Tag: Honest Thoughts

Connecting Generations: A Personal Reflection

Connecting Generations: A Personal Reflection

September 28. 2025

I realized the material I’ve been trying to write, develop, expand upon was the material I used in my creative writing program application. All this time, I’ve been working on what I thought was a series of different projects that all, in actuality, connect back to the original material I started over fourteen years ago. It is a deep-seeded, fully, unexpressed lingering of the thoughts and emotions in my heart and being. 

I’ve always sought a sense of connecting with the generations of my family that were here long before I was even a drop in the bucket. I have a love for food, cooking, traveling, family stories, and comfort in ways that are more soothing than the tightest hug from my granny. 

I spent numerous hours researching components of weaving that tapestry together, unbeknownst to what the bigger picture was I had started creating. It was a moment at a time before I could sincerely recognize the scope of the bigger picture of my spirit.

But in unfolding and discovering the pieces and parts that make me who I am, I’ve stepped into fully embracing the quirks I once thought were shortcomings and inadequacies. The truth of the matter is they are gifts. My hypersensitivity was viewed as a weakness by others who in actuality were too hardened and emotionally detached from the world that my expressiveness was a problem. I learned those were not my people. I was told I was too much by people that couldn’t fully comprehend my energy or the light I carry. 

I love creating: words on a page, food on a plate, candles with intention, a delightful experience in a glass, and even a confectionery treat to comfort a hurting soul. I march to a soundtrack of my own and often tend to wear my independence as a badge of both courage and honor. 

It’s an accolade for when I once was afraid to do things alone, when I expected people to show up for me in the same manner I showed up for them. But I am one of one. My quirks and oddities are what make me a unique being. I guess I know myself and pledge to always honor my own soul.

Until next time…be authentically you!

A Hard Reset: Embracing Change and Connection

A Hard Reset: Embracing Change and Connection

September 1, 2025

I haven’t talked to y’all in a minute…a little over two years. Life has been life-ing in all the ways imaginable.

I for real have struggled with trying to find the right words and being in the mental headspace to actually explore things on the page. I had some emotionally overwhelming moments where I fought through grief, uncertainty, confusion, just trying to figure it all out. I spent time just surviving.

I think more than anything I spent time searching for a connection with a friend, a family member, a coworker… just someone who could really see me as me. I wanted a space where I didn’t have to shrink myself or feel less than. I wanted a space where I didn’t have to pretend to be OK. I wanted a space where me being vulnerable was appreciated. I wanted a space where I felt safe. That’s where the shift took place.

I went inward to design a safe space for me. Like, I sincerely had to spend some time traversing the depths of my own soul, starting with my creativity. I set out on a quest to reclaim my creative energy. I jumped out there in ways beyond my wildest dreams. I started a candle business, went to bartending school, became a brand ambassador for Black owned liquor companies, bartended private events for the mobile bartending company that runs the school I attended, embarked upon a healing and spiritual journey, started having every difficult conversation that I felt was keeping me from being the happiest version of myself, and I did it all afraid and without a safety net. I even begun researching a topic that is significant to me.

September 1st is a hard reset. I checked items off of my to-do list today that had been lingering for over a year. I pressed on and got it done, and am inspired to go the distance. Getting back to the consistency of writing and posting is on my spirit something heavy, so look for an update next week. But most importantly, I reconnected with me. I reconnected with my higher power. I discovered something within that has fostered a space of growth both internally and externally.

I know this is a bit rambly, but it was necessary to get it out. What have the past two years been like for you? Share in the comments.

It’s Been a Long Time; I Shouldn’t Have Left You Without a Dope Beat to Step to…

July 10, 2022

Aight, so boom, I know it’s been about six months since we last had a moment together, you know, sometime to connect and lay our burdens down and truly vibe. The past six months in my life have been up and down, left and right, top and bottom, even inside and out. But I survived and am thriving now. 🙂

I spent some time grieving family members that have passed, mourning relationships that were not healthy or serving me, dousing other people’s expectations and opinions of what I “should be doing” in gasoline, and lighting the match to burn it and illuminate freedom of the mind. Yeah all of that. Don’t get me wrong: the process was not all peaches and mangoes. I’m thankful for my family, friends that have become family, and friends that have encouraged and been steadfast with me throughout the process.

Also during this time, I realized that I need to travel more. Yup, random, but I started booking flights and hotels and will comeback in my next post to show you what I’ve been up to. And yeah I have plenty of photos to corroborate my story. See you next post. 🙂

So…when was the last time?

July 12, 2021

Wow. It’s been a over year since I’ve posted some content. 2020 kicked my ass mentally, emotionally, and physically to the point that I was just over it all. I must’ve hit the reset button at least 50-11 times. It was definitely one of those years that flips everything upside down and forces you to address and acknowledge aspects of your life and self that otherwise would not have been attended to with the care isolation brings.

If I had to define 2020 in two words it would be revelation and transformation. Seeing devastation overtaking so many people at the same time definitely shifted my perspective about what are the most valuable ways I will spend my time. I had a list of frustrations that I wanted to discuss but decided against it because I didn’t feel that the energy served me well. I asked myself what is truly the most important endeavor I needed to embark upon. Turns out, it was healing.

Releasing the emotional weight of past trauma is a daunting task to say the least. Having to confront those raw and bottled emotions, the faultiness of your memory, and questioning your perception of how the situation actually places you in a defensive and vulnerable position. It’s humbling and necessary to truly be able to undo the years of trauma coping versus trauma healing.

One of the milestones I’ve accomplished on this journey of healing was to have a conversation with a close family member about the painful experiences I carried through years of just not knowing how to vocalize my frustrations in a way that was empathetic to the other parties involved. Admitting and understanding unrealistic expectations is not simple and re-calibrating your entire outlook on life through more polished and aware lenses is a process that necessitates time and being kind to yourself.

Another important thing to note is that healing is not linear or singular. It is an ongoing and critical process much like breathing. Healing comes from a concerted effort to do the work, feel the painful emotions, process through how and why, and make peace with the past. Shifting the focus often provides a sense of clarity as well as a chance to grow.

So what’s next? Now it’s time to reconcile the other obstacles that have to be faced in order to continue my journey to personal Zen.

The Art of Saying Goodbye

October 26, 2019

I restarted this post several times over the course of the last two months. Writing about life and the loss of it before seemed like an objective sense of emotions I needed to address, an insight I was compelled to provide. But the last two months have brought death closer to my door than warranted — from family to former coworkers to family members of dear friends. It’s been an overwhelming sense that I’ve reached the age where the empty chairs around the family table will consistently remain untouched. 

I remember being knee-high to a duck’s ass the first time I realized I was here for some reason. It was a moment that changed me. It might have been the surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins before I had the vocabulary to accurately describe what I felt. My five or six-year-old self sat on the fabric armrest of Granny’s 1985 Monte Carlo. It was the only way I could see over the dashboard and be in the know. We were leaving from visiting one of Granny’s former employers in the nursing home. It amazed me how my grandmother was much older than the frail woman but moved with the vigor of a woman half her age. 

No sooner than we neared the train tracks, a few men on bicycles road up, causing Granny to brake and let them pass. The arm of the train signal lowered on the car. The red lights flashed. The train whistled. The  car’s engine died. Granny panicked. She turned the key and the engine sputtered. I breathed heavily. She pleaded with the car. The train horn whistled loudly, approaching our stalled car. Granny began to pray and ask God to spare her only granddaughter, to start the car. And sure enough the car started. We moved just in time. 

I was crying. Granny was crying. “I hope you know that you have a purpose here and that life can be gone in the blink of an eye,” Granny wiped her face. She was silent, allowing her resolve to return. We drove home in silence, save her humming a spiritual tune. 

At that age, I didn’t fully understand that death was a permanent thing. Maybe it was the cartoons or the video games that made me think life could be reset. If you died it wasn’t forever. It also could’ve been because I loved the movie The Goonies and Goonies never say die. But it was at this age and being sidekick to a 76-year-old woman that I grew closely acquainted with the art of saying goodbye.

A few weeks later, Granny and I went to visit the same older woman again. But this time her room was empty, her belongings sorted into different piles. Two middle aged women discussed selling a little stool for a dollar. One of them paused in their sterile conversation, completely void of emotion, to acknowledge my grandmother and tell her that the woman had passed. No one called her. No one let her know that a visit wasn’t needed. That she didn’t have to wake up early that Saturday morning to prepare Chicken and Dumplings to bring. Neither of the two women, who Granny knew by name, who knew Granny came to visit took the time to call her.

With the passing of a loved one, I always feel like one of the many candles illuminating my life has been blown out. Sometimes it’s a surprise, an unexpected extinguish. Other times it’s a prolonged sense of watching their flame flicker until it illuminates no more.

The first emotion that arises is sadness. Its uncomfortable yet familiar embrace, envelopes me. Tears fall from my eyes. I taste their saltiness in the back of my throat. I instantly miss my lost person. I feel a hole where their candle once stood tall and shined brightly. Memories we shared flood my mind like pop-ups on a computer screen. Tears continue to slide down the curves of my face. I think about times shared, the nostalgia of watching their favorite films, eating their favorite meals, laughing at anecdotes and inside jokes. And while I am in these moments of the past that feel protected and locked away, the sadness takes over at the reality of not being able to create any new memories. That the best part of our relationship is behind us. An emptiness arises that I did not invest more time or make more of an effort to create more memories. That makes way for the next emotion — guilt.

In the particular instance of losing my cousin, I feel overwhelmed with guilt. I’d tell her that I’d come to visit and took time for granted. I could name a number of different reasons about why the trip never was planned, why the interest and intention were there but never follow through to make it happen, or even why I feel guilty for never fully investing the time to share flowers with her while she was here instead of exchanging pleasantries and laughs on Facebook. I feel convicted that I should have done more.

 

Thoughts on Fear

Thoughts on Fear

August 18, 2019

For almost the past month, I’ve been struggling to write about fear – how this one word has served to be an overwhelmingly crippling emotion, derailing every goal and ambition I can imagine and even some I’ve yet to fathom. Each time I put pen to paper or sit down in front of my computer screen, fingers lingering against the letters, it’s like all the words and thoughts I have on the subject vanish. Fear materializes as an idea consuming monster with an appetite for any and all forms of productivity. I see it as zombified Pacman, chomping away on the best of plans, the sweetest of intentions. Or Audrey II from Little Shop of Horrors, feasting away on the blood sweat and tears of my imagination’s greatest concepts.

I set out to execute a plan. I detail the steps. I consider the research, templates, the whole layout of what I intend to cover. Then it starts.

Knots fill my stomach. My pulse races. My palms sweat. My breathing is heavy, staggering. My mind spins in a million different directions. I’m immensely overwhelmed with the instinct to run, to flee from the danger. I’m in the tight clutch of fear. It’s crippling. It dominates my thoughts, controls my decision-making, or lack thereof, causes me to doubt any and everything. And worse than that fear convinces me that I’ll never be good enough, smart enough, prepared enough, authentic enough, compassionate enough, or strong enough. It convinces me that I’m inherently lacking and incapable of overcoming.

Simply put, fear wreaks havoc on you as a person. If left unchecked, it grows into a prolonged cycle of self-sabotage, negative self-talk, and the inaccurate belief that failure is the end of progress. Like everything that you do will be perfect the very first time. Let’s not forget when fear is loaded with thoughts of how other people perceive you, how others respond to you, and that their beliefs of what you should or could be doing exacerbate an already conflict-filled situation.

At some point for me, the fear turns to anger and that anger becomes fuel to soldier through the doubts and feelings of not being enough. Sometimes that shit works. Sometimes it doesn’t.