Trey Anthony - Black Girl In Love (with Herself)

Copyright 2021 by Trey Anthony

Published in the United States by: Hay House, Inc.: www.hayhouse.com Published in Australia by: Hay House Australia Pty. Ltd.: www.hayhouse.com.au Published in the United Kingdom by: Hay House UK, Ltd.: www.hayhouse.co.uk Published in India by: Hay House Publishers India: www.hayhouse.co.in

Project editor: Melody Guy

Cover design: The Book Designers

Interior design: Julie Davison

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any mechanical, photographic, or electronic process, or in the form of a phonographic recording; nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted, or otherwise be copied for public or private useother than for fair use as brief quotations embodied in articles and reviewswithout prior written permission of the publisher.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional, physical, and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Anthony, Trey, author.

Title: Black girl in love (with herself) : a guide to self-love, healing, and creating the life you truly deserve / Trey Anthony.

Identifiers: LCCN 2020039175 | ISBN 9781401960261 (trade paperback) | ISBN

9781401960278 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: African American women--Psychology. | African American

women--Life skills guides. | Self-realization in women. | Self-esteem in

women.

Classification: LCC E185.86 .A55 2021 | DDC 305.48/896073--dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020039175

Tradepaper ISBN: 978-1-4019-6026-1

E-book ISBN: 978-1-4019-6027-8

Audiobook ISBN: 978-1-4019-6028-5

To my mom, Angela Senior, who has shown me what it means to get back up. Thank you for always allowing me to tell my version of my truth and being open to hearing it.

To my family. For always giving me something to write about. I love you.

To my grannies. Enid and Daphne, I know youre both looking down smiling. I feel your presence every day.

To my friends. The ones who hold me down at all times. Sis wouldnt have made it here without you.

To my beautiful son, Kai. Youre my why. The reason I didnt give up. You are the constant light in the darkest days. I love you. Thank you for choosing me to be your mummy.

God/Universe: May I continue to do your work.

To every beautiful Black girl. Sis, I see you.

Five months before the first draft of Black Girl in Love (with Herself) was due to the publisher, I found myself broken, a hot mess, and I barely recognized my life. How did I get here? This couldnt possibly be my picture-perfect life. This couldnt be the good life that I had spent the last four years carefully curating and creating and, of course, posting all over social media. The life that people commented on as if I were living the fairy tale. The life that people hashtagged #couplegoals.

My partner and I were the power couple. I was an acclaimed, award-winning writer, who turned her immigrant rags to riches story into a TV show. I was the first Black woman in Canada to have her own TV show (they called me the Oprah of Canada), and I now motivated thousands of women to take action on topics such as love, relationships, and just living their best damn lives! I loved my life and my work, and I truly thought I was doing Gods work.

We often talked about our plans to leave a legacy, and with her brains, my creativity, and our strong work ethics, we knew we would change the world. I thought we were unstoppable! In our spare time we jet setted across the world. It was not unusual to catch us jumping on a plane to Dubai, England, Antigua, Barbados, or Hawaii. We ate at five-star restaurants around the world, taking pictures of our fabulous meals. We hired a car service to take us to the spa for the day. I often came home to five dozen roses on the counter, and, of course, I would Instagram that shit immediately! We often sent long, lovey dovey, public Facebook messages to each other, just to ensure that the world knew that we were in love. We were that Black couple who had made it! We gave hope to all Black women that one day, they, too, could be living the fairy tale. I felt blessed that someone successful, rich, and gorgeous had chosen me, and I would pinch myself at night thinking, How was this possible? My relationship gave me a sense of identity and purpose. And if Im being honest, it also gave me a sense of importance.

I was raised by a single mother who had me at age 17, and I spent most of my childhood being shuffled from one home to another. I grew up working class, in public housing, and got kicked out of the house at age 19. Yet somehow, I seemed to have achieved the impossible, and I was eager to share my secrets with the world. Here I was, the Black girl love expert who was going to tell how I had attracted the love of my life. I had done the workinner and outer. I had spent the money on therapy. I had written the list where I told the Universe/God what I wanted in a partner, and I was not going to settle for less. I read that list every day until it was practically burned into in my brain. I had prayed the Ciara prayer, watched every episode of Super Soul Sunday, and by doing all of this, I had attracted my big love! I was the living example of never giving up hope. And love could find you too, girl! I knew so much about love that the biggest self-help publisher in North America gave me a damn book deal to write about it! Now suddenly, here I was in the fetal positionsleep deprived, crumpled on the bathroom floor, crying hysterically, gasping for air.

What the hell happened to my life?

Nothing made sense anymore. My fiance of four years had just abruptly ended our relationship via text. Yes, girl, text! I was in disbelief. We were supposed to be getting married in Hawaii. And four weeks prior, we had moved into a brand-new luxury condo. Boxes were still unpacked, and we had recently hired a fancy interior decorator to create our beautiful home. I even had a date circled in my calendar to discuss paint colors for the nursery. Nursery? Oh, yes! I read that text while trying to wipe baby poop out of my shoulder-length locs. I had a brand-new, adopted baby boy who was just 12 days old and now I found myself with less than 10 days to vacate the apartment. The walls of my perfect life were crumbling. I was numb. The baby, picking up on my obvious stress, began screaming uncontrollably. I could not find the energy to go to him.

What the hell did I miss? How could I not know my relationship was in jeopardy? How could I have continued to offer thousands of women relationship advice and miss the tsunami hitting my own life? My inner critic, who I dubbed Critical Cathy, quickly showed up to kick me while I was down. And, girl, she wasnt playing as her voice took over my head. Trey, youre an awful human being. And an awful mother. Everyone is going to laugh at you (full Carrie moment, minus the blood). This is all your fault! Why did you think someone like you could live a fairy-tale life? Haha! And now youve been dumped. You obviously dont have a clue what it takes to be in a relationship because if you did, your fiance would still be here with you, making a bottle of formula. And if that werent enough, now you and your baby are going to be homeless!