Borrowed time, tampered prime, descenigrating lapse of systems.
Taser filled opportunist lumes over sensibility. Exact knowledge of rephrased wisdom. Confiscated mishaps of vengeance paralyzing the, what if. In the midst of flavor verses favor, I prepare a table. Intense undermining of preparation, I convict thee. To serve or not to serve, the facade of the misled. The challenges exceed exhaustive state of forward movement but I stay ready. Tempting thoughts of fragmented steps so you can get ready and when you do, you stay ready!

Life has a funny way of showing you
That everything your family told you growing up
Is mostly true
Our stubbornness
Our hesitation
Our lack of paying attention
Often has us wondering
Once we get older
That the words we once heard
Now echo
As they become clearer
“You can’t please everybody”
Even when I try
I often only end up hurting myself
As a people pleaser
You fail at balancing
The very moment you don’t say yes
You are painted as such a bad person
No is definitely a part of the dictionary
But when you are so used to not saying it
It crushes someone’s spirit
Yet it feels so good
I am free to say no and not feel guilty
Not feel ashamed
Not feel the need to explain
It took a long time to get here
I’m not looking back
I deserve to own my decisions
I choose to not live with regret
I have self respect
How can I please everyone without suffering?
Simple
I can’t
I choose me
And if you can’t understand that
You are not meant to be in my life
Sorry if this offends anyone
But I’m taking my power back
I choose me first
And pleasing everyone is no longer my concern!

I would often hear people follow up a story of generational curses, uncontrolled emotions, disturbing behavior, and unimaginable situations with, “hurt people, hurt people.” I often wondered is that where the story ends? Later in life that statement would sound to me like an excuse. Same as when you hear people say “You know how they are.”

Now at 41, both statements make me cringe as I realize they are just words put together to hinder whomever that hurt person is. I once was a hurt person, unintentionally becoming every bit of the hurt I was complaining about feeling. It was a slap in the face to see that some of the things that hurt me as a child, I had recycled into my own life.

As a child, I struggled in the area of emotions, often time crying when I couldn’t understand certain feelings within me. Appearing on the outside a little off with the constant change of emotions, I found myself displaying anger when I felt vulnerable, weak, or afraid. It had become my defense until I realized I had become a very impatient parent, lashing out at my children when they expressed their true emotions.

I had become the person who didn’t take the time to listen; who was too overwhelmed to care; too quick to shut down and off and too emotionally distant to be the mother my kids needed me to be.

In 2021 I had to face the little girl in me who had thrown temper tantrums when she was hurt; and had shut down when she couldn’t probably process her emotions. I never took the time to be understanding of others when needed. I saw the hurt in my kids’ eyes for the first time and felt what my hurt was doing to them and I knew then they deserved the best version of me, not the generational curses. It was at that moment that I decided that if hurt people could hurt people, HEALED people could HEAL people and I’ve been on the journey ever since.

Dear Friend,

When we hear the word “motto”, we tend to imagine one of two things: either a cliché phrase full of platitudes and empty of meaning, or a lofty ideal too far out of reach. While other people talked about their mottos, I resisted living by one for most of my life. Doing so seemed unoriginal and unrealistic until inspiration struck in the most unlikely place.

The closest thing I have to a motto is a quote by Maya Angelou. “What you’re supposed to do when you don’t like a thing is change it. If you can’t change it, change the way you think about it. Don’t complain.”

I saw that quote for the first time in eighth grade English class. The teacher had us read a section from one of Maya Angelou’s books, an oddly progressive choice for a school in the South in the early 2000s. I remember being fascinated by the story as my classmates took turns reading aloud, but it was that quote that really struck a chord with me. At the time, I was a disabled nerdy kid from a low income family, a prime target for bullies; all of which were completely valid reasons to complain. I never considered how complaining could be a bad thing until I read that quote, but although it made me think, it would be several years until its meaning fully resonated with me.

By late 2010, I’d lost my father and any hope of leading a normal life. I was a young adult suddenly tasked with supporting myself and my mother on a single disability check of about $900 each month. My mother, to put it bluntly, lost her mind when she lost her husband. She barely came out of her room. She didn’t want to eat or bathe, and she refused to do housework or interact with the outside world. The mother who’d always supported me was gone, too wrapped up in her own grief to notice mine.

I had no choice but to push my own emotions aside to provide for us. As hard as it was, I wouldn’t have minded it, had it not been for my mother’s incessant complaining. Every day, I woke up to her ranting about how much she hated her life, her family, the house, the neighbors, the government… you name it, she had something negative to say about it! I tried to ignore it and carry on the best I could, but it became impossible to function in the world when I was constantly reminded of its darkness and cruelty.

Her negativity was contagious. It got so bad that I was angry all the time, and I dreaded having to interact with anyone. One day when I was a captive audience for her ranting, I had an epiphany. As her negative emotions spilled onto me, I thought, Is this how others feel when I complain? I remembered that quote from eighth grade English class, and it inspired me to make a change.

While I couldn’t change our situation or my mother’s reaction to it, I could change myself. I realized that wasn’t the type of person I wanted to be. I didn’t want to suck the joy out of others’ lives; I didn’t want to be the reason someone else fears the world. So I promised myself I’d never do what my mother did. Whatever horrible thing the world threw at me, I would face it on my own and not let it affect others. My problems shouldn’t have to be anyone else’s.

That is not to say my life has been all sunshine and rainbows since then. No, far from it! I have setbacks and down moments just like anyone else. Anyone who says they don’t have those moments is lying to you, and toxic positivity can be every bit as damaging as constant negativity.

As I grow older and hopefully wiser, my understanding of my motto quote grows too. I don’t think the message of “don’t complain” is about ignoring the negative moments in life; it’s about what you do with that negativity. It’s okay to feel down sometimes. It’s not okay to stay down forever, and it’s definitely not okay to drag others down with you.

The next time you hit a low point, I hope you’ll remember that quote and be inspired like I was. Whatever obstacles you face, I hope you find a way to move forward and create something good from it. Good luck and best wishes!

My worn hands feather away the curtain of fog, a forgotten smile hides behind the despair left within me after I was released from the hold of my abusive partner. Invisible scars cover my soul from years of turmoil. My body defeated with exhaustion takes one last step before collapsing into a field of fireflies. A sense of relief pervades my subconscious as I slip into a dream. My past of havoc vanishes into the shadows behind me, presenting a trail of glimmering hope ahead of me. The trail is lined with sparkles of suppressed dreams, frozen ambitions, lost relationships and security. The sky opens above me reflecting a shining glow of my concealed spirit.

Distant chatter awakens me as I see a hand reach down to raise me up. I am surrounded by those that watched my uninhibited spirit confiscated by the mercy of my abuser’s control. A smile unearths from the depth of my heart. I am lifted up as sparkles drop off of my new spirit into the shadow of my past molded into the ground beneath my feet. Wherever I may go, my weightless footprints filled with sparkle and shine replaces the despaired memories fading into my past.

“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people just exist, that is all.” – Oscar Wilde
To exist, to have an objective reality, I can just stand and wait.
But to live, what does it truly mean? Spending my days waiting for the time to pass, for the clock tick to be the voice that rules over my head? Most of my life was a waiting game to get older and be able to live, but am I living if I spend my days waiting? What am I worried about other than my time is being wasted?
I decided to start living, truly living. I moved across the country to pursue a dream. Where this dream will take me is only but a risk, a risk so big is it even worth living through? Well, I guess that’s the point, isn’t it? If taking that risk is my way of living then I’d struggle every day rather than existing in a state of comfort. I always thought that living was scary, but that’s the beauty. Taking a risk, doing something out of a daily routine just because it may make you or someone else happy. The clock tick in our heads are at different paces, we may as well try to live. Embracing ourselves and others, loving ourselves and others, truly being ourselves, and allowing others to be themselves.
That’s living.

There are so many good quotes out there, but instead of picking just one, I’m fond of two mottos since they kind of go hand-in-hand:

“Never a dull moment!” and “Boredom is never allowed!”

I would like to take credit for either one but that is not possible. I can’t even remember where I first heard them…. I know I heard them as a teenager. Before anyone picks on me with these two by saying “Well that’s cheesy,” give me a few minutes to hear me out:

We can ALL remember more than one time as a child when we whined, “I’m bored!” Boredom is defined as being uninterested in what you’re doing. It’s not just having that phase as a kid or a teen. It follows us into adulthood. Sometimes, it can become a sad sight as it forms into a bad habit. Even if we were to spend all our free time on social media, we would still find ourselves bored or empty. I feel like boredom steals away the few minutes of being alive, being excited, being creative, being helpful, and enjoying the small hobbies that you can’t stop thinking about doing.

So, what to do with boredom? I remember someone recommended serving and helping others. It can be chores for the tired parent. It can be yard work for the old lady up the street. It can be babysitting the kids for the single mom. It can be tutoring for students struggling behind. It can be doing charity work, shelters, or fundraising. Also, that same person said, “If you’re bored, you’re selfish.” It’s kind of a joke, but also quite true. Whether helping someone or getting back into the hobby you missed so much, there is no room for boredom. It’s even become a home rule in my life.

Maybe we’ve even been to the one place we said was dull, the meeting is dull, or the exact moment is dull. Dull is lacking excitement or lack of interest—-goes well with boredom. Dull is plain, gloomy gray. Sometimes it becomes the word in the mind that tells us, “This sucks.” Let me ask you: does it have to be dull?

Not everything in life has to be dull. For example, there were some quiet days when at work. Not many customers. All shelves have been dusted. The numbers have been counted. Everything is checked, double-checked, and triple-checked. So how do I pass the time? When having a standing job, I danced to the music. I didn’t care if I was being watched, it actually entertained other coworkers watching me dance till they found themselves dancing too. It wasn’t like full-blown crazy party time. I just wouldn’t allow dullness to kick in. It was an opportunity to enjoy the moment.

Finding the doors of the sweet things of life, and shutting the doors of boredom and dullness, will bring pure joy if you allow it. It can be found in your job. It can be found in your free time, at home, with your family and friends, anywhere. You don’t have to wait for the opportunity, make and be the opportunity. I don’t consider myself smart. But I do know that life is short, and a lot of wasted time is being flushed away. We need to make room for problem-solving. Take time to enjoy time with others. Carry the torch in helping the communities. Find and do the small steps. It will lead to big steps, making a difference in our lives, and in others.

Tupac said long live the rose that grew from concrete when no one else even cared
I am a concrete rose
My seed was planted in darkness and I was lost
Every root digging deeper down not knowing this was building a strong foundation
A little sliver of sunlight through a tiny window
A little sprout out the crack of cement
What’s out here? There’s so much room
Maybe I’ll just stay down here
But I couldn’t help but to think
What’s out there?
What can I turn into?
My mind was set
I decided to bloom
Yeah sunlight is cool but who says sunlight must come from the sun?
I am my own sun and my light comes from within
Yeah it’d be cool to have someone water me but people walk in and out this room
Guess what?
Theres no watering being done
Nobody cares
So now I choose to water myself
Woah look at me
I’m growing so beautifully
Strong roots, healthy leaves, vibrant roses
My roots lift me up and move me somewhere new
I am now a rose bush
I survived and outgrew that very dark room
I am free

Everything happens for a reason. I use this statement alot. I think in the moment of certain situations, events, memories. Past, present, and future. We think that things will never get better, feeling all sorts of emotions whether that be sad, angry , or frustrated. And why did this have to happen to me or that wasn’t fair or I don’t deserve this but what we don’t know the impact it will have months from now, and years from now. It is all planning a course you don’t know. All that teaches you a lesson or to make you be able to handle something harder than you know of. So you don’t make the same mistakes again. Gives you a whole new insight. And you will realize that it was meant to happen to be able to fight through to get to the other side. You can’t go back to the past but you can look at it and figure out how to change it. It won’t be easy and you may have old habits to break but its all about retraining your mind to be all that you want it to be and more

Kid, you’ll move mountains! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting. So get on your way!

– Dr. Suess

I spent so much of my life comparing myself to others.
Talking myself out of things that I’ve craved to uncover.

I struggled to believe in myself, despite my best efforts.
I couldn’t think straight while being under so much pressure.

I settled for being comfortable, avoiding the unknown.
It wasn’t easy for me to step outside my comfort zone.

I lost myself for a while trying to love someone else.
Unconditional love is forever, but conditional love melts.

I made the ultimate sacrifice and left everything behind.
It was time for me to reclaim the life that was always mine.

Starting over can be frustrating, but there’s beauty in the madness.
My true purpose shined through in a time filled with sadness.

The attitude of gratitude kept me going through the pain.
Sometimes you have to lose, that’s just part of the gain.

A little progress each day adds up to big results.
You win by being humble, not acting on impulse.

It took me a while to finally believe, that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

After the pain I learned to value my worth.
I’m no longer in last place, I place myself first.

If I can move mountains, so can you.
Dreams are reality disguised as a source of truth.

I’m conquering my mountains one day at a time.
I’m on the road to success, it’s my time to shine.

I breathe in anxiety.
I breathe out peace.
I hide from society.
I have no release.
My feet halts in its tracks
Because confidence I lack.
My belief system is faulty,
I don’t belong in this party.
I open my voice to speak,
But suddenly my words become meek.
They lodge in my throat;
This pain that I tote;
My voice is gone
And I can’t go on.
My non-belief inflicts pain,
And my anxiety drives me insane.
I breathe in doubt.
I breathe out peace.
I scream and shout.
I have no release.
Succeeding is my desire
Writing is my fire.
Though sometimes I get stuck
Because I feel like no one gives a f**k.
It’s hard to believe in me,
When nonchalance is all I see.
“Why you wanna do that?”
They say as we chat.
No uplifting words for me;
Then wants my money for free.
Their words is invading,
Scared my goals will begin fading.
I am held hostage in my mind
And it’s all because of my family line.
So on bended knee I pray,
To believe in myself today.
As I weep and I sit
A voice says Just Do It.

10-1-2024

Dear Dad,

Did you know what you instilled into me when you taught me to “keep on, keeping on,” as Bob Dylan crooned so many years ago? Sure, he sang of a woman he couldn’t free from his mind, but you taught me I need to free myself from my own mind. Took me decades to realize what weight those words held for me, how it pushed me through tough times, how it caused me to question each comfort I found in some new demise, and that I can – but must not – give up.

The first time you quoted this quip to me, I don’t even recall what fall I took. Must have been something light, merely a flesh wound (as another quote chides). Perhaps I
scraped my knee or fell off my bicycle. Whatever it was, it caused tears to roll down my cheeks as I processed the shock of physical pain. No whining though, just tough tears that I brushed off like a champ ready for the next bruise or abrasion, as I told myself to “keep on, keeping on.”

Next time, as I recall, was a bit closer to the heart. A so-called friend turned the other way when she found a prettier face or personality. No longer was my playmate knocking on my door or calling the house. I was yester-year, a has-been, a thing better left in the past. My ego took a big hit, but Dad, you lifted my head and bid me to keep it high, to look ahead and not behind and to “keep on, keeping on.”

As my mind and body grew, so did the darkness deep inside. I did not know if this aching was how everyone lived their lives or if I was alone in my depression. Too young to fairly compare, but too old to not notice the smiles and laughter that mocked the feelings I held hidden. Even you, Dad… I did not know if you knew what I had become… this black ball of misery and confusion just trying to “keep on, keeping on.”

Over the following years, which creaked by like rusting gears, I realized, Dad, that you too struggled to keep on. You’d come home late at night from work, with a grimace that sometimes scared me. You had your own darkness to work through. I wish I could have helped, but I was still so small and powerless, and drowning too. But I still remembered what you taught me – you must just “keep on, keeping on.”

When I finally reached adulthood I thought my new freedoms, that were denied to children, would open up my world and free my burdened soul. I fled the nest and forgot the past – even you, Dad, I had put behind me. But no light leaked through the hardened barrier I had built around myself over those tender years. Like the ants that creeped into my room, people crawled in and out of my life without much notice, rarely getting through my tough exterior. Meanwhile, as sour grades turned into expulsion, turned into low-paying jobs, turned into another existential crisis… I became deserted in my own hole of Hell. It was lonely without you, Dad, but I didn’t forget to “keep on, keeping on.”

Eventually though those words started losing meaning or got scrambled in my brain. I wanted to “keep on” but for what, I did not know, and each moment carried with it more questioning, suffering, and dread. It was as if I was drowning, trying to hold my breath in the midst of it all so as to not swallow in the deadly waters surrounding me. I found some things to help me hold my breath a little longer – drugs, sex, and cutting. You did not approve, did not understand, would not tolerate and so I pulled farther away from you. Then one day I found myself very close to death and you were there for me. You stopped judging me. You simply reminded me that I must “keep on, keeping on.”

That wouldn’t be my only brush with death and the third time I landed in the ER you had lost your patience. How could I explain that even though I held Bob Dylan’s words close to me, there was a part of me that had to self-destruct? It was as if a monster had sucked me into his very bowels and all my fighting was turning out to be worthless. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to “keep on,” it was more like I had lost the motivation and tools to do so. I was not just sick but broken beyond all repair… or so I thought at the time. Even though you couldn’t fathom my disease, you found for me a place where I could find wholeness. In a multitude of other languages, I relearned your old soliloquy to “keep on, keeping on.” I found old and new tools for fighting the monster that had taken me and slowly but surely reclaimed my will to live again. My healing and repair were not completed there, maybe it never will be, but I got to a place where I could breathe again. Since then, I have ventured further into the ocean depths of living, riding her waves with bits of calm to regain my courage. Sometimes it is barely enough, but those words to “keep on, keeping on” beat like a drum in the jungle synching along to the rhythm of my own heart. No matter the obstacles in my way or the enemies beating me down, I believe I will stay on the path of living and never fall backwards again.

Love,

Your First-Born Daughter,

Kara

There is a quote that stood solid in my sight one time after looking up quotes and writing them in my notebook when I still lived with my mom. Mahatma Gandhi is the author of the quote: “My life is my message.” I was staring at it for a while as if I needed these words engraved in my memory and they were engraved forever in my mind & soul.

Since I am the one who lived it, I would tell people my story growing up, which I saw as normal. I remember when I told my son’s grandma about my past to what I thought was normal and she stood up & shook her head because she couldn’t understand it. I told her it was fine because I was here with my head held high and able to tell my story.

I was never ashamed of the things that took place or the people in my story because I understood it was all part of my journey. I can look at the bird’s-eye point of view and always try to put myself in the other person’s shoes to understand why that action or reaction took place. Everyone has a story and sometimes we have to not judge the book by its cover and realize that there are chapters prior that we don’t know.

For example, when my dad took me from school without telling my mom about it, even though my mom had won full custody of me when I was a baby. My dad had done before and kept me away according to my mom. All this time I thought it was a vacation until last year or so. I remember telling my mom how I went from one person’s house to another and how fun that vacation was. Her response was, “Oh honey, that wasn’t a vacation. That was your dad keeping you from me. You were 5 years old, & he took you without telling me.”

My mom never once spoke ill of my father to me or in front of me. My dad on the phone said once that my mom was crazy. I told him then that means you say that I am crazy, dad because both of you created me and if she is crazy, then I am part crazy. He stayed quiet and retracted his statement.

With the years passing, I put myself in my dad’s shoes and understood why he did what he did. All he wanted was to keep me close and protect me because my sister, his first daughter, had passed at 15 in October 1989, which is also the same month that I was born.

When people ask me if I enjoy doing spooky things for Halloween or seeing a scary movie, my immediate response always is, “No, because life has been scary enough.” I know I have the God given gift of compassion and empathy to understand the person’s action & reaction. To put myself in the other person’s shoe and see them for who they are. To deliver the message of my life because it is my message. Just as your life is your message because it will inspire someone to give them hope of a deserved happy life.

I understand it is not about why is it happening to me but more of a what is this teaching me. I know God won’t put us in a situation that we cannot overcome.

I have overcome a few things that, without them, I wouldn’t be in the mindset that I am in. My miscarriage was my message to understand my dad’s actions a bit more. I have the power to do what I wished my dad had done & I am in charge of my story. I know that nothing worth having comes easy, but after all, I am worth it.