My vice

The other day I was getting so excited about love. I even mentioned to myself how even saying the words “I love you” was felt deep down in my belly (or somewhere close lol). It was a warm feeling,  and truly felt like butterflies. That feeling I got confirmed that it came from the abyss of my soul, and that it was genuine.  My love outburst or for this purpose, bubble was shortly popped.                  

I came across this verse that is often said during weddings, and other love oriented ceremonies. ” Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.” My sentiments were not uttered at any of the aforementioned events, in fact they were stated for my own edification- obviously still valid. I stumbled when I read patient. Immediately thoughts of guilt clouded my mind. My love, my being, my way of life was neglected of one of the key elements of love.

I lack patience in every aspect of my life. This vice allows me to make rash and sometimes brash decisions.  It allows me to be frustrated.  It allows me to get upset even when a simple waiting could have cured this. It allows me to want to do it all by myself rendering me to be at times selfish and untrusting of the ability of others to do for me. It allows for me to be an overachiever. It allows for me to take shortcuts instead of trusting the process.  It allows me to feel good when I feel exhausted because I think accomplishing it all on my own is a good fait accomplis. It allows the thoughts of “bust out the windows of his car” cue Jazmine  Sullivan when a simple hear me out would have sufficed for everyone. It allows me to deep sigh and handle situations aggressively instead of with care and compassion.  It allows me to feel like I should retract my I love you because to build patience is an uncomfortable process that I am not prepared for–but I won’t.
You might be reading this and think “Girl, it’s not that big of a deal.” But if we want to be honest with ourselves it truly is. When is a missing part of a whole ever OK?  Can you bake a cake and leave out that 1 teaspoon of baking powder they ask for? Being impatient makes my love liable to fall apart. It makes it immature. It makes it stagnant. It makes it weak, and makes me weak. It makes those butterflies that I feel flutter in vain because if it’s not willing to be whole what’s the point.

I’m holding myself accountable to mend this broken part of me. I’m in no rush because it’s going to be a task. I’m working at working through my discomfort because what lies ahead is so beautiful and so worth it.

Do you have a vice? Does it make you sick?  Does it make you uncomfortable? Does it make you feel incomplete?  Mine does.

En tout cas,

Rape: No uniform and no boundaries

Yesterday evening a plethora of women and men joined in a cathartic moment. They shared what they were wearing when they were sexually assaulted. This conversation started when someone posted an article about a 60 yr old woman being raped in her home. The poster asked the question: “what were you wearing when you were raped?” Some shared information on their 1st, 2nd,  and even 3rd encounter of rape by someone they knew, and was suppose to trust. For some it was their first time sharing,  some wanted to be anonymous, and some quickly shared and deleted after sharing. The point of this sharing moment was not to shame any of the victims or to remind them of those awful moments. The point: rape has no uniform. For some of these women their first assault was at the age of 2. They don’t remember the details, but remembered the violation. It sticks with you forever, and does something to you every now and then. Even if you forgave your attacker it is hard to completely heal from the assault.

Have you had your trust violated by someone you loved, family you trusted, and they took it upon themselves to erase your innocence?  How could you trust the same? I applaud these brave men and women that shared publicly and anonymously because last night they were able to be comforted knowing it was nothing they did, and thousands of us stand with them. I’ll share some of these sans name to respect their privacy.

Also, to the men who were told it was their rites to passage, but deep down they know what it truly was: we acknowledge your struggle, we cry  with you, and we admire your courage. We love you just the same.

To the woman who started this conversation we appreciate you for opening up this platform.

“Age 6, jeans and t-shirt, my brother’s “best friend” forced himself inside of me one day while waiting for my brother to get back home.”

“jeans & t-shirt, my HS bf, my house, my virginity. He justified by telling me “you didn’t say no, you said stop”

“first time 19- long jean skirt and a white blouse with flowers second time 28 sweats w/ a fever of a 102”

“1st 18, jeans, sea green T. 2nd 20, jeans, white sweater, drugged. Bf called me a cheating bitch & dumped me when I told him”

“19 jeans and raincoat, in an elevator. 27 jeans and a purple sweater, roofied. ok RT”

“A tank top and wrap around skirt. Age 5. RT.”

“in my underwear in bed. my now ex-husband said he “needed” it & didn’t take no for answer & after awhile, I stopped fighting.”

“You’re the only person I’ve told. I’m 36, married for 12 years & my OH doesn’t know. I was wearing whatever kids wore in the 80’s.”

“first time, 7 or 8. denim shorts to my knees, polo button up. socks, sneakers. my uncle forced oral. you can tweet.”

“2nd time. Pajamas. Female relative. She was “showing me” what they did on the movies that came on Cinemax.”

“jeans, nbc sports t-shirt, nike running shoes. he was a childhood friend.”

“Navy capri pants, lilac tank top, black cardigan, flip-flops. I was 14, in public. He was my friend. Okay to RT.”

“I was wearing a brown Garanimals-type shirt w/green frogs on it, a brown fringe jacket, Wranglers and B. Brown loafers. 6. OK to RT”

“1st of multiple times by the same family member was at 7…wearing pajamas. 2nd time I was 12…sweatpants and tee…youth pastor”

“12, mother’s friend son, shirt & sweats. Happen twice..told me ill never be pretty enough & it was the only option to take..”

“one-piece bathing suit. I was 17 & a lifeguard. He was a co-worker. It was my 1st job. Ok to RT. thank you for twitter conversation”

“A hoodie and jeans.”

“Jeans, vest top, shirt, and no make up”

“T-shirt and jeans. I was 12. I never spoke of it until my late 20’s. Alway thought it was my fault because I looked nice. (Ok2RT)”

“I don’t even remember what I wore cuz it happened so many times between ages 4-6. Obviously wasn’t wearing anything slutty.”

“I was 4. Pajamas. My brother (11)…My 1st time ever sharing.”

“The first time? I was 8. I had on a sweater and jeans. The 2nd, work clothes: dress pants and a button up blouse”

“Age:13, nothing but a towel wrapped around me. I was just getting out of the shower (Ok to RT)”

“I was wearing a poofy pink Easter Sunday dress. My older cousin did it… It was my 7th birthday.”

“…I got gangraped when I was 19 by some boys I knew in HS. I wasn’t healthy for a year 1/2 after.”

“in my room and forced himself on me. Said I wanted it. Captain of the basketball team at the college near by. (Okay to Rt)”

“Naked and engaging in consensual sex that turned… awry.”

“1. A nightie, 2. a nice blouse and long skirt, and 3. a sweatshirt and jeans.”

“Pajamas. Woke up to assault, I was in grade school (don’t remember exact age). Last time I ever wore a nightgown. Ok to rt”

“23, black dress, sweater. I was in my car, got stuck up at gunpoint.”

“The 1st time I was wearing a pink nightgown, I was 7. The 2nd time I had on jeans and a tshirt @ 22 ok to rt”

“past summer. flower harem pants & long sleeve black linen shirt. my home. RT.”

“Freshman in college by an RA and I had on slacks and I think a button down shirt. (OK to RT)”

“9 years old pink Disney princess pajama set days after my dad died”

“Ages 7-9, usually a nightgown *sigh* Ok 2 RT”

“A dirty Arby’s uniform. 20.”

“1st time: jeans, tank, + a hoodie. Was 14, + was how I lost it. 2nd: jeans and a tee, was 17. 3rd: a dress, 18 at a party. Can RT.”

“1st time I was sleeping in a baggy tshirt & woke up to a stranger inside of me. 5 yr later, the exact same but it was a friend I trusted.”

“My minister threw me down, tore my blue skirt off and penetrated me. 5 minutes later he has leading prayer for the congregation.”

“pink top and blue jeans shorts (first time I remember) 5 years old molested by my stepbrother almost everyday until I was seven”

“3rd time was actually last month when I went to London. I think it was two ppl but I don’t remember. Was too ashamed to say anything.”

“1st rape at 23 blue dress, Betsy Johnson pumps. He held me down and sodimized me. 2nd time my ex wouldn’t take no and forced it in.”

“was 4 when it happened…It’s the only thing I remember of my childhood…Nightmares still come back…I’m 23 now…It was my father. He hates me.”

“I was ten, and in the shower at camp. No clothing on. Camp counselor.”

“my then gf, now wife, was 21. Out w/ her HS friends while I was at work. Jeans & modest top. Woke up after passing out to find her former friend on top of her, having pulled off her pants while she was passed out. You can quote.”

“I had on a salmon colored skirt & top. My grandmother told me that color looked good on me when I left the house. For my date.”

“frilly white dress, white lace tights. he insisted on “helping” me take off said tights; we were at a beach {me: 7, him: 30s-ish}”

“When I was 22, I was brutally raped and beaten by two men. In the hospital for 2 weeks. Jeans, a sweatshirt, and flip flops.”

“Age 18, first ‘real’ job. Business suit/jacket/blouse. Boss. I got away,hit him with chair,complained.He got promoted. OK to RT”

“Molested @ 11 by my ex stepdad. Told my mom. She called me a liar. Never told my dad. Gained 50lbs in mos. to cover the shame.”

“2nd and 3rd time, same dude, break in, same pajamas.. Told me he was falling in love with me as he raped me.”

“Raped by ex-gf @ 17 wearing sweats. Wanted to “make me hate her” (her words) so easier 4 her 2 move on after cheating. Ok to RT”

“On the hood of my car in plain view of my 5 year old sister. She saw everything and is terrified of anyone named ____.”

“4th time was this past September. I’m 24. I had on a church dress and some flip flops. It was outside his apartment complex.”

“I was raped. That’s why I left the Army. Never told anyone publicly (only a select few know about it).”

“I was first attacked at 2 yrs old in my nursery by my mom’s brother. He was trying to force himself into me! I locked my hips.”

“1st time: sundress. 2nd time: tshirt and sweats.”

“Forced himself on me. Removed my panties and I wasn’t aroused and I said no. He didn’t care. Removed my panties…spat on me…and did it.”

“Multiple times when I was little. Probably wearing a nightgown or pjs. & again in high school wearing a graduation dress. RT”

“5 yrs, pink nightgown w/a bow on the neck. My dad had his drunk friends over. I’d made my 3yo sis sleep under the bed that night..”

“office work clothes. collared shirt, cardigan, pencil skirt with tights, flats. you can RT.”

“24. t-shirt & panties. at knifepoint in my own home. I said “no” & almost didn’t live to see today. (ok to RT)”

“On one occasion: Oversize everything. Another: Jeans, shirt. (s’ok to RT)”

“oh yeah and age 2 kinda blurry but rugrats shirt and short set pink sneakers a friend of my mom he had a fish and it was pic day”

“6-10, t-shirt, shorts, pajamas, jeans, dress, didn’t matter. 15 jeans & a t-shirt, 19 sweatpants & t-shirt, 35 a dress. RT at will”

“A navy blue maxi dress from WALMART. I was getting ready for school…To teach. I was 31. 6 am. (Ok to RT.)”

“leggings and a baggy t shirt (ok to rt)”

“I was wearing a tank top, jeans & flip flops. Now I wear loose clothing & a hat when I’m out alone. I don’t want any attention to my body”

“I was wearing jeans and a button up shirt. It’s ok to RT.”

“age 13, pajamas. Age 16, jean skirt and short sleeved shirt. Age 30, ex s/o @ home. Ok to RT.”

1st time, nightgown. I was 5. 2nd&3rd time, jeans and a tee or tank top. 4th time, nothing. It was by my (then) gf, we were in bed. Ages 5, 13, 16, and 22.”

“An old baseball team t-shirt from goodwill and some black pants from NY&CO; my pajamas; a mickey mouse t shirt and jeans. And yes that was 3 separate occasions”

“school uniform….my sorority t-shirt and jeans… A black party dress (can retweet).”

“my school clothes. a jacket, screen print shirt, jeans, and snow boots. Okay to RT”

“I was 12, it was 4 guys. I had on an army green coat and acid washed skinny jeans w/zippers & bows at the ankle. You can RT”

There were so many more stories, but it’s draining.

If you would like to share with us what you were wearing publicly or privately let me know. You are not alone.



Bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh

This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called woman…

I love a feminist man because his love for me is pure. He loves my womanhood,  celebrates my humanity and embraces my imperfections.  He places my entire self at his level, and our equality is not to be compromised.  He believes that we were both created in the same beautiful image–from his rib I was birthed because without me his existence was far from complete. My feminist man lets me choose the role I want to play not because he’s a punk, and bends to my every command, but because part of our equality includes freedom and freewill endowed to us by our creator. The role I choose so happens to be one that allows me to cater to, create with and provide for. It also allows for him to be in the kitchen with me because it’s a task without support I can’t seem to enjoy. My feminist man doesn’t tell me what I should do or not do because I am a woman, and for that I am thankful.

My feminist man’s love for social justice is matched with my passion. We speak against the bigots, the sexist, the abusers and the wrongdoers with the same tone–fierce, with love, sans condemnation and with truth. He argues against why my sisters should be slut shamed, why my black sisters should be equally worthy as my other sisters, and why we should all #fuckthepatriarchy. When my sisters are sexually abused he doesn’t look to what they were doing, how they did it or what could have been avoided. He looks to the perpetrator, and demands justice. He doesn’t get brownie points for being a feminist because it’s not something he does for show. He does it because he believes it’s his way of life. In fact he doesn’t label it feminism because equality doesn’t need any other name.

Together we fight against misogyny and misandry that pollutes our community. We believe the hate and animosity keeps us from achieving the most important tasks of loving our neighbors, breaking through barriers that keep women at the bottom and confines us in boxes to be opened for sexual purposes. We fight against these things because a united front is necessary to get what we believe is deserved all in the name of equality.

My feminist man and I make plans to have a future. We plan on having Sean Bell’s, DJ Henry’s, Trayvon Martin’s, Rekia Boyd’s, Renisha McBride’s and Jordan Davis’. Black boys and girls who lives matter. We plan on raising them to ask for help without the fear if being shot in the back,  playing loud music that helps them get into the groove, and wearing hoodies that keeps them comfortable. We plan on teaching them to give the utmost respect to all of humanity regardless of the differences that exist. We don’t plan on raising martyrs, but fighters, survivors and truth sayers that will change the world.

I love a feminist man because the worth that I carry is not only contained in my vagina, but in my mind, soul and spirit.  All these things indeed make the most passionate/explosive night, but also a passionate speech, a Voir Dire and a winning POTUS campaign (lol). I love a feminist man because he is an educator, humanity lover, community warrior and family builder. I love a feminist man because it’s my choice.

En tout cas,


Sloppy Mondays

Today was by far one of the hardest days of my work life. It was heavy, intense and maybe a little stressful. I’m not sure I’m even suppose to share it with you all because of hipaa, but I will. Part of my job these next few months is to recruit English speaking patients with cancer for a clinical trial. This trial is a little different because all of our patients participating will get assistance. We are testing to see whether or not a patient that receives navigation with or without legal training is the most beneficial.

What’s the big deal you ask? Well when I go in to speak to these patients they have just learned of their cancer diagnosis. They are in the midst of falling apart, and wondering if they will live to see next year. The surgeon has just told them whether the cancer has invasively and savagely spread throughout their being or it’s just a small part that will either lead to a single or double mastectomy. Either way of course the news is devastating. Here I am after the grim reaper has delivered her news providing resources for this woman who you just can’t help but sympathize with.

Yesterdays patient toyed with my emotions the most. This recently homeless woman from Liberia with children back home and in Texas. She has no one in her present corner, and her body riddled with other ailments. Here I come strolling in offering my hand and she asks me to be her best friend. I offer my hand, but she demands my heart. Something I try to limit sharing, but this woman needed me to be everything she did not have. I spent a good hour in there mothering her, comforting her, providing her incentives if she promised to just eat 3 meals a day. All she wanted from me was my love, and I had no choice but to lay it down for her. She explained how she struggled with the little amount of money she received on a monthly basis. She reiterated to me how God was so good to her, and at a weak point I’m thinking really boo? But that wasn’t mine to take away. I accepted and believed it because I knew the feeling of comfort my faith brings me daily.

The kicker was when I asked her how she was getting home. She used her last $1.50 to get here and was to embarrassed to ask. In the end she went home with  a little more than she needed, and that was good enough for her.

This woman CL drew out of me emotions I never knew I had. I rant about poor bedside manners and not having even the slightest bit of patience, but boy was I wrong. I also learned to love instantly because sometimes all you need is for someone to carry you through it. Now I probably will not have a chance to interact with her again, but I am sending her so much love, spirit, light and healing vibes. Can you spare a piece of yours and join me?

En tout cas,


Chapter 2013: Epilogue

Year 2013 has definitely been a year of challenges. Some of these challenges were indeed very welcoming, and some I would have rather not have gone through. Perhaps If I had a manual on how to deal with the obstacle course than I would have been a little bit more welcoming. Alas, I learned the hard way that manuals were not an option. There were things that I needed to figure out on my own, and majority of the time endure on my own. Some of these challenges included:

patiently waiting to hear if I got into law schools (I did)
making personal decisions that will in the long term affect my future in the long run–deciding to matriculate in 2014 instead of 2013 (I did)
moving on from past relationships to build healthy new a healthy new one(s) (I did—eventually)
learning the art of forgiveness (i did)
learning to be slow to anger (i did). Being slow to anger also made me turn inwards, and not really express how I really feel/felt. I need to find a different way to deal with the BS
being selfless (i did).I was always one to make huge sacrifices for others, but I’ve learned to do it without the sense of obligation, and do it deep down in my warm heart. 

There were so much more challenges that I did absolutely fail at, but the point it not to highlight my failures. I am leaving them behind as I close this last chapter of 2013. I don’t ever want to encounter them again, and I am grateful to have this book full of my mistakes, highs and lows, and successes to look at as I move forward. I don’t have any resolutions because I am flaky as F%#&K when it comes to resolving to do things in the beginning of the year. I have goals though, but those are set in stone. These goals define my future, and there is absolutely no flaking allowed. 

One of the main goal I have is to prosper. I want to be on my top if it’s the last thing I do. I want my momma to be proud of her sacrifices, I want my daddy to be smiling down on me wishing he could spoil me for being so damn fabulous, I want my family/friendships to be complete and healed through my prospering, I want my love to be whole through my prosperity—nothing more, and nothing less. I am being held accountable for my prospering because everything is at stake. 

Cheers to the end of the new year! I hope your year was 10,000 times better than mine. If it wasn’t I pray that something changes, and that you leave it all behind today. Start fresh, birth new ideas, find new friends, make love–never war, create a list, keep yourself busy, make goals, embrace  the difficulties, let yourself come out the dark hole, and love yourself! Find solace knowing that someone is sharing your journey, and can relate to your mess. I’m rooting for ya’ll–always

Peace out’



Giant Slayer

Have you ever had to face the daunting task of confronting your giant(s)? How long did it take before you stopped running from the inevitable? Did you mask it with happy thoughts or destructive behaviors? Did you cover it under a pile of rubbish? Did you just pretend that they did not exist? Did you fall into a dark place because the thought of facing the giant(s) was too frightening? Are you embarrassed about asking for help because you feel others will undermine how big your giant really is? We’ve all been there. We’ve all encountered some situation where we felt overpowered. Your mind becomes completely clouded, and you begin to lose all focus. You don’t know where to turn, what to do, and where to even begin piecing it together.  When things really start to hit the fan you may or may not begin to internalize it all, lash out at those that matter the most, demonstrate obsessive compulsive behaviors when trying to figure it out, or just hide in plain sight. Does this sound familiar? Do you feel a little warmth in your chest because you feel as though you are exposed? Welcome to the battle zone warrior.

I wish I had some sort of natural remedy to avoid these giants that we face. I wish I could tell you that fighting these giants is as easy as collecting 5 stones, and destroying the giant at the first attempt (See David and Goliath). I also wish I could tell you that all giants eventually disappear. I could tell you, however, that these giants turn into demons. These giants haunt you more than any scary movie watched in the dark, alone, and locked up in a basement could ever haunt you. These giants consume you, and scar you like 3rd degree burns. These giants make you crazy if you don’t face them.

How to face your giant:

Write down an action plan: writing down a detail plan on how to deal with this lingering issue will help. Make sure you don’t jump from A to Z without even considering everything in between. It’s important that you follow through with all the steps that you laid down for yourself. If you skip a step, and you falter you will blame yourself. When facing giants you don’t want to play the blame—what’s done is done.

Talk about it: Sometimes sharing your worries, your fears and your fuck ups with someone you can trust can help you sort out your thoughts. This person may be able to help you birth an idea on how to deal with your giant. If your giant is too personal to share talk to someone anyway (about something else).

Express your emotions: I use to be La Reign of suppressing my emotions, and blocking all sorts of feelings. It hurts more when you hide your tears. Just let it flow. When I had my moment of catharses it was really embarrassing at first, but the endorphins I released as a result was glorious. It feels good to make yourself feel good.

Defend yourself: If your giant is an accusing giant defend your honor. Don’t let this demon be greater than you are. You are in control of everything that flows out of your soul, and your giant does not own you. Unfortunately some a lot of giants are a direct result of our actions, but look past what you did and look towards how you can change it.

Research: If your giant is something that you can get rid of collect all your resources to do so. These resources are the stones you will use to knock the giant down piece by piece. Because they are big in size it may take some time to destroy, but be patient.  Be sure not to throw these stones inwards though. You don’t want to destroy yourself in the process. I can’t tell you destroying these won’t have consequences, but giants don’t belong in our lives. Strap yourself up with whatever armor you need to fight.

Unfortunately for some these giants will never go away. They are lasting results of unfortunate situations, but take some sort of comfort knowing that you are not alone. Though they won’t go away it’s important that you don’t sweep them under the rug. Teach yourself to accept them. Love yourself despite.

Do you have giants that you are facing? Have you begun to deal with your giants? How have you done this? Spill the tea!

EN tout cas,


Wearing Everything on my sleeve

There was this one Tuesday when I wanted to crawl back into my bed. I wanted to stick my middle finger to the whole wide world, and no one was going to stop me. I think I mustered enough strength to beat Mayweather in a ring full of barbwires to not say screw you to the first person that wished me good morning. I woke up so pissy you would think I slept on the wrong side of someone else’s bed upside down. Today had to be the day where I took all 4 of my nips to work because I wanted to be numb. Not sure why I woke up feeling like this, but I was ungrateful for every breath that I took that morning.

Fast-forward to 8:30, and I am strutting into work with my extra pouty lips, eyeliner and mascara to accentuate the attitude I planned on having the entire day. Being the softy (insert your eye roll here) that I am I just couldn’t do it. As soon as I got to work my whole ice queen thing melted. The first person I see is our old maintenance man. He stops me while mid-strut and tells me how he enjoys seeing me every morning. Immediately my creep radar comes up, but disappears as quickly as it came in. He continues to tell me how pleasant my spirit is, and how there is so much joy in my soul. He instructed me to keep doing whatever it was that I was doing because it was radiating through my entire being, and giving him light. I graciously thanked him for noticing this about me, and told him what I usually say “I’m just tryna hug the world”.

As I walked away I felt awkward because what he saw was not what I felt that particular morning. I felt like I wanted to be in bed, and sleeping instead of sharing the love and light that I know I have to give. I didn’t need him to validate anything about me, but I needed to be exposed. I needed to truly understand that underneath all the vile venom that I was shooting out this morning there was something that someone needed that I had. I needed to keep my light untainted, unselfish, and uncompromised because my light is good and worthy to be shared.

I also became a little confused about my early morning feelings. Was it really a feeling? Was it just a state of mind? Is my love really that strong? Does love overpower hate? How will someone know when I’m really upset if my love was so transparent? It made me really uncomfortable that everything that I am, and will ever be was just laid out there for the world to take a piece of. I want to share it, but what if someone takes it all? Do I need a signed agreement regarding the terms of my love?

Thankfully I ended the day on a much different note, but still so much to think about. I’ve come a long way from the person who was so hard to read, so hard to break down, and never showing emotion to the girl who loves so much it bleeds through her exterior.

En tout cas,



It was never my intent to post so inconsistently, but alas this is the end result. I’ve been so busy building our empire that things have taken back seats. I say no to everything and have neglected a few things. Don’t be alarmed– I don’t work in vein. I pray fervently that the fruits of my labor will soon be displayed in all it’s glory. In the meantime ignore the furrowed brows, my consistent no’s and my absent mind. My heart is in its right place, but our future not yet accounted for.

Excuse me while I just do work.

En tout cas,


Throwing out my life map

“But when they came to Harran, they settled there.”

    I’ve probably read this passage in Genesis where Tera is described to have settled in Harran a few times, but it never resonated with me. Harran wasn’t his destination, but Canaan was. For some reason or other he did not complete his destination and became stuck in a place where he 1. Probably had no business being 2. A place where his growth became stagnant.  He didn’t even try to finish his journey. I wonder if he had any what ifs.

      For the past couple of months I found myself in Tera’s position.  Life took me on a journey to a place where I did not belong. Throughout being in this place I became increasingly frustrated.  I did not choose this path, I did not steer off course and I did not look back. How did I end up being so lost when I had clear directions about where I was heading? Everything was mapped out before I hit go because like I’ve mentioned before failing is never an option.

       I found myself falling into old habits of being quick, rash and even a bit neurotic when trying to get back on what I thought was the right path. I stubbornly refused to concede and even change the road I wanted to travel to. Not once did I think, “why would you take the road that got you lost the first place.” I’ve also got a nasty little habit of not stopping till I get it right…even if that means beating a dead horse. We all know that beating a dead horse gets you no where.

       I finally reached a place where my back was against the wall, and I needed to go back to the drawing board. I was so upset, and feelings of bitterness and resentment overflowed. My heart was absent of the love and light that I’ve mastered and shared. I needed to start over, and I wasn’t happy about it. It didn’t even phase me that I would eventually get to my destination because the fact that I had to take another route blew my mind.

      I needed to let go all of that anger because I needed to think clearly to start over. I rolled my eyes and got to moving. Unlike Tera though my destination lies clear in front of me, and I haven’t ignored my call to the end of this road. I don’t know his reason for being stationery in an unknown place, but when I was there I was blinded and felt powerless. I couldn’t imagine not making moves to get to my promise land.
I don’t have any philosophic reasons on why you shouldn’t settle because that’s your business. If you’re okay with being stagnant and not reaching your  full potential–do you, boo. If the place you’ve stopped at is where you are predestined I would be leading you to failure, and that’s not my intention.  You also probably thought i was going to say something to the effect of going through storms are necessary in life or some bs with the same thought–nah.

Now that I’m on the right track I understand that there are some twists and turns when trying to get somewhere. I’m not okay with knowing that this may occur, but I’m welcoming them. Being angry held me back, and I don’t want that again.

     I’m so thankful that I’ve been given an opportunity to start over and a different map to follow.

Be light y’all

En tout cas,

To do list….

Fall deeply in love….again
Make an eggplant parmesan
Be a kick ass attorney
Make beautiful babies
Run for office (doesn’t have to be political)
Learn to ride a bike
Ride a horse
Continue to be dope 😉

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