“When the battle was against me 

& your promises you kept, 

that your word will set me free 

if I just keep my mind on thee.

You'll keep me in perfect peace.”

Song: Peace by Juanita Bynum

 

“We've been trained to believe the lie that ignoring and neglecting the body is somehow necessary for survival or success.

But in a world that is more interested in using our bodies than caring for them, disembodiment is a curse.

Exhaustion won't save us.

Remember your breath.” 

–Black Liturgies

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Without intending to, I had revisited the cycle of putting entirely too much hope in medical providers. After having an MRI in March, I met with the Orthopedist, who told me that the X-Ray and MRI results showing 3 diffuse disc bulges, mild bilateral narrowing, and lower lumbar spondylosis were normal. I found myself - yet again - in a physician’s office fighting the urge to cry. That was the moment when I realized how much hope I had for this provider to give me the answers that I had been searching for for four years. Since I had done my own surface-level research about the preliminary results when I received them, I was also bothered that the results were being deemed normal. In my mind, I had three options: (1) accept this provider’s statements as fact, (2) follow-up with his recommendations to meet with pain management regarding whether or not I was a candidate for a medial branch block and/or a radiofrequency ablation, or (3) get a second opinion.

 

About 24 hours after my appointment, I decided that option one was not on the table. That meant that I should keep the appointment that I had scheduled with pain management for mid-April and begin researching alternative providers to get a second opinion. Luckily, the UHC app and Beyoncé’s internet made the search somewhat quick and relatively easy.

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Recognizing that I had misplaced my hopefulness, but not wanting to return to being consumed with researching and self-diagnosing, I worked to control my internal pendulum and to pace myself as I processed the questions and uncertainty about what each appointment would bring. 

 

Despite the fact that I wanted a diagnosis, I recognized that - the other side of receiving a diagnosis - was learning about the severity of what may be attacking my health. I wanted to be ready for the diagnosis, but also aware of the severity and the potential treatment options. I found myself going back to Romans 15:13 on an almost daily basis.

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“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

 

I had begun praying for peace of mind and divine guidance over the last two years. In the weeks leading up to the medical appointments, I noticed that both were present.

 

Unfortunately, this was somewhat short-lived. As I began preparing for my Ankle Brachial Index and my appointment with the vascular and vein specialist, I circled back to some information that I had found about Peripheral Artery Disease to see if any of my symptoms matched. Far too many of them did and, despite my best efforts, I found myself halfway down a research rabbit hole and somewhat fearful of what the rest of my life would be like health-wise. It did not help that one of the medications prescribed by the Dermatologist (Minoxidil) was causing some circulation-related issues, such as leg swelling and cramping. 

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My hair growth efforts seemed to go back to (1) not wanting to look like what I was going through and (2) trying to force something to work that was just not meant to. I wanted to cover the “problem areas” in so many ways, not just with my hair. This led me to reflect on my initial post in this series. I realized that I had more work to do to unravel some of the initial thoughts and practices that were threaded through most of my childhood and adulthood thus far.

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I had to sit with the fact that I had unintentionally applied some very specific meanings to having locs and what it would mean for me to have locs without considering how - without doing the inner work - locs would just be another hairstyle. I had always equated locs to freedom. I am not sure why. Perhaps it’s connected to a childhood seeing Lisa Bonet seem to be the epitome of all things authentic and free in her “real life” and in her role as Denise Huxtable. 

 

You are probably as confused as I am about how we ended up in an episode of The Cosby Show. 

 

Lisa Bonet (as Denise Huxtable) is probably the first person I remember seeing with locs. She was very much a character that marched to the beat of her own drum and moved in a manner that was true to self regardless of how it was received by others. There rarely seemed to be negative consequences for her authenticity and I always felt that there would be horrible repercussions for mine. I am not sure why (or when) I conflated Denise’s hairstyle with her freedom and authenticity, but it seems that I had been unintentionally carrying that idea around for decades. Perhaps I had incorrectly convinced myself that a change with my hair would symbolize and equate to a change with myself. Perhaps I had made the mistake of prioritizing looking like or seeming authentic as opposed to actually embodying authenticity.

 

During my recent monthly therapy appointments, my therapist and I have discussed authenticity vs. performance, the Persona Theory, and compartmentalizing. As I learned more about Persona Theory and compartmentalizing, I realized that I did not like the idea of having to be different versions of myself. I could see why it was necessary for some people, but it seemed relatively inauthentic to me. Like the exact opposite of what or who I was aiming to be. 

 

My therapy homework required that I identify my values and priorities. It was relatively easy for me to do both. What was harder to sort through was how my current actions failed to align with my values and priorities. Without question, my health was one of my top three priorities, so that meant I could not (should not, would not) compromise the progress of my health for a hairstyle.

 

I had to let go of all that I thought locs represented for others and accept that my authenticity and freedom would have to be pursued and explored in an alternate way.

 

I made the decision to discontinue my efforts to grow and/or loc my hair. The decision honestly seemed relatively easy. At a basic level, it seemed like I was choosing between quality health and superficial appearance changes. My body mattered more than addressing the alopecia diagnosis.

 

In the days leading up to my appointment with the vascular and vein specialist, I received a second opinion about my MRI results. This Orthopedist team indicated that there were no nerves being compressed in my back and that the disc bulges appeared too minor to truly be problematic. What they did find was four spots of inflammation in the joints in my lumbar region. They suggested physical therapy and a steroid injection.

 

Funny enough, while getting the second opinion, the Orthopedist commented that he would have never guessed that I had an alopecia diagnosis because my hairstyle hid it well. 

 

I am not sure why that conversation stood out to me, but it did. It also made me consider a very practical aspect of loc maintenance. I am not someone who handles things not being in place or in order well. I am not sure why I thought having locs, going through the “ugly stage,” or having frizzy roots waiting 6+ weeks to get my hair done would be a good fit for me.

 

Once I put it all in perspective, I felt perfectly fine returning to a prior hairstyle and separating myself from the idea that locs would be the instant shortcut to authenticity and freedom.

 

As I continued considering all things freedom and authenticity, I started to wonder why I thought my 40th year should be marked by a complete upheaval of all things… me. What was I saying to and about myself if I genuinely believed that all of these things about me needed to change? 

 

In late March 2025, I met with the vascular and vein specialist. After having an Ankle Brachial Index, the Nurse Practitioner met with me, provided a thorough explanation of the findings, and advised me that what I was experiencing may be related to possible pelvic congestion syndrome and/or possible significant uterine fibroids. The Nurse Practitioner talked me through next steps, which included a medication, a CT scan, and additional ultrasounds. It was not lost on me that she was a woman of color and that she seemed far more invested in determining what was going on with my body than many of the non-minority physicians had been.

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I did some surface-level research on pelvic congestion syndrome, noting that back pain was one of the symptoms. That led me to pause pursuing physical therapy and any injections until I had additional results regarding my veins and arteries. 

 

Prior to the appointments, I added requests for guidance and clarity to my prayer list. I wanted to make the best decisions for my body with the information that I received. I (somewhat intentionally) began reading the Bible daily intending to find words of comfort and encouragement. I also started implementing some of the activities suggested by my therapist and trying to actively do things that I enjoyed despite being in pain. I still rested as I needed and wanted to, but I planned to stop isolating myself out of fear that my body may betray me.

 

“Anyone who has asked for divine guidance knows that it can be challenging to trust it when it comes. This is because divine guidance comes in many forms, and it is sometimes hard to locate it. We aren’t sure if we should trust our thoughts, our feelings, our dreams, or our intuitions to be the carriers of divine wisdom. We don’t know if advice from a friend is the form in which the guidance has come into the world, or if our own opinion is the source of wisdom we need to take seriously. The ability to sort all this out comes with trial and error, and the best way to learn to recognize divine guidance is to engage in the process of asking and receiving. Sometimes, when we ask for guidance, we already have a sense of what we want to hear. At such times, receiving guidance can be difficult because we don’t want to hear anything that appears to be in opposition to our desire. Therefore, one of the most important qualities we need to cultivate if we are to receive guidance is an open mind. It helps to acknowledge what we want, and then to symbolically set it aside, making room for whatever wisdom comes through to us.”

–DailyOM

 

By the time April arrived, I was pursuing an alternate tattoo cover-up design with a different tattoo artist, had completely discontinued my efforts to address the alopecia diagnosis, and was nervously awaiting my CT scan results (and all that may come with them). I was equal parts nervous about the diagnosis, the treatment plan, and the costs associated with all of it. I also wanted the relief of having a diagnosis.

 

Unfortunately (or fortunately), my CT venogram results were - more or less - normal. While I am thankful that nothing horrendous was found, this was yet another medical testing that resulted in no answers, increased bills, and little guidance about next steps.

 

After getting the results, I did a little research (being mindful not to get stuck reading horror stories or consuming myself with learning) and found out that completing the CT venogram while laying down can sometimes prevent problematic veins from being seen in the pelvis. I was relieved to realize that the two additional ultrasounds are often performed to look for what the CT venogram may have missed. These ultrasounds had already been scheduled for me by the vascular specialists that I had met with. Already having the “Plan B” in place made me like the team even more. It looked like I could put my self-advocacy in my pocket for a while, that I might actually be in qualified hands and able to trust them in helping me navigate what was happening with my body.

 

While reading about the purpose of the alternate testing that I was scheduled to have, I also found some helpful information about possible treatment options for diagnosis of Pelvic Congestion Syndrome and Chronic Vein Insufficiency. Options ranged from medication to outpatient procedures (i.e., embolization, sclerotherapy, endovenous thermal ablation, mechanochemical ablation). I had noted that the Pletal medication originally prescribed by the specialist had not proved helpful for my legs and continued to cause digestive discomfort. After a month, I had discontinued taking it. While I was not thrilled about a treatment plan that involved another procedure or surgery, I was relieved that additional options seemed to exist in the event that I had either or both of the vein-related conditions.

 

While waiting for my next appointments, I discovered that I seemed to be developing a different form of acceptance with what was happening with my body. Maybe because I had been going through this for so long or because I had so many other things to deal with professionally. Regardless of my acceptance, I also noted that there was still a hint of frustration with how long I would have to wait for my next appointment and additional testing. I did my best to direct my thoughts in a manner that was positive, that was hopeful, that was at peace, but I would be denying my humanity if I tried to erase or deny the existence of my frustration. 

 

There were moments when I felt at peace, but my peace was not the perfect peace that we learn about in church. Perhaps the issue with my perception of peace was similar to my perception of authenticity. Maybe the issue was actually my expectations of what peace was and how it would manifest in my life. That led to another thought: Maybe my expectations of my body were just as problematic as what my body was going through. I am not sure if the expectations were based on what had been “normal” for me my whole life… or maybe I was holding some unrealized expectations about what post-gastric bypass life would be like.

 

About 46 days before my vascular and vein appointment, I started counting down. In part to stop me from continuing down the research rabbit hole, but also to steady myself for what seemed like the longest part of the last four years. I had been told that the wait time for the appointment was so long because (1) I needed to meet with a physician rather than the Nurse Practitioner and (2) they wanted me to come when I could also have both ultrasounds done back-to-back. Their logic made perfect sense, but my emotions (and pain levels) were running high. My symptoms were bordering on unbearable. I began choosing some specific ways to make it through the next several weeks:

 

• Keeping track of my personal wins, as suggested by my Therapist.

• Focusing on community service and personal projects.

• Spending time with people I had not connected with recently.

 

“Take each day as the miracle it was & stay in peace.”

Song: I Give You Peace by Yolanda Adams

 

Not even a week after typing those words, life made a liar out of me. I went to a restaurant that exposed me to gluten and I had one of the worst reactions that I had in some time. The emotions that followed highlighted the progress that I had made with my response to my body’s reactions while also showing me how anxious I remained about moving through life in this body.

 

I tried to remind myself of what my Therapist told me almost a year ago about not doing too much in an effort to diagnose or figure out what was going on with my body. I felt like the minimal and occasional research that I was doing helped me to find the language to describe my symptoms. This made medical appointments somewhat easier because I could now - for the most part - differentiate between inflammation pain, pressure, and something else entirely.

 

After the severe gluten reaction, I found myself considering the concept of freedom again. Specifically, I was wondering when freedom (much like being healthy) had become a destination for me and why both seemed so far away.

 

To distract myself, I watched an episode of The Terrell Show featuring one of my favorite artists, Melanie Fiona. Melanie dropped several gems and offered several reminders, specifically about how deviating from your purpose can result in physical symptoms. Her story made me wonder how the remnants of my rigidity and efforts to be stoic may be affecting me physically.

 

I also saw a social media post by the Productive Dreamer that offered suggestions about how I could manifest better for myself. I chose to consider these suggestions with regards to my health:

 

1. Get clear on what you want

2. Visualize your desired outcome

3. Use affirmations

4. Believe it's already yours

5. Let go of doubt

6. Take inspired action

7. Practice gratitude

8. Trust the process

 

I definitely needed some help with suggestions 2, 4, 5, and 8. Recognizing this, I started looking into techniques for achieving each.

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ChatGPT offered some insight, mentioning creating a mental or visual “health scene,” speaking about myself and my health as someone reclaiming agency and power, and using affirmations. Some of the suggested affirmations included:

​ 

• I replace fear with faith. I choose trust over uncertainty.

• Doubt is a visitor—I do not have to let it stay.

• I trust the timing, I trust the process, I trust myself.

  

I also found a post from Lalah Delia that was saved to my photos. The post simply asked: What would you do differently if you trusted the process?

 

Searching for the suggestions proved to be easier than implementing and processing them. I had never spent time considering how doubt showed up in my life and I often did not recognize disappointment until after the fact when I was trying to identify the source of my frustration. 

 

As I thought about disappointment more, I was reminded of something I read that connected disappointment to expectations. Typically I can identify when/where my expectations have been misplaced, mismanaged, or miscommunicated. That did not seem to apply to my health though. I did not think that expecting good health and a better quality of life was unrealistic or misplaced.

 

Harvard Business Review provided some unexpected guidance in an email about handling disappointment at work:

 

• Manage your emotions: Acknowledge your feelings without letting them define you. Labeling emotions helps you understand them and choose a constructive response. Speaking with trusted confidants or journaling can help you process what happened.

• Reassess your expectations. 

• Allow for recovery. Take time to rest and recharge. Reconnect with energizing routines and activities outside work. Recovery isn’t indulgent—it’s strategic.

• Draw out learning. 

• Reboot your confidence. Take small, confidence-building actions. Progress starts with momentum.

• Move forward. 

 

My therapist and a few professional experiences had taught me to manage my emotions and reassess my expectations about a variety of things. By nature of what I had encountered with my health thus far, I had been forced into allowing for recovery and drawing out my learning. I was unsure about how to achieve the reboot of my confidence or how to move forward without improved health though.

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As I was learning to let go of some lingering goals - like establishing locs or reaching 175 pounds  - I seemed to be learning to prioritize  my health. I still had to catch myself in moments where I started “should-ing, would-ing, and could-ing” all over myself. I tried to be more mindful of not losing my cool when my body had a flare up or reaction and not guilt tripping myself when I had to cancel plans or rearrange my schedule to rest or recover. It got easier with time. Other things just did not matter as much anymore. I found myself glad that I was already working through anxiety and coping skills because there were so many dumpster fires happening around me.

 

While some aspects of disappointment were difficult to navigate, doubt was a bit trickier. It reminded me of the work I had done to understand trust and faith. I considered whether doubt was the absence of trust and/or faith, finding that it was actually more often the tension between belief and uncertainty. The research that I did pointed out that you can have faith and still experience moments of questioning or confusion. I found references to how doubt can be a sign of engagement because it means you are thinking critically, not blindly accepting. What I read said that doubt only becomes a problem when it overwhelms your ability to trust or believe altogether. Earlier in this series, I felt doubtful, but I do not think I identified it as such. When I discussed the absence of faith and trust, perhaps neither was completely absent, but doubt was just… more present.

 

Around the same time that I was pondering doubt, my wife referred to me as hopeful, specifically as it pertained to my health. I do not know that I genuinely feel hopeful, in part because - the longer it takes to receive a diagnosis and improved health - the louder my doubt seems to be. From what I read, hope is rooted in desire and the possibility of a positive outcome, that it can exist – even in uncertainty. Doubt arises when there is uncertainty or lack of conviction, often challenging belief or confidence. On the difficult days, I felt that I was clinging to hope, but the typically logical, sometimes overthinking part of me still had my doubts. 

 

Anytime I hear the word “doubt,” I think of “Doubting Thomas” in the Bible. While I knew the name, I was not all that familiar with the story. I found that the scripture (John 20:24–29) was shorter than I anticipated. After reading it, I reviewed a summary that said, “The story highlights the tension between doubt and faith, and affirms belief even in the absence of physical proof.”

 

I concluded that having doubt was not a bad thing, but that I had to determine what the doubt was rooted in. The absence of consistently good health and a great quality of life was - in my opinion - the absence of physical proof. The hopefulness that my wife mentioned was possibly my effort to maintain faith despite my doubts. 

 

Truthfully, doubt had proven helpful in some parts of this health journey. It is what led me to reconsider how to address the alopecia diagnosis. It also is what sparked my desire to consult a second Gastroenterologist and an alternate Orthopedist. Going back to when I thought my health issues began (2021), it was also doubt about how I was feeling that led me to go to the doctor, to follow up on referrals, to attend countless appointments and complete a variety of tests. It was also the doubt (and refusal) that I just had to accept this as my reality that kept me digging for a diagnosis… four years and twelve physicians later.

 

For most of my 30’s, I thought that I needed to find my way back to my true self. This was something I tried to sort through in the midst of addressing my health issues. As we entered the month of May (2025), I began considering that I was not finding my way back. It seemed more like… I was finding my way through.

 

“Master the art of getting through things. Even if it's hard, challenging or difficult at the moment, still believe that you can get through it. You can master your mind, emotions and how you respond to things. Keep telling yourself "this too shall pass" and keep pushing through.”

–Anonymous

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Sometimes I wish somebody would have told me

& got me out before I had gone.

Guess there was some things He wanted to show me

cause you don't know right 'til you've been wrong.

He's been rolling stones and paving roads,

making something outta nothing turn to solid gold.

Reeling me back in, taking the wheel.

It's not the past but somehow He's still rolling stones.

Rolling stones.

Song: Rolling Stones by Madison Ryann Ward

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Learn more about Pelvic Vein Congestion Syndrome here: 

• https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTjYFwQ93/

• https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTjYY4QGy/

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Read Part Seventeen: Grateful

Read Part Nineteen: Coming Soon

Find additional posts and resources here.

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