The Swirl World

Celebrating and Elevating Black Women - mind, body, soul and spirit!


The White Country Boy and the Black City Girl

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GENE-LEIGH AND SETH WHEELER

Yesterday we started a series on Swirl Couple Gene-Leigh and Seth Wheeler.

Here’s a bio on the couple: My full name is Gene-Leigh (named for my grandparents and Vivian Leigh the actress) Ziegler (nee Wheeler) and I was born, raised, and currently reside in Pittsburgh, Pa. I’m 32 and ¾ (33 is KILLING me) and Seth and I have been married since 10/11/12. I work as a family therapist for a not-for-profit agency in Pittsburgh, PA.  I have a Master’s degree in counseling Psychology, and I have been in my field for almost 10 years.

Seth Ziegler (my loving husband) is 31 years old (he calls me a cougar, the louse), and works as an MRI technologist for a hospital in Pittsburgh.  He’s attending school now for a degree in Hospital Administration, and has worked in his field for about 8 years.  He is originally from a little town 2 hours north of Pittsburgh where his Mother’s family still lives. 

We love long walks on the beach, candle lit dinners, and romantic getaways.  However, since we are both too lazy and too broke to do any of those things, we settle for strolls to the corner, loud dinners in bars with lots of football, and putting our phones on silent every Sunday while we eat fast food in bed together.  We’re probably two of the most down-to-earth folks you will ever meet although we are both a bit nutty.  We got to live music shows as much as possible, and love every second of it.  Thank you for allowing us to share our insanity with you.

The Back Story on the Bat

Seth is a long-suffering man.  His wife is a punk.  Yeah, you read that right, I’m a punk—particularly when it comes to anything that slithers, crawls, flies, has more than four legs, or lives in the dark corners of our unfinished hundred-year old basement.  As a requisite “city kid,” my knowledge on any and all things wildlife is shoddy at best.  I was never a Girl Scout, and I didn’t go on nature walks (unless you count trudging through alleyways with overgrown weeds popping up through the cracks in the street a “nature walk”).

My experience with animals was limited to alley cats, and those mean neighborhood dogs you were explicitly told to stay away from.  On the other hand, my husband grew up outside of city limits in the country, had friends who rode ATVs in the woods, hunted, fished, and ran through all manner of empty fields on acres of farmland. He learned to make his jacket into a flotation device when he was a Cub Scout (don’t ask).  So you can see and understand how different the dynamic is, right? Okay.

Fast forward to July of last year . . . .

We had decided to move into a house and out of our tiny cramped apartment last summer.  We’d grown out of it, and, as we were going to be married in October, knew that having children was inevitable (Seth’s mother would have preferred to have grandchildren earlier than that, but I digress).  We found a beautiful brownstone house in Pittsburgh’s Manchester neighborhood, and I fell in love with it the first time I saw it.  We paid our security deposit, and moved into our new home excitedly.

Here’s where it gets interesting.  See, things are never as they seem, and that is exactly what we got with this house.  We had a few issues here and there, but the biggest issue came in the form of a 6-inch tall furry creature with leathery wings that decided to pay us a visit about two weeks after we moved in.  I wrote the short story below to illustrate how differently the two of us—-the White country boy, and the Black city girl—-handled the same situation.

BAT 1

The Bat Chronicles – Part 1

I’d gone to bed earlier than usual, because I had an early morning appointment with a client, and as I am almost always running late, I wanted to get a fresh start. I was sleeping soundly, but rolled over when I heard our bedroom door creak open.  Seth was standing in the doorway, and I gave him a sleepy smile.

“Hello my lovely man.  Did you come to see me?” I yawned.

Seth shifted from one foot to the other, and peered at me.  “Hi honey, um, we have a bat in the house . . . .”

I sat bolt upright with all romantic pretense gone.  “We have WHAT in the house??”

Seth scratched the top of his head and peered at me with big hazel-brown eyes. “A bat . . . .”

I closed my eyes and prayed he meant an implement used to play baseball or cricket. “Tell me you aren’t serious . . .  HOW THE HELL DID A BAT GET IN???!!!”

Seth opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to form words that wouldn’t send me further over the edge.  “I don’t know it was going nuts flying around downstairs . . .  .”

Wrong thing to say, Bro.  “Where is it?” I asked him, terrified.

Seth pointed toward the door, “Last I saw, it was on the second floor . . . .”

I went into full stroke mode, and fairly screamed at him, “LAST TIME YOU SAW IT???”  I started to hyperventilate, and broke out in a cold sweat.  To his credit, Seth kept calm, and did his best to keep me from leaping out our third story window in panic.

“It’s okay, calm down, let me go look,” Seth said stroking my hair.  He left the bedroom closing the door behind him.  When he returned in 10 minutes, I was hiding behind the door in my nightshirt.

Seth kissed my forehead (a little trick he uses to keep me calm when he’s about to give me news that could potentially give me a heart attack) and looked at me steadily. “Okay it’s across the hall in the computer room . . . .”

Eerily calm, I said to him, “I’m gonna faint….” and sure enough, I stumbled into the door, right before he grabbed me by the arms and held me up.

“Gene, stand up! It’s okay—God your eyes are HUGE!”

I swung my gaze to him.  “A bat . . . .” I said before resting my head on his shoulder. He patted my head gently and said, “It’s okay, just give me moral support.”  I groaned.

By about 2:00 am, Seth had developed a plan of action that consisted of an oversized winter coat, a pair of leather gloves, long pants, shoes, and a bright red bandana that when tied across his face, made him look like gang member.  He glanced at me sitting cross-legged on our bed.

“How do I look?” he asked, his voice muffled by the bandana.

“Like you’re about to commit a drive-by in the Alaskan tundra,” I replied drily.

Seth squinted at me in fake malice. “Quiet you. Okay, I’m gonna go and see where it is. I think it’s in the computer room.”

I sighed and shrugged my shoulders. “Okay. I’m of no help. You know how I am about spiders, so I’m no good with bats.  I’m a city kid, dammit!”

Pulling the cinches tight on the sleeves of his coat, Seth nodded, “It’s okay baby, just stay here.” He left the room to confront our fanged roommate, and returned a scant 15 minutes later and pulled the bandana off his face.

“Okay, so I saw it fluttering by the window, and I’m pretty sure it flew out. It was under the curtain,” Seth said, sinking into the bed next to me.

I looked at him in confusion.  Sure, I was a bit crazy and sleep-deprived, but I knew for certain that was impossible. “That window has a screen. How did it get in if we have a screen?”

Seth shrugged.  “It’s the only way it could have gotten in. There is no other way into the house; every other window was shut to keep the air conditioning in. And the screen doesn’t reach the top.  It probably slipped between the panes of glass or something,” he said, yawning and removing his coat.

I frowned, but I was tired, and needed to be up in a few hours. “Okay well, at least it’s gone. I gotta get some sleep.”  He kissed me good night and I lay down on the pillows, and was thrust into dreams of Count Chocula and the Count on Sesame Street.

The afternoon after our encounter with Dracula, I was still hesitant about being home alone after work, so I put in a call to Animal Control.  Although I trusted Seth, and believed that our fanged nemesis had vacated and left no forwarding address, I just couldn’t shake that spooky feeling. I was told that Animal Control would be a few hours, so I vegged out on our front steps and read, and then listened to music on the first floor of the house. When Animal Control arrived—which consisted of two pot-bellied middle aged men with cloth gloves—I felt a bit more relieved.  They searched around the house, and came back with their findings.

“Well Miss, we don’t see any evidence of activity. You sure your husband saw him leave?” the first man asked with uncertainty.

I shrugged.  “Well, he told me he THOUGHT it was fluttering and flew out the window. I know that the top of that window slides down and there is no screen in the top, so maybe it came in the top and not the bottom,” I explained.

The second man nodded with certainty. “Yeah Hon, I think he’s gone. We get off at 11, so if your husband comes home, tell him to get a broom if he sees the bat again and try to corral it toward an open door. They don’t like light, so cut on all the lights except for the one in the room they are in. Check for him again around 8:30 or 9:00, when it’s dark out. But honestly, I think he scared him off.”

I tugged my hair nervously. “Okay, will do. Thanks for coming out.”

After I shut the door behind them, I tried to take the advice of the Queen of England—-keep calm, and carry on—-but to no avail. I sent Seth a text telling him the information I was told, and hunkered down on the first floor to wait for him to come home.

Seth got home a little after 10:00 pm, and checked the house again. He didn’t a find single thing. It seemed that we did get lucky—Dracula had made his escape. We settled down into our nightly routine of dinner and conversation before retiring to our third floor bedroom.

I yawned deeply while trudging up the steps. “I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well because I was so worried about that bastard of a bat last night,” I said. I walked into the bedroom, and began to strip off my clothing.

Seth nodded in agreement. “I know Honey; it’s late, try to get some sleep. It’s already 1:00 am now. I’m going to get a glass of water.”

As he left the bedroom, I crawled between the covers, rolled over and closed my eyes. Just then I heard what can only be described as a cross between a cough, and a horrified yelp, just before our bedroom door slammed.  I rolled over and popped up out of bed ready to cuss Seth a blue streak.

“WHAT THE HELL IS—“I stopped short when Seth turned toward me with his eyes as huge as saucers.

“I guess our friend didn’t leave last night,” Seth said quietly.

My mouth dropped open in horror.  “Oh my goodness please tell me you are lying right now . . .  !”

Seth shook his head. “I wish I was. I just saw it flying up the steps toward us.”

———

Stay tuned for Part 2 of The Bat Chronicles featuring Gene-Leigh and Seth Wheeler!

Join in the Fray: Are you a “Country Mouse” or a “City Mouse?”

I’m blogging every day in the month of January in Blogher’s NaBloPoMo Challenge. Thanks for reading, and feel free to comment!

Copyright © 2013 Michelle Matthews Calloway, ASwirlGirl, All rights reserved.

 

 

How They Met – Swirl Couple Gene-Leigh and Seth Wheeler!

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GENE-LEIGH AND SETH WHEELER

Gene-Leigh and Seth Wheeler

Here on the blog and over at The Swirl World on Facebook, I often receive questions in my in-box from women interested in knowing more about how to date and relate to Rainbeau men. (Shout out to blog mistress Christelyn Karazin of Beyond Black & White for the term “Rainbeau,” which, for Black women, is a term used to describe non-Black men).

Sometimes, the best way to answer certain questions is to hear how it’s done from the people who are successfully doing what you’re interested in. This week we’re featuring Swirl couple Gene-Leigh and Seth Wheeler.

To learn more about how they dated, related, and ultimately married, read on – and stay tuned!

NOTE: Installments are in Gene-Leigh’s own words.

 

Installment One – Gene-Leigh Tells How They Met

“Hmm….I don’t know,” I thought out loud to myself.  I was searching the database of a website called PlentyofFish, and I wasn’t too keen on the results.

“Oh well, they’ll just have to come to me,” I sighed, and started to press enter. I stopped myself, and added to the bottom of my profile, in all caps, “RACE IS NOT A FACTOR”, and pressed enter.

I sat back, cross-legged on my pull out bed, and stared at my new dating profile.  I’d been back in my hometown of Pittsburgh for a little over a year, and after leaving the Windy City (and a destructive relationship) in the dust, I was looking to start anew.  I was in graduate school, worked at night processing checks at a bank, and was about 2 weeks away from moving into my own apartment.  For the next few weeks, I fielded a few messages, made a couple of connections, and vetted a few losers (a poster who said “Baby, you’re hot.  I’ve always wanted a sexy black woman to fulfill my fantasies!”–was QUICKLY deleted and blocked).  I’d moved into my own place, and been there for a week, by the time I got a message from a strikingly handsome man with clear blue eyes.  We exchanged emails a few times, and I liked him.  He was down-to-earth, intelligent, and very handsome.  I began to feel the little eddies of excitement that comes with a new beginning.

What Happens when You’re Patient – and have an Open Mind

And then—NOTHING.  I checked my profile for a week, and got nothing at all from him.  I wondered if I’d scared him off.  Discouraged that I’d wasted my time, I was ready to delete my profile and settle for a lonely life filled with coursework and stress.  I checked my profile one last time, and noticed a message.  I clicked on it, and enlarged the picture of the guy who sent it.

I squinted at the picture, trying to make sense of it, and then remembered skipping over his profile because of my own preconceived notions of what I THOUGHT he was looking for.  That and I noticed that a little blonde girl was also in the picture with him. “Looks like a rocker,” I thought to myself.  His arms were covered in tattoos, and he sat on a chair with his pant legs rolled up, and his bare feet in a kiddie pool.  The little blonde girl, who I assumed was his daughter sat next to him in the pool in a bathing suit smiling.

“What a weird pic to put on a dating website!” I thought smiling.  One of my rules of dating is that I don’t date men with children–and that is my OWN preference.  I know that there are men in the world who are fathers and make awesome mates for women, but I was looking for someone who didn’t already have a lifelong commitment.

“He’s kind of cute in a rocker way…” I thought.  I’d never dated a white man before—-as a matter of fact, I’d gone through a period in my very early 20s where I was staunchly opposed to it.  Too many bad experiences and a nasty stint at a fast food restaurant with customers spouting racist slurs had soured me against “pale folks.”  It took going back to college and expanding my mind, and accepting people for who they were for me to make that change.

The Email Exchanges

“Ah, what the hell,” I thought. I clicked reply and sent him a message back.  I allowed my mind to drift to the possibility of dating outside of my race.  What would my family say?  What about HIS family?  What would society think?  As I drifted off to sleep that night, those questions danced at the front of my mind.  The next day, I received a message and a little more info on my rocker dude.  His name was Seth, he was 28, and lived about 5 miles from me.  He enjoyed listening to (and attempting to play) music, and worked the night shift, like I did.  He thought my picture was pretty.  I smiled as I read his reply.  I dashed off an email, got ready for class, and found myself thinking of him during lecture.

We emailed each other for about two weeks, and in that time, I learned a lot about my “rocker dude”—- he’d gotten out of a short fling a few months before, and the little girl in the picture was actually his god-daughter.  His best friend’s wife (whose daughter it was) took the picture of him sitting on the edge of the pool after she’d set up his account.  I wrote back to him about my life, what I was doing, where I was going, and where I had been.  We typed about music, movies, and bad restaurants.  We talked about family, and I learned that his parents were very liberal folks who lived in a small town about two hours north of Pittsburgh.  We typed about our brothers–we were both the oldest—-and about how his middle name (Andrew) was my brother’s first name.  Now this entire time, I’d been sending messages through my email over my cell phone.  Growing tired of typing, we finally worked up enough courage to exchange phone numbers, and talk on the phone.

First Phone Call . . .

I remember being so nervous the first night he called! “Oh my God I’ve never talked to a white guy, what do I say?  How will he sound?”  When Seth finally called, he was as nervous as I was, but the conversation just flowed like we’d known each other our entire lives.  We talked about the stars, and food, and the sucky dating scene.  He told me that he was glad I was talking to him because it killed him when beautiful women would end their profile descriptions with, “NO white men please.”   That gave me pause.  I was at a loss for words.  I finally put some smile in my voice and told him, “Well, they missed a good one,” and we laughed.

 . . . and First Date

As time went on we got closer, and we started to go out.  Our first date was late at night, and we ate at an all-night restaurant after we were both off of work (remember, we both worked the night shift).  I had a chicken salad, he had pancakes.  He paid, and he wore a black T-Shirt with the Ramones on it and a pair of jeans (he still has that shirt, and since we’ve been married, I’ve been known to sleep in it from time to time).  As time went on we got closer, met each other’s families, and got to know each other more and more.  When he asked me to be his girlfriend, we were watching TV, and he turned to me and very thoughtfully said, “Hey, will you be my girlfriend?” I said “Yes” without thinking—-it was the most natural thing in the world.  We had tiffs and arguments, and great make up sessions.  He bought me an acoustic guitar (which is prominently displayed in our living room even today) and we made music together.  He made me dinner, and gave me a stack of punk rock CDs.  We went to punk rock concerts (which are a ball) and cooked Thanksgiving dinner for our parents. He soon proposed, and we got married on October 11, 2012.

Has this been a whirlwind?  Absolutely.  Has it been hard at times?  Of course.  But when it all comes down to it, we love each other deeply and dearly.  I can’t see spending my life with anyone else–I need him like I need oxygen, and I know he needs me just the same.  Just think: If I’d held on to my old feelings and beliefs, I would have missed out on the love of a lifetime.  He’s my rock, and my “rocker dude”.  I love you Seth (kiss). <3

Tomorrow: The Bat Chronicles (Part 1)

Join in the Fray: On a scale of 1 – 10, how open-minded are you?

I’m blogging every day in the month of January in Blogher’s NaBloPoMo Challenge. Thanks for reading, and feel free to comment!

Copyright © 2013 Michelle Matthews Calloway, ASwirlGirl, All rights reserved.

 

The Reason Why I’m Not Here Today

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GUEST POST 1I’m not here today because I’m hanging out at my friend LorMarie’s Place!

LorMarie describes herself as “a 30-something female who has an opinion on just about everything. Whether it’s using humor, ranting and raving, or writing positive affirmations, I do it all.” 

I love LorMarie’s blog and I happily list her in my blog roll. I’ll be submitting posts to her from time to time.

She has one  from me up today: Should Men Dictate Sex?

I’d love it if you’d come over and hang out with us!

P.S. Starting tomorrow, we’ll be featuring guest posts from one of the members of The Swirl World’s Facebook community. Our guest poster is happily and interracially married, and she’ll be sharing stories about how she met and married the man of her dreams. Stay tuned!

Join in the Fray: Would you like to submit a guest post?

I’m blogging every day in the month of January in Blogher’s NaBloPoMo Challenge. Thanks for reading, and feel free to comment!

Copyright © 2013 Michelle Matthews Calloway, ASwirlGirl, All rights reserved.

 

 

How to Make Your Dreams Come True

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DREAMS COME TRUE

I believe that statement . . . do you?

Today in Southwest Louisiana we are treated to clear skies and a delightful 74 degree temperature. I’d like nothing better than to be sitting outside sipping a white chocolate mocha at Starbucks. Instead, I’m cooped up inside, trying to stay on task so that I can get some work done on my dissertation.

Earning a PhD is but one of my many dreams, and this one is well within my grasp. Two – three more months of hard work, and I’m there. Then, it will be on to the next milestone in fulfillment of another dream.

What are you dreaming about today? What will it take for you to live your best life? I believe the best way to make that dream a reality is to pursue it.

Now, of course I’m not talking about engaging in any activities that undermine your values or cause you to compromise your sense of personhood. That kind of behavior only leaves you open for exploitation, abuse, and disappointment.

Set Your Vision

Visualize what you want to attain, and see yourself achieving it. Visualizing “Michelle Matthews-Calloway, PhD” goes a long way towards helping me to press forward. I imagine the sense of accomplishment and gratification I’ll feel when I cross the stage and go through the hooding ceremony.

If a mate is what you’re dreaming of, picture yourself walking down the aisle (or picture your bride walking toward you). See yourself in the corner office, directing a division within your company of choice. If you’re dreaming of retirement, visualize yourself on the beach or relaxing at the pool, cold drink in hand.

Do What it Takes

Just as we have to “put legs on our prayers,” we also have to put legs on our dreams. Determine what you need to do to make your dream come true, then make positive steps in that direction. Do what it takes to make things happen – even if it means you have to pass up a sunny day.

Join in the Fray: What are you dreaming of?

I’m blogging every day in the month of January in Blogher’s NaBloPoMo Challenge. Thanks for reading, and feel free to comment!

Copyright © 2013 Michelle Matthews Calloway, ASwirlGirl, All rights reserved.

 

 

Five Things a Facebook Romeo Won’t Tell You

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ROMEO

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am disturbed.

Profoundly.

Yesterday one of the interracial Facebook pages issued a warning to its fans. They sounded the alarm about a Facebook Romeo who evidently had been making the rounds of IRR and Swirl pages and cozying up to Black women. His motive?

To ask them for money.

Seems this Facebook Romeo had hit up several of the women on the page. The women contacted the Admin, who in turn posted a warning – complete with a photo.

People, I just blew a gasket.

A guy chats you up on Facebook, and somehow feels comfortable enough to ask you for money???

o_O

Swirlers, we have a problem.

Oh, I hear your gasps and cluck-clucks of judgment. Who does that? you ask. You wonder, How does this happen? as you clutch your pearls in dismay.

Whelp, I’m glad you asked, because I’m more than happy to let you in on Mr. Facebook Romeo’s secrets.

5 Things a Facebook Romeo Won’t Tell You:

  1.  Your provocative profile picture was his first clue. You know – the one that has half (or all) of your boobs hanging out, or shows the rear view of you in your Daisy Dukes. And you know what? Don’t give me that baloney about “I should be able to post any photo I want.” Yeah. We get that – and we also get why you do that. It’s because you’re thirsty – and that’s exactly the type of woman Mr. Romeo is looking for.
  2. He’s tuning in to your sexually suggestive posts and/or comments. What posts? Oh, the ones where you ask what a man’s favorite body part is, or how he feels about [insert sexual topic here]. He’s also checking out the comments you make in the other thirsty posts – the ones where you talk about what you do and/or what you like when [insert sexual topic here].
  3. He has completely picked up on all your “compliments” about his looks, physique, blue eyes, green eyes, brown eyes, blond hair, black hair, brown hair, straight teeth, pretty smile, muscles, cleft chin . . . . He doesn’t have to worry about giving you any compliments, because you’ve made a point of letting him know what you think of him.
  4. He notices how you constantly whine about how you wish you had someone to cook for, bake for, give a massage to, blah, blah, blah. The purpose of these posts? To put him (and everyone else) on notice, and inform them that you are unattached and lonely – and easy pickings.
  5. Last but not least, Romeo has made notes about all the assertions you make about what a loyal, protective, supportive, and “ride or die” woman you are. Your “pick me! pick me!” message came through loud and clear, and all that’s left now is for Romeo to send you an in-box, chat you up, tell you how wonderful you are, and move in for the kill. ask you for money. the two of you will live happily ever after.

A wise old man once said, “It’s one thing to get hit by a bat, but giving someone a bat to hit you with is an entirely different matter.”

Ladies, whether online or in person, thirstiness and desperation will read through loud and clear. Facebook Romeos troll interracial pages and groups, looking for the five things I just listed. Women who engage in those behaviors make it easy for Romeos to engage in predatory activity with little to no effort.

Don’t give a Facebook Romeo a bat to hit you over the head with.

Think I’m being an alarmist? Check out these clips from recent episodes of the Dr. Phil Show on the subject of “Catfish” and “Online Love Scammers.”

How do you protect yourself from a Facebook Romeo? The same way you keep bugs and pesky insects away. In other words, you use repellent.

What Repels a Facebook Romeo:

  • A healthy self-esteem
  • Class
  • Dignity
  • Self respect
  • Standards and values
  • Vetting, vetting, and more vetting

The average Facebook Romeo isn’t too interested in a woman who exudes confidence and knows her self-worth. Even so, don’t believe for a second that possessing these qualities will make you exempt. Often times these attributes will just place you in an arena to be approached by a “better quality” Romeo, one who will be a lot less obvious about what he’s after. The best way to protect yourself – and we can’t say it enough – is to Vet, vet, and vet again.

This bears repeating:

The best way to protect yourself – and we can’t say it enough – is to Vet, vet, and vet again. The best way to protect yourself – and we can’t say it enough – is to Vet, vet, and vet again. The best way to protect yourself – and we can’t say it enough – is to Vet, vet, and vet again. The best way to protect yourself – and we can’t say it enough – is to Vet, vet, and vet again. The best way to protect yourself – and we can’t say it enough – is to Vet, vet, and vet again.

I’m just saying.

(This is also a good time to re-read our post entitled Date Smarter, Not Harder).

Join in the Fray: What does your online persona say about you? Are you a prime target for a Facebook Romeo?

I’m blogging every day in the month of January in Blogher’s NaBloPoMo Challenge. Thanks for reading, and feel free to comment!

Copyright © 2013 Michelle Matthews Calloway, ASwirlGirl, All rights reserved.

 

Where You At?

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TWITTER BIRD 1

(I know – you’re right behind that preposition!)

If you recognize this little guy, I believe you have some familiarity with Twitter.

We’re on most of the social media outlets, so feel free to reach out and touch us.

Here’s where you can find me (Michelle Matthews-Calloway): 

TWITTER BIRD RED

Holla at ya Girl – I’ll holla back!

Join in the Fray: Where you at in the social media world? Sound off . . . . . 

I’m blogging every day in the month of January in Blogher’s NaBloPoMo Challenge. Thanks for reading, and feel free to comment!

Copyright © 2013 Michelle Matthews Calloway, ASwirlGirl, All rights reserved.

 

 

Words of Wisdom from A Married Girl in a Weird World

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We love, love, LOVE blogger and vlogger Eugenia Berg – aka Married Girl in a Weird World.

Eugenia is happily and interracially married. She and her hubby are expecting Baby Berg later this year!

Today’s Subject: There IS a Difference!

Today, Eugenia discusses the reality of self sabotage in today’s vlog. Psychology Today defines self sabotage as behavior that “creates problems and interferes with long-standing goals.” Eugenia provides examples of this behavior taken from the best source possible – her own life.

According to Eugenia, there is a difference between self-sabotage and vetting. She asks, “Do you understand what it is?” Eugenia has written two other blogs pertaining to self-sabotage and vulnerability in relationships. You can find those blogs here, and here.

STOP SELF SABOTAGE

For a complete mini workshop on the subject of self sabotage, I invite you to read Eugenia’s two blogs and listen to her vlog.

After you read the blogs and listen to the video, feel free to ask Eugenia any questions you like.

In the meantime, listen and learn, people.

Listen, and learn.

Join in the Fray: In what ways have you engaged in self sabotaging behavior?

I’m blogging every day in the month of January in Blogher’s NaBloPoMo Challenge. Thanks for reading, and feel free to comment!

Copyright © 2013 Michelle Matthews Calloway, ASwirlGirl, All rights reserved.

 

 

 

 

How to Be Present and Accounted For

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PRESENT 3

I’m always on the look out for a great quote. I saw a wonderful one yesterday (there was no attribute; else I would cite it).

The quote said this:

“Don’t waste your precious energy on gossip, energy vampires, issues of the past, negative thoughts or things you cannot control. Instead, invest your energy in the positive present moment.”

“Invest your energy in the positive present moment.”

Don’t you just love that?

Sadly, the vast majority of us ( me included) spend too much time reflecting on the past or planning for the future. How much time and energy do we really spend, not just enjoying the moment, but the positive present moment? Seeing the negative things in our lives and in our immediate environment is easy. Shucks, it’s almost like those negative things cry out to us and demand our attention. You know; the rude clerk who makes a point of letting you know that yes, she really is being nasty. The overly critical co-worker who is determined to not only pooh-pooh all your ideas in the team meeting, but believes it is her life mission to show you up in front of the boss. And you certainly don’t want to forget last night’s argument with your significant other (the replay of which is playing over and over and over in your head), or the fact that your sister gets. on. your. last, nerve. with all her incessant complaining and you really wish you knew how to tell her to just stop it.  

Awareness of all those negative things is almost like breathing, right?  How about we strive to cultivate a similar awareness – no, an overriding awareness – of the positive things all around us?

So, instead of regarding the sound of the Starbucks coffee grinder as invasive and loud, I anticipate the rich, intoxicating smell of fresh ground coffee beans that will follow. I look out the window and embrace the bright sunshine, especially when I remember that just a few short days ago we endured a week’s worth of rain and flooding. Sure, that little boy is running all over the store and he probably needs his mother to corral him, but he has the most lush, curly eyelashes, and a sweet, mischievous grin. Instead of frowning, I smile at his mother and tell her that her boots are to die for, and that her son is The Cuteness.

Yes, all the negative things in my life are there, somewhere on the edges of my mind. I push them farther away, and then decide to banish them totally. The rambunctious little boy looks like he has decided he wants to chat with me, and even sit in my lap. I quickly close my laptop and put it away. I want to give him my full attention as he shows me the lights on his tennis shoes and then plays with my rings.

He grins at me; pleased at my oohs and aahs. I grin back. I’m present and accounted for. I made the conscious decision to invest my energy in squeezing all the goodness out of this moment, and it’s paying me back.

In this moment, life is good – and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Join in the Fray: What can you do to be present and accounted for? 

I’m blogging every day in the month of January in Blogher’s NaBloPoMo Challenge. Thanks for reading, and feel free to comment!

Copyright © 2013 Michelle Matthews Calloway, ASwirlGirl, All rights reserved.

 

 

Saluting a Champion of Diversity – Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

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MARTIN LUTHER KING

I believe it goes without saying that Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was a champion of diversity.

It also goes without saying that championing a cause is one thing; giving your life for it is another thing entirely.

Dr. King’s passion to ensure civil rights for all individuals regardless of race, color, or creed provides the platform and impetus for what we seek to do at The Swirl World. 

We celebrate diversity, and we advocate the right of every person to love whomever he or she chooses, regardless of the skin they’re in.

Dr. King wasn’t a Swirler, but I’d like to think he’d be ok with anyone who is.

Today, we salute him – and we Swirl on.

To read Dr. King’s Nobel biography, click here. To read Dr. King’s I Have a Dream speech, click here.

Join in the Fray: Who or what shaped your thoughts about diversity? 

I’m blogging every day in the month of January in Blogher’s NaBloPoMo Challenge. Thanks for reading, and feel free to comment!

Copyright © 2013 Michelle Matthews Calloway, ASwirlGirl, All rights reserved.

Use ‘Em Before You Lose ‘Em

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SMILE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m just saying.

Join in the Fray: Have you smiled today?

I’m blogging every day in the month of January in Blogher’s NaBloPoMo Challenge. Thanks for reading, and feel free to comment!

Copyright © 2013 Michelle Matthews Calloway, ASwirlGirl, All rights reserved.