultimately Howard will pull it together. We decide to leave California. At this point, we have no money, no prospective place to stay, and no jobs. Then I get a message from my line sister (Hey PRIVY)... 

 

She explains that she'll be gone for the summer, and we are more than welcome to stay in her apartment until we get on our feet. LOOK. AT. GOD. We're on our way back to DC, have a place to stay, and meetings set up with all the right folks, we're cooking with gas. Because we couldn't afford to ship our car, we packed it up and drove cross country. We gave all of our belongings away to a family in need, because, of course we couldn't sell it. (Even though we tried) And kissed CA good bye. Everything was looking UP.

 

 

Yea...no. Two months of diligent work were put in. Positions that were supposed to be secured fell through, folks who thought they had power to get things done did not, and my line sister is coming back in a week. What in the world are we going to do? Go back home? Go back to the office jobs we left, that made us physically ill and gave us no peace? If that's the case, what was all this suffering and hope for?! We decide to remain diligent. 

 

Nevertheless, my line sister comes back, we move out...and we stay in a hotel for a week. Hoping, praying, pretty much begging, for something to happen. A few meetings gave us hope...but eventually the hotel stay points we accumulated from maxing our credit cards dissipated and we either had to go home, or find some place to stay, but we couldn't afford to stay at a hotel another night. In walks Julius's older brother. He has a spare room, and offers it to us for as long as we need. 

 

So now (present day), here I am, back leaned up against the door, trying not to touch the air mattress he's sleeping on...because it'll surely wake him up. I know he's exhausted, because we have to blow it up 2 or 3 times every night. But thank God I'm not sleeping in my car or under my parents' roof. I look at him, I look around, and even though I probably shouldn't, I feel so incredibly free.

 

Why?!

 

We believed, and still do, with all our hearts, that this is exactly the path we're supposed to be on. It's been so ugly, you might ask why.

 

Since that fateful day in March 2013, Julius and I have had the opportunity to spend 24/7 with each other. It has been an interesting transition, but now we can't imagine NOT being around each other allllllll the time. And y'all thought we were bad before. (Yikes!)

 

We've been allowed to dream, and pursue those dreams fervently.

 

I, personally, have broken free from the monsters of anxiety, (which I had Every. Single. Day.)

people pleasing, and insecurity. Also, my gastrointestinal issues have been all, but cured. Julius's illness has gotten much better and he's much happier, outside of corporate America.

 

Since we haven't had health insurance, this season has forced us to try natural remedies to address our ailments. We (especially me) now see the benefits of acupuncture, medicinal marijuana, and having good health.

 

Most importantly, we understand, all too deeply, what the saying "health, before wealth" means.

 

Our marriage is so much stronger. We also appreciate the privacy we were afforded by our friends and family. That time allowed us to decide to go into business with each other, and handle those growing pains outside of the public eye.

  

We don't know what happens next. What this faith journey has taught us, is that We. Are. Not. In. Control. Of. Any. Damn. Thing. 

 

It behooves us to remember that.  

 

We have billionaire dreams, and trillionaire ambitions. I've needed every single bit of growth I've experienced these past few years, and know I couldn't undertake the task placed ahead of us without it. And when I look at stories of success, these hardships are always riddled through it. What makes us any different?!

 

We've lost friends, because they just couldn't understand our need for privacy. They'll no doubt come out of the wood work to apologize, and we'll listen. But really, we know where we stand.  

 

As we prepare to go to our first gym session of the summer (if you see me, don't say shit about my weight, lest you get cussed out), we remain so humbled and optimistic for our future. We could tell you what we're working on, but then we'd have to kill you. I guess this story is to let you know, whatever we achieve, when He says it's time, know....It didn't happen overnight.

 

When A Man Loves A Woman….

That doesn’t necessarily mean that sometimes we don’t want to choke the hell out of you (it’s okay fellas, I’ll say what you wanna say). Now Rachel knows I love her to death, but that woman knows how to work a nerve. As I’m sitting on this couch watching Sunday Night Football, I recall several conversations I’ve had over the years with various men in her family. Although the conversations occurred at different times, with different people, and under different conditions, the phrase was always the same. “How can you put up with Rachel’s mouth?!”. The simple, and for the most part, honest answer was, “she doesn’t bring that mouth over here”. Now at this time I’d like to take a personal timeout to say, when Rachel’s in her mode, she really doesn’t give a damn who gets it (me included). The difference was, and still is, if she brings that mouth over here, I’m coming right back at her (I’m talkin’ all tough like she’s not gonna read this too). Seriously though, with this chick, you really have to pick and choose your battles. Earlier today, I definitely chose the wrong one.

Now this morning we didn’t go to church like we planned. For whatever reason, today we decided that shopping was more important than receiving the Word (trippin’). Now before you go there, don’t judge us like you didn’t show up to church 30 minutes late (if at all) with a hangover, still smelling like the club. Anyway, the day started off really well. We chitchatted it up about this and that, playing catch-up since we didn’t get to spend a lot of time with each other yesterday. We get to the mall, in search of a specific blazer for Rachel for a special photo op. Now I’m out there cool as a cucumber. I’m hitting all the female sections with her, rummaging through all types of stuff in search of this magical blazer. What Rachel didn’t know was that as I’m doing this, I’m patting myself on the back, like, “Yea, check me out. I’m the best husband ever. I’m being supportive. I’m helping her find this blazer. All these women out here must think I’m the best husband ever. They wish they had a man like me.” 45 minutes later – I’m not really feeling this shopping experience anymore. Now I’m kicking myself in the ass, like, “She can’t be f&$*ing serious?! I mean, who’s really looking at you that damn hard anyway?! I sure wish she’d pick one of the damn blazers before I walk out this mall and leave her ass here!” What actually comes out of my mouth, “Well, baby, maybe they don’t make the particular style you’re looking for.” And I say this like that little weak comment was really going to stop this determined woman from finding this blazer. 5 minutes later, my nerves are shot, and now I just can’t help myself. This is where I took a turn for the worse.  

Check me out – “Look, my nerves are getting bad, so I really don’t care which one you choose. Just pick one!” Little voice in my head, “Honesty – Not always the best policy dumbass.” So Rachel gets this look in her eyes, and it was clear that I took it too far.

Rachel’s turn. “Thanks for being supportive, but no one asked you to come out here in the first damn place.” Now this clearly wasn’t all she said, but I have been known to suffer from a condition known as selective short-term memory. Let’s just say that after she was done giving me the business, I thought that my time would be better spent with my mouth shut while she decided on which blazer she wanted.

What’s really sad is that if I had just been able to hang in there for another 5 minutes as she finalized her purchase, I could have avoided public embarrassment. Luckily, we were able to get back on the same page (meaning she forgave me) before we left the mall.

As men, we try to do the right thing by going the extra mile to show our women how much we care, but sometimes it’s just better to let them do things their way, and fall back. Don’t get caught up in doing something because you think it’ll make you look good, do it because you actually care.

Clearly, God wasn’t pleased with my decision as head of household today, and showed me the error in my ways. Next Sunday, looks like we’ll be headed to Alfred Street Baptist Church.

Fyi...the pics were from a cookout at my boy’s birthday back in April, but I’ve seen this face (and made that face) for several years now. I’ll get it right one day…just not today.

First Comes Love...? (Original Post 8/29/2011)

                   

Last night was a HUGE night for one Young, Black, and Married couple. Well at least ½ of the union is young (sorry Jigga Man). At the MTV VMAs, the normally very hush hush Beyoncé Knowles Carter announced that she was pregnant. On the “black” carpet she very subtly noted that she had a surprise and then pulled her very loose-fitting dress back to reveal a baby bump. With this announcement social networking sites went ablaze. The opinions ranged from elation to hateration (terrible word, I know, but it rhymes).

While most were happy for them, the announcement did start a debate that was likely to leave some hurt feelings. Soon tweets and statuses started flowing regarding their ability to do it the “right way.” In today’s society the “right way” has been skewed, but it sounded like people were referring to the traditional way to start a family: A courtship, followed by marriage, followed by kids. Obviously this pattern of doing things has lost its luster in recent years, but is it wrong to celebrate it?

I have A LOT of respect for single mothers who made the difficult decision to have a child regardless of circumstance. Truth be told and quiet as kept, just because you don’t see a baby hanging on the hip doesn’t mean there wasn’t one to speak of in a married couple’s past. But I digress.

The truth is, regardless of whether we want to admit it or not, when we were young we sang…“First comes love…then comes marriage…then comes {insert name here} with a baby carriage.” It’s not new, and for most I’m sure it was the plan, but things change and adjustments are made. It just so happens that for the Carters, at least from what we’ve seen, they followed this childhood limerick.

At the beginning of last week a lot of people were saddened by the news that Will & Jada might be divorcing. While that news was sad indeed, it brought up the intricacies of their relationship. Is it open? Are they happy? Etc. At the end of the day, I have yet to find a person who knows either of these couples personally, but black love is beautiful and should be celebrated.

Be clear, I am a BEYONCÉ GROUPIE!! So you would think her child would be calling me Auntie Rachel. But I believe I was happier for their ministry than I was their baby news. At the end of the day, marriage is a ministry and anytime that union is looked on with admiration and positivity, that’s a “SCORE ONE” for the married couples. Not everyone is as lucky as me to have real life examples of strong marriages. I have only been exposed to ONE divorce in my family. My grandparents have been together for 58 years, my parents have been together for 33 years, and all but one of my 7 aunts and uncles have been married for decades. Have all of these marriages been perfect…NO, but their resilience shows the importance of sticking it out in marriage.

Do we know Jay and Bey personally? No. But without them really saying a word, we’ve watched their relationship play out in front of the cameras. I’m happy for them, and hope that their ministry continues to blossom and give hope to those out there looking for a love to believe in.

Beyoncé performed my favorite song from the "4" album "Love on Top" which was truly fitting. At the end of the video you will see the love in Jay's eyes. You can't help but be happy for the two.

Get More: 2011 VMA, Music, Beyoncé

How Low Can You Go (Original Post 10/14/2010)

“She can go lower than I ever really thought she could, face down, ass up!” Now I’m sure Luda was referring to some chick he just got on for the first time in the club. Me, I’m referring to my wife! Damn straight, we gets it in! Just last weekend me and the wife went out for my man’s 26^th birthday celebration and tore it up. It’s a beautiful thing when you’re still able to hit the club and get an old-fashioned bump-and-grind session (we call ‘em twerks) in the middle of the dance floor. For those that know me, I don’t mess around when I get in the club. In the past, I’ve been known to take my shirt off, bounce from one end of the club to the other, and occasionally (if I’m feeling freaky), I might just toss a full drink in the air and make it rain in that bitch. 

I’m from the filthy, nasty, dirty south (Athens, GA to be exact), and I rep it to the fullest. I swag surf with the best of em’ (given ample time to stretch beforehand), and I love to get it in with my people. The best part about what you’ve just heard is that Rachel’s seen me do it all, and she loves me for it (or loves me in spite of – she usually cusses me out for it). More so than that, she’ll get in the club and get it in WITH me. Me and the wife grind on each other in the club like we just met, while you’re over there with your mouth wide open, wishing your girl would throw it back on you like she used to. What’s crazy about our relationship is that it’s been like this ever since we’ve known each other. She’s never tried to change who I was in the club, (minus the fact that now she’s the only woman I dance with), and that’s alright with me, as long as she keeps droppin’ it like it’s hot. There was, however, this one time when my phenomenal dance moves almost cost me my life…..

About a month ago, my little sister was in town for the weekend, and she and I went out with my brother to the club. Rachel was hanging with some of her home girls at the time, but was going to meet us later that night. We decided to head for the strip in Adams Morgan and hit a bar or two before sliding through one of those “clubs” on the strip later that night. Fast-forward, we hit some spot that was damn near empty when we arrived, except for “her”. Now if you know me, you know I like “thick” women (see Rachel for an exact replica). And if you also know me, you know I’m a pretty slim dude (this will all make sense shortly, I promise). Now I’m in the spot actin’ a damn fool with my fam, dancin’ to white music and joking around, when all of a sudden, “she” comes up. Now even though I’m married, it’s still flattering when you notice a woman noticing you. Not in this case! After a brief exchange about it being her birthday and her wanting me (and me refusing) to stop dancin’ like these white folks, next thing I know, she’s grindin’ up on me out of nowhere! Brief intermission while I break it down. This chick is like my height (6’2’’), and has to weigh a solid 300 (let the liquor tell it), on top of the fact that she’s treating me like I’m the chick, and she’s the overbearing, overaggressive dude in the situation. After a couple harmless “booty bumps” with this mammoth, I slide to the left and try to keep it pushin’. 

So me and the fam are kickin’ it for a solid five minutes before the beast returns, and when she does, it’s not pretty. I’m minding my own business, when I feel a death grip around my wrist. Next thing I know, this “thing” twirls me around like a Ballerina Barbie and “forces” me to dance with her. I two-step with this chick for no more than 30 seconds, and break away to reunite with my loving family who left me in the trenches taking grenades. Not two minutes later, man-hands grabs me by the waist (from behind) and starts humpin’ me like I’m some second rate whore (I’m so ashamed). At this point I’ve had about all I can take. My eyes are starting to water, my knees are getting weak, and my bottom lip starts quivering. I’m thinking, “this is it, she’s gonna club me and take me back to her cave and have her way with me, and I’ll never see Rachel ever again”. I’m also thinking, “what kind of fucked up family watches you get raped by King Kong, and doesn’t at least call the police?! – SHOOT THIS BITCH!” Just as I’m about to give up hope, my brother swoops in, karate chops her in the neck, and we make a mad dash for the exit (really, he just dances in between us and we speed walk to the exit, but feel my pain).

By now you’ve all forgotten that this flashback started with me dancing with the one I love, getting nasty on the dance floor. All this to say, if you won’t do it for your man, another woman will….rape the shit out of your husband if you leave him alone in the club! But seriously, don’t lose that passion. Don’t forget that we prefer to gawk and lust over you versus any female, any day. Even before Rachel and I left the crib that night, we made sure we were feeling what the other person had on. Most people probably didn’t notice because it was dark, but Rachel’s shirt was see-through. Sexy, not slutty. She goes shopping for things that she’s comfortable wearing, but that I’ll like as well. After 8 years of being together, some people think it’s okay to wear a cloak, saggy jeans (Rachel knows I like them jeans to hug that sexy frame), and some lame hair do. 

When Rachel steps on the scene, she dresses the way I like because I’m the only one she’s trying to impress, and visa versa. We dance like we do because we’re still into each other, and that’s how we roll. She backs that thing up on me like she did the first time we danced. Don’t worry about what we got going on over here; all you need to worry about is how low you can go….

Role Playing (Original Post 6/14/2011)

One day I was checking out this commercial with Rachel, looking at one of those dolls that pee in a diaper. My first reaction, “Who in the hell would want to have a doll that does some nasty shit like that?!” The most obvious answer is, of course, little girls do. Just like little girls want pissy dolls, they want to play crazy games like house, ask for Barbie dolls so they can make Barbie kiss Ken, and live in one of those Barbie dream houses. Quite frankly, most girls can’t wait for the moment where they can put on high heels and wear makeup so they can be grown like mommy.

As little boys, one of the first “toys” we played with was our penis (it wasn’t just me, don’t front).

Moving on, we played with G.I. Joes, remote control cars, video games, etc. Always in the mix were sports, which tied directly into competition. Point being, ever since we were young, males had one agenda, and females had another. While for the most part, females were preparing for womanhood and marriage with their Easy Bake Ovens; we were playing games, literally. Sure, I cut the grass, did yard work and helped my dad around the crib with handy work that needed to be done, but I was “late” in terms of my preparation for a meaningful relationship or marriage (let me tell it I was a man at 15).

Not that I blame rap, movies, the people I grew up around, or those that raised me, but they did have an affect on how I approached and viewed women. Yes, I was always respectful, but I thought the name of the game was to get as many women as possible before settling down. Just like with sports, the object of the game was to win, and that meant getting with as many chicks as possible. Nobody ever told me at an early age to find a nice young lady, settle down and start a family (nobody ever told me to be a whore either). It was only by the grace of God that I was able to acquire just enough sense to not screw things up with Rachel early in the game, and even then I almost came up on the losing end because of my immature ways. Women, on the other hand, knew what they wanted fresh out of the gate (speaking in generalities – loose chicks excluded).

What’s my point? Blame your pimpish behavior on everyone and everything else?? Hell NO!! Point is, somewhere along the way, either sooner or later, you learned better. There’s no badge of honor for sleeping with the most chicks, or having a squad of females on your team. Looks cool for a while, but it gets old real fast. Funny how we all like playing the game until we get caught, then all of a sudden we want to act right because we might lose “the one”. Funny how we envy those in “good” relationships, but we won’t go out and get one of our own. Funny how we all want a strong black woman until she turns the muscle against us, then all of a sudden “the bitch done lost her mind,” as if your retarded ass didn’t contribute to the drama in the first place. You’re only fooling yourself if you think that’s the case. “We don’t believe you, you need more people.”

As men, we could follow Pac and take the easy way out. “It ain’t my fault. Don’t blame me, blame my mama, a nigga’s nature.” But actually, my mom was the reason I calmed down some of my “niggerish” tendencies. If it weren’t for people like my mama in my life to give it to me straight, I wouldn’t be married, and I most certainly wouldn’t be this far along in life. No, as boys we didn’t grow up fantasizing about a wife and kids, but that doesn’t exclude us from stepping up and handling business as men. Be the man God meant for you to be. Play your part.

“When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.” – 1 Corinthians 13:11