#love – In My Unapologetic Life…

Black Love, Boundaries, and Hope

This evening, I’m curled up on the couch with my blanket, soaking in episode after episode of Black Love, and let me tell you—it’s hitting me right in the soul. There’s something magical about watching couples share their stories with such rawness and vulnerability. The women on the show keep saying something that resonates deeply with me: They didn’t have to change themselves to be in the healthy relationships they’re in.

That message is like a breath of fresh air. I’ve spent so much time trying to figure out where love and boundaries intersect, and hearing these women affirm that they were fully embraced for who they are gives me hope. It reminds me why I’ve chosen to walk away from relationships where my boundaries were crossed. Leaving wasn’t easy, but watching these couples proves that honoring my needs is the right path to finding the love I deserve.

And then there are the men—whew, the way they talk about their journeys to love is nothing short of beautiful. They share the exact moments they knew they loved these women, how they set aside their egos, and how they learned to nurture their relationships. It’s inspiring to see men actively choosing to grow for the sake of love. It’s a kind of love story that doesn’t ask for perfection, just honesty and effort.

But can we talk about the way these couples look at each other? It’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist when their eyes lock. That kind of love—the kind that holds you, sees you, and celebrates you—is what I hope to find. Watching them gives me this quiet reassurance that my person is out there somewhere, too. I may not know when or where I’ll meet him, but it’s comforting to believe that when the time is right, our paths will cross.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Black Love and my own experiences, it’s that love rooted in authenticity is worth the wait. It’s not about settling or molding myself to fit someone’s expectations. It’s about staying true to who I am, setting boundaries, and trusting that the right person will embrace all of it—the good, the messy, and the beautiful.

So here I am, hopeful, read for not just any love, but the kind that feels like home. Until then, I’ll keep growing, keep thriving, and keep holding onto the belief that my story is still being written. Because if Black Love has taught me anything, it’s that the best love stories don’t require us to compromise who we are—they simply ask us to show up, wholeheartedly. 🫶🏾

‘Family’ Beyond Blood

Describe a family member.

Here are a few ways I define a family member. Please note, this may not be everyone’s actual reality:

A loving and supportive individual: They may be a parent, sibling, grandparent, aunt, uncle, or cousin who provides care, guidance, and encouragement. In today’s society, this individual may be someone not related by blood.
A source of cultural heritage: They may share stories, traditions, and values that connect you to your ancestry.
A role model: They may inspire you with their achievements, resilience, and positive impact on the community.
A confidant: They may be someone you can trust with your secrets, dreams, and fears.
A unique person: They have their own interests, hobbies, and personality traits, just like anyone else.

Family isn’t always defined by bloodlines. It’s the bond of love, respect, and unwavering support that truly defines a family member. This loving and supportive person, often referred to as an “chosen family,” can be anyone who steps into your life and fills the role of a parent, sibling, grandparent, or close friend. It could even be the wise neighbor who offers words of wisdom and a comforting ear. The trainer who pushes you to excel, both in and out of the gym. Or, it could be the mentor who guides your career path and inspires you to reach for the stars. These individuals, though not related by birth, become an integral part of our lives. They share our joys, sorrows, and dreams. They offer a shoulder to lean on, a helping hand, and a heart full of love. They are the ones who celebrate our successes and encourage us to persevere through challenges. In a world that can often feel isolating, these chosen family members remind us that we are never truly alone. They create a sense of belonging and provide a safe space where we can be ourselves, without judgment.

Cultural heritage can be shared in countless ways. It’s the stories, traditions, and values passed down through generations that connect us. These stories can be as simple as a recipe handed down from a grandparent, or as complex as a historical narrative that shapes our identity. Cultural heritage can also be expressed through music, art, and dance. These forms of expression often carry the weight of history and tradition, connecting us and inspiring future generations.

A role model is a beacon of light, guiding us towards our full potential. They inspire us with their achievements, resilience, and positive impact on the community. They are the ones who show us that with hard work, determination, and a bit of courage, we can overcome any obstacle. These role models are more than just family members; they are symbols of hope, resilience, and the power of human spirit. They remind us that we are capable of great things and that our actions can have a ripple effect on the world around us. By following their example, we can become the best versions of ourselves and leave a lasting legacy.

A confidant is a safe harbor in the stormy seas of life. They are the ones we can trust with our deepest secrets, our wildest dreams, and our darkest fears. They offer a listening ear, a comforting presence, and unwavering support. This is the best friend who knows us inside and out, who can finish our sentences and understand our unspoken thoughts. Or the mentor who challenges us to grow and pushes us beyond our comfort zones. It could even be the therapist who provides a neutral space for us to explore our emotions and work through our challenges. These confidants are the ones who truly see us, who accept us for who we are, and who love us unconditionally. They are the ones who help us to heal, to grow, and to become the best versions of ourselves. With their support, we can face any challenge and overcome any obstacle.

A unique person is a masterpiece, a one-of-a-kind creation with their own unique blend of interests, hobbies, and personality traits. They are the ones who color outside the lines, who think differently, and who dare to dream. These unique individuals enrich our lives in countless ways. They challenge us to think critically, to embrace our individuality, and to appreciate the beauty of diversity. By celebrating their quirks, passions, and talents, we create a more vibrant and inclusive world.

We each define and create our family.

The Foundation of Strong Relationships

We often jump straight into the exciting parts of a relationship: the sparks, the butterflies, the whirlwind romance. But like any well-constructed building, love requires a solid foundation. And that foundation is built with each layer essential for the overall structure.

At the base is honesty. It’s the cornerstone, the unwavering truth that holds everything together. Without honesty, trust is impossible.

Trust is the next layer. It’s the safety net that allows us to feel secure and vulnerable. With trust comes emotional security, the belief that we’re seen, heard, and valued. It’s the fertile ground where intimacy can grow.

Intimacy isn’t just physical. It’s the deep connection, the shared vulnerability, the knowing glances and unspoken words. It’s the foundation upon which sexual attraction can flourish.

And finally, there’s the physical connection, the spark that ignites the flame. But without the previous layers, it’s like building a house on sand. It might look impressive at first, but it won’t withstand the storms.

It’s a journey, definitely not a destination. Building a strong relationship takes time, equal effort, and a willingness to be open and honest. Remember, love is a verb. It’s an action, a choice, a commitment. It’s about nurturing the connection, day by day, brick by brick.

Steamy Short: The Unlearned Language of Love

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the storm brewing within me. Evan sat across the table, oblivious to the turmoil in my heart. His eyes held a faint glimmer of the warmth I used to see, a flicker of recognition when I’d compliment him, a fleeting smile when I surprised him with his favorite food. But mostly, there was a hollowness, a vast emptiness that no amount of affection on my part could seem to fill.

We met at a wedding, two broken souls drawn together by the therapeutic rhythm of reception music. He was a sculptor, his hands whispering stories into the formless earth. I was a writer, weaving narratives on paper. Yet, the story we wrote together was one of mismatched languages.

My love for him was a vibrant tapestry – a sunrise over a mountaintop, the laughter of children at play, the reassuring warmth of a crackling fire. It was loud, expressive, a constant symphony yearning for a response. His love, if it existed at all, was a faint whisper – a lone wolf howling into the night, a flickering candle flame in a drafty room.

Our days were filled with stolen moments of tenderness – a lingering touch on his shoulder, a slow dance in the kitchen to a forgotten melody. But these moments were islands in a vast ocean of silence. My attempts to draw him in were met with flinches and unspoken apologies. It was like trying to teach a bird to swim, watching it struggle against the current, fear clouding its trusting eyes.

Slowly, a heartbreaking truth dawned on me. You can’t love someone into loving themself. You can’t force them to understand a language they’ve never been taught to speak. My love, a nourishing sun, was withering on the vine, starved for the reciprocating rain of affection.

Letting go wasn’t a dramatic affair. There were no tears, no accusations. It was a quiet understanding that settled between us, a recognition of the inevitable. Over breakfast one morning, I simply said, “Maybe this isn’t working.” He looked up, a flicker of something akin to pain crossing his features, before nodding silently.

Even now, as I pack my bags, leaving a life once filled with hope, a part of me still aches for him. I yearn for the man I saw beneath the layers of hurt, the man who might have learned to love, someday, if only he’d had the chance.

But for now, our paths diverge. I carry the love I had for him, not as a bitter reminder, but as a testament to my own capacity for caring. He, I hope, will find his own melody, his own way to heal, his own language of love. And maybe, someday, our stories will find an echo in another life, a life where love flows freely, a song sung in perfect harmony.

The Rollercoaster of Emotions as my Oldest Child Embarks on the Teenage Journey

Parenting is an ever evolving journey, with different milestones marking each of my children’s growth. From their first steps to their first day of school, each milestone is filled with a mix of joy, pride, and apprehension. Yet, the moment my daughter became a teenager, it was as though a door swung open, revealing a new chapter in our lives. As a mother, I find myself on the cusp of mixed emotions as my firstborn transitions into this adolescent phase – a beautiful yet tumultuous time. Join me as I reflect upon this momentous milestone and share the emotional whirlwind that it brings.

Now that my daughter is entering her teenage years, I can’t help but feel a tinge of nostalgia. It feels like just yesterday when she was a curious toddler, eager to explore the world with wide eyes. This sense of longing for her earlier years is accompanied by bittersweet emotions, as I am fully aware that she is now taking her first steps towards adulthood. Time seems to flown by, leaving me eager to cherish those memories while simultaneously embracing the journey ahead.

I know “teenhood” is characterized by the desire for autonomy and independence. It is natural and part of the developmental process, but it also comes with its fair share of challenges. Witnessing my daughter’s yearning for freedom can be unsettling, as it often clashes with my protective instincts. Balancing her need for independence while providing guidance requires a delicate dance, where I must foster trust and open communication while setting appropriate boundaries.

This time is where emotions run deep and uncharted waters are often explored. As my daughter experiences newfound hormonal fluctuations and emotional intensity, I brace myself for more of the inevitable mood swings and temperamental moments that also appear with her introduction to “young Ladyhood”. One minute, she may be full of laughter and fun, and in the next, tears may stream down her face. It’s challenging but essential to be a steady rock during this turbulent time, offering empathy and reassurance while recognizing her evolving emotional landscape.

Teenagers are known to seek guidance not only from their parents but also from their peers. Watching my daughter’s social circle morph and observing the influence these interactions have on her choices and behaviors can be both exciting and concerning. Encouraging healthy social connections and fostering open conversations about positive peers has become crucial in shaping her journey on this new path.

It feels as though I’m entering the twilight zone, where I am navigating uncharted territory. The rules of engagement change, and a once straightforward approach to parenting no longer suffice. Patience, adaptability, and a willingness to learn alongside her has become paramount. Educating myself as a parent on the challenges faced by teenagers, from technology to mental health, will enable me to provide the support and guidance she needs during this time.

Watching my daughter evolve from a child to a teenager is a bittersweet journey that fills me with a whirlwind of emotions. Nostalgia, the dance of independence, emotional turbulence, and the influence of peers – all form parts of this transformative chapter. As a mother, I am determined to embrace the ever-changing dynamics and be a pillar of support, understanding, and love as my baby navigates the twists and turns of teenagehood. While the journey may be challenging at times, I am eager to witness her growth, resilience, and blossoming personality that I know she possesses.

Happy Birthday to the most beautiful, smart and creative 13 year old on this planet! I love you to the moon and back!

Surviving to Living

After a good meditation session early this morning I no longer have the desire to be “the strong one”. I have always been the strong person. I’ve always had to be the strong child, sibling, parent and friend. As of today I no longer desire to be that person because I realize that it is unhealthy.

At almost 40 years old, I’m now understanding that being “the strong one” is not a flex and it is tiring. I really think I’m truly tired now because I have realized that I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. I continually operate in fight or flight mode. I have been living in survival mode.

Most people don’t understand that “the strong one” carries a lot on the daily. A tremendous deal of trauma. The strength that everyone thinks is a gift, is merely a shield that is used to block people and situations from hurting us. This is definitely not something to be proud of and again in no shape or form healthy.

It is better known as a defense mechanism. If you only knew how badly I would love to just relax in a space where I am comfortable, sit down with no time constraints, and allow someone genuine to come into this space and love me unconditionally. And I’m not referring to a romantic relationship but also friends and family that WANT to occupy space with me. I want to be able to truly trust others. I want to be able to be more feminine and less masculine. Hell, I want to be able to understand and trust myself enough to know that I am allowing the right people into my space. But it is hard. I have been repeatedly hurt, used, abused, and have experienced so much trauma for so long that I didn’t know where to start.

Well my starting point is my blog post, right now, today. As of this moment I can no longer be ‘that person’ for anyone because I need to be that person for myself. I am constantly drained because I am always pouring into someone else, supporting someone else, reaching out and being there for someone else. But I don’t have enough people pouring into me. And I realize that it may not be because they don’t want to, but because they feel as though I don’t need it since I have managed to still be able to smile and exist after many losses, tests and trials in this lifetime.

I encourage anyone reading this to make a conscious effort to check on their “strong” friends, siblings, children, parents and other loved ones that are hyper independent. Reach out to those that you don’t think need you, because they are probably feeling just like me too.

Always remember, every person that comes into your life is only there for a limited time, so show up and be present. Sometimes later never comes and tomorrow is too late.

Happy Mother’s Day

Candy dish on the counter, music playing and the house is sparkling clean. She’s dressed with nowhere to go. Every Mother’s Day my Mom would say she didn’t want anything and didn’t want to go anywhere. But all year she didn’t know that I kept a running tab of things she saw on TV, things she saw in a store or on a sales flyer in her mailbox that she claimed she wanted, had to have or couldn’t live without. So gift giving was super easy. She always wanted something but didn’t need anything. This is so familiar lol.

Every Mother’s Day was at home. Never in a restaurant. Never a big party. Just us at home with music, some food, a few gifts and quality time. The food caused us to nap so it was truly an entire day spent with her.

So relaxed and chilled, I wonder if my Mother ever questioned how good of a Mother she thought she was. I wonder if she measured how good of a Mother she was based on what we did for her or what we gifted her. There was never a year she didn’t get something. Even as a struggling young adult, if I couldn’t buy her something, I made her something. And I never left out my Brother. The gift was always from us if he didn’t personally get her anything.

This morning I watched the video of my last Mother’s Day with her. May 13, 2018 we were all with her at home. I said “all” as if our family is huge. My brother, his girlfriend (at the time), my kids and I filled the living room of my Mom’s apartment. She cooked that morning and put her food up. She knew I always came with food. But she always sent me and the kids home with food too so she would cook. Seafood was her favorite. So I always made sure to get it from one of her favorite restaurants hot and fresh. She would spend the day playing with the kids, talking to my brother and I about what was going on and drank her beer. She was the coolest Mother. Never asking for a lot of anything but some of your time. And I tried to give her all I had.

That’s what makes me most sad about Mothers Day. Not being able to spend that time with her all day to do absolutely nothing but just exist in the same space with her. To see her smile and laugh with the kids. They brought out the absolute best in her. And then to watch her nap peacefully knowing she was safe, well taken care of and loved.

Mothers carry the world on their shoulders, life in their womb and the weight of the world as it affects their family on their backs. One day is not nearly enough to celebrate and acknowledge all that Mothers do on a daily basis or in a lifetime. And when you lose your Mother this day gains a whole new meaning.

I hope outside of gifts, cookouts and gatherings that each Mother FEELS loved, appreciated and cared for today. And for those who don’t have the privilege of spending today with their Mothers, I hope you are surrounded by love and people who understand.