Lolo’s Love Life: The New Age Beauty & The Beast

Can You Really Love A Beast?

One my best guy friends lovingly calls himself a beast. It is his way of asserting his ability to conquer some of life’s toughest adversities. And, I can’t say I disagree. The Beast can juggle multiple jobs at a time, and somehow still have the energy to party. The Beast was homeless as a teenager, and felt the sting of family abandonment. He still managed to graduate college, and pay his bills. The man has beast mode down.

I love how The Beast seemingly never cares what anyone thinks of him, how he lives life on his own terms, and his speaks his mind no matter who is listening. He makes me laugh, and we bond over our mutual experiences of homelessness. But, as much as I like The Beast, I could never date him. I like a confident man, but The Beast is borderline cocky. Many times at work he brags about being the sexiest man on the staff, having a big dick, and his sexual exploits.

For a year The Beast and I are fair weather best friends. He’s the kind of friend you don’t hang with weeks at time, but when you do the connection is strong. He picks on me at work, and calls me uptight. But, then there are moments when I see a glimpse of a real prince in him.
Like the time he took over at work when three rich time share owners yelled at me over soiled hotel sheets. The hotel cleaning staff had walked off the job. I am overwhelmed, and not sure what to do. The Beast rolled up the sleeves on his collared shirt, took off his tie, and personally changed the sheets himself. 

Photography by: Sarah Eliza Bell

Then, there are moments when he comes through when no one else does. Like the time he listens to me cry on my 33rd birthday about my fucked up relationship, my loneliness, and feelings of worthless. Or the time he drives me home even though it’s almost an half hour out of his way. Or the night he invites me out for my first ever orange crush, and even though I feel like shit, he calls me beautiful. And, I believe he means it.

I remember how angry he got when I told him about my mom. “She’s missing out on a beautiful spirit. Fuck her Lolo. She doesn’t deserve you,” he said.

I remember the deep shit he shared about his childhood, information I know he didn’t willing share with everyone.

While I vowed to never give the Beast my heart something about him feels like home. Then it happened…..

The Day It Changed

Something tells me I shouldn’t. I should not cross this line. I know who you are, the women you have slept with, the false promises you have made. I’ve spent a year knowing you, keeping you at arm's length, being your emotional pillow when you see fit, comforting you in crisis.

I want to kiss you, but I know I shouldn’t.

And, now I am driving your car, we’re going to the movies like you always promised we’d do. You are drunk and vomiting words I can’t believe I am hearing.

“I think you’re amazing. I wish you saw me as someone you could be with. I’ve always wanted you. You’re the most special woman I have never met.”

I laugh nervously, shove your arm, and tell you to stop.

“That alcohol got you tripping bro.”

We never make it to the movies. We’re sitting on your couch, lights dim. You want to kiss me. Everything in me says I shouldn’t. But a part of me wants to believe what you are saying. That you feel built to love a woman like me. You saw my beauty in the lowest parts of my life. You saw that and still find that desirable enough to love.

So I lean in. Our lips meet and it’s better than I imagined. Softer than I could have thought. And, I think that maybe just for tonight I’ll let myself believe you can be the man for me.

We drink. We laugh. We share all the moments we thought something was happening between us then played it off. I am drunk in the surrealism of it all. You, kissing me. Me, kissing you. This is wild.

The next day, I swear it was all a fluke. I drive home. You call, and say, “This is for real.”

And for a while — this thing, you and me is good. You give me a key to your place and I feel safe. You say you can try celibacy and I let my walls down. You affirm me and I feel like maybe I could just love you. You open your heart to me, and I think maybe I didn't really know the depth of your pain. And when you see the God in me I think for a moment it sparks something in you that you can do life differently. You let me read the word to you, and I see the wheels in your head turning. I think maybe you know life can be better than doing it in your own strength. I think maybe you can be the man worthy of loving a woman like me.

Then you fall back into the familiar - the man who calls when he pleases never when he says. The man who makes promises but has no intentions of keeping them. You become The Beast again. The Beast who is so wrapped up in himself that he doesn’t see I’m drowning again. I tell you what I need and you still don’t come through. You hide behind alcohol, male bravado, and your ego. And, I need you to be a friend, to hear me, to see me, to be there when you say. I try to be the bigger person, remain friends, let you lay your burdens on me, while never trying to help carry mine. I use a calm voice, I listen even though my emotional well is dry.

I am disappointed. You know the abandonment and rejection issues I fight to conquer daily so I can trust people.

Maybe not every Beast turns to a prince.

This is the new age Beauty & The Beast story. The story Walt Disney’s wouldn’t dare write for fear of jading girls too young. The Belles of the modern age are beautiful in spite of a life of heartache, brokenness, and despair. Her beauty is how she learns to love herself, put herself back together, and somehow still be willing to love again.

The modern Beast, more often than not doesn’t transform. He doesn’t leave his childish ways behind. He doesn’t soften. He doesn’t come through. Instead he uses his Beastly charm to keep bedding, keep wooing beautiful Belles, leaving broken hearts when he leaves.

But,we all keep trying… because we know that someday we will experience the thing or meet that person who makes us want to be better for the loves in front of us, makes us want to step up to the plate, makes us want to be the person our love desires.

Because—- no matter how many heart breaks we experience the mere chance of meeting a prince maybe it’s worth encountering a few more Beasts to get there.

Maybe ….

Good Girl Chronicles: An Expanded Vision

They say visions or dreams are the reality you see with your eyes closed. My vision of what Good Girl Chronicles LLC can be is huge, exciting, and impactful. But, when I open my eyes I often wonder how I’ll ever bring that dream into my reality. After my last storytelling event I am actually starting to believe my vision can be reality one day.

This past month I hosted my third and most attended storytelling night. More than 40 people attended the event featuring eight diverse speakers at a local brewery in downtown Norfolk. A local video company View It, Do It provided live video stream of the event on Facebook, and a popular food truck called Got FISH LLC had people lined up down the street for some of their amazing seafood.

As more and more people piled into the brewery, I found myself moving chairs to make room for people. I thought to myself, ‘This is really happening. I may have found that thing that defines Good Girl Chronicles LLC’

Two years ago when I started Good Girl Chronicles only a few friends attended my events. I was homeless, hotel hopping, but still trying to make Good Girl Chronicles event successful. Some days it was the only thing that gave me purpose or drive to get out of the bed in a season of brokenness. I remember night after I would give a big speech when I was homeless. I’d take whatever speaking fee if any and spend a little to keep my phone on, get a hotel for the night to shower, and for a few moments I let myself believe Good Girl Chronicles could sustain me. So to see people believing in this vision is breathtaking. It leaves me speechless when I think of the small community I’m building through storytelling.

I want to thank all the storytellers who have participated in my events the last few months and all the attendants who supported it. Your donations have allowed me to invest in Good Girl Chronicles and donate to the American Foundation for Suicide prevention. I am close to reaching my year goal.

Next Event: I’m hosting another storytelling night December 16, 2018 at Bearded Bird. There will be an ugly Christmas Sweater contest, a great lineup of speakers, and I hope sparks of hope that motivate people to make a change in themselves and their community.’

Click here to register: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/good-girl-chronicles-storytelling-night-ugly-christmas-sweater-edition-tickets-51852263516

Season of Giving

Many nights last year I’d lie awake in the shelter crying for comforts of home. I remember listening to this Mariah Carey song called ‘Almost Home’ and trying with all my might to believe that if I just held on God was going to give me a feeling of home one day. Other nights I’d lie awake wishing I could something for all of lying on the church sanctuary. I’d wish I could mend the broken hearts, give second chances we all so desperately wanted, give something tangible that showed someone cared. The last week in the shelter program I went into my storage unit and gave away as much as I could; coats, dresses, bags, makeup, CD’s. All tokens from my once successful life. I vowed then to find a way to give to the homeless when my situation was better.

For a long time I struggled with how I could possible give to anyone. I have a car that barely works, inconsistent income, and bills I can’t pay. But in prayer I heard God say to me, “I’ve given you everything you need to sow into others. Look in front of you. You have everything you needed. “

I replied, “I have a interactive social media audience and some amazing business connections. What can I do with that?”

Me with board members of Abba List

When I thought about it harder, I could do a lot with that actually. This summer I hosted a popcorn fundraiser with a local business called TasteBuds. Through social media, my business connections, helpful friends we raised money for the shelter program, the Chesapeake Area Shelter Team, the very shelter I stayed in last year. This month Good Girl Chronicles hosted a paint night with a local company called Splattered & Poured and the Starving Artist. With half the proceeds from this fundraiser I’ll be buying Christmas gifts and self care items for a women’s shelter in Chesapeake called Burfoot House.

I know in my heart God wants us to be a blessing to others. Sometimes I think we get so caught up in our lack that we don’t see God has provided us beautiful ways to serve and give. Sometimes it’s our money, sometimes it’s our time, sometimes it’s a kind word.  But we all have something to give.

Good Girl Chronicles Receives First Award

Good Girl Chronicles is opening all kinds of opportunities for me to host, and emcee community events. In November, a hosted The Bennett Center Heroes in the Community awards gala honoring notable community leaders giving back in Hampton Roads. The list of recipients are doing remarkable things in the community like creating an affordable grocery story, helping domestic abuse victims, and mentoring youth.

At the end of the awards gala, a friend of mine, and local comedian came up to present a surprise award. IT WAS ME! I literally started crying like I had just won Miss America. I was given the ‘Hope Award’ for my work as a mental health advocate and speaker. I really can’t describe the joy I felt being honored in this way. It was a huge reminder that the work I am doing is purposeful and necessary. The award was also named after me and will be distributed every year in my honor.

Also if you read this and want to contribute to Good Girl Chronicles mission, you can make a donation at my GoFundme wwww.gofundme.com/teamgoodgirl

A Good Girl Chronicles Play Review: A New Look at Romeo & Juilet

I must confess I am not an arts connoisseur. At museums I find myself feeling silly when I’m done viewing a painting in five minutes and another person is gazing at it for ten minutes. So I was a little self-conscious about my artistic intelligence when my friend and Good Girl Chronicles contributor Jacquelyn Grace asked me to come see her perform in Regent University’s adaptation of Romeo & Juliet. You know the tale of two star-crossed lovers from opposing families who (spoiler alert) die at the end because the world won’t let them be together. I’ve only ever seen Romeo & Juliet in movies: one with Leonardo Dicarpio and the other with Gwyneth Paltrow. I left both thinking is love really worth dying for?

I also wonder how theater companies keep this old Shakespearean play relevant. The Regent University production placed this age-old tale in the backdrop of the sixties: a time of free love, a country torn apart by the Vietnam War, and fractured by class divisions.

Romeo was played by a tall, chiseled fellow. He is the leader of a band of silly hippie cousins and family members. Juliet, on the other hand, comes from a rich, uppity family. For some reason, in all the depictions I’ve seen of Romeo and Juliet, I felt very connected to the characters in this play. I don’t know if it was because my friend Jacquelyn Grace was slaying her role as Lady Capulet (Love You Doll) or because of the time period change or because a female played Mercutio, Romeo’s rowdy companion. I felt so bonded to Romeo and Juliet's chemistry. During their first kiss you could hear their lips connect, see the two actors’ eyes close.  Even though I knew how their love story was going to play out, I was hoping for a different ending, a different world where two people from different sides of the tracks could find a way to be together. 

Me with Romeo & Juliet after the play

Me & Jacquelyn Grace (aka Lady Capulet) after the play

They say art is subjective, and a lot of what you gather from a piece comes from your own internal experience. I saw Romeo and Juliet as something bigger than two star-crossed lovers. It’s not just a story of two stubborn families. It’s a story of how ignorance, hostility, hatred, and division kills love. Neither family was willing to lay down their crude animosity for one another, so they lost the things they loved most. 

It’s a reminder that love does not always win. There is not always a happy ending—but even in the sadness of this old tale I felt hopeful.  We know that love can’t live in the same space as hate. We can open our hearts to compromise, change, unity.

The play was also personally meaningful for me because Jacquelyn is one of the first people to not only believe in Good Girl Chronicles LLC but invest in it financially, support my events, and even write as a contributor on occasion. Check out some of her blogs here: https://theartinmyself.wordpress.com/

When I first met Jacquelyn she seemed so reserved, a wallflower almost. Watching her on stage, I saw a talented, confident woman, living her dream of becoming an actor. It was an amazing moment for me as a friend of hers. It reminded me that dreams require the work, time, energy, sometimes blood and tears. But the payoff—- the chance to be an actor in our own movie dreams is incredibly worth it.

Proud of you Jacquelyn. 

Reflecting on Recovery: How Far I've Come

Stage lights shine on bright on my face. Dozens of eyes are staring back at me. Mic in hand.
Makeup on point.

“My name is Lauren Hope, and I’m the owner of a blog and business called Good Girl Chronicles.
I want to help people own their truth, live their truth, and share their truth. I’m your host for this year’s
annual Shatter the Silence”

It is happening. That moment I dreamed of as a little girl; being a speaker, traveling with a message,
living my life on my terms.

God is this what you meant? Is this what purpose feels like?

Standing in front of close to 200 people at the Attucks Theater hosting a regional suicide prevention
event called Shatter the Silence. This is huge. This is epic. Because one day many, many moons
ago, I never imagined life could have meaning again.

There were moments years ago where I thought life would always be dark. Deep in the confines of
a two year depressive episode, I remember days that waking up and seeing the sun brought me pain.
It was a reminder that more time was passing from who I was, and I was falling deeper into the reality
of who I didn’t want to be; overweight, lonely, suicidal, angry, frustrated, dirty from no showers,
exhausted, broken, hopeless.

Hosting Shatter the Silence was a reminder of just how far I have come in my mental health recovery.
And, it is one of many accomplishments that prove I am living and thriving in recovery.

The last 90 days have been the most trying, exciting, challenging, and unexpected days of my 2018.I have shared my story of surviving suicide at two Out of the Darkness Walks, suicide prevention walks by the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. I was selected to the Virginia Chapter Board of AFSP, hosted three successful events through my business Good Girl Chronicles. Raised money for several non-profits. Gone on about 5 job interviews in person and over the phone. I kissed a boy, and I liked it. I ran a half a mile. I have introduced myself as a business owner. Broke down in front

of a group of high powered women, then processed it in therapy. Got back up. Performed in a national show called This is My Brave. Took myself on a date. Laughed at my own jokes. Let myself exhale. Popped the anti-anxiety drug more than I would have liked. I asked for help. I worked the crisis plan. I fought for myself. I left the toxic job, then wrestled with the consequences. Been a voice for the voiceless. I’ve been a kick ass dog mom to one of the coolest pups on the planet. Stood up in the face of insults, gossip, and backstabbers.

In a nutshell —- I HAVE LIVED!

Why is this so big? Because if you read this blog then you know for two years of my thirties I was mentally and spiritually

dead. Lately I’ve felt God bringing moments of my past back to the forefront of my mind. Some days

it makes me sad, because I miss being a television reporter, sometimes I long for the love that got

away, I miss not worrying where my next paycheck is coming from, or being frustrated by how limited

my state health insurance is.

But most days I am astonished at where I am in my recovery . There was once a time in the darkest

days of my depression a simple phone interview often left me mute. I remember I applied for Verizon

wireless about 4 years ago. I sat on my bedroom floor rocking back and forth minutes before the call.

My mind was full of questions What will they ask? Will I respond OK? What do I say? I googled Verizon telephones, memorize the plans they told me to do before they called.” When the

call came I remember stammering over my words, sweat on my brows, warm heat covering my body.

I bombed the interview.

Afterwards I sat on the floor and cried. I was once a live shot reporter, did Hurricane coverage, chased criminals now I can’t even get through a phone interview for a sales job. That night I went to Taco Bell ordered as many things my stomach could handle,

(snuck out the window so my roommate wouldn’t hear) then sat up watching Murder She Wrote,

devising ways to kill myself the next day.

That was once my existence. So to do a job interview - to go to speaking engagements - to deal with the ups and downs of Iife, to ride out my mental health symptoms and get back on the horse on the next day is a huge fucking deal. Pardon my French but it is.

Sometimes when I’m in my car driving alone, I cry—-and I just thank God. Thank you God for giving me this second chapter. It is not like the life I had planned. It is not with the people I had planned. But IT IS MINE! I am living. I am breathing.

I am hopeful again. I can laugh again. I can dance again…. and I am trying really hard to let myself

be loved again.

I get back up when life knocks me down. I am at peace with my mental health medications.

I can taste food again. I see a sunrise sand smile in expectancy of a new day.

Life is hard. I am still grinding. I have not tasted my full harvest. But I have so much joy in my heart

because the once barren, desert, dry, empty place in my soul that thought death was better than living — is fertile again. It is year for the seeds of my next life story…. .

I am walking — I am alive.. I am living. This is what recovery feels like to me.