The Reason Behind My Voice

As 2022 ends, I greet it with nothing but sheer gratitude. This year was not without its challenges, but there was also the moments of joy.                                                                       Photo captured in September 2022 I am grateful for the good, the bad and everything in between. I am also grateful for this space where I get to show up as my authentic self and where my writing doesn't have to be perfect.  There are a few things I will remember most about 2022 - Surviving Covid-19. My family and friends surviving Covid-19. Fighting acne.  Loving and losing.  Finding a skincare routine that works.  Learning to let go of what wasn't mine.  Shedding dead weight. I took my meditation practice seriously.  I took my healing seriously...

                                                                      Photo by  Simon Berger  on  Unsplash One lesson I have been avoiding is how temporary everything can be. I thought that the longer I evaded this lesson, is the longer it would not apply to me.  Unfortunately, that impermanence also extends to our bonds and relationships. My good friend Novie says, "We do not own people." And that is very true. We do not own their human experiences nor do we get to dictate how long people stay in our lives . They can walk away when the need arises. We are allowed to go our separate ways. We often want to stay longer than we should and want to fight for love and relationships, when these things should come easy. We often give in to the urge to stay even when th...

                                                  I Am Not Alone.                                                                                  Photo by Saffu on Unsplash If we are anything alike, then you most likely value solitude. And there is nothing wrong with that. However, there are lessons that we need to learn alone and those we need to learn through community.  Photo by Hans Vivek on Unsplash I am finally brave enough to embrace a lesson that the Universe has been trying to teach me for some time now. Whenever I go through hard times, my first instinct is to isolate myself. I hav...

Photo credit: Cash Macanaya on Unsplash Do you write people off or do you take them as they? While on my much-needed hiatus, I was able to do some introspection about life, people, and the spaces I occupy presently.  Photo by Dom Aguiar on Unsplash Earlier this year, I experienced a great betrayal (at one point or another, most of us have experienced this or will - it is part of life). I won't go into much detail, but it was from someone I held very dear and in high esteem. In the end, I realized that not everyone sees you as you see them.  People are complex - not complicated but dynamic.  Photo by Jeffery Erhunse on Unsplash If we are honest, we will admit that the people in our lives hold different roles for different folks. Someone we may deem as a hero in our story may very well be a villain in someone else's. I am sure that you have played a villainous role in someone's life. And that is perfectly fine because people are complex - multifaceted.   Take a ...

 Rest  Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash I recently rang a relative to wish her happy birthday and asked her what she planned to do for the day. She candidly replied, "Work. We are a hard-working family, remember?"  She was telling the truth. I grew up watching my family till the soil with their bare hands, after all "by the sweat our brow" we had to eat. There is nothing wrong with working hard to provide for yourself and others but at what cost? I decided a long time ago that would not be my narrative.  Balance  Photo by Karsten Winegeart on Unsplash  I know what it means to work yourself to the ground. I know what it means to grind and hustle. I know what it means to get caught up in the horrors and toxicity of capitalism. I had to watch my mother do it and, for a while, I inherited that culture.  But there is nothing wrong with laying it down and walking away to redefine productivity.  I know what it means to work myself to exhaustion but, I...

Photo by eberhard 🖐 grossgasteiger on Unsplas h It took me a while but I am finally woman enough to admit it. I used to be afraid of being happy. I was afraid of experiencing joy.  It might seem silly, I know. But cherophobia is more common than we care to admit.  I think much of my fear stemmed from the false narratives I was fed as a child. "After laughing is crying" I would often hear. Whether it was on the basketball court, at school, or home. It did not take long for me to associate joy and sadness. I came to view happiness as a preamble to mourning. Photo by eberhard 🖐 grossgasteiger on Unsplash After hours of playing basketball or swimming in the river without my mother's permission, I would come home to a waiting belt. No matter how much I enjoyed myself that joy was overshadowed by the punishment.  I had my first and only birthday party at 12 years old. I enjoyed it. But soon after that, I lost most of my friends who came to the party. Part of me wished my mo...

                                                                    Photo by Hans Isaacson on Unsplash I recently listened to the Talisman album by Colton T and it has been on repeat since then.  In all honesty, the compilation has given me fuel to continue creating but it also helped me realize how difficult it is to create when we have been fed false narratives. "It is my story. I will write it." Too many people wanted to write my story for me. Too many hands attempted to spin my narrative. It was and still is my life and I had to be brave enough to live it on my own terms.  Too many times we allow others to project their fears onto us. Too many times we drink the potions we are offered and take it as gospel.  They will try to tell us how our dreams are too big and ...

Annie Spratt on Unsplash I once wrote a poem about succulents. But the truth is I was writing about myself and my story. Indeed, I had come a long way and progress looked good on me. (Poem can be found in my book Bonfire available on Amazon.com) As we celebrated the stories of many women and how they changed the narrative, I began thinking of my story. Many will try to convince you that they know me or know my story. But albeit, I beg to differ. The truth is no one knows my story like I know my story. And no one can tell my story like I can tell my story.  I never wanted to become a teacher; that was my mother's dream and pretty soon it became mine. I handled that dream like it was an heirloom or a rite of passage. Something handed down to me and by all means, it would enable me to lift the family name, rinse it from the mud and hold it towards the sun.  Teaching would be easy. Everyone would be proud. They would all be happy for me. These were my thoughts. This was not so an...