Learning Patience . . . or (Damn Heaux, CHILL!)

You ever see a person, from afar and just feel like. . . FINALLY!

On January 16, 2016, a voice, clear as day, said “That’s Your Husband.” In the core of my soul, I believed that voice. I still do. Waiting for it is teaching me PATIENCE. I had a whole ass ‘nother relationship, got engaged, had 3 kids . . . all with someone who WASN’T My Husband.

Why?!?!? Because I wanted attention. I needed someone who was willing to pay attention to, and validate, me. I’d spent most of my life wishing people saw me. Wishing I fit in, thinking that I was . . . less than . . . ugly . . . fat . . . boring . . . all the other words that sit in the heads of Black Women who are constantly told by the outside world they aren’t enough. So I went looking for someone to tell me I was enough . . . good enough . . . fine enough . . .cute enough . . .to be “accepted” by others. All I really wanted was everyone else to know I had the best life, I deserved the best life, and I was worthy of everyone else’s envy/awe/support.

Growth is – Understanding No One can Make you Worthy. You Already Are.

We live in a society (read: simulation because NOTHING IS REAL) that seems to have been built on tearing down the core of Black & Brown women. Especially Black Women. Every part of this world tears us down. Tells us every other person is better than us, every other type of body is the best, every other type of hair is better. Or they say to us: your best attributes only look good on light/bright/damn near white skin, your NATURAL body composition should only be obtained via surgery (which could kill you) or an impossible diet.

THEN, they tell you: Your Life doesn’t Matter, not really, if you don’t have all the things that equal Success. Perfect Job, Perfect Home, Perfect Income, Perfect Relationship, Perfect Children. We have to see it to believe that you are good enough. You aren’t enough, not until other people can see and acknowledge you are enough. It doesn’t even matter if attaining these things make you feel better. HAVE THEM. If it doesn’t make you better, you don’t have everything yet. Try Harder.

So you start working HARD to get those things. You spend all your time volunteering in church youth groups . . . working at summer camps . . . join snatch-back boot camps with your girls . . . and join all the social media apps so you can show off all the things you worked so hard to attain.

“Yearning for . . . waiting for . . . begging for . . .someone/anyone to give you a High Five!

Giving birth to 3 girls has me realizing what part I’ve had in making my life an unhappy place. My part is trying to obtain something (attention) . . . just so other people thought I was important. The question I had to ask myself was, “Is this Person working as hard to impress me, as I am to impress them?” Usually, the answer was no. At least not that I could see.

I don’t care about impressing anyone, I care about being happy. I’ve become a PROUD Auntie. I care about living a stress free life. Stress can LITERALLY kill me. I got high blood pressure. My ankles are swollen at the end of the work day when I’m worrying about bullshit. I’m too cute for Swollen Ankles Yall. Plus, I FINALLY Understand . . . I’m That Bitch!

• I’m the Teacher every kid says Hi to, while I’m walking to my classroom
• I’m the Mom kids want to know their name at my daughters’ daycare
• I’m a Big Fucking Deal

(Everything after this will sound crazy to you, if you don’t believe in God)

I fully believe, the seizure I had on January 25th, 2016, was the start of the path I am on right now. EVERYTHING that has happened since then seems to have been leading to this specific moment of time in my life. Things are falling into place when they shouldn’t, just because of the connections/relationships I have built since my 1st Seizure.

When I had my seizure, I had a flash of the life that is happening right now. I could never remember easily identifiable things. No names . . . no locations . . . no clear faces . . . just random flashes that made no sense. I saw myself at home, at work, with my children, having specific moments with my Family Unit. There were people I didn’t know, and the people I knew and was closest to at that time weren’t a part of that flash. It didn’t look like what I had been told my “Ideal Life” should look like. I remember the confusion in those forward flashes. The feelings being felt in that moment, didn’t make any sense. My life was something impossible to understand, and yet I wholeheartedly believed that everything I saw was real, and would come to fruition.

I don’t know how long my 1st seizure actually lasted, but (Because Time is an Illusion) I think I saw about 12-15 years into the future. Since then, I will have a random moment of Deja Vu, and it will click to me . . . you’ve seen this before. Even though I sometimes feel my need for attention caused me to veer away from that person I still hope I get to call My Huuuuuuuusband, these Deja Vu flashes remind me that all of this was going to happen anyway.

The Lord/Universe is teaching me patience.

Things done in haste, RARELY yield positive results in my life now. I have to plan . . . I have to make a list. I have to consult more than one person/place/thing/idea before I make a decision.

The Good News: These things that are falling into place are bringing so much JOY into my life. My Girls laugh . . . dance . . . giggle . . . scream . . . run . . . jump . . .play . . . LIVE THEIR BEST LIFE all day long. I’ve never been happier in my Whole Ass Life. I stand in the sun every day, and Thank God that he sat my ass DOWN on August 6th, 2023.

Also, Kendrick won the Beef.

Thanx for Reading.

Free Write: Walking Into a New Era

1st Thing you Need to know, I make AMAZING Spotify Playlists. This is important to know because all my motivations to write lately have come from music. As I’ve been through some shit in the last year, I’ve made quite a few playlists. But this one I’m going to write about all day (because most of my students aren’t in school today, because it’s the day before break, and I have to look like I’m actually doing something today) is the playlist I created once I got out of Michigan. My life is COMPLETLY different now, so I needed some Inspirational Music to reflect that. Anytime I am feeling down, or ruminating about things that happened in the past, I can put this playlist on, and I immediately remember WHO THE FUCK I AM! (This Playlist is on shuffle, there might be some gospel after or before some sex music. Judge Ya Mammy!)

Grateful – Ebony Jenae

Gratitude saved my life. I don’t think I would have made it through that accident, the surgery, the recovery, the move, anything without CONSTANTLY Thanking God. I finally understand why the old folks I grew up around would just blurt out, THANK YA JESUS! The message I got through all of this is, Gratitude brings Blessings. Your life could ALWAYS be worse. No matter what is happening around you, it could be worse. You are still alive, and breathing, that alone is the ultimate Blessing. God saved my LIFE, and allowed me to get my kids into a safe and happy environment. If you EVER hear me complaining, remind me to Shut Up, and Thank God!

Head Above Water – Avril Lavigne

Sometimes, you find God in Pop song. Shouts to Avril for still being a relevant part of my life, 20 years later. This song was originally included in my White Girl Angst playlist. But this was definitely a fervent prayer in the last 6 months. Sometimes you just gotta call out to God. “I’m Drowning! Help me keep my head above Water!” If it wasn’t for those 3 beautiful Girls, I don’t know If I would be here. Every time I thought I can’t make it, it’s too hard, life is just too out of my control . . . one of those girls would come ask for a hug, or bring me a toy, or take some of my food. Being told I am Karma’s Best Friend on a daily basis . . . PRICELESS.

Haute – Janelle Monae

I’m in my Hot Girl Era. Sucks for you if you don’t have access. Cuz I look GOOD right now. All the stress for the last year, weight just fell off. My hair is finally Post-Partum, it’s growing quickly. My nails are as strong as Joyce’s. That Ass is SITTING, you hear me. If I reached out, it’s cuz you matter. Just an FYI. Cuz these DMs are NOT empty, they are popping. At this point, I ain’t trying to impress ANYBODY. I’m impressive JUST by being me. I Love Me, for Real. Honorable Mentions: WAP – Megan The Stallion feat. Cardi B and Ass Like That – Victoria Monet

Shake It Out – Florence and The Machine

This is what I have had to do this last year . . . just Shake some Shit Off. Can’t walk for 4 months . . . shake it off, you still gotta be a mother. Fiancé gone . . . shake it off, now you have a whole new world of possibilities. Getting Evicted . . . shake it off, now you get to move back to Arizona. Lost at least 3 friends who (you thought) were supposed to be in your wedding . . .shake it off, you were doing most of the emotional lifting anyway. Asked someone for help, they said they would, then went ghost on you . . . shake it off, it was time for that friendship to be over anyway. “Cuz it’s Hard to Dance with the Devil on your back, so Shake Him Off!” That’s exactly what I did. I’m so GRATEFUL for all the People/Places/Things that have fallen to the Wayside in this last year. Good Riddance!

So Good – Big Sean & Kash Doll

This song was written about me, that’s all you need to know.

Dope Girl Magic

Before I started on the journey that led to Motherhood, this was one of my FAVORITE songs to play to start my day. 5 YEARS LATER . . . I Stunt Different . . . I’m Dope cuz God listens to me. I’m Dope because I have a Genius 3 Year old, an engineering 2 year old, and a 1 year old that will take out her pacifier and yell “NAILED IT!” and then put it RIGHT back in. Being Dope looks different on me this year. Honorable Mentions: It’s Not My Fault – Renee Rapp ft. Megan the Stallion and Real Life – Cyn Santana

Float – Janelle Monae

The bridge is IT. “No, I’m Not the Same Nigga. I think I done Changed Nigga.” I don’t carry myself the same. I walk differently (I mean there is a limp, but that isn’t what I mean.) I present as confident now, maybe even overconfident to those who are intimidated by confidence. I just . . . know that God has my back. There is an extra pep in your step, when you are walking with the Magic of the Universe. You can float through certain things, events, even people. Because I know (GOD HAS) I have this handled. I won’t fail, because I’ve learned in the last year that God won’t let me. The Universe has my Front, Back and Middle. I’m so GRATEFUL I know God on my own. Not what I was taught, or what I learned in church. Being in tune, and really seeing what he can do, if you just ask for help with Faith/Confidence. Fear and Doubt really are The Devil.

I’ll Be Around – Cee-Lo Green ft. Timbaland

I know Cee-Lo got canceled or whatever, but this song GOES. Plus, I didn’t know he was a creep when I fell in love with this song. Stop judging me! Top 5 Timbaland beat, he was on his SHIT when he produced this. Okay, but really, this song (and it’s Chorus) are a Special Shout Out to The Unicorn. K Thanx Bye. Honorable Mentions: Sex with Me – Rihanna, Big Ole Freak – Meg tha Stallion, Don’t Cha – The Pussycat Dolls.

Can You Stand the Rain? – New Edition

I’m not looking for fair-weather friends. I need solid ass people. Who don’t disappear during times of crisis. That check on me, too. That ask what sizes the Girls wear cuz they saw something at Target. That come over and cry with you when you need them to. That come to AZ for a conference and book a hotel that lets my kids play all weekend. Those are the kind of people that my circle MUST consist of. This is also the kind of Partner I want. Everything was all good, until I wasn’t the person taking care of everything. The minute the dynamic and distribution of tasks/work/responsibilities changed . . . so did he. So he had to go. We are doing Support and Peace, we are doing Guidance and Structure, Love and Harmony. That is all I will accept. Love is great . . . but it’s not going to maintain a stable relationship.

Thriving – Mary J. Blige ft. Nas

My entire life has been Survival. Most of my decisions have been made out of desperation or a need to stop the water from leaking out of the boat, at that time. Patching up problems is a thing of the past. I’m living a life I couldn’t even imagine a year ago. I am free of other people’s burdens. My only responsibilities are my 3 children, who I love more than myself. The LOVE they show me on a daily basis. I remember loving Joyce that much. It’s such a blessing to feel that, but also a pressure to do it right. To make sure when they look back at their childhood, they don’t have very many things they have to heal from.

On My Mama – Victoria Monet

This is Karma’s favorite song. This is her every time request. I just need to say, those kids had to be born. Whatever I went through, it was all worth it. Because being a mother is LITERALLY the best thing ever. The BEST feeling is picking up Karma from Daycare. The minute she sees me, EVERYTHING gets dropped. The amount of times I’ve been introduced to snotty children during drop-off/pick-up. I feel like a celebrity. Even THAT is a blessing, because Joyce did NOT do public displays of affection until I was a full grown adult. Karma being proud I’m her mom . . . . PRICELESS!

Thanx for Reading. The Link to the playlist is right below. I hope you enjoy!

Back in MY day . . .(or) We (too) Old for some of this Shit.

I realized I was an adult the day I said to my child, “Shut all that Hollerin’ Up, I’m trying to watch My Stories!” It was like the spirit of Nana (Miss Alma Jones for the uninformed) had entered my body. I’ve started yelling at my kids to stop leaving the doors open and the lights on. I just bought a new couch, and I am really considering putting plastic over the whole thing. Kids be touching EVERYTHING. With Doritos dust and Chocolate, and God knows what else on their hands. Why are kids like this? Why do they constantly show me how old I am.

I completely understand now.

Unbeknownst to my Nana, I wanted to be like her when I grew up. I wanted to smoke cigarettes, and have the little pouch they fit in – along with my paper money and change – resting on my ample bosom. I wanted to wear the BADDEST corsets around, and be the lady that hummed and sang during church services. I wanted to know why she always called out to the Lord when she stood up after sitting a long time.  I wanted to only want to drink an Ice Cold Pepsi out of a tall glass full of Ice, and just be.

But Nana smoked Newport’s tho

I realized I had turned into her when I had the summer camp in 2022 at my house. I did all those things, every single one of them . . .but not on purpose. I missed growing up. So much was happening in my life, I missed the switch from young adult to Grown Ass Woman. They don’t give you a party? No Parade? No flowers? That’s some bullshit. My whole world view changed, and I didn’t even get a sticker. I just woke up one day – cooking food in a house dress, asking the baby to bring me her sister’s bottle, setting my alarm for 4:30am EVERY FUCKING WEEKDAY and meaning it.

I’m a Grown Ass Woman

That being said, I feel a way about some stuff. Please allow me to get this shit off my chest. If you think what I say is about you . . . it is. Call Me or Fight Me. We Grown.

Stop Lying to Women

If you don’t wanna be faithful to her, tell her that shit. Y’all got girls out here happy as shit, thinking they got the worlds best man, bragging on shit, and you NOT who you keep telling her you are. If you KNOW you a Heaux, just be a Heaux. Or, find you a girl that wants to be a Heaux right along with you. Or, supports your Heaux-like ways. If you have to hide who the fuck you are from your partner, they shouldn’t be your partner. PERIODT.

Stop Being a Shitty Friend

Life has been Lifeing for everyone I know. People’s entire foundations have crumbled in the last 9-18 months. Folks have lost jobs, houses, parents, children, spouses, etc. The one thing that devastated me the most about the last 7 months of my life, are the friends that seemingly fell to the wayside. The minute my life schedule didn’t fit their life schedule . . . GHOST. Because I can’t call you in the brief time you have away from your overbearing partner, you just stop talking to me completely? You not answering text messages? You not responding to messages on Social Media? You can like a picture, but can’t pick up the phone? That shit is annoying, and fucking disrespectful. 

I’m talking about 5, 10, 15 year friendships that have all gone to the wayside in the last year, because I stopped making the effort to keep us connected. GodParents of some of my children, even. It take 3 secs to say, I’m having a tough time right now, but I love you. Make the FUCKING EFFORT. People who have held you down during YOUR crisis, but all of a sudden you can’t help them. I’m not talking about borrowing or giving money. I’m talking about emotional support. I’m talking about making sure people feel seen/heard/acknowledged during their time of crisis. We are at the age when folks can just drop dead at any minute. Don’t be that, “Damn, I wish I would have stayed in touch with her,” ass person.

Words don’t Mean Anything Anymore

I grew up in a time, when your status in the world around you, was based on who you REALLY were as a person. Your reputation was based on your actions, and how they affected other real people, in your real life. If you told someone you were going to do it, you did that shit. If you said to a person, “If you need anything, let me know,” you meant that. You didn’t just do it to look good on the internet. You didn’t commit to something, and then just quit because it required some sacrifice. The time in which I was raised…is officially the ‘Olden Days’ (as I used to call it when I was a kid). Folks don’t have no Honor, all people want is Clout. To be talked about via Social Media. Stuntin’ for the ‘Gram is what the Young Folks call it. How did WE get sucked into it? People MY age? We might be worse than the Young Folk. Cuz let my FB tell it . . .

I’ve decided to live my life in Gratitude. 

God saved my life 3 times last year. I’m alive, and will be forever Grateful that God spared my life and is letting me Raise My Children.

Let me tell you a quick-ish story:

Around this time, 20 years ago, I got my 1st real job since College Graduation. I saw a help wanted sign at a church daycare, and turned in to get an application. I was in shorts and t-shirt, no plans to do anything but hand over my resume and hope for a call back. When I walked in, my initial thought was: PURPLE. Everything had some kind of purple in it. This had to be a sign.

I introduced myself to the lady at the desk, handed over my resume, and thanked her for her time. “Well, let me check if Sister Morman has a quick second to talk.” When she walked in, the Classiest Lady I’d ever seen in person, she looked over my resume. Something she saw made her pause, and she asked me back to her office.

“How do you know James Henry?” That was my Uncle. He was a reference, because I used to work at the funeral home from time to time. What I didn’t know, is that he had JUST joined that church the previous Sunday, and was a personal friend of the Pastor and his Wife. I’m pretty sure 75% of the reason I got that job was because of my Uncle. Yay Nepotism!

That job changed my life in so many ways. I found a family I didn’t even know I was looking for. The families that trusted me with their children, the staff that loved on me while my Mother was sick, the friendships we made, and have continued to nurture for 20 years….that job was a miracle. It’s still the most fun I’ve ever had teaching.

Jan: Thank you for letting me figure out how to teach. I came in guns blazing, and you ran with it. Thanx for being Mama Jan to me, and my little ones. I’m so grateful for our relationship.

Robin, Tanya, Deborah, Shawna, Simone: Thank you for trusting me with your kids. I learned so much from them. They showed me how to listen to children and let them lead the way. I teach the way I do now because of the stuff we did at KKDC. Thank you for allowing me to stay in their lives, even after they left KKDC lol. I’m so proud of everything they’ve all done… so I can’t even imagine how you guys feel. You’ve raised some Beautiful Human Beings. I’m forever indebted to you, for trusting me to be a part of their Journeys.

Chante, Kim, Sheara: I LOVE Y’all. Thank you for welcoming me with open arms and hearts, in all my awkwardness. For going along with my crazy Ideas, even when you weren’t quite sure, they would work. For always answering when I call, be it for work or play. I’m so blessed we’re are still able to find ways to work with each other all these years later. It’s even better because we are all doing our own things.

Kobe, Kyle, Jade, Trin, August, Amari, Maranda, Talia: Ya’ll are the Coolests Freakin’ kids on the Planet. I brag on all of you all the time! If ever you need an Adult…call me. I won’t tell your parents (they can’t even see this message, I Promise). I LOVE You Guys ❤️

Thanx for Reading.

It’s been a while since I shared my words, thoughts, and feelings.

….and now, I got these Fucking Staples in the Back of My Head . . .

I have Mommy Issues. I knew I had them before, but after a 3 hour conversation with my Fiancé, I’m starting to realize they are coming to a head. These Mommy Issues are leading me down a path I never saw coming. Too much of the weight I’ve been carrying . . . seems to be shoving itself off of me. Except . . . Its coming out as Rage.

Blinding Rage. Unadulterated, All-Encompassing, Whole Body Consuming RAGE.

The 1st time I remember breaking something for the sole purpose of wanting to, I was maybe 8 or 9. I destroyed my entire bedroom, because I had been told I couldn’t do something. I lost a privilege because of my report card. It was something I had been looking forward to for MONTHS. But I got a C or D on my report card. That was evidently deserving of the loss of that Birthday Party.

Now, as an Adult, I understand that more than likely . . . my mother frequently used my report card {The Winter Quarter one, that always came out the weekend before Feb 4th} as a reason why things she had promised me, couldn’t happen or didn’t come to fruition. Because she couldn’t afford the things she promised me. Because she was POOR and struggling to raise me. The 8/9 year old in me, who was told that the ONLY acceptable thing to bring home was Perfection, didn’t know/understand that.

She internalized every one of those losses, as a testament to what happens when she wasn’t perfect. And suppressed that RAGE at having lost out on so many events, trips, parties. RAGE at being held to Impossible Standards. RAGE at seeing how Fucked up the Adults around me were, but not being able to express discontent with the Bullshit.

Breaking Dishes is my Favorite. Something about hearing glass shatter just . . . takes me there. But anything can be thrown. Any door can be slammed, any chair thrown. Anything will break, if you throw it enough. Something about completely destroying a room is so calming to me.

And That’s Fucked Up.

Recently, LIFE, had taken me to a Breaking Point and the only way I could respond was RAGE. Cuz once again, some White Woman had put my job in jeopardy because my “tone” made her feel uncomfortable. RAGE, because once again I had to delay something I wanted/needed to do because I didn’t have the Money to do it. RAGE, because why is it SOFA KING HARD to be an Adult!!!!

Why didn’t they tell us how to do this shit? Why am I, 41 Years old, and STRUGGLING right now?!?! All that damn lecturing about Education, and Holiness, and Organizational Skills . . . ya’ll couldn’t be honest about how HARD this shit was. Ya’ll couldn’t talk to your Got Damn Kids?!?! Be Real?!?!? Respect us as Adults. See us as Equals.

I can’t even use the same coping mechanisms YA’LL did. THAT’S WHY I’M FUCKED UP!! I know what having an alcoholic parent does to a kid. I know what having an emotionally detached parent does to a kid. If I didn’t see it growing up, I’ve seen it in my role as an Educator. RAGE at the fact that I can’t even numb the pain anymore because I have children of my own.

I have to be present after work. I have to wash dishes. I’m expected to do laundry weekly. I BE FUCKING TIRED. I don’t get to zone out, call my friends and gossip on the phone for the rest of the night, and leave my kid(s) to fend for themselves. I MISS talking on the phone with my friends. Everyone has a fully functioning LIFE now.

Breaking these generational curses means losing contact with the people you know who are trying to do the same thing.

I brought all that Rage into this New Life I’m trying to create for myself. Unknowingly . . . So Now, I got these fucking Staples in the back of my head, and a Broken Finger. CUZ I WAS FUCKING WILDIN’! But that’s another story.

Grief, Anxiety, and Control

So I have a new therapist. (Shout out to TalkSpace and The Read for the hook-up). After all the emotional, mental, and physical toll my last pregnancy took on me (and my relationship) I decided I probably had some work to do. I didn’t know what kind of work I needed to do . . . but I was determined to do it.

I started therapy when I became a caregiver for my mother. That shit was stressful. Having to deal with the changes in the dynamics of our relationship, plus the realization that I had given up a life I was really starting to look forward to. I don’t DO . . . Grief. At least, not when it has to do with the loss of a person or family member. I’m not the sit around and cry type person. I worked so hard to avoid my grief when My Mother died, I had a mental breakdown 1 week into COVID. COVID made me sit . . and think . . and grieve . . . and think. I couldn’t handle it. All the memories and feelings and thoughts and sadness and guilt. Escape seemed the only out.

I didn’t have the kind of breakdown where recovery is ice cream. I had a “I took myself to the ER because killing myself while 4 months pregnant with Karma was sounding like something smart to do, ” type breakdown. I had to attend a mandatory 3 week, all-day, In-Person Group Therapy.

THAT was pregnancy hormones. They can literally drive you crazy. With Karma, I only dealt with it from March 2020 until about October 2020. Almost nothing crazy happened while I was pregnant with Dallas (unless it did, and I forgot because pregnancy brain and memory loss is REAL.). This last pregnancy tho . . . wrecked HAVOC on my life. I knew I was pregnant less than a week after I got pregnant. Morning Sickness all day long, having seizures because of my high blood pressure, back aches, migraines, literally every symptom they say can happen . . . did.

I was DIRT BROKE, after having been told by my last surviving parent that my children needing lights was not his problem . . . and to not ask for help again. I found a job I thought was going to take me to the next level . . . got fired after being off a week because I had another seizure. (That was the 3rd one in 2 months). Found ANOTHER job, thought it was going to be a piece of cake. WRONG!

I lost the last 2 elders on my Mother’s side . . . and I wasn’t even able to grieve their deaths with my ‘family’ because . . . I had to work. My inability to do things created chasms in my relationships with friends and family. I was at the end of my rope emotionally, mentally, and financially. And I still had a toddler and an infant to take care of . . . and in a whole ass relationship.

I’ve spent so long faking the funk.

Pretending things don’t bother me, pretending that I have everything together. The need to control what it looks like on the outside is something left over from my Mother. Our lives were in constant crisis, but I had to keep that shit to myself. It was no one else’s business that the light were out for 2-3 days until payday. Nobody needed to know we ate Baked Beans every day for an entire summer. Nobody needed to know what the house looked like on the inside, we lived in West Bloomfield. That was enough.

Needing to solve every problem has caused an enormous amount of anxiety in my life. I am constantly figuring out several ways to solve problems. Well if this happens, then I’m going to have to do this. I’m always in my head, planning out the steps to everything. I do it so much, I started doing it to my Person.

I started trying to solve his problems too. To run his life too. To criticize the way he chose to handle his life, because it wasn’t the most efficiently solution. Without talking to him, without explaining my thinking or rationale. Just making all the decisions. Because I had to solve the problems. It had to be perfect. It must look as good on the outside as it can.

Controlling the outcome/results of everything is impossible. I’ve been working on accepting this year. I can’t control how my cousins feel about me. I can’t control how my father feels about me . . . or whether he even give a damn about me at this point. I can’t control unforeseen expenses. I really can’t control much of anything. Realizing that was SUPER painful. But letting go of the reins . . . might be even harder.

Some Thoughts on Motherhood . . .

I’m developing routines with my daughters. Some of them have nothing to do with me, and EVERYTHING to do with them. Their needs, their little quirks and idiosyncrasies. I have 3 WHOLE ASS CHILDREN. You talk about to Live the Impossible Dream. The last 5 Years have gone by so fast, I can’t even believe they happened half the time. 5 Years ago, I took time off to check on my mom, and the minute I got home, I knew I was going to have to move back.

My whole life, Joyce dropped everything, if I needed something. It was time tot do the same for her. So I packed up the life I was making in Arizona, and my dog, and drove cross country. That road trip was everything I needed to prepare me to be a caregiver. Jobless, I spent most of my time at the gym, cuz why not? I got cute, I started feeling myself. I hopped in a few DMs, getting ready for a summer of Travel and Other Things.

I had some FUN . . . and I Found My Person. I knew he was My Person from the 1st Conversation. It didn’t make any sense, this dude I NEVER spoke to in College . . . now I don’t feel right if I don’t hear his voice before I go to sleep. When he knew my mother’s health was failing, he came to see me. That was when I knew he Loved Me Too.

Then My Mom Died.

I didn’t appreciate her enough. I can admit that now. She was an extraordinary mother. She did everything she could possibly do, to make sure I was taken care of. I didn’t realize how much of a privilege that was, until I became a Parent myself. If she loved me even half as much as I love my girls, WHEW! My Mother was the epitome of “Push Through!” Doesn’t’ matter how you are feeling, what is happening around you . . . Push Through to the Other Side.

At 41 Years old, I have NO Idea how she raised me on the Salary she had. I make decent money, and things are STILL rough from time to time. I understand why she went back to school, and got her masters, so she could make better money . . . but she also gave up a REALLY good job at GM to become a teacher, because her travel schedule stopped her from being the kind of mom she wanted to be. She made sacrifices I can’t even fathom, to be my mother.

My Person . . . changed the kind of Mother I am going to be. I never considered having a Partner to ‘Parent’ with. In all the Impossible Dreams, I was pretty much Joyce . . . but me. Single, Independent, and Fierce. I never considered another personality that would influence decisions, and discipline, and every day things like who makes the bottles and who changed the last diaper. I never saw that, I wasn’t prepared for that. I think that has been the hardest part of Parenting for me . . . sharing it. Letting go of my need to control the outcome of everything . . . letting go of that Joyce part of me that has a PLAN.

Accepting input from another person, and not looking at it as criticism, or as a failure to be the Perfect Mother. Because that’s the goal, right? To be the Perfect Mother. To right the wrongs that were done to you, and raise your kids differently. At least, those of us who didn’t have great parents. I thought Joyce was perfect, but she wasn’t. There are a few things I know I need to do differently. Deal with differently.

In trying to Parent . . .I have to admit my flaws, my areas that need some work. That has been very difficult for me. This Adult shit . . . is HARD. Add to that, I’ve been pregnant since December 2019. Ya’ll don’t even understand the struggle. This is how I know My Person is Really My Person. Because I’ve put him though some shit. Grieving the loss of my Mother, while becoming a Mother.

I really can’t believe my Mother isn’t here making them every dress ever. 3 Girls! She would have been in Heaven. Doing this without her, is the hardest part of trying to be an Adult. I miss her guidance, and her voice on the other end of the phone. I miss her complaining about how I drive, and where I go. Plus, I appreciate the Irony of having 3 girls, who are going to be so fun as teenagers. I was a horrible daughter from ages 12 to 19. I know Joyce is up there laughing at me, and she can’t wait to keep laughing.

5 Years Ago, The Life I Have wasn’t even on my radar. Now I have a Fiancé, and 3 Whole Ass Kids. I’m somebody’s Mommy. It’s the Greatest Gift. The faith my children have in me, in US, is so beautiful. They greet us with smiles, and hugs. Actually, they Greet Daddy with Smiles and Hugs. I only get those if Daddy is at home with Dakota. Something I never Planned for, became the Greatest Blessing. Watching Karma and Dallas play with each other, watching them create a relationship is an experience I can’t even describe as an emotion. They genuinely love each other. I have to make them stop talking to each other, since they share a room now. They give each other hugs for no reason.

Having been raised as an only child . . . sibling love is foreign to me. I’m forever Grateful to My Person, for allowing me to see it form right in front of my eyes every day.

This LOVE Shit…. it Ain’t Easy.

This LOVE Shit….it ain’t easy.

Sex and the City lied to ME. Sarah Jessica Parker didn’t show me real love. She showed me what the White FairyTale Love of the 90’s was…and I bought that shit Hook Line and Sinker. All them damn Sandra Brown, Judith McNaught, Nora Roberts, Danielle Steele books did NOT prepare me for This LOVE Shit.

My momma didn’t warn me. Honestly, I don’t think I ever saw my mother IN Love. Not the kinda LOVE I’m talking about. I’m talking about the UGLY Love. The Hurting Love. The Can We JUST Make It Work type of Love. My momma didn’t tell me about that. I had absolutely no point of reference.

This LOVE Shit…..it Ain’t Easy.

The continuous effort that LOVE takes….the moments you realize you have to GENUINELY be honest about yourself with another person. You have to LOVE another person, even when you can’t believe they think you are worthy of their love. You ever doubted your partner, because they weren’t willing to give up on you. You ever thought, “Why the Fuck are they still here?!?!” I’m HORRIBLE, how could they possibly still love me?!?!? “

Real LOVE makes you admit to all the things you HATE about yourself. Those things you’ve hidden from the world because you are constantly judging yourself. This LOVE Shit makes you stop listening to your inner voice, and focus on something other than your flaws. And who the FUCK is ready to do that?!?!?!

This LOVE Shit….it Ain’t Easy.

Real LOVE is gonna make some relationships in your life change or disappear. Some people don’t like the real LOVE version of you. They liked you better when you were complaining that you couldn’t find it. Real LOVE will help you find out who is really down for you….the HARD WAY.

Cuz in those moments of fear/doubt/despair, when you call those friends you’ve always called when Shit gets Weird…some of them might tell you to give up. Some of them might tell you what they REALLY think about the Person You LOVE. Some of them friends don’t want you to stay in LOVE….cuz that means you don’t need them anymore.

#LifeLesson Make sure you have a REAL support system, that’s down for YOUR love. Not the version they believe in, or the version they’ve always seen for you. You need Friends that will make you FIGHT for your LOVE. You need friends that are almost as invested in your LOVE as you are. Some of these folks you thought would love you regardless of your situation…DON’T.

Cuz once you have found a REAL Love, you can feel the difference in those “friendships”. When the moment of crisis is over, and you are trying to go on with your LOVE, how do they treat you? How do they refer to your LOVE? Do they like to constantly remind of your partner’s mistakes? Do they always have a reason to dislike them? Them. Ain’t. Yo. Real. Friends.

Them friends that will tell you when YOU are tripping, that will make sure they hear BOTH sides of the story, and help you fix it. Those are the ones you need. The one’s that will come over to the crib to mediate conversations . . . the ones who will text/call/message your Partner if they think shit needs to get right . . . Them. Yo. Real. Friends.

This LOVE Shit….it Ain’t Easy.

You have to GET OVER yourself, for another person. You have to GIVE A FUCK about another person. Not just in passing, not just because…. One day you just decide/feel/accept that this person is the ONLY person who deserves to be loved with your FULL self. Your TRUE self, the self you see when you Daydream about living your Best Life. You have to tear down the Survival Walls you’ve built in order to function in this horrible world.

I’m talking about Life Partner kind of LOVE. Once Ya’ll have both decided, “Welp, I don’t want nobody else but you.” The understanding that you both want to move forward, navigating life TOGETHER. When you realize that LOVE isn’t- “Do You Boo Boo!” – but let’s have a logical discussion before major life decisions.

This LOVE Shit….it Ain’t Easy.

Being raised by a Strong Independent Single Black Mother, I wasn’t taught how to share myself with another person. I was taught to survive, and take care of myself. This LOVE shit requires you to THRIVE. You can’t be in REAL LOVE, in a true Partnership, and feel like you can barely make it. This LOVE shit don’t work like that. You gotta give a fuck about them, even when you hate them. You gotta always try to fix the problem. You can’t just say, FUCK YOU, and move on. You have to TRY. You have to be HUMBLE, and Vulnerable like ALL THE TIME.

You have to TRUST somebody, if y’all are in real LOVE. Even when your Every instinct is preparing you to defend yourself against any words/gestures/movements/actions you view as an attack. And EVERYTHING feels like an attack, or that your partner is disappointed in you because of something you did/said/thought/felt.

You gotta let go of all the plans you’ve formulated for yourself…and start creating plans for US. Being an active part of an US is CRAZY! Did you know, I’ve lived my whole life like the world revolves around me? That’s how I was raised!! Now you want me to like….not care about myself more than everyone else?!?!

This LOVE Shit . . . it Ain’t Easy

Why didn’t they tell us this? Maybe they told y’all about it. But didn’t NOBODY tell me how hard This LOVE Shit was. Creating a space where you and another person can feel safe….even when almost EVERY event/person/relationship/family member has made you both feel unsafe and violated and unLoved.

I’ve said all this….because I just didn’t know what LOVE really is. I wasn’t prepared for this thing to rule my world like it does. When This LOVE Shit isn’t working…my whole body is off. I don’t eat or sleep. I feel unsettled. I worry and fret… I spend hours trying to come up with solutions to whatever problems are going on. LOVE makes me have to put in work. Because even though This Love Shit is HARD…

It’s the Greatest Thing to EVER Happen to me.

I’m so #Grateful that LOVE found me. ^{{That Blog is coming too}}

I just needed to put this into words, for all my friends who’ve felt/said/thought the same thing. You are NOT Alone. This 2022 Type of LOVE ain’t easy…..but it’s Worth It. Keep Fighting for it. Don’t Give Up. You Deserve It. You are Worth It.

So is This LOVE Shit.

The Burden of: Being an Orphan

I’m sure this is going to be all over the place . . but meh. I never write anymore, so I’m going to try to get this out and be done with it. I also just wanna say, My Life Partner is/was/will always be the Greatest Choice I’ve ever made. Okay, now lets go.

Please note: I’m referring to BOTH sides of my family.

I’ve never liked my family. Even as a young child, I thought the adults were unnecessarily mean, and often times it felt like they didn’t really want me around. My cousins were bullies for the most part. Some of them let their friends and other family members make fun of me on a regular basis, some of them joined in sometimes. Around 12, I realized my maternal cousins were living a completely different childhood than me. They were having sleepovers, and birthday parties, and I wasn’t ever invited. When we would get together for major holidays, they would be referring to events I never knew existed.

When I met my Best Friend, I started taking her with me to family events. At least then, I would have someone to talk to. Because most conversations between my family and I consisted of them teasing me about my clothes, or my weight, or my hair, or the way I talked, or the music I listened to, or the fact that I lived in West Bloomfield. She was around so much one of my cousins fell in love with her . . . because she constantly acted as a buffer between me and them. As we got older, a FEW cousins made an effort to get to know the college educated version of me. I was declared fake, and thought I was white, and thought I was better than everyone else. When my mom got sick the 1st time. . . most of them were MIA. So I handled that pretty much alone, except for my friends and co-workers who were there for me. It was around that time, I decided to fall back. I stopped attending family gatherings, unless I was asked to by my mother.

The DAY after my mother died, I found out I had 2 cousins I didn’t know existed. The man I’d looked up to my entire life, purposefully hid children because their mother’s . . .offended him? Got pregnant at the end of a relationship? He died in my eyes that day, I was never able to look at him the same way again. All my life, I’d been dealing with the consequences of FEELING rejected by my family, and now I know that you are ACTIVIELY rejecting a child. Morally, I just couldn’t do it. Because I knew the consequences of those actions he’d taken. I knew how that felt, knew what it looked like. That anger and grief and everything else . . . I shared with my friends. Because I trusted them with my feelings. I never brought it up to anyone else, not even the cousin who was sitting next to me the day I found out. 3 years later, when he died, my ONLY thought was . . .Am I ever going to meet those other cousins?

My father didn’t call me when my mother died. I waited, and waited, and waited. But I also wasn’t surprised, because my Father isn’t the greatest. He never has been. Most of that is his fault, some of it is because he was raised by a horrible person. My Grandfather told me I was ugly almost every day I was around him. He called me fat, told me I was lazy and dumb. In front of people, he said these things to me and it was just . . . . okay. No one ever said, hey that’s not nice. I wasn’t around my father’s side of the family much, but those memories stuck.

My father was constantly trying to get me to lose weight when I went to visit him before I was 18. I had to walk 4 miles a day, in the Arizona Sun as part of his exercise plan for me. If I didn’t make that walk by 8am in the morning, I wasn’t allowed to leave my room for that day. Meals were portioned out by calorie, and I wasn’t allowed to eat anything other than what was set out for me. It felt so restrictive I stopped going to visit my father.

My entire adult life, I’ve tried to get my father to just . . be my Parent. At least my understanding of what a parent is supposed to be. Now that I am a mother, it’s doubly hard to understand how my father as treated me in my life. I look just like you. Everything you do and say to me, makes me feel like I’m not okay, I’m not good enough, I’m a disappointment to you. When I’ve ever said anything, it’s been ignored. I’ve seen the way my father treats my other siblings . . . it’s different, at least in adulthood. Their childhood with him was nothing like mine because he was there for theirs. So they feel a way . . . that I feel a way about how he treats me.

Maybe it is me. Maybe my expectations for people in general are too high. But it’s always seemed strange to me, that friends I’ve meet on the internet have done more for me than some of my family members. Strangers have made me feel welcome, made me feel important, made me feel heard, made me feel like I wasn’t’ crazy for wanting to just be accepted as myself.

September 24, 2021 changed my relationship with MOST people. I was in a car accident and no one gave a fuck. My friends were there. My Mom’s FRIENDS were there. My Facebook friends were there. I sent a mass text to my family, telling them what happened, and asking if anyone could come get me and my child from Ohio where the accident happened.

No. One. Responded.

Later I was told maybe it didn’t go through. I recently sent another mass text from that same text thread and there was again no response, so I thought okay . . that’s why they never acknowledged my text, this thread must not work. Then I got a response in the thread . . . oh. It did work. Ya’ll just . . . ignored my text then. Cool.

I’m done . . trying to be loved by Family. I’m done . . . caring more than people have ever cared about me. I’m building a Family with my Life Partner, and it’s gonna be one that is accepting, nonjudgmental, and Gentle. Helpful and nurturing. I will make sure my children never feel rejected because of how other people treat me or them. I’m not bringing that bullshit into their lives.

If you happen to find this on the internet, and you are related to me – I’m probably talking about you. This is the last time I use the phrase, “My Family” and refer to people biologically related to me. I don’t like ya’ll – AS PEOPLE. I don’t care that I’m related to you, If I don’t agree with the way you treat me, my child, or people in general I don’t have to be around you. Or be connected to you in anyway.

Shouts to My Tribe!

The Parnell’s, and Kelly’s and Brown’s and Cotton’s and Jenkin’s and Jones’ and Anderson’s and Robinson’s and more. The Tribe my Mother created for me. Her Friends, who have never left my side and were just always there my whole life. (Sometimes, it makes me think she didn’t really like her family either, cuz I call WAY more people Auntie than she had biological sisters.) My UD Alums, my Zeta Phi Beta Sigma Family, my Mercy Girls, my Arizona Friends, my #FGSSUM07, my FB Friends who have HELD ME DOWN. Who pick up calls in the middle of the night, who send you wine by the case when you are going through shit, who give you a year’s worth of clothes for your newborns, who send gift cards when they couldn’t send anything else, who hold you when you cry then laugh with you when you’re high.

Thank you for being there. Thank you for being my True Family. If it wasn’t for ya’ll, I wouldn’t be here.

And that’s the truth.

The Burden of Being a Daugther

This is a test. Can I still write a blog that actually makes sense .. . as opposed to a disjointed ranting of thoughts? I haven’t really written anything since my Mother died. So it totally makes sense that the blog I’m attempting to write is about her . . . kinda.

My Mother’s death changed my life. Not in the whole . . .everything is different and I am lost and broken sense (though all of that was there too). But in a way I never thought could be possible . . . it came with a sense of freedom I didnt’ know I needed.

Joyce had a plan for my life. I think she spent the entire time she was pregnant with me planning out my life. She knew what elementary schools, middle schools, and high schools she wanted me to attend. At seven, I told anyone who would listen my college choices {Spellman and Harvard} mostly because of the looks of awe on their faces. I couldn’t have told you one thing about those schools , except that they were good schools my mom wanted me to attend.

Joyce did not care whether or not her plan . . and my plan . . . were in agreeance. Because she had a PLAN. A Lot of who I am, got lost in that plan. Because free spirits don’t always get straight A’s. Socializing was always more important than grades for me. I don’t think Joyce ever expected me not to follow her plan, becuase she knew the outcome would be a life of financial and personal freedom.

But she didn’t tell me that. She never explained the motivations behind the plan, not until it was too late. Her plan was to make sure I never experienced any of the hardships she did. Joyce knew Education was the Key to that. Education and Access to White America. “Elite” White America to be exact. It really was a good plan, it just wasn’t for me.

Looking at Karma, I get it. I want so many things for her, and I want to guide {push} her down the right paths in life. Whenever I pictured having a daughter, she was just going to be a mini me. I never thought about my daughter’s father and his infleunce on her . .. because I’d never really seen that. An everyday Father, in the house all the time. My mom did everything on her own, for the most part, without much outside influence.

That is NOT Karma’s existence. Karma has mom and dad everyday. I had to throw out my “Plan” for Karma at like 6 months. My child is a THUG. She is not dainty, or soft. She is something I don’t understand. She’s 85% Dad and mybe 15% me. So I have to learn who she is.

We have to come up with her Life Plan together. I wish my mom had done that with me. Talked about the world and why we even needed to have a plan in the 1st place. I would have listened, I think. I would have understood WHY the straight A’s were important, cuz scholarships were gonna be needed to meet those goals in her Plan.

Back to that whole “Freedom” thing I was talking about.

After my Mother died, I no longer had to get approval for my choices. In theory, I never had to after I left her house. Even after I moved out, I was following Joyce’s plan. Working HARD to finding certain types of jobs, striving toward certain types of goals. Trying to stay on that path my mom laid out for me. I made choices I knew Joyce would approve of, because she had always been the voice in my head.

Making my own choices . . . has led me to the happiest time in my life. Trusting my own instincts, insteadof thinking, “What Would Joyce Think?” first. I’m living MY best life. Not Her’s.

Please Note: This realization has caused me great guilt and grief and shame at points in these last 2 years. Because my mom sacrificed her own happiness to raise me in a certain way. People talk about “Jewish Mom Guilt,” they should really be talking about “Black Mom Guilt.” That can put a hold on your life for your whole life, if you let it.

The Freedom comes in recognizing you are your own Person, not JUST [Enter your Mom’s name here]’s daughter. You are allowed to create a life completely separate of the one you were told you should live.

Live the Life that makes you Grateful for it. Live the Life that helps you deal with all your past hurts and traumas. Live the life others wish they could. Live whatever like YOU want. That’s how you can be Free.

Dear Beyonce . . . .

Thank you, for being the soundtrack of growing up.  I first paid attention to Beyonce when the remix to No, No, No came out.  Maybe junior year of high school? I didn’t care enough to know who was in the group, and I wasn’t buying no albums.  But I really liked that song.

Destiny’s Child

Enter the summer before College.  I spent most of my time with Nakkia, as we tagged along with folks.  We both worked at Pizza Hut, with a cool ass white boy boss, who mostly looked like Drew Carey.  He let us play our music, and the single for Bills, Bills, Bills came out.  I loved the song, and the video. The single also had song snippets.  And the 15 sec clip that was on repeat . . . Bug A Boo.

Any group that could have me feenin’ for snippets on random AOL Chat Rooms, I needed this album.

The Writing’s on the Wall

Fast forward to every Friday Night 1st semester of Freshman Year, this was the CD for the “Get Ready” dance party.  4 Girls, in one small ass room {who knows why my single dorm was the hang out spot}, dancing in the mirror getting ready for the BATU Party.  This was the soundtrack for my first drink, my first nasty dancing in a corner at a house party, the first times I tried to do my hair on my own.

I remember the conversation we all had when the Say My Name video came out . . . and we saw new noses and group members.  We were eagerly awaiting the explanation . . . and we ain’t eva really get one.  Didn’t really matter.  The album was Flames, and we couldn’t wait until the next one came out.

Survivor

The first song I ever sang in public (not at church) was Independent Woman, Part 1.  We had to harmonize the bridge,  and we KILLED it.  Not to mention, I somehow got the nickname Bug a Boo during my process. This album is the soundtrack of my 1st year as a Zeta.  The road trip to Blue & White in Columbus, the summer I worked in the bakery.  Aaliyah leaving Dangerously In Love on repeat in her dorm for at least 12 hours. Happy Face helped get me out of my 1st real bout of Depression.

Dangerously In Love

We all knew she was going solo, when we heard Dangerously In Love on Survivor.  Just like JT and Gone, we knew Beyonce was ready to branch out on her own.  This album is the soundtrack of my 1st car. . . . of the man who sold it to me, and my intro to [redacted]. This is car concerts singing Baby Boy, and driving down to Dayton to make sure I got to dance to songs from this album.  This album is #TOTGA and realizing I was in some serious like with #HIM.

Destiny Fulfilled

Their best album, in my humble opinion.  This album felt like, we grown now . . . let us be.  This album is the soundtrack of living on my own for the 1st time.  The mix CD’s I made for a childhood crush . . .  the ones he made for me as replies.  The background of the end of a significant friendship, and the rekindling of the most important one.  Every video was an entire MOOD, and we were all waiting for them to premiere on TRL.

 

B’Day

This album reminds me of a huge time of transition in my life, the time when “Flaws and All” was my guiding light.  If someone can accept her, they can accept me, right? But I wasn’t part of the BeyHive yet.  I was just liking music and buying albums.

 

I Am . . . . Sasha Fierce

This album is when I became a fan.  This is the soundtrack of MJ’s Detroit Year of Love.  This is the soundtrack of getting ready to go out every weekend.  Of attending every Greek event, and making new friends. Getting numbers for the 1st time in my life. The brief moment of self love that was shining through every where I went. This is also the soundtrack of my 1st teaching job, having fun in my classroom, making up dance routines with Nicole and Carmen, and still remembering them to th day.

 

4

Whew . . . . this album.  The second major heartbreak of my life.  This album is the pick myself up off the ground . . . then drag me right on back there.  The despair of losing everything . . . and the joy that came when I got it back. Every song on this album takes me to a specific place, time, emotion, person.  Baby I miss you . . . . Nigga you lost the best you will ever have . . .  Can we try everything all over . . . .

I remember when we were all excited to find out Blue was coming.  This is definitely when I became a card carrying member of the Hive.  This album was on repeat in my car.  This is my . . .  Beyonce done Grown Up, album.  She was singing about different shit.  I started to take notice.

Beyonce

I was in a hotel room when this album dropped.  [REDACTED] Someone bought this album for me, on iTunes, because it wasn’t on Spotify.  This album is the soundtrack of my going back to AZ. Of starting something new . . . and holding on to someone I should have let go.  The soundtrack of a specific relationship, of starting it and ending it.  Of living alone, and being happy in my space alone.  These videos take me to a specific feeling of awe, that Beyonce is constantly able to do something new.  Being in awe of her talent, her seeming perfection.

 

Lemonade

At this point, Beyonce had become a black cultural phenomenon.  We all gathered whenever something was happening. To comment, Stan, be in love with Beyonce the entity.  We had warning.  We knew it was coming, but we were unprepared.  We had just lost Prince, we were reeling from that . . . and along come Lemonade.  There was a collective sigh on Social Media as it started . . . I think i have 83 tweets for that day.

It was the Black Female experience in a way we never knew it needed to be told.  The raw emotion Lemonade evoked . . . seeing this person you’ve come to Idolize, be human.  Have flaws, have been hurt publicly.  IT was so beautiful to see the progression of that time in her life.  In a real way, without making everything look shiny and new.  And she had the NERVE to give us a remix with Dixie Chicks.  The only other soundtrack of my Freshman Year of College.  It was everything I didn’t know I needed.

Everything Is Love

This album . . . is the soundtrack of the summer my life changed.  This album is Malachi, and #ThatNigga, and #HE, and letting go of #HIM.  This soundtrack of driving around in downtown Detroit, and random events around the city.  Of looking for a job, then studying for my teacher certification.  This album feels like once the storm is over, and you just need to celebrate.  

Beyonce finally letting the rapper that lives inside free.  She bodied Jay on every verse.  We con’t care that he wrote them, she BODIED every beat.  I love vulgar Beyonce.  She don’t give a good hell about your feelings.  She is happy, in love, and a mother of 3.  You better get the fuck in where you fit in.

Homecoming

I mean . . . . . BeyChella was the blackest thing to happen ever.  In life of ever.  It took me back to college, and step shows.  Watching my friends introduce their kids to her, having my sandz send me pics of her son dancing when he thought no one was looking.  Watching people react to seeing it for the 1st time.

Before I Let Go . . . . The best, most blackest, most awesome thing ever.  The fact that we finally got the album of BeyChella, then she had to do one more Black Ass Thing! Take the best Hustle song, and add a bounce beat to the back of it.  We don’t deserve Beyonce. I’m just so grateful we have her.