Saturday, April 27, 2019

Make-Up Counters and Funmiola

Exercising.

Praying.

Writing.

Reading.

Cleaning.

Cooking.

Making lists.

I know all the coping strategies. I follow the protocol. I recognize the triggers.

But sometimes, it just flares up and there are no triggers. Burns from the inside. Shakes me up.

My mind runs and runs and runs. My sleep is affected as I toss and turn. My attitude changes and I snap at people. My heart races. My skin flares up. My bones ache.

Over the last few weeks and really, if I'm honest with myself, it's been a couple of months, it's been bad. There's no more stress than usual. I don't have any extraordinary worries or concerns. I've been working out regularly, watching my carb intake a bit more closely and managing my work travel.

So why is it on hyper-overdrive now? I woke up in the middle of the night last week sobbing from a nightmare and then my mind ran. I started to ask God questions that bordered on ridiculous and were nonsensical. I'm grateful for God's mercy and His patience. Thankfully, he listens and listens and listens. Then, he provides. He opens my eyes to some sights He directs my mind and attention to the place I need to focus. Oftentimes, it is scripture. And, at other times it is books I'm reading, podcasts I'm listening to or running into people God places in front of me at the right time.

Will. God directed my path and had my feet walk right over to the NARS counter at the Dallas North Park Mall Nordstrom. I did not need any more make-up and yet, I walked over to that counter asking for some cover-up. My skin did not look as if I recently increased my care regimen. Rather, it presented itself with red spots, bumps and dryness. The concealer I purchased a few weeks back (hmmm, pattern?) wasn't doing the trick and I had a work dinner to get to that evening.

Will. He wasn't the first make-up artist I encountered. He walked up and sat me down and with very few questions began to fix my face. He answered my concealer question, but then told me he wanted to help. I had only shared my work dinner. I had not shared my heightened anxiety.

Will. He patted and powdered and used all sorts of products to create a smooth foundation. He talked to himself as he worked only engaging me when he needed to confirm a decision. He would lean over and ask me to turn to the light. He would turn the chair in which I sat to put me in a different light. And, when I told him I needed to get going, he said, not yet. He asked me to stand in another light and started on my eyes. He said I needed a bit of warmth.

Will. Did he know he was the warmth I needed? I didn't have to tell him about my work or the event. I didn't share any stories with him other than I had a dinner to attend. And, when he added the highlight and bronzer for my two-minute eye (his words, not mine), I did feel the warmth. The physically-debilitating anxiety that had been running through my body went away and it was replaced with a warmth. Hard to explain, but it happened.

Will --through make-up application -- helped me move from one place to another. Yes, he directed me to step in various lights around the make-up counter. Yes, he applied bronzer to my cheeks and eye lids. Yes, he used a concealer on both my undereyes and eye lids. Yes, he used highlighter on my cheekbones and as eyeliner. But his work moved me to a more stable place.

He met the definition of will when used as a noun: "The faculty of conscious and especially deliberate action; the power of control the mind has over its own actions." His deliberate action helped my mind control my actions.

I walked out of Nordstrom feeling better. I didn't pay attention to how I looked when he held up the mirror for me to approve the makeover. Rather, I felt the warmth.

His ability to communicate with me through make up reassured me of my ability to communicate. The event I had upcoming required me to talk and encourage. It was my job the following day to direct my energy into over 100 people. No matter the make up, no matter the hair style, no matter the outfit I wore, my job was to deliver a message that used minimal words in a manner that built trust. My intention mattered, but what mattered more was how it was received.

I listen to a lot of podcasts -- from funny to serious, from a perspective of a fan of television shows to documentaries. When the girls are in the car with me, we listen to Good Night Stories for Rebel Girls. The girls have the book which has stories of women who have made a difference. From Simone Biles to Florence Nightingale to Joan Jett and Maria Montessori. These stories inspire and provide conversation starters.

The podcast has other women leaders read the stories. Funmiola Fagbamila, a professor, community organizer and activist, narrated the Queen Nanny story. The podcast also has episodes where children interview the narrators. As we listened to the interview of Fagbamila, she described Queen Nanny as someone who was the definition of audacity. Queen Nanny put her life on the line for the collective.

As the interview with Fagbamila continued, the she shared the traits she has and sees in community organizers and activists. She said it takes courage, energy, intention, strategy and a willingness to know how to communicate with people in ways that are uncomfortable and difficult. As an activist, she said transformation does not come unless there is a level of discomfort. She also pointed out working toward transformation does not mean you are stripped of joy. She said you can be engaging in transformation and find joy in your life. "If means that you find joy in doing the things that need to be done in this world that are most urgent and most productive," said Fagbamila.

Will did that. He knew it was urgent and productive to help me. More importantly, God knew I needed Will. He sent Will to me. The timing was God's.

I bought three NARS products from Will that evening -- a highlighting powder, a tinted moisturizer and the concealer I needed. He gave me blush and bronzer samples as a bonus. I asked him for his card and he gave me his direct number.

He gave me a hug, too.

So, I have a new list to help me work through my anxiety (along with my Xanax, of course).

Warmth.

Care.

Time.

Kindness.

Transformation.

Joy.

Will.