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!

….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.

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.

2018: (A Series) Maybe Its Time…

If you’ve read a blog I’ve written this year, you know my life is crazy as all the hells. It’s become this thing I couldn’t have planned for if I tried. More frequently than I’d like to admit, I’ve had to stop myself and say, “This is Real!”

I had this conversation with my Blacko-Rican Best Friend, about us being ‘Late Bloomers.’ We seem to be living our lives about 10 years behind. Changing careers at 35, having major adult epiphanies right now. After we’ve watched almost everyone else we went to college with, seemingly prosper. They have great jobs, and happy families.

Yet we, just aren’t there yet. And we’ve finally accepted it. Without shame, or fear of judgement. We are becoming the Best Versions of ourselves, with the knowledge gained from 10+ years of ‘not living up to our potential.‘

That recognition, that we’ve paved our own path is so….freeing. It’s a weight lifted off our shoulders, that we were so used to carrying, we forgot it was there.

I dance, all the time. In public, around people I don’t know. I Sing Again…I found my voice again.

Because, the weight has lifted.

I’m not trying to get my shit together anymore, I’ve actually done it. When my car broke down, I didn’t scramble and cry….I looked at my budget and figured that shit out.

Maybe Its Time, To Let The Old Ways Die…..

I’ve lost 82lbs this year, with minimal effort. In 12 months, I went to the gym 3 months out of the year. Now, those 3 months were INTENSE, but it was just 3 months. The rest of the time, I’ve just been moving.

Teaching 6th grade, having to work around that big ass classroom everyday, I was averaging between 13,000 to 17,000 steps a day. When I lived in AZ, I struggled to get 6,000 steps a day.

I should have done this 10 years ago!

I think if I had, I wouldn’t appreciate it as much.

The Best Benefit of being a Late Bloomer….you’ve actually made all the mistakes. You’ve learned from them. You’ve struggled, and worked those emotional muscles….you already know you can make it through anything…because you already have.

I had to make the decision, to stop doing things the way I always had. It wasn’t working for me. I was beating a dead ass horse (FUCK YOU PETA). My arms got tired.

The minute I did something different, every single thing in my life changed.

Talk to Me Nice . . .

6 weeks ago, my whole world turned upside down.  Not as a euphemism, but like actually turned upside down.  I left Arizona, headed to MI on a plane on March 30th, with a job and a home. 10 days later, I was going to be homeless because the house I was renting was going on the market. “But we will of course honor your lease,” said the white woman.  My lease was up for renewal at the end of June.

So I flew back to AZ, and packed up my entire life in less than a week.  Followed by DRIVING 2167 miles from Tucson, AZ to West Bloomfield, MI. Because, why not?  Did I forget to mention my 70 Lb dog . . . whose favorite thing in LIFE is to be in a car with me.  I had to drug him . . . because just NO.

This is just here to set the scene for the actual point of this blog, because it’s important to know my mindset on this journey from AZ to MI. I was doing what I HAD to do, not what I wanted to do.  My life was in AZ. I started a business, I had friends (well like 10 of them, but still), my life wasn’t great but it wasn’t bad either.

Or so I thought.

I’ve been a Social Worker for 6 years.  Which means I understand things like “Survivor Mode,” and “Secondary Trauma,” but some kind of way, I didn’t know I was dealing with that, and in all honesty probably had been for at least 2 years.  Basically after my seizure, I just went into survivor mode and I haven’t stopped.

So much shit – good, bad, and horrible – has happened to me since I had that seizure.  Gained and lost friends, gained and lost family members, discovered Medicinal Marijuana, fell in and out of love with several people, dealt with my mother’s illnesses, got a dog, etc.

But I’d just been going full force.  Working 12 – 18 hour days, with one off day during the weekend, and usually I had stuff to do so I didn’t get the chance to just de-stress.  I’m actually slightly surprised I managed to function that long without having a serious mental breakdown.

Looking back, I was in a rut of my own making.  I wasn’t very social.  But then again, Arizona is NOT very social.  There is nothing to do that doesn’t require hiking or swimming in extreme heat.  Which is bullshit, because FAT. Thus leading to the theme of my 2000+ mile journey: “Why the FUCK did I ever think I was Happy in Arizona?!?”

Click here for my definition of Happy

I was miserable.  I was irritable all the time, and I put up with bullshit because it was the best I could get.  I put up with a nigga (and the sex was garbage) because at least he was a Black Man in Arizona that liked me. I ignored my feelings for the only otha Black Man in Arizona that liked me, because I didn’t want to ruin it. I lost myself in AZ.  I forgot I was cute.  I forgot I was sexy, I forgot that I was a GOT DAMN UNICORN.

I”m a 36 year old Black Woman.  I have 1 degree, and enough professional knowledge to have 2 more.  In multiple disciplines.  I’m the GOT DAMN Autism Whisperer.  My Vagina is a got damn miracle.  It could change your life, if you let it. I’m smart, capable of doing anything, and a cunning linguist. Driving cross country I realized several things about my life going forward.

1. You never know how people view you.  You can have this thought, that the way you present yourself to someone lands the same exact way, every single time.  It doesn’t. One of the men I love {or am In love with, depends on the day}, (because I’m allowed to love more than one person at a time, SOCIETY) he sees this strong and resilient person, who never gives up and always perseveres.  He thinks I’m a strong person, even though I feel like I call him and cry like once every 3 months.  About completely different things, and I always feel so damn stupid for crying about it, because I’m supposed to be an adult at all times. So I feel weak, and less than for being vulnerable to him. And his take, “You may feel you’re not where you wanna be in life, but you’re right where you are supposed to be.” *thug tears*
2. Love is Love is Love is Love.  It doesn’t have to look like anything other than something that makes you happy every single GOT DAMN day of your life. You don’t have to choose between the person who makes you laugh, and the person who makes your lady parts tingle.  No one has the right to tell you what your love HAS to look like.  Talk to the people, tell them your preferences.  If they aren’t down with the Get Down, that’s okay.  But don’t compromise yourself, to settle with what other people think is good for you.  We are living in Trump’s whole ass ‘Murica.  The world could end tomorrow, don’t waste it being sad because your needs aren’t being met. 
3. I’m done apologizing for the way I’ve lived my life thus far.  I’m done feeling ashamed for the missteps I’ve taken.  I’m done trying to make up for the fact that I didn’t feel like I was an adult until a week ago.  I’m over anyone who tries to tell me how I should live my life, and navigate the world.  Be they Family, Friend or Foe – GTFOH with your rules and expectations.  I get to walk through the world in this new body I’m creating for myself.  I get to eat whatever the hell I want, and also RUN A FUCKING MILE for the first time in my life. The only people in this world who get to dictate how I live my life, are the people I choose to listen to.  I’m in charge of this ship now.  No more letting the wind take me wherethefuckever. 

I’m sure I’ve written in the past that today is the day my life is different.  I’m sure at the time I wholeheartedly believed it.  Maybe things did change, in a way. But this version of MJ, the one writing this blog has already won.  She is living in her GOT DAMN truth.  And it’s Sofa King Fabulous.

Please, join me. 

Let’s live our Best Whole Ass Lives for the rest of 2018. 

I Can’t Drink You Away….

This blog MIGHT be all over the place (kinda like my emotions right now) but I promise there is a central theme.

*******Avengers: Infinity War Spoilers********

We all said, nothing can ever be better than Black Panther. I THINK we were wrong. This movie is just….. So first off, FUCK THANOS. His entire existence just ruined my life. For a myriad of reasons. The last 20 mins of that movie are 1000000000 times worse than the Red Wedding episode of GOT.

But what has me awake at 4:30am like I don’t have shit to do in 3 hours, is the relationship between Thanos & Gamora.

He stole her, after he destroyed half of her planet’s inhabitants. He killed her mother, and told her it had to happen that way. He then trained her to be a deadly assassin who traveled the world killing for him. Because he’s an ASSHOLE.

Even though Gamora swore she hated him, when she *thought* she had actually killed him it tore her apart. Like broke her all the way down. Because even after all the abuse, and hate, and self-loathing, that was her FATHER. Every girl just wants a Daddy.

My life is in chaos right now. I reached out to my father, who has more than enough money to help me deal with this situation. It’s an unexpected life altering event, right as I took 2 months (unpaid) FMLA off to help my mom.

I knew he was going to say no. I knew it in my soul. I told my mom he was going to say no. He did. I wasn’t even shocked. I had already been working on another solution to the problem. He has never helped me out in a crisis. He has actually caused the last 2. And yet…..I asked. At 36, I still held an impossibly small piece of hope he would come through for me.

Because that’s what parents are supposed to fucking do – Help their children in times of need. That’s what our relationship was until I was around 12. The spoiled girl who was pampered and NEVER told no until she started gaining weight……she didn’t understand why the relationship just changed. It went from fun to weight control and walking 4 miles a day in the Arizona heat. I didn’t handle the transition well, because I wasn’t prepared for it.

My Hero. That’s who and what I used to think my father was. You couldn’t tell me shit bad about him. And due to his “strict religious and moral beliefs,” he would of course never lie to me or hurt me. Because that’s what the Bible says. But not the Good Reverend. That nigga worked 50 years to push his kids out the house at 18, and tell them to fend for themselves. Because that’s HIS moral obligation. Now, where this supposed code came from, I don’t know.

It took me way too long to understand this code of ethics even existed. [Partially due to my mother’s parenting style, because she’s the best mom ever] I was used to having a need, telling my primary parent at the moment, and getting what I needed. Some people called it spoiled…not sure why. Some part of me still felt, even after all the times he had disappointed me – if I can just explain why it’s so urgent that I need his help, he won’t say no then. I keep banging my head up against this emotional wall.

Always leaving a door open, or a window slightly cracked hoping he will be different this time. Because I never felt more loved and appreciated than when I used to go visit my father in Tucson and Pittsburgh. I still crave that….feeling. I write about wanting that all the time. Thanks to therapy, I know the root of that. But this blog isn’t REALLY about my daddy issues.

I know, insanity. The kid inside of me always feels so less than when dealing with him, because I’m still trying to get him to:

• Acknowledge that parenthood doesn’t end when your children reach 18.
• HELP ME GOT DAMMIT

Back briefly to Avengers.

In order for Thanos to reach one of his final goals, he LITERALLY threw Gamora over a cliff, and killed her. I started crying right then. Because GOTDAMN! Gamora’s face as she was falling, throwing out her hands and hoping by some miracle he would save her in the last minutes…….

It was like seeing myself on screen. (This conclusion is why I’m still awake right now) Every time I call my father specifically for his help, I’m hanging off the cliff holding on for dear life. He reaches down, and lifts each finger off, while telling me something about budgeting for unexpected events.

That’s how I see my dad. I paid the mortgage on a house that was in his name for 4 years, for him to tell me if I didn’t let my DEADBEAT ASS SISTER move in (and pay no rent or contribute to the household….did I mention shes is 22 years older than me) he would sell the house, and I would be homeless. This was of course about a WEEK after I had a Grand Mal Seizure at the gym and dislocated my shoulder. And my mom was already staying there to help me recover FROM A FUCKING SEIZURE.

Did Thanos love Gamora, yes? But he – and by extension his agenda – was still more important to himself than his child. I just don’t understand how that is. I try really hard to look at everything from both sides. But my dad….

Seriously tho, Fuck that Nigga Thanos.

I just…. I can’t wait for the day when I can not have “daddy issues” flare ups. This shit is worse than herpes. I might be done tho…because exhausted. Also, I might have already said too much. I had to edit like 4 times before I could post this. Because feelings.

Fuck Thanos So Much