Girls who lack fathers are always searching for that male replacement. A figure to hold on to that shows them what its like to feel protected and loved. Often times, girls seek so hard to find that missing love that … Continue reading
I’ve been known to take my coffee the way I like my men: Strong. Milk. Extra sugar. Hold the coffee. That has always caused a reaction from all the barristas giving their opinion on how my coffee should be. Growing … Continue reading
I remember the first time I was treated like an outcast. I was in first grade. I attended a Catholic private school in Tuscaloosa, AL. I loved my class and my teacher Mrs. Rice. We had “class moms” who were … Continue reading
The moment when my mom learned how to text was the moment when I realized that there was no way from me getting from under her thumbs. I remember receiving one of the first texts from her: “Wh$er! R U!?)()!!! Gt Hom@!”
My mom had just had surgery on her foot and it was summer and she was confined to some sort of contraption and was not able to walk for a few weeks. I had taken her car to go out. It was past curfew, and I was taking advantage of the situation by just ignoring her calls and coming up with some story in my head to tell her once I got home. I hated answering her phone calls because I knew she was going to chew me out and her voice would be heard and embarrass me. When I opened her message, it was like receiving Molly Weasley’s Howler. She had gotten me.
I came home immediately. She was waiting on me in the den. I thought I could just sneak into my room, but that spitfire was waiting on me in the dark den and turned the lamp on when I “snuck” in. Startled.. I looked at her in the eye about to come up with a sputter of lies and she said “I see you got my text.”
She then gave this lecture about how she had on her down time she had figured out this whole texting thing and although very shaky.. She was figured it out because she was tired of me ignoring her calls and she wanted to remind me that she still ran the show.
My mom figured out a way to reach me when she knew I had been ignoring her and she got her message across and I came home.
Daily I find myself ignoring God, and each day He figures out a way to deliver the message and remind me of my purpose here on this earth is not about me, but about serving him until it’s time to come home.
Lately, me and God have been wrestling. I have been battling with my insecurities and letting them get the best of me and lack motivation. I find myself being selfish and wanting and desiring things that I honestly don’t need. I find myself wishing I were something or someone else and not realizing I need to appreciate my purpose on earth and that it is not about me.
These messages are consistently presented to me by God everyday. I have to continue to not ignore these messages and be receptive and then that’s when everything will fall into place.
Are you ignoring the messages?
If you are a black female, you know the struggle of your life will ultimately be your hair. Lets just face it. Some of us have been blessed with long locks that flow with the wind and that I give side eye to in envy of your ability to get a brush through it. While others, such as myself, have been blessed with the hair that our mothers would just shake their heads at as we were told to sit down between her legs as she attempted to tame our wild tresses. Equipped with a comb, brush, grease (ROYAL CROWN SHOUT OUT), that cup of water, and gel to get those “edges laid” and an array of colorful bows. As we got older, some of our moms gave up taming those tresses and put us in the hands of that beautician with that “creamy crack” or relaxer. If your mom was like my mom.. .you were tricked.. you were told “You won’t have to get that hot comb anymore” and you ran to that beauticians chair like you were running in a triathlon because you thought your ear would never get burned again. You realized quickly that was a lie and for a few minutes of pain, your hair was so straight you could use it as a ruler on your geometry test. Our moms were happy… and we were happy..
Through my hair journey from child to adult, I have tried multiple styles for my hair. Braids, weave,long weave, short weave, long braids, short braids, half sew-ins, full sew ins,a bob, a curl, a bob with a curl.. EVERYTHING. I realized quickly that everybody had an idea of what they wanted my hair to look like, but never asked me how I felt about my hair.
My hair and I have a love hate relationship. It has taken be 23 years, but I can truly say that I am starting to love it and accept it. I have been looking at different stories of girls who are “going natural” and posting these photos of their hair journey from creamy crack has to be ruler straight addiction to crack is whack give me my natural hair back, and it is beautiful! These girls have broken these societal chains and have gone back to their roots (for real).
I’m one year sober from using the creamy crack. This is the first time in my life that I have been truly happy with the way my hair looks and feels. I realize that this is apart of self growth and learning to accept my inner beauty.
I know some of you are reading this and thinking… “its just hair” or “some people don’t have hair at all”, but you have to realize its not just about hair, its about loving you and the skin that you are in. Once we learn to accept ourselves and love ourselves, we can be a better person to other people.
So with that I will leave you with this jam:
When you love someone, you would do anything in your power to make them happy, right?
Sometimes that can mean exhausting yourself, resources, etc. It’s especially difficult when it seems like nothing is working… What do you do? Do you walk away.. Or do you keep trying?
You wonder if the person sees that you are doing everything in your power to please them, or are they just using you as a puppet on a string.
Think about it. Is it worth it? Or is it a waste?
It is so easy to lose yourself and conform to what others want you to be if you aren’t deeply rooted.
There will always be unhappiness as you pretend that you are happy because you are doing what others want or what is expected of you. However, when you have to be alone with your thoughts, which is usually when you’re awake at night tossing and turning, you struggle with what is truly defining your happiness.
Everyday I am reading some list telling me what I should do, shouldn’t do, try, experience, etc. now that I am in my 20’s. These lists can be very informative, interesting, or depressing. I realize though, that everyone is struggling to find their happiness. Sometimes I found myself tiptoeing around others and other times I find myself not giving a care, saying whats on my mind and leaving it at that. Both end of the spectrums can be good and bad.
I want, for myself to be happy. Happy being myself. I find myself feeding off of the energy of others to find that joy, but I am often not looking into myself to find it. This New Year begins a new start for me, or an attempt at a new start.
Sometimes, its okay to be alone with your thoughts and to reflect. Its actually important to do that often. I am excited to focus on myself and to figure out my inner beauty and find my inner strength that I have somehow seem to lost.
I have found out about myself that I really do not like to:
1. Say no to others
2. Be alone
3. Focus on me
This year I hope to learn that:
1. Sometimes saying no is necessary because, its okay to say no. Simple as that.
2. Self reflection is important and that sometimes it takes being alone with your thoughts to that.
3. Focusing on me to achieve my ultimate goals and my ultimate dreams to achieve…. you guessed it… my OWN happiness.
I have found that God has to be the center of my life. I have to love myself. I have to be happy with myself. Then, I can truly be able to
I just finished my first semester of graduate school. Jackson State was a huge change for me. I somehow managed to survive…barely. I have learned a lot about myself since August.
In August, I am going to be honest, I had this attitude that grad school was going to be a pleasant walk in the park. I just knew that I was going to ace all of my tests, make new friends, and that this was going to be a breeze…. All I can say is LO—–L.
This semester not only tested my stamina, but it also tested my will to want and achieve, my confidence, and my security. This semester I also feel that I was taught to humble myself.
I found myself many nights as I was trying to contemplate what assignment to start on, what should I put first–work or school, or when I was up to my eyeballs in stress quoting “All night and all day.. a band of angels are watching over me…” Then those nights where tears filled my face, when obstacles seemed too big to work through.. “Weeping may endure for a night, but JOY comes in the morning.” And you guys, I weeped. There were sometimes my anger and frustration got the best of me and I would sometimes lose sight of my goals.
This semester, I had some very dark days, some very dark nights. I was constantly battling myself, always hard on myself and putting myself on some of the highest standards that not even Shaq could touch.
I have learned too, that I must watch my tongue. Words hurt, I have been hurt by words, but I have also found that my tongue has spit out the nastiest of venoms that I have watched rip people to pieces. The insecurities of myself I let overpower me.
I am not sitting here and saying that I have solved all of my problems in 3 months, I am not saying that the demons in my head have been laid to rest. I still have a ways to go.
I am thankful for this semester. I was able to identify things that potentially set me back. I am looking forward to next semester. I am trying to stay positive. I count it all on joy and I am thankful for those many angels.
As I’ve grown up, I realized that I seek a lot of attention. It’s not necessarily in a bad way but not necessarily in a good way either…
At a young age, I had to realize that life was not all peaches and cream. The death of my father came at a gradual shock for me.
I lived in my own sense of denial for the longest time. I would hear/read things about children growing up in single parent homes, the rapid rate of black kids growing up without fathers, and think to myself, how I felt so bad for those children.. And not once examining myself and realizing that those statistics were talking about me.
I contribute that to a few things:
1. Private School- all of my life I’ve gone to a private school. I never had a choice into where I wanted to go to school. Private School gave me a false sense of reality, because if you go to Private School and you’re not there on scholarship.. Your parents must be making some big bucks, right?!
2. My mom is a “Dr.”- My mom is a pharmacist. She received her PharmD when I was in the 3rd grade. She worked very hard to receive this title and in high school I worked very hard to try to make it known that you don’t have to feel sorry for me because I don’t have a dad.. Because my mom makes that money! Enough for my mom, my dad.. And your mom and dad too……. (Right)
3. I was told to keep home matters and home and not talk to anyone about issues at home- This was very difficult for me. After my dad died, my mom got very sick with lupus. She struggled with the disease into my college years. She receive a kidney my sophomore summer of college. However, all throughout grade school, my mom was in and out of the hospital. At times, she was so sick, I wasn’t sure if she would make it. My grandparents and aunts and uncles would help out in situations when she was in the hospital. They even told me not to tell anyone about our situation. So I just pretended everything was perfect but on the inside I was literally bursting at the seams. I wanted to tell anyone that would listen my story.. However, I couldn’t because I would fear getting in trouble.
My grades suffered. I didn’t have a lot of motivation. I tried to cover up these issues by making situations funny. I only however made myself into a joke.
I was never the skinniest or the prettiest. I had very very low self esteem. I was constantly picked on for the way I looked/talked/ dressed etc. I am still haunted by it everyday. I tried to deflect the way I felt about my image, by making jokes about it before anyone else could.. I guess that’s pretty common. I also tried so hard to get people to like me.. I would lower myself and become a “doormat.”
Having people like me, “be my friend” became my only goal. It’s something I still struggle with today. I have done things that I knew were not right or fair but agreed or let it happen, because I didn’t want to make the other person mad. I was amazed and truly am amazed how much I have allowed myself to be taken advantage of… But I didn’t have the courage to stand up to them.
Being this way has caused a lot of heartbreak. I have problems with trust, because it’s so easily been taken from me, because I have allowed it. For some reason I feel as though the person should know how they are treating me and realize its wrong.. But that has not happened yet…… Soooo I have to realize I need to stand up for myself.
I struggle with being abandoned. I am so afraid that I will be left in a relationship, that I feel as though I smother them.. And they end up breaking free..
I write this because these are my thoughts. I know that I am not perfect. I was not made to be perfect. I grew up thinking that I had to fake it until I made it.
I have made so many mistakes. Things that I can kick myself for doing/saying/thinking… But it’s all apart of growth.
I think it’s important and necessary to examine yourself. Self reflection is a powerful tool and something I feel we all forget to do.
I write this as an apology, a few words of encouragement, a thank you, a wish, a promise.
I am not a finished product, but realizing this is the first step of being a better person. Knowing where I have come from will help me better my future.