MISS CLASS!

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never harm me; is the biggest lie ever fabricated. The sticks, the stones, the broken bones, they all eventually heal and fade away, but the words, especially if they are negative, the words stay forever. The negative words haunt us. They stalk like predators hiding in the shadow. The negative words hold the weight of a million pounds. The negative words oppress us.

When I was a child, probably about 8 or 9, my mother took me to our Family Seamstress, Ms. Adderley, to have a bespoke dress made for a special occasion. When I learned that I would receive such a treat I was elated. My very own custom dress. I spent countless hours dreaming of every minute detail of the design. Ms. Adderley was the most gifted person I knew, at that time, she could sew anything and when she was through it would put the designers on the Milan runway to shame.

Giddy with excitement, the day finally arrived to visit Ms. Adderley's store. She and my mother spoke about the occasion and the basic design of the dress. I sat there like the well-mannered child that I was (my mother will read this and laugh at the poetic license that I took with that statement. But ahem, it is my memory, my version of the story. LOL!) OK back to the truth, at every opportunity I injected my thoughts. I wanted it to be pink, I wanted a bow, I wanted it to be frilly and lacy and pretty. Ms. Adderley took my measurements, we picked out some material, and viola my beautiful bespoke dress was about to be masterly created.

A week or so later, my mother took me back to Ms. Adderley's store, to have a fitting. I felt so special, so "adult". I was going for a fitting. We arrived at Ms. Adderley’s store, barely able to contain my excitement. I could not wait to try on my new dress. Now I must pause for a moment and explain, you must understand, I was not an ordinary child. I was, how can we say this nicely, precocious. Yes, precocious is a good word. I was a precocious child, wise beyond my age, too intelligent for my own good (and backside sometimes), and extremely outspoken. So, you see I never changed; lol. Anyway, back to the story.

Ms. Adderley helped me into the dress. Made some markings, made some adjustments, pinned some areas. Finally, she was finished. Finally, the moment that I was waiting for. I turned around in the mirror to finally get a glimpse of what I imagined to be Cinderella's ball gown. As I spun and my eyes met with my reflection in the mirror, my mouth spoke before my brain could react and my body could protect my behind from what would be an inevitable spanking. I screeched, "this dress, I don't like this dress. THIS DRESS HAS NO CLASS!"

Shocked by my outburst. I looked at my mother's face and then at Ms. Adderley’s. They both had that fake look that adults morph into to hide their shame when their child does or says something embarrassing. My mother, now accustomed to my verbal eruptions, said nothing but quickly helped me out of the dress and tried to soothe Ms. Adderley's ego with platitudes and explanations. Oh, this child, she did not mean it like that, it is a beautiful dress, Ms. Adderley, perhaps we can just make the adjustments, and then I can come back to pick it up. I do not remember what became of that dress; but from that day until this very one, the only name I am called by Ms. Adderley is Miss Class. Ms. Adderley's family and my family are very close. All of the Sisters were told the story of Miss Class. To the entire Adderley family, my new name was Miss Class. Every time my Mom and I went back to her shop. Hello Miss Class, how are you doing? To this day when I send greetings to her through her sister, the response is always met with Miss Class.

Unbeknownst to Miss Adderley way back then; her nickname, her label of me was embedded in my subconscious. It placed a mantle upon my destiny that is still true to this day. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I am "a little different'. The way most men describe it as "unique". I like things in a certain way. I am rather particular about my appearance, what I wear, what I put in my body, and what I put in my skin. I have high standards. I only want the best and demand it. Some would describe it as bourgeois, I call it "Class".

My aura, my perspective, my mind is focused on excellence. In every facet of my life, I desire to be excellent. I am the person who will always go the extra mile, above and beyond. My house is always impeccably decorated, my appearance is always well-groomed. I confidentially conduct myself with class.

The words that are spoken over you, especially in your childhood, stay with you. They merge into an inoperable part of your perspective; they cultivate, your worldview. You see yourself based on the words that you heard. What was said to you and about you formulated your beliefs about yourself, whether they were positive or negative? Unfortunately, most of us tend to ruminate and meditate on the negative words we heard. We focus on the statements said in anger, the verbal attacks, the misplaced pain. The sticks and the stones, they faded away but those words they killed us. They killed our spirit, murdered our dreams, they assassinated our self-esteem.

Please do not be misled, my childhood was not all peaches and cream. I had negative things said about me. I had negative words spoken over me, but they never resonated. It was something in that little girl who heard those words Miss Class and identified with it. My spirit way back then heard those two little words, acquiesced, and surrendered to it. I took on the mantle of Class, of excellence, of royalty, of being special and unique. Those two words formed a force field around me that kept all of the negative out. They became my life raft when I felt like I was drowning. When I felt like giving up, I saw the little girl in that dress and always knew I couldn't, because there was better out there for me. Those words were what I was called but they became who I am.

One of the exercises I do with my clients is a cognitive challenge to their belief systems. I would ask if I told you, you were a dog and instead of speaking to you began to bark when I saw you, what would you do? The overwhelming response is something along the lines of think you were crazy. Then I asked why the response is normally because I am not a dog. How do you know you are not a dog? I am calling you a dog, barking at you like a dog, why don't you bark back to me? Because I am not a dog, they would respond. But in my mind, I believe you are a dog, in my mind, you are a dog, I am going to bark at you, I can even get you some doggie treats. Why won't you act like a dog? Normally with some anger, they respond because I am not a dog. I said excellent, a dog is not your identity. You do believe you are a dog because I said you are a dog. Barking is not your language. You refuse to accept it because it was a lie. So why do you believe the other lies that were spoken over you? Why do you believe that you are a failure, unworthy, unlovable? Why did you identify with the lie? Can you tell it was a lie?

When someone says something to you, that hits at the core of your self-esteem, that hits at the core of your self-doubt, you identify with it. Because we identify with it, it offends us. and we become hurt. When you have reached the point of being hurt or offended, that means you have internalized the lie. You have accepted the lie as truth and agreed with it. That lie left unchallenged will manifest into the truth. "You just like your no-good daddy. You are ugly. You will never amount to anything. College is not for you. You are not smart enough to have your own business. You are too old to do that thing. You will never lose that weight. A black person can never do that. A woman could never do that. A man could never do that. Someone from XYZ country could never become that".

What are the lies in your life? What are the negative words that have been spoken over you? What are the lies that you have accepted as the truth? Why have you allowed words to limit your potential, to forfeit your dreams, to not be who God created you to be? You are a masterpiece, created by God, fearfully and wonderfully made, placed on this planet because you are a gift to this world. You are the personification of greatness.

I could tell you this every day for the rest of your life, but it will not change you. You have to believe it. You have to identify with it. You have to release the lies that were spoken over you. Heal those emotional "sticks and stones”. Release the trauma from your past. I want each of you to do this exercise.

Every negative thing, every self-limiting doubt that you believe about yourself, write it down on one sheet of paper. For every negative thing, you must have a corresponding positive attribute that you would like to become. Physically read aloud the list and say, I release this lie about me concerning X and I replace it with the truth of Y. Then say I forgive myself for believing that lie. I accept the truth of who I actually am. I am sorry. Say I love you. Then destroy the page of lies. Burn it, tear it up, throw it away, in the garbage. Place the sheet of truth, somewhere where you will see it every day. Every day I want you to read that aloud to yourself until it no longer becomes words on a page but the reality you see when you look in the mirror.

Today is the last day for you to be limited by any negative moniker spoken over you. It is time that you become the person that you were destined to be. It is time to release the greatness that is within you and live your life limitlessly!