This morning, my friend Phyllis sent me this meme which delighted me no end. The initial reason is that the image is the Hamsa or Shaddai, known as ‘the hand of God’. It’s purpose is protection from evil. The second is that she thought I personified the term inscribed on it. I asked her how she defined the concept:

“Well, a gangsta has swag, believes wholeheartedly in their message, flaunts it, is not afraid to go over board with the badass persona…..all that and a bag of chips. ..lololol….I’m thinking about my clients and their gangsta vibe. For them it’s a cover. ….but they don’t know that. They are committed to the lifestyle!”

She works in a drug and alcohol counseling program and assists people in recovery. In the process, I imagine (having been in the field myself for three decades) she helps them either take off the facade or at least recognize it for what it is and use it for their benefit, rather than to their detriment.

I now claim that persona. I have to admit that throughout my life, I have shunned it in favor of sweetness and light; fluffy faerie wings, glitter and sparkles. While it may have been simpler to live that way, it had me skating on the surface of the pond, rather than being immersed in it, splashing about in its depths. I made it look easy. People thought I was perpetually happy and that nothing phased me. Yes, I have developed resiliency skills as my parents taught me how to bounce back from everything. It came in handy when my husband was diagnosed with Hep C in 1992 and died in 1998 and I raised our then 11 year old son as a single parent. It was useful when my parents died in 2008 (dad) and 2010 (mom). It helped when in short order I was diagnosed with a severe case of shingles, had a heart attack, kidney stones and adrenal fatigue (2013-2014).

There were ways that it didn’t serve me so well, including denial of my own emotional pain, keeping love at arm’s length, having me feel inauthentic and out of integrity. Here I have been teaching this stuff and not walking my talk. I was waiting to be found out. Uncovered as an impostor. The Empress has no clothes. Since the heart attack, which was a huge wake-up call, I have dared to bare my soul, peel off the layers and reveal the real. I recognized that I didn’t have time to waste and began to embrace opportunities to live even more fully. As a result, I have traveled more in the past two years than I had in the previous 20. I ventured to California, upstate New York, Hilton Head, Jamaica, the Bahamas, Phoenix and Las Vegas. I am heading to Toronto and Portland, Oregon in August. I danced on stage with Chubby Checker, dyed my elfin-shorn hair purple, sang with a Billy Joel cover band (“You may be right, I may be crazy….but it just may be a lunatic you’re looking for.”) and recently stood on a diving board 20 feet above the ground that hovered over a pool into which my high school friend Dan Poor was to plummet a few hours later as part of a performance at the NJ State Fair. I didn’t take the plunge myself and his platform was 82 feet over the parking lot, but still, it was a big deal for me.

What is even more frightening than standing atop that diving board, is the emotional bungee jumping I dare to do daily by baring my heart and soul in intimate relationships. Intimacy may not always reflect sexual interaction, although sometimes it does, but rather soul deep conversations with folks I treasure. Those happen with greater frequency, but still they set my heart thumping and stomach churning in anticipation. Once I am engaged in them, I can relax. Saying what isn’t being said, is a stretch, even for this woman who has taught communication skills for decades.  Being willing to share vulnerably, not knowing what the outcome is going to be, putting my heart on the line and risking what might feel like emotional obliteration, now that’s pretty gangsta!