Peace From Broken Pieces: How to Get Through What You're Going Through

by Vanzant, Iyanla

  The executive was silent for a long moment. When she did speak, she told me she would look into it and get back to me. I asked her when. She promised to call back later in the day. I thanked her and hung up. Jeff was still praying.

  Within a few moments Ms. Walters called. She had already heard the news and wanted to apologize. She did her best to convince me that Bill’s bark was worse than his bite and that I did not need to feel threatened. To me, she was speaking for all the women in my life who had shown me that it was okay for the men in my life to abuse, deny, dismiss, and demean me. She was Aunt Nancy. She was Nett. She was the frightened little girl in me who was afraid of doing the wrong thing. I listened to her but I could not hear her. I was polite as I told her “I will not work with him.” Iyanla was back! She had been resurrected from wherever she had been buried. In fact, this was an Iyanla even I did not know. She was clear. She was courageous. She knew that no matter what happened or how it happened, she would survive.

  Thanks to Gemmia and my incredible staff, Inner Visions remained up and running while I was in New York doing the Iyanla show. I went home every weekend to see my husband and my grandchildren and, usually, to teach classes. Before I could go home or teach, however, I would go into my office at Inner Visions and weep. Except for that early meltdown, I didn’t dare cry in New York. Crying there meant that Jeff would want to beat someone up and Lydia might curse someone out. Nor did I cry at home. My husband told me I needed to be grateful. He told me I was being too dramatic and should try to get along for the good of the show. He was clueless!

  Half-truths and contradictions create an atmosphere of doubt, suspicion, fear, insecurity, and instability and all of it was totally familiar to me. At that moment, I didn’t recognize the pattern and I couldn’t believe it was happening.

  Sometimes when you’re healing your patterns and pathologies, the people watching you mistakenly come to the conclusion that there is something terribly wrong with you. There is something wrong; it’s just not what they think it is. Few of us understand how hurtful it is to be judged and criticized when you are on a learning curve or in the midst of a healing crisis.

  You would think that those closest to you would want to be helpful, supportive, nurturing and encouraging. Instead, because they don’t know what they are looking at, they make snide comments, offhand jokes, they talk about you in front of your face and behind your back and because you are healing you can’t just shake it off. Very often the very thing they judge you for is the very thing you’re healing and their insensitivity only makes it worse.

  When you are alone and scared in the midst of people who are trying to make you into what they want you to be, it is pretty hard to be grateful to them. My husband just didn’t—or wouldn’t— understand. So, rather than have yet another argument about the flaws of my personality, I cried in my office, surrounded by the women I knew loved and respected me. Then I could go home and act like everything was just fine. It was self-destructive. It was exhausting. It wasn’t going to last much longer.

  I didn’t see Bill for quite a while after our confrontation. Mindy communicated with him by telephone. She and I began to form a tighter alliance, but I suspected that Bill was still pulling the strings. Meanwhile, I began to seek out people who could give me insight into the television-production maze and how to make the show viable. One unexpected blessing was the note I got from a producer at the Discovery Channel. He said that if there was anything he could do to help me, I should give him a call. I did, and he became my secret angel. I told him that I was scared and exhausted. I remember saying to him that I was doomed to fail because I didn’t know how to do television. His response was the bucket of cold water in my face that I needed. “You don’t need to know how to do television. That’s why you have producers. You just need to know how to do Iyanla.”

  Those were just the words that I needed to hear. I had turned my television show into a replica of my family environment where I thought it was my duty to do what they wanted me to do; to please them, to avoid confrontation, and to keep everyone happy. This is a challenge we all face in life; to become aware of when we are engaging the pattern of our pathology rather than addressing the people and issues at hand. Somehow, when I wasn’t paying attention, Bill Geddie had become my father and all the men in my life, and the staff had become all the women. I was trying to be a television host and had forgotten to be myself: a powerful, insightful, compassionate spiritually grounded coach, well versed in spiritual principles and the laws of the universe. And because I wasn’t paying attention, I was enslaved to the pattern rather than being empowered by the purpose. My purpose was to usher others on their spiritual path. It was not my purpose to do makeovers and soak almonds on national television!

  Steve and I had been working diligently to clarify my vision for the show so that I could share it with the powers in charge. Without their buy-in, I would be forced to walk away. During the holiday hiatus, I began to put my vision for the show on paper. The plan was to give a copy to all of the executives at the season’s end and let them know that unless we could agree on a clear direction for the show, I would not continue. In the meantime, Mindy was my only ally. We grew closer and closer to solidifying a direction.

  My first breakthrough with Mindy came when she tried to convince me to do a show that included a segment on how to remove egg from a linoleum floor. I refused. She told me that her reputation was on the line because she had used her contacts to get this particular expert on the show. I reminded her that it was my name on the wall and my reputation was on the line as well. The second breakthrough occurred when a producer booked two guests who had written a book of their own based on In the Meantime. They were both 23. On the teleprompter, there was a question I was to ask them about why women stay in bad relationships. As I was reading the question, I had an epiphany, right there in front of the guests and the audience.

  Why is Iyanla Vanzant asking these two people about something she has been writing about for 15 years? Why am I asking these people these questions that I already know the answer to? I wrote the answers to these questions!

  The words flew out of my mouth before I knew what had happened. The guests were shocked. I was horrified, not because I had said it but because I realized, in that very moment how I had diminished my sense of self. I realized, in that very moment, that I had trained these people to play to my weakness, my not-goodenough weakness, rather than to honor my strengths, my intuitive spiritual strengths. I cleaned it up and kept the show moving. Later that day, I told Mindy that I would not entertain any more experts unless they had published at least half as many books as I had or were talking about a subject on which I had written nothing. She was very resistant to the idea.

  That evening Mindy and I had a long and very tearful dialogue. It was an eye-opening conversation. It revealed the backroom deals that I knew nothing about. Mindy said she didn’t know why she felt so bad. I told her it was because we both knew the writing was on the wall. She really believed in the show and wanted it to work. I assured her that if it was in the divine scheme of things for the Iyanla show to survive, it would. I told her that this entire mess was my responsibility. I had for too long given away my power and my voice. I had aligned myself with a process that did not honor me. I had trained people to believe that I would go along with anything just to be on television. I asked her to forgive me and told her that if the show had to end, I would be okay and so would she. Two days later, I was given the opportunity to stand in those words.

  The first season of Iyanla was about to end when I gave my written vision to the executives. I asked for a meeting to discuss what I had submitted. I never got a response. Instead, we got a slew of e-mails from viewers complaining that the show was no longer airing in Los Angeles. No one in the office, including Mindy, knew anything about it. When I called the Los Angeles office, the executive claimed that she was trying to find out what was going on. L.A. was one of our biggest markets, and without it there w
as no way the show could survive.

  The next day I got the call. I learned there was to be a conference call with all of the executives, including Ms. Walters, the following afternoon. The wise woman warrior was calm. That part of me knew that my life and my sense of value and worth was more important than a television show. The little girl in me was hysterical. That part of me felt that people were mad at her and she was going to get in trouble. She was particularly upset because, once again, she had failed to get her daddy’s approval. Iyanla, the woman, mother, and wife went back to the apartment and started packing. That part of me was trying to make sense of what had happened, why it had happened, and what I was going to do about it. That part of me was finally strong enough to look at all of the pieces of the puzzle, knowing there was a way they all could and would fit together. The call was brief. The network was dropping the show. They were sorry but the ratings just didn’t justify continuing … they had fought for the show but … blah, blah, and blah.

  I expressed my gratitude for the opportunity. Then I excused myself so that I could go talk to the staff. The new television season had already been set. That meant that everyone on my crew, the technicians, and the producers could be unemployed for an entire season. I ran across the street to the production office to talk to Mindy. I arrived to find her and Bill Geddie in the conference room talking to all of the producers and production staff. While I had been tied up on the call just finding out what was happening, they had broken the news to the staff. I took one look in the room, turned around and went back across the street to inform the technical crew. Those who were still there already knew.

  When I called Steve, he wasn’t surprised.

  “We always knew that it was a possibility that they would not buy into the vision. You cannot be concerned about their response to your request. Now, you can create this in a way that gives you life, rather than takes life from you. Can you be okay with that?”

  I wasn’t sure if or how I was going to ever be okay again, but of course I said yes. First Oprah, now this. I wondered if I was the only person who had ever been kicked off of two television shows in two years. I didn’t know what to feel, and now it seemed as if the wise woman warrior had left the building too. In her absence, I consciously willed myself to be numb. Before I could figure out the puzzle, the pathology kicked in.

  We finished out the week of taping. After the cameras shut down and I left the studio for the last time, I never saw or heard from Mindy or Bill. Ms. Walters called me at home that evening. What she shared was very revealing.

  She said that she was sorry things had turned out the way they did. She had inferred that because I was doing so well with Oprah she felt badly that now everything was falling apart for me.

  “Well, it was my choice to be involved, and I am grateful that I had this opportunity. I really am.”

  Ms. Walters praised my talent and gifts but acknowledged that she had never really wanted to do Iyanla. She wanted to focus on The View and her specials, but Bill wanted to do this show with Mindy after she had done so much work to get The View up and running. He seemed so committed to doing Iyanla, that as his partner, Ms. Walters felt she had to back him.

  She went on to affirm that I really should have my own TV show. But she believed that I needed to be in a place where I could do pure Iyanla. Like a television evangelist without the religious part.

  “Well, I am sure if that is what I need, that is what I will get one day.”

  I stared into space vacantly. Suddenly the missing pieces of the puzzle fell into place. It was my family pathology all over again. Iyanla was never about me or my vision. hen, I remember hearing Ms. Walters’s final words.

  “If I can ever help you, Iyanla, please promise me that you will call. Do you promise?”

  “I promise, but do you promise that you will answer the telephone?”

  “I will always answer if you call. That is a promise.”

  With that, I ended my relationship with Buena Vista, Disney Television, and Barwall Productions. I realized that the Iyanla show had never been meant to last. It had been a learning experience. I had just received a $10 million education in the art of television hypocrisy and the power of the pathology of my family of origin. I had to laugh to myself. Mickey Mouse had paid $10 million to teach me a powerful lesson. Something good had to come out of this. It just had to. The key was that I would need to pay closer attention to who I was and want I was creating in and for my life.

  I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources He will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit.

  — Ephesians 3:16 (NLT)

  CHAPTER 11

  BE STILL AND KNOW

  Gemmia and several of the Inner Visions staff drove up to New York to help me pack up my office and my apartment. On one hand, I was grateful to be leaving what often felt like a hellhole; on the other hand, I felt like a total failure. On one hand, I was glad to be going back home to Maryland, where I was loved and respected for being just who I was. On the other hand, I was going home to a failing marriage and a $30,000 IRS payment due the first of every month. And I was now unemployed. My lifestyle was about to undergo a radical change, and I didn’t have the first clue about what it would look like or how it would feel. I could only pray that when it unfolded, I would be ready and able to handle the changes.

  It was time to think about how I was going to jumpstart my career and put my life back on track. The problem was, I was physically, emotionally, and mentally drained. Between leaving Oprah, going on the CD tour, and starting and leaving the Iyanla show, I had had three, maybe four good nights of sleep. I was running on adrenaline and fear. I was eating once every two or three days and gaining five or six pounds a month. I felt fat and ugly and alone. Gemmia knew it. She became my soft place to fall, my voice of reason, and my lifeline. No wonder my husband was jealous of her. We did everything together. And, she knew more about my business than I did.

  Steve and Ken Kizer, my breath coach, were both trying to help me work through the maze of emotions I was stuffing down, denying, and trying to avoid. So much had happened so quickly, I couldn’t give voice to what I was feeling. When Gemmia and I talked about it, I got upset, and then she got upset, so I would hold back just to keep us both sane. Her first thought was f—— them. We would re-create the show and do it somewhere else. I said I wasn’t sure I was cut out for television. We agreed that it was time to get back to the business of building Inner Visions.

  Unfortunately, business was very bad. Requests for speaking engagements were becoming fewer and fewer. In addition, since I was no longer on television, I could no longer command such a big fee. Several months after the show ended, I had to cut the staff. Several workers refused to leave; they said they would take half of their salary or even work for nothing. When I cut ten, I only lost three. When I cut the next seven, I only lost two. Those who could stay did stay. Those who could not became our wonderful volunteers.

  Gemmia had a brilliant insight one day. She reminded me of how much money I had made for other people. Whether publishers or television networks, anyone I worked with or for had made money because of me. She wanted me to think about how I could turn my energy into making money for myself. She wanted me to understand my own value and worth. Why, she asked me, did I think I needed someone else to endorse me, promote me, and pay me? If I was truly self-employed, then I needed to make my name and my knowledge work for me. Gemmia said that I needed to apply for a job with God, Inc., and let that be the focus of my labor.

  She was absolutely right. I was still operating with the mentality of a welfare mother who believed that someone else had to issue me a check. But I had learned that businesspeople do not spend money unless they know they are going to make money. If the publisher and the television network were willing to pay me a million dollars, it had to mean that they stood to make two or three million. I wasn’t sure how they would make it, but I knew they weren’t paying me because they liked me. They were ma
king an investment in a valuable commodity—me! Why had that been so difficult for me to accept?

  I took the question to both Ken and Steve. They both had different words that explained the same thing—somewhere along the journey of my life, I had given my inner value away in order to be accepted. Ken said I was so beat up about being who I was, I decided to be “less than” in order to keep myself safe. I felt guilty about being powerful, intelligent, and clear because it made the big people in my life so crazy. I had to play the role of being helpless, confused, and dependent because I had learned that if I wasn’t, I could get hurt.

  Steve put it another way. He offered that I’d been taught not to like myself, because the people around me didn’t, for whatever reason, like me. I accepted the things I was told about myself and the things I made up about myself in response to what I had been told. Nothing that I’d been told had ever affirmed my power. If you add the issue of racism, the extent of the abuse I had endured, and the number of separations and losses I had experienced, it was a wonder that I could tie my shoes and spell my name. According to Steve, I was a bona-fide miracle, and God had created me for a very special mission. All I needed to do was learn to love myself, make self-honoring choices, and accept my true identity. Boy, did that sound good! It felt good too! And the wise woman within me reminded me that if I weren’t already taking small steps in that direction, I would still be doing Mickey Mouse TV.

  “Where are you to start, Iyanla?” Steve asked.

  “Well, of course, I must begin within! But—I have done that. I have explored the depths of my mind, heart, and soul, and this is where it has gotten me.”

  “There is always more to do, Iyanla. There is always more to do.”

  I had done a great deal of inner work and studied almost everything the master teachers had to offer—and yet I had come to the end of everything I knew. I thought I knew a lot, and on some level, I did.