“Sometimes the heart just needs a reset.”

Yea… it’s just one of those days… where I was running on “E”.  Nah, there’s gas in the car. But me, I’m on “E” or worse yet I’m running on NE = Not Enough. …mentally, emotionally, spiritually, physically, all the “…ally” you can think of.  I’m just running on not enough. So before I get to “D” = Done, I turned to my “Divine Connections” and took my cape off.  Kicked off my boots.  Took off my tights. released my wrists of my power bracelets. took off my headband. Laid my lasso on the floor. cause I needed to be naked.  So I expressed to them “…want to cry”.  One understood exactly where I was. One went straight into “fix it” mode cause if I’m hurting, then she’s fixing. The other said “Sometimes the heart just needs a reset.”

So here I am.

I already counted my blessings and found that I am no where close to being as worse off as so many others. I am grateful.

I am not here to negate my own feelings.

I’m here to acknowledge the fact that it’s o.k. to hurt. to be tired. to be overwhelmed. to be too much. to not be enough.  I can’t be everything to everyone. no matter how much I try.  I can only be all I need to be for me and to be only what I can give to others.

I’m resetting.

I can’t be everything to everyone. no matter how much I try.

I can’t be everything to everyone. no matter how much I try.

Remember in grade school the teacher would make you write the same sentence over and over until you got it?

well, here I am.

I can’t be everything to everyone. no matter how much I try.

I can’t be everything to everyone. no matter how much I try.

I can’t be everything to everyone. no matter how much I try.

I can’t be everything to everyone. no matter how much I try.

I can’t be everything to everyone. no matter how much I try.

I can’t be everything to everyone. no matter how much I try.

I can only be all I need to be for me.

black wonder woman


someone save me…from me

it’s happening…I feel it…I don’t want this to happen. I’ve avoided it for so long…and yet here it is

how…why him?  He broke me…and I shattered him. or maybe it was the other way around.  I don’t know. I just know it was rough. so how come?  when I was there, my world spinning and I stood alone, in that very moment, it was him.  How? there was no reason for our paths to cross on that street in that moment, and yet…there he was. being everything I needed him to be. there he was. I needed him and there he was. Again. He’s done that before. you know? been there when I needed him most.

but then there was that time…what felt like the most important time that I needed him most…and he was gone.  and I was disappointed. but now, he’s back. I left myself open.  I wasn’t hateful. Maybe I should have been. Maybe I should have dragged him…us…through the thorns of the rose colored glass that he had me looking through…maybe I should have set fire to that string/rope of friendship/history/love that bind us together…shattered that rose colored glass when ….

I’m on this highway that I’ve avoided for years, and the ride is smooth, no traffic…it’s smooth and I like it. and I like him again… and that scares me. because I know it’s easy for me to love…but to ‘like‘ takes a whole other readiness, openness, acceptance.  I can love easily, but liking is hard…and I am liking him again…and we’re talking again…he’s telling me his plans, his next steps…and I am listening. no great input, just listening because I’ve come to learn that’s all he needs sometimes. is for me to listen…to him…hear his words.

and I want him to come and sit and I want him to just be.  and I want to make him a cup of tea the way he likes it, the way he says only I can fix for him….and we don’t have to hold hands or even touch, I’m o.k. with him just being there…and I want to write him letters and poetic texts and I want him to send the same and make me reread them because the way he writes to me at times confuses me…or stumps me…leaves me amazed…and I want to send him music and have him start a battle by sending one back noted with “top this”… and I want to accept the challenge…. and it’s all simple and yet meaningful and ….and this scares me…because I’ve been here -no, we’ve been here- before…we’ve done this. all of this….or have we?  why am I o.k. with all this.

because he showed up.  because he shows up.  all I have to do is call… he told me this “all you have to do is call…”.  he’s following through with this.  he’s following through.

because he has yet to disappoint me this time around… and I don’t care when days and days go by and we don’t communicate…..because …..  all I have to do is call…

and they say not to “go backwards…going there with him again will be a backwards move”…. but how is it backwards if I never moved?

I never moved. and according to him, he never left.  it was me all along.  running away as usual.  I never moved. he never left.

save me someone.  from me. I’m looking at this hamster wheel …this rollercoaster….. and it’s not looking so bad right now.

someone save me… please….from me.

Carry On

I writing today -not because I had a sweet desire to to write like I usually do…I write because it’s a part of my process to carry on.  I didn’t show up at my dad’s church for father’s day because I was excited to drive from 40 minutes on Sunday morning, but because it’s a part of my process to carry on.  I stayed home all of Saturday not because there was nothing to do, but because it was my one day to not carry on….and yet, I carried on…because regardless of what’s happening, my baby still expects me to be mom.  “Mom, I’m hungry. Mom I want my milk. Mom, let’s read.  mom let’s dance.” I carry on.  I worked from home on Friday because there was so much to do locally…..I needed to carry on. I didn’t drive to work on Thursday morning because I am oh so strong, but because I know I needed to carry on.  This was not the time to pause.


When the front left bumper of his car collided into the passenger side of mine on Wednesday….. I stopped.  I thought, my baby is in the car with me.   Everything stopped. in that moment that felt like many minutes, was only a few seconds. I stopped.  I pulled over and saw that she was just fine, still playing with her tablet.  Just as calm as ever.  Called 911. Followed their instructions. I remained so calm.  And then

I carried on.

He pulled over. But he didn’t wait around for the police to arrive.  I got no information from him. My family/friends were mad at him for me, but more so grateful that baby and I were safe.  My daughter’s father just happened to be passing right by me moments after this happened…..stayed with me and baby through the process.  Made sure we were alright.  After the police left, then he left. And then I carried on.

I got home and told my brother and my daughter what happened, got on the phone with the insurance company, submitted my claim.  While I was on the phone with them I figured “why not feed the two birds out of the same bowl?” so I asked and was connected to the other department and I added my daughter -and her car that she just got- to my insurance.  I need to know that -heaven forbid- she gets into a wreck, she’s covered.  Then I bathed and fed my baby.  and, I carried on.

I forgot to eat…not until 24hours later…but I went through the motions.  The next day I got up and came to work.  I wanted no parts of the usual, but I felt I needed to go support my friend as he gave his speech and I needed to be here for the ice-breaker.  Once that was done, I was done.  I continued through the motions for the rest of the day….  I carried on.

My experience was minor.  The baby and I are fine.  There was no trauma. The people that I have to deal with -from the officer who responded to the adjusters- are all God sent.  I’m not mad at the young man who left the scene….who left us behind….I have to believe that he had his reasons to not want to deal with the police.  I only pray that he’s alright.

I am not here to give you any insightful words on how to carry on.  I have no words of wisdom on the paths to take.   What I know is every experience offers choices on how to react and how to carry on.  I can’t tell you how to do that. I only can tell you that with great people in your life, true love, absolute support, you too can carry on.

carry on



I thought about the different ways I wanted to write this.  how vague I could be.  I started and deleted. because it was so vague it almost made no sense.  so instead of vague, I’ll be transparent.

Truth: Sometimes I spiral.  not physically. and not even mentally.  but more so emotionally.  I’m not crying or screaming (probably on the inside) or displaying any negative actions.  but I reach.  My spiraling comes in moments when I need some attention.   from the opposite sex.  so I text. nope, I don’t call. because that requires more emotion.  I text.  because I can either ignore their responses or accept it -based on the tone and the path.  sigh.  I spiral.  not for a few minutes or an hour, but for what seems like an entire work day.

by the time I get home, if I check my text log I will have seen logs from three or four guys. and the one with the most messages is the one who was available to give me the attention I needed for that day.

and then months will go by. I carry on my days like the superwoman I am.  Girl on fire that I be.  Giving my attention and my all to all who need me.  and then suddenly, I’l find myself spiraling. reaching.

could this be my way of refilling?  re-energizing?  Every few months I pull the energy I need, so I can in turn give the energy that is required of me?

I don’t know what it is.  I wish I didn’t have these spiraling…reaching moments.  Then again, I need these moments.  to spiral.



Not MY Orlando…

I will never forget that Sunday morning, a year ago.  I woke up to such chaos and sadness on my tv…and I simply waited….to hear where this was taking place…Not My Orlando.  The memory alone has me tearing up all over again as I type…. The news anchors…they were so sad…. “….Pulse Nightclub….downtown Orlando….shooting….dead…injured….. many taken to hospitals….

Not MY Orlando.

Friends waiting to hear if/where their loved ones are…. There was this one mom…she couldn’t find her son. He wasn’t answering his phone…. I felt like I was waiting with her.  I remember looking at my baby sleeping and silently thanking God through my tears.  I remember thinking how my older one was peacefully sleeping in her room…no clue as to what had happened.  Then I started thinking of who I knew…that could have possibly been there that night…so I sent texts: “I just want to know you’re o.k.”.   The replies came in, “yes I’m fine. I wasn’t there…but I lost a friend…”  tears.  What caused this?  What could have POSSIBLY triggered such an act?  What did any of them do to YOU?  They simply went out to celebrate…have fun….and YOU stopped it.  stopped them.  why?

…hours later and that mom was still waiting… her son still hadn’t answered his phone…

so many phones ringing…  I remember one of the news anchors saying this….imagining the first responders on scene…hearing the phones ringing.  tears.   As the day went on, the count increased.  I think I cried with each new face that went up on that tv screen.  I remember driving to work that Monday… the air felt different…the closer I got to Orlando that morning, the darker the clouds seemed…the quieter the streets felt…. driving through…there was just a heaviness.  that day, social media posted even more faces….and I cried again.  I raised one of my kids here for some years.  Any of her friends could have been there…. this is our Orlando.  I remember she brought one of her friends to me…the friend sat and said “mom…I think I’m bisexual”  and I asked “does your mom know” and she basically said “no, I can’t tell her this…she wouldn’t accept me…I need to figure this out”  and I simply said “o.k…. eventually you’ll have to tell her.  but until then, just know, I will NEVER look at you sideways or think any less of you.”

Orlando strong.


People strong.


Support Strong.

One year later.  and I’m crying at the thought…the memory.  So I can’t even begin to imagine the pain of those who lost their loved ones. ORLANDO STRONG.  posted high and often.  Worn with PRIDE.  ORLANDO STRONG.  you see it.  you hear of it.  but to see it…. it’s different thing all together.

Orlando is strong.



The other day…the bombing at the concert in England….Another mom waiting to hear from her daughter…couldn’t contact her…cell phone ringing…. I cried…I heard myself say “this is Pulse all over again.” …kids, gathered up to enjoy themselves…have a great time…and then…. 

I don’t think I have much more to say…or maybe I have too much to say…. but I know I have to stop now… because…. tears…. and I have work to do…. and I need to be able to see what I’m doing.  Can’t do this  through tears….not today.

Orlando Strong

What is the going rate for Integrity?

Strange question, I’m sure.  However, I find it necessary to pose it.

The other day, while in conversation with one of my core friends, she stated that if offered a certain amount of money, she would -without hesitation- become a Trump supporter.  Now, this is not a moment about politics.   If you are a supporter of one party,  because you just don’t support the stance of the other, then fine.  If you switch political parties because you believe that your political needs are better met/supported by another party, then fine.  However, if you switch parties simply because you’ve been offered a substantial amount of money, then -for what it’s worth- you lose my respect.
As a female person of color, supporting any racist/sexist/misogynist simply because the money is right…well, this calls to question your integrity.  What is your standard? What is your limit? At what point is money not enough to sway your beliefs?

money hungry

seeing a grown man cry

Have you ever seen a grown man cry? I mean, breakdown and sob.  I mean, see his tears and hear his moans and know that in that moment his blood pressure lowered, because what all he was holding/keeping/ignoring/suppressing is now being released through his tears.  When is the last time you saw a grown man cry? That does something to you.  Something shifts.  You realize you only know what he’s told you, but the rest has been kept hidden because, you know… we all know… “that a man ain’t supposed to cry”  not a “real” man anyways. goodness.  Who comes up with these rules?  Because Real Men (whatever this description is) break.  They get tired sometimes. They cry.

here’s what I know: I know that when a man drinks a lot of liquor he becomes emotional. Hear me when I say, I’ve seen a grown man cry plenty times.  I used to break with him.  he cries, I cried.  Plenty times. However, it got to the point where when it happened I simply turned away and kept on doing whatever the task was, or create a task or simply exit the environment.  Sometimes with a strong eye-roll.  It may sound odd, but that did something me. That shifted something in me.   Did it shift my sympathy? No.  At least I don’t think so…  but something shifted….

When I see a grown man break and cry, I can stand and be the shoulder he needs to cry on. I can honor the fact that this moment is significant.  I am wise enough to know that he’s not crying because he has nothing better to do.  I am present enough to not push for answers, but to simply allow the moment to be a simple as it is.  He needed this time. Let it be.

Now my mom? she tells a story of how when I was a toddler, she was doing her normal afternoon prayer, and there I was kneeling next to her. when she was done I looked up at her and said “mommy, you didn’t pray good today”  she said “why baby?” to which I replied “you didn’t cry this time” 🙂  That’s when my momma cries. during prayer.   So if/when she breaks outside of prayer, THAT breaks me.

But seeing a grown man cry…something has shifted in me…. and I don’t know if I can get it back.

tears of a man

What’s your Love Language?

I’m sitting at my desk and my co-worker comes to me with the question: “What’s your love language?”  Coincidentally, I have that very book in my kindle library. so I pulled it up and refreshed my memory.  There are 5 basic ones:

  1. Words of Affirmation
    2. Quality Time
    3. Receiving Gifts
    4. Acts of Service
    5. Physical Touch

Oh! I remember now. yeah, mine are 2 and 4: If you love me, make time for and spend time with me. And do what you say you’re going to do.

I’ll be over after work“…show up and sit and eat and watch tv or listening to music or talk to me. but show up and stay a while.

Baby, the light in the laundry room needs changing. I’m going to get the bulbs and do it for you” …do it. matter of fact, you don’t even need to tell me; just do it. Let me tell you something, to me, that’s gold. “Baby when’s the last time you got your car serviced…lemme get the keys.” …your night is bound open with a home-cooked meal and end action-packed 😉

Oh baby you look nice…I love you so much…you’re a great woman… but you say this while sitting on the sofa waiting for dinner after I get in from work and tend to the kids and this is your usual way. Yea… nothing. at all. you’ll get a good suggestion as to what you can fix for yourself or which take-out place is still open.

So my love languages are Quality Time and Acts of Service.

What’s your Love Language?

love languages

“I carry you in my spirit”

The first time I heard this I was watching Tyler Perry’s “Diary of a Mad Black Woman” and I thought goodness, that’s deep.  But let me tell you, it’s a thing. It really is a thing.

I realized that when I have a strong connection to you -my child/sibling/parent/father of my child/bestfriend- and you are going through something, once you let me know about it, and it’s heavy, I will carry it. depending on the depth/strength of the connection, sometimes the person doesn’t even have to let me know…but I’ll know. and I’ll carry it. walk away with it. sleep on it. wake up with it. and depending on the weight of it, the next day I will feel an extreme heaviness in my spirit and have to stop and think where it’s coming from…then remember…I’m carrying him/her in my spirit.

and it’s rough

I’ll sometimes feel that this assignment is hard… why am I hurting for this person when they’re not even aware of the severity of their own situation?

so I pray. “God listen. you already know the situation. I’m praying that you help “x” through this situation. give him/her wisdom to navigate successfully.  and please give me the wisdom to know when to speak, listen and shut up and leave them be. Amen”

Each person has a gift and a purpose.  “I carry you in my spirit“.  I don’t know if that’s a gift… but I know it’s a thing. and its real.

I carry you in my spirit