I Want More

For years I had been around people who made me feel bad for wanting more out of certain areas of my life. In my former marriage I desired more than just the title of wife, I yearned to be seen, heard, and appreciated. I needed more than an occassional moment of acknowledgement because of a birthday or an anniversary. To me, it was possible to feel appreciated everyday, not a designated day. I needed to be celebrated for who I am, not for who somebody thought I should be. During that season of my life, no one around me understood that. Looking back I now understand why. Most of them were settling, existing, trying to make due with lives of mediocracy, and using scriptures to combat the disappointment they would never admit out loud, yet their eyes betrayed them and uncovered their secrets. The moment I opened up my heart and tried to convey the longings I had for a deeper connection in my former relationship, I’d hear things like “at least he’s not putting his hands on you” or “he’s got a job and he’s contributing to the bills” and my absolute favorite line -“it could be worse” (compared to what other women have to endure). Hearing those words made me feel like I was complaining about nothing and that I was being ungrateful. Afterall, I could have chosen to focus on something else. So I began to shrink within myself. I kept my head down and tried not to stir the waters anymore by talking about my feelings.

The longing for more came to me at a former workplace where the work environment was extremely toxic but I was blessed enough to meet some amazing people while I was there. Although it crushed my spirit to show up there everyday, little did I know that while I was there I would be acquiring the skills needed to step into the next chapter of my life. I wanted more from a place of employment than what I was receiving at the time. But as the old saying goes, “nothing happens before the time” so no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t close that chapter of my life until it was the absolute right time. I don’t believe in coincidences, chance encounters, or luck. However, I wholeheartedly believed then and still believe to this day that God is ordering my steps. Despite the bouts of discouragement I’d have to fight through, my motivation for showing up everyday at that job was the fact that my bills needed to be paid. My children needed to have food in their bellies, clothes on their backs, a roof over their heads, and basically all of their needs had to be met. When I was married my motivation to remain in a toxic relationship was that I wanted my family to stay in tack, and I didn’t want to be seen as another statistic. Eventually I realized that it takes two mature selfless individuals to make a relationship work. It didn’t matter what I did, it was a lost cause and holiding on was just killing me on the inside, chipping at my joy every single day. I remember looking at myself in the mirror and not recognizing the woman looking back at me. In this woman’s eyes there was a lot of sadness, a deep sorrow that couldn’t be prayed away either. I wanted more. I needed more and despite what I was going through at the time I believed that there was more for me in life. I just had no idea what felt like a prison sentence would end. There had to light at this very dark tunnel.

Fast forward a couple of years and I realize that my desire for more has served as an indicator that where I was at that particular moment of my life wasn’t where I wanted to be any longer. Back then it was like I was trying to squeeze into a size 3 shoe knowing without any doubt that I wear a 6 and a half. The discomfort was proof that I literally outgrown my current situation. I couldn’t and wouldn’t normalize toxicity and that made me open to stepping out on fatih to find my way out of that situationship and stagnant career path.

Is wanting more a bad thing? Does it make you ungrateful, self-centered? I don’t think so. Everytime that longing begins to pop up in my life, I find myself getting propelled into an entirely new chapter of my life. This excites me and scares me at the same time because all of these “what if” thoughts keep floating around in my mind. The older I get, the more I welcome and appreciate the fear. Lately, my motto has been to do it afraid, and to use the fear as fuel. I encourage anyone who has a longing, a desire for more out of life to begin to look inwardly. Examine every aspect of your life and determine if where you currently are is where you want to be.

#IWantMore #MyDreamsMatter

Like Father, Like Daughter

To all the good fathers out there, I would like to take a moment to wish you all a Happy Father’s Day. It is your day. I honor, celebrate, and appreciate every single one of you. Society has a way of making it seem like fathers don’t matter, but the truth is they DO matter. Shout it from the mountain tops, to the valleys low - fathers are important in the lives of their children. Fathers today deserve much more credit than what they actually receive. I feel that I am extremely blessed to have my father in my life but this hasn’t always been the case. For as long as I’ve known myself I’ve been a daddy’s girl. In my eyes, my father could do no wrong. He wasn’t perfect and I was okay with that because I wasn’t looking for him to be perfect. All I wanted was for him to be there for me, to love me unconditionally, and to be proud of me. The need for those three things would impact my life significantly as I grew up.

By the time I turned twenty, I was married and had a beautiful baby girl. I was married to my then husband for months before I was able to tell my father, even though I was old enough to get married. I wasn’t sure how he was going to take the news. Back in those days, my father was the law. What he said went, and there was no need for conversation because I was the child and he was the parent and that was that. There was no need to hear my voice. What could I have said that he would have actually heard? My relationship with my father was non-existent for years after revealing my marriage and I wasn’t in communication with any of my family members. Unfortunately, he had to hear about the birth of his first grandchild from someone else. I will always regret that.

Fast forward a couple of years and I’m going through a heart shattering divorce with three kids who needed me not to fall apart. There were so many times that I wanted to reach out to my dad, but I couldn’t because I was ashamed and felt like a complete failure. Eventually, I mustered enough courage to reach out to him and I was surprised that he actually spoke to me after all that I had put him through. My girls compelled me to reach out to him because I believed in my heart of hearts that my girls needed to know their grandfather. I needed to look him in the eyes and see the love he once had for me. I wasn’t expecting to receive his forgiveness because at that time I didn’t believe I deserved it. After all, I was the defiant black sheep daughter who broke his heart and shattered all the dreams he had for me.

The other day I had a revelation that hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m more like my dad in more ways than I would like to admit. I’ve been in denial for years. I got my stubbornness from him, and temper too. But of course I’d never tell him these things.

No matter how many times I’ve heard it, the old saying is true “time heals all wounds”. My father absolutely adores his grandchildren and our relationship by the grace of God is on good terms. My girls love their grandfather and I have to set the record straight by reminding them that he is my dad first and after that he’s their grandfather. Basically, I’m first in line to monopolize his time. LOL. Of course they disagree with that but the truth is the truth, there’s just no going around it. My relationship with my father is a symbol of hope for me. Hope that things can change in a relationship if you’re willing to put in the work and extend forgiveness. Dad, I love you and I look forward to making more memories with you. Maybe you’ll get to walk your daughter down the aisle one day. Mere words could never express just how much that would mean to me.

Heavy Heart, Boggled Mind

During this time of civil unrest it is easy to feel overwhelmed with all that we’re seeing and hearing. As if COVID-19 wasn’t enough to deal with, over the last couple of weeks we’ve also been bombarded with images of people protesting in response to the brutal killing of George Floyd. Initially, I had convinced myself that I wasn’t going to watch any of the videos that were circulating depicting Mr. Floyd’s death because I have already seen countless videos of white cops using brutal force on black people. I had seen enough. I had read enough articles, and seen countless movies. However, I don’t care how many times you’ve seen these images, if you have a soul and an ounce of decency about yourself, you WILL be affected. There is no way to just turn off the hurt that your heart feels watching a man murdered over foolishness, yet again. Blinking back the tears doesn’t erase the fact that the tears came about as a result of the injustice you’ve just witnessed.

Hatred is a scary thing. It’s not something that we can identify just by looking at someone. Now don’t get me wrong, there are people who will make you feel uneasy when you’re around them because there’s something questionable about the energy they give off. More often than not, you can’t put to words what it is about the person that makes you feel uneasy , but you NEVER forget that feeling. Every single time you’re around that person- “wham” that weird feeling springs back up in the pit of your belly and your guard is up. At least that’s how I feel. When my girls were younger we spent countless hours at the park. Without any hesitation, they would play with any of the kids present regardless of their skin color. That was never a factor to determine friendship since all they saw were other children to play with. Which automatically equated to more fun; good times on the swings (which I absolutely adore) and the slides. Seeing the innocence of children at play reminds me that we weren’t born with hatred in our hearts, but its taught and ignorance keeps it alive.

Recently I’ve had to have some difficult conversations with my girls about race, racism, tolerance, and self love. There’s no way I could act like they’re not affected by what they’re seeing and hearing. I wish I could shield them from the ugliness that presents itself in the world, but I can’t. After all they are young black females in America, who love the black men in their lives. Knowing this breaks my heart because I know how much they love all of them. I have to struggle with feelings of uneasiness wondering if they will have to experience racism in their lifetimes and how they’ll handle their first encounter. Looking into their eyes and having to explain that there are people out there who will hate them because of the color of their skin is heart wrenching.

“One nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.” This is a line from The Pledge of Allegiance. I don’t know how many times I’ve recited that pledge as a young child in elementary school but not having an understanding what I was reciting. Now that I’m am adult I have so many questions and concerns about the current plight of a country I’m currently in a one sided relationship with.