“There was that term again—generosity of spirit. It became my mantra. I railed against it. I didn’t want to be generous; I wanted to be vengeful. Revenge felt good. Revenge meant closure—and it also meant victory. If I could hurt her as she hurt me, I’d feel less hurt. Praying for her felt false. Wishing her harm felt real. And yet I knew that, as the mother of my children, the more comfort she felt in her heart, the more comfort they too would feel. I had to grow beyond my own pain and consider how to avoid inflicting further pain on my kids. I had to move my mind in a positive direction at a time in my life when dark negativity was surrounding me. Move beyond darkness to light. Move beyond pain to healing.
“I heard a man on television talking about wounded hurters and wounded healers. ‘When you get cut,’ he said, ‘you either want to pass on the pain or help people who have suffered themselves. You think that by passing on the pain you lose the pain, but, in truth, that only prolongs the pain. There’s only one way to break the cycle, and that’s to head into healing mode.’
“I believed all this healing business. I was determined to implement it. And live according to the laws of love and forgiveness. But just as I adopted that high-minded attitude, she hired a divorce lawyer, a pit bull disguised as a man. Without going into the gory details, he made demands—in her name—that went beyond the bounds of reason. If I had acquiesced, I’d face financial ruin. So much for the spirit of generosity. I returned to my original state of rancor. If she was getting a pit bull to attack me, I’d hire a Rottweiler. Attack, assault, intimidate, destroy. All-out war. With the kids in the middle.
“My wise friends kept saying, ‘Stop and think. Take a deep breath. Pray for wisdom.’ I took their advice, and rather than hire a Rottweiler, I spent a couple of weeks listening to the music and reading the poetry that helped quiet my mind. When I came out of this period of meditation, I decided to invite my wife to lunch. She accepted. The day of our get-together, I called the most loving and generous of my friends for words of encouragement. I spent a long time that morning looking at pictures of our daughters. In the car driving to the restaurant, I went over all the things in my life for which I’m grateful—my health, my children, my connection to a spiritual source of strength. When I arrived, she was already there. ‘Gee,’ she said, ‘I’ve never seen you look so relaxed.’ That set the tone. We had a reasonably good discussion and—thank God!—I actually convinced her that my financial ruin was not in the best interest of anyone, especially our children. We agreed that working through overzealous lawyers would do no one any good. I assured her that I would be generous in the settlement. I wanted her to be comfortable and I wanted her to be happy. She was astounded by my attitude. After she had hurt me so deeply, she was convinced that I was going to hurt her. ‘That’s why,’ she said, ‘I hired such an aggressive attorney. I was afraid of what you might do to me financially. I was afraid that you’d want to punish me.’ Her motivation was fear—the one emotion that, unleashed, can destroy anything and anyone.
“In the final analysis, our divorce has been the most difficult chapter in my life. I have to live with the undisputed fact that the woman I love has rejected me for another man. I’m still haunted by thoughts of what I could have done to change things. But ‘could haves’ and ‘should haves’ only perpetuate more misery. And I’m not interested in misery. I’m interested in movement—positive spiritual movement from self-pity to self-assertion. I am who I am. My now ex-wife is who she is. I can’t get her back. I can’t make her love me. All I can do is fill myself with more love—and hope that she does the same. All I can do is minimize the destructive elements and maximize the creative ones. Out of this emotional debacle, can I be a better and more attentive dad, a more compassionate and understanding human being?”
My friend’s story inspires me. I say that because most of us have lived through the collapse of romances and relationships. I know I have. It’s hard not to dwell on everything that went wrong. I’m one of those people who tend to blame themselves when things don’t work out. I need friends to remind me to keep moving forward. There’s nothing to gain by going over everything that went wrong. That’s stale energy. Fresh energy gets me going; stale energy leaves me stuck.
A beautiful lady—I’ll call her Inez—told me the sad story of how her husband had left her for another woman. When I asked why, Inez said, “I had gained weight. He said that he no longer found me attractive. He said that if I really loved him, I’d lose the weight and make myself sexy for him. He reminded me that when we got married, I had a perfect figure. ‘That’s the figure I fell for,’ he said. ‘I’m not into fat girls.’ ‘I’m not a fat girl,’ I replied. ‘I’m a full-figured woman.’ With that, he laughed in my face and walked out the door. This was a week before my thirty-fourth birthday, which I wound up celebrating alone. In the following weeks, I overate like crazy. I medicated myself on chocolate. When I learned through friends that my husband was with another woman—a slender woman—I started eating even more. I piled on the pounds and was on the verge of becoming dangerously obese.
“When he filed for divorce, I broke down. Crying, eating, unable to sleep, I went to see a counselor, a wonderful woman, who told me, ‘You need to get healthy, not for your former husband—but for yourself. Your husband has failed the loyalty test. You’re a big-boned woman and you’re never going to be reed thin. But reed thin is not healthy, and reed thin is not you. Go to a nutritionist and find a healthy program that works for your body and your lifestyle. Get moving.’
“I got moving. I found a nutritionist who had helped other women with my body type. He designed an eating program that was neither instant nor miraculous. It was slow but steady. Over six months, I dropped significant weight. My confidence was back, along with my self-esteem and my figure. By then my ex had broken up with his skinny girlfriend. When I ran into him in the mall, he was amazed at my appearance. He was all over me with compliments and even come-on lines. ‘I know you did it for me,’ he said, ‘and, baby, it’s working me like crazy.’ I just smiled and walked away. When he called that same night, I didn’t even bother to pick up. I had moved on.”
Movement for me also means exercise. I’m like most everyone else when it comes to getting in shape: I don’t want to do it. I need motivation. Sometimes motivation comes in the form of looking in the mirror. Sometimes it comes in the form of a firm commitment to meet my trainer. But even if you like what you see in the mirror or don’t have a trainer, that doesn’t mean movement toward exercise isn’t possible. I’ve been given wonderful advice from wise professionals; their insights about what it takes to get moving have made a big difference. They have taught me to…
Set reasonable goals. Don’t bite off more than you can chew. A little bit goes a long way. If that means spending only ten or fifteen minutes a day, then spend that time and don’t berate yourself for not spending more. Build up slowly. Ease into a rhythm and let that rhythm carry you.
Be open-minded about the form that suits you best. Don’t do the exercise you feel you should do—do the exercise that you actually might enjoy. Some like to run, or walk, or spin, or dance, or stretch, or play soccer or softball or basketball or volleyball at the beach. Doesn’t matter. Movement is movement. Make what moves you—music, competition, solitude—part of your exercise life.
I was taught that consistency is the key. Find what works and keep at it.
Have fun.
My trainer, Tony Martinez, always turns my workouts into games. He’ll put together an obstacle course for me; he’ll get me to throw a basketball back and forth to him, quicker and quicker, until my heartbeat is accelerated. We have timed runs. He gets me laughing like a little kid. He keeps it fun. He’s always encouraging. Tony is a major part of my fitness program and my ability to stay connected with my own true me. He inspires me and everyone I work with, too. He’ll bring fitness equipment to rehearsals so I can keep my stamina up when we’re preparing for a show. He keeps us moving even when it’s as simpl
e as adding a game to our workout sessions. He makes me laugh. I know that not everyone can afford to work with someone of Tony’s great talent. Thus one of my dreams is that Tony will be able to share his gift with the world in the future. If I didn’t have Tony with me, I don’t know where my body would be right now.
It’s one thing to lose weight with a nutritionist, as I was so fortunate to do with David Allen’s wonderful help; it is yet another entire effort to keep that weight off, to be fit, to stretch, to be strong, to have definition, to keep a strong core, to always stretch. And as you get older, it certainly doesn’t get easier. Tony has given me the tools and support to be healthy and fit.
I get discouraged. I get lazy. I think to myself, Enough! This exercise routine has gotten old and I’ve gotten bored! I just want to eat what I want to eat and forget about everything else because it tastes so good. It’s like a drug addict or alcoholic who drinks or uses one time and thinks he or she can handle it. And even with all the support I have, the work continues. I think to myself, I earned the right to have this reward meal. I wanna eat what I wanna eat. But the difference is, we all know we have to eat. It’s true that we must eat to live, not live to eat. But we must do it in a healthy way.
Since you’re reading this book, you likely know all about the internal voice that whispers to you, urging you to slip back. That voice is strong and never goes away entirely. I hear it just as I hear the voice that tells me that I’m not the person—the artist or friend or daughter—that I should be. To quiet those voices of negativity, self-doubt, and self-loathing, I must first acknowledge my inability to turn them off completely.
They’ve been there too long and they’re too deep a part of who I am. All I can do is ask them politely to turn down the volume. I can live with those voices if I recognize that there are other positive voices that tell me that, as a child of God, I’m loved, I’m valued, and I’m capable of achieving balance in my life. I can learn to eat well. I can exercise. I can express gratitude for the simple act of being able to breathe in and breathe out. I can move away from darkness and depression to light and hope. I can be happy with who I am, not what I should be, or what I might have been, or what someone tells me I must be.
I am me, the true me; you are you, the true you—and that’s good. That’s beautiful. That’s enough.
… as a child of God,
I’m loved, I’m valued, and
I’m capable of achieving
balance in my life.
My life today in Paris.
Loving My Life Today
I’ve never been happier. I’m finding peace; I’m growing my faith; I’m feeling confident and strong. And I’m in a wonderful new relationship.
It’s funny, though, how rumors continue. While I was making two films with Tyler Perry—Why Did I Get Married Too? and For Colored Girls—some said I had given up music. Meanwhile, in this same period, my “Make Me” was a number-one dance hit and my performance of “Nothing,” the theme song from Why Did I Get Married Too?, was the top video on iTunes.
The truth is that I’ll never give up music. I love it too much. I have great energy and passion for all the arts. And I want to do it all. There will be more records, more films, more dancing, more television, more books.
I’m often asked if there will be children. That’s up to God. I love the idea of being a mother. I love being Auntie Janet to my nieces and nephews. They’ve given me a great sense of giving and caring. Children are my heart.
My heart is young. I believe you can know and enjoy what is happening at this very moment as well as innovate and bring something fresh to the party.
I realize that my life has been shielded from many things. I was protected by my family, especially my mother. We were encased in a very special bubble. Yet we were fully aware of the world—for good and bad—in which we lived. For example, there has never been a time free of the ugly specter of racism. Like all blacks, we have seen bigotry firsthand. I want to avoid specific anecdotes; many have suffered far greater indignities and pain than me. Comparisons don’t help. Let’s just say that as recently as 2010, doors that had opened for others were closed in my face, just because of the color of my skin.
I feel enormous gratitude for those brave artists who came before me and paved the way. I’m speaking of Lena Horne, Eartha Kitt, Sammy Davis, Jr., Dorothy Dandridge—the list goes on and on. They are my heroes. The indignities these geniuses suffered were far more obvious than the racism we encounter today. Today’s racism is more disguised and subtle. But it’s there—and it hurts on many levels.
My growth depends on faith, as it must for everyone else as well. My spirit of generosity and selflessness also depend on faith. I’m grateful for the comfort that my work provides. I’m grateful for the privileged life that I lead. But I realize that it’s the spiritual life that sustains, that nourishes us. In the early morning hours, when I read my Bible, when I pray, when I talk to Jesus, I’m no longer haunted by remorse. I know that the mistakes I’ve made are in the past; they’re gone, forgiven, and no longer cause for guilt or shame. I’m looking forward, not behind.
Yet as my life goes forward, part of my past remains eternally present. In dedicating this book to my brother Mike, I want to pay tribute to his beautiful spirit. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him, his smile, his laugh, those little private jokes between us. He taught me so much. We were as close as close can be. It’s still difficult to speak of him, still difficult to realize that he’s gone. I can only look at his photos when we were kids. I turn off the TV or radio when anything about him is discussed. As I said on the BET Awards show, “To you, Michael is an icon. To us, Michael is family.”
Our family is focused on Mike the brother, the son, the father, the uncle, the loving soul. I focused on him on July 2, 2010, when, for the first time in two years, I gave a full concert. It was at the Essence Music Festival in New Orleans, a city that has been the scene of so much bravery in the face of tragic loss. I dedicated my closing song, “Together Again,” to Mike. Friends said that there wasn’t a dry eye among the more than thirty thousand folks in the audience. I know my eyes were wet with tears when I sang these words, thinking of the joy my brother brought into my life and the lives of millions…
Everywhere I go
Every smile I see
I know you are there
Smiling back at me
Dancing in the moonlight
I know you are free
Because I can see your star
Shining down on me.
I know that the mistakes
I’ve made are in the past;
they’re gone, forgiven,
and no longer cause for
guilt or shame. I’m looking
forward, not behind.
Back on stage. Finding and living, my own True You.
Meet David Allen, My Nutritionist
Eight years ago I weighed more than a hundred and forty-five pounds and was concerned about an upcoming video shoot. My makeup artist, Timmy B., suggested I see the nutritionist David Allen. “The man is a genius in his field,” said Timmy, “and I know he can help you.”
Because I’m essentially shy, I’m always a little reluctant to reveal personal information to a stranger. I decided to go meet with David, but I had some reservations.
The interview was extremely thorough. David asked whether I was on any medicines. I wasn’t. He questioned me about my health history, whether I had problems with blood sugar or high blood pressure. I had neither. He wanted to know whether my energy was good and my sleep patterns were consistent. I was given basic tests for possible blood, gastrointestinal, and adrenal issues.
I had been on many diets, but nothing worked long-term. In that way, I was very much like other people who struggle with weight. I’d be determined for a while, find a plan, follow the plan, see some results, get bored with the plan, and stop. I told all this to David, and was surprised by his response.
He told me to stop w
orking out. He told me to stop everything I thought would work. Not only did I drop all of the weight I needed to lose, but I gained a perspective on how to live my life and be healthy.
What David gave me wasn’t a diet, it was a way of life.
I was relieved that David didn’t grill me about my past eating habits. I didn’t want to list an inventory of every wrong thing that I had consumed.
Baby me.
A beautiful day with my brothers. Whenever they were on tour, I missed them so much.
With my beautiful sisters and beautiful mother.
Battling with my weight issues. During “When I Think of You.”
Here with Buckwheat. On my way to the MTV Movie Awards, the same day I got home from the hospital. If you look closely, you’ll see I’m still wearing my patient ID bracelet. Things aren’t always the way they seem.
I still have this shirt of Jimmy. Beautiful memories.
At the Malibu house with Puffy. The beach is a gift that reassures me that everything will be all right, no matter how I’m feeling.
Some people in the media loved sharing these pictures of me with you. What no one asked, and no one knew, was that I actually had more endurance here than in other images where my weight is down. I was running 5 miles a day in the sand and I was eating very clean. The stress wouldn’t let me drop the weight yet.
Fighting so hard to keep it all together when you’re on the verge of falling apart.
In shape and ready to tour. All the exercise in the world doesn’t matter until you find the True You.
I was shooting a video for Damita Jo when this picture was taken.
True You Page 10