Hope and Pride

There are times when, for good reason, hope is hard to come by. When you are staring at a mountain, wondering how you are going to move it. When you have felt the sting of criticism and misunderstandings and abuse, and you are believing the worst about yourself and the world around you. When you are gazing at the world outside, and feeling like the whole planet has gone  insane, and you are just trying to make sense of it all. When you realize you have failed, and like the commercial, you have fallen, and you can’t get up. Only there is no signal to the outside world, drawing help to you. There will be no first responders coming to sweep in and rescue you. You are calling out, crying out, but it is just you. Only you.

They say that pride cometh before a fall, and at times, it does. False pride can be dangerous, because it keeps you from getting the help that you need. But there is such a thing as “humble pride”. Pride that says no, I am not better than you. Yet I am thoroughly unique and wonderfully created and marvelously flawed. Pride that keeps you holding your head up high though it seems like the world has turned its back on you. Pride that helps you up from your fall, stands you up on your feet, and carries one foot in front of the other. Wonderful pride. Beautiful pride. Pride in the name of love.

Martin Luther King, Muhammad Ali, Malcolm X, Margaret Thatcher, they had pride. Pride that said you may call me a “minority”, but I call myself fearfully and wonderfully made. What signaled this pride to the world? It was in the way they held their head up high, and in the walk. A swagger. A sway. Though the world told them they couldn’t do it, they walked like they owned the place.

So there is my fashion tip for the week. Walk like you own the place. Get in touch with your inner bad-ass. When the world is spitting on you, turning its back on you, and walking all over you, saunter on down the road.

Recently, I had someone mention to me, that they had seen me from behind,  and didn’t know that it was me. Then they said, “but then I recognized “that walk”. I didn’t quite know what they meant.

Then I had a day this week that was perhaps the worst of my life. I felt that I had ruined my world, ruined everyone else’s, and that I would never climb back up. As I was walking into the shopping center near my home, I caught a glimpse of that walk. I thought, “who is this woman with this confident, poised, femininely strong walk?”. Then I realized that it was me. And my soul reminded me of the qualities of confidence, charisma, strength, and grace that I had forgotten that I had. I walked around the mall like I owned the place. Before I knew it, I was believing it. Before I knew it, I felt hope. Before I knew it, life was getting better again.

Keep walking  like you own the place. Like a supermodel, part march and part strut. A little sway of the hips. Right hand tilted up: sway, sway. Get down with your bad self, one foot in front of the other….



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I am a wife, mother, RN, make-up artist, and musician, who also happens to have a mood disorder. Fortunately, I will not let the latter define me. I am also a survivor of suicide loss. This website is dedicated to my brother, Jefferson Joseph Blanton-Harris ("Joey"). This site is to share thoughts about beauty, fashion, and most of all, mental health. Because fabulousness starts with good mental health! ~"I only want to see you laughing in the Purple Rain" - Prince

4 thoughts on “Hope and Pride”

  1. I love this Carol…and by the way, you have the best wall ever! You have always had a distinct and confident stride. Keep on strutting! You are amazing! Love you!


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