Tea.

Here’s some cozy chamomile to start off your day. I decided to come visit the great state of Louisiana just to blow off some steam. Well now I live here. I’m back at my alma mater to further my education. Though it didn’t feel like a concrete decision initially, it ended up being my fate. My vacation quickly became my reality. Except now, everything is on its last limb. I didn’t pack enough T-shirts for this staycation I’m on. That’s cool and everything because I have shelter from the storm, I’m back in school where I would prefer to be learning, and my anxiety is manageable. I. am. just. fine. Plenty of things would make my circumstances more ideal, but I can’t count the things that I don’t have. I have faith in abundance, family in bulk, and I’m still able to acquire organic feminine products. The road to milk and honey isn’t always smooth, nor is it sweet. It’s going to pay off though, because I’m following my own protocol and I’m walking by faith and not sight. All things ARE possible through Christ who strengthens me and if you know me, then you know that Romans 8:28 is worth abiding by. Though I have my own inequities, I will prevail.

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Flower Girl.

There’s nothing like receiving flowers from the person that you admire most.

The pigmented petals tower over stems as if they’re demanding of attention.

Kleenex on hand just in case the pretty pollen travels into my nasal airways this allergy season.

Not only are they stunning, they remind me of a simpler time.

I’m frozen for the moment.

Gazing off into the distance like I’ve sensed danger.

I remember the apron that my Grandmama wore when she was in the backyard. She had healing hands.

A Christian woman, the devout follower of Yeshua had a way of healing the soil. With packets of new growth tucked away in her apron pocket.

The fruit came and went as they were bountiful.

My Granny Bobby had gloves designed for a woman who tended to a flowerbed.

Raised flowerbeds in Rancho Cucamonga. Where just over the fence, people rode horses on the sidewalk.

Granny Bobby had books, and tools for every flower you could google.

I loved to come outside and watch her bury those little beans in the ground.

Sometimes, she would give me flowers to chew on. the stem was what we ate.

It was sour like a warhead but they were so satisfying to enjoy with my Granny.

I spent my free time thumbing through the pages of her hobby novels.

Remembering the times she would fuss if it even looked like I was going to lose her page.

Different seasons bring different growths.

This season is full of fertile soil.

This groundbreaking movement will give birth to a new novel of mine.

This chapter is closing, but the new garden will be just as tasteful, bountiful, and beautiful as the last.

If flowers come into this new soil, I will let them grow until new flowers bloom.

Or until the season says no more.

 

“For you I will…”

Dear Morgan,

I will move across the states for your uprising.

I will hold your hand when they get cold.

I will buy you a denim jacket from the men’s section of the Levis Outlet, just to keep you warm this winter. After all, it was on sale and baggy enough to layer.

I will put forth my best efforts to discourage doubtful thoughts when you reign anxious.

I will tell you that you’re good enough more often because you’re more than enough.

You qualify in any arena because your mind is different than most.

What sounds like subtle hate is just misconstrued.

It’s usually your self-worth jumping out to give people a piece of your mind.

For you, I will be outspoken.

For you I will write, I will sing off key, and I will be here when no one else is.

For you, I will help you get to where you desire to be.

I know that you don’t always have time to practice self love but you make extra time to sleep.

For you, that idle time means sanity, and that’s fine.

For you I will get out and do yoga in a park.

A park that could be full of insects, squirrels, and creeps.

I will take you to a place where you’ll feel total oneness.

For you I will complete degree programs when you don’t want to fight through them.

I will fight alongside you.

You’re incredible Morgan, and for you-

I will do just about do anything to make you happy.

Stay encouraged Gorgeous, you’re one step closer everyday.

 

 

 

 

 

Maturation.

Funny story, it isn’t actually funny in a sense that laughter is involved.

The woman that I’ve become in three years has taught me more about myself that even I can believe.

Three years ago, (in my mind) I was this scrawny young girl.

Someone who was so bold- that the entire room got anxious around her because of the way her skin glowed.

She was beautiful, funny, and outgoing.

She had her issues, but somehow they all worked out.

She grabbed God by the hand, and walked with him into her destiny.

If I never walked out on faith my entire reality would be different.

The person that I am today, surpasses who I knew I could be,

but didn’t know I would be.

I am mostly fearless, full of love, and a horrible storyteller.

I’m getting old.

A few years back, I had a wild night knowing that I promised my Granny that I would go to Friday Church with her.

After denying the opportunity to stay for more games, I made it home. I woke up to attend church, wasted from last night. I put on my clothes and laid back on my bed. As I was falling asleep, my Granny and mom left me!I called them to let them know, and they circled back.

We get to church and I was very attentive. Great music, small service, heartfelt message, with some youth behind it. A true servant of the Lord. As I begin to get tired and drift off, I’m suddenly thinking outrageous things.

That. man. read. me.

THAT. DAY.

Now, the man is a prophet. He drives about four hours every Friday just to be at that church. He has his own church where he lives. I can’t name a false prophet that would do that for free so I believe him.

He begins to speak on topics both faithful and secular. He began to discuss how people get hot and bothered. How if you want to love and be loved, pray for a husband. (I don’t remember there being men in this service). The Pastor talked about so much that I was shame because I was sitting between my two parents.

At the end of the service he told everyone to come out and get their blessings. The congregation moved toward the anointed man. My mother and I were last to have the holy man pray over us. He prayed for me, held my hands and sent me on my way. I rushed back to my seat as I was ready to go.

The man asked my mom if she had a daughter. She told him yes. He asked if she was present, she said yes. He wrapped it up with my mom and told me to come back.

At this point, I’m shook.

I walk back to the man and he touches my hands again. He looked at me as if we were long lost favorite cousins. He begins to rejoice and tell me all about me.

You have gifted hands. The next three years of your life, will be three of the best years of your life. Pray for a husband. This sermon was for you, pray for a husband. You’re going to Grad School. You’re going to school far away. Are you in school now?

I was, I was at Southern University in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

He rejoiced more and prayed a healthy prayer. I left that church feeling like nothing could touch me.

That man manifested what God had in store for me. He said the things that I needed to hear at that time. Honestly, it’s something I need to hear all of the time. Everything that he said, has come into fruition as my third year ends.

My maturation was destined. My love life, experiences, accolades, and accomplishments, they were all predestined.

There’s so much more to this story but we’ve reached the premise. It’s amazing what one year will do to a person. One whole year can change your entire mind. I’m so excited to see what the new year will bring me.

You had better know that I’m manifesting beautiful things for 2019.

 

Portal.

The other day I had a desire to create.

To write a message that would sing the song of my heart.

Today, I write a message that will sing a sorrowful song.

There is a pain in my fingers that isn’t physical.

It’s a metaphorical pain, but it feels so real.

Like a piercing of the flesh but it’s all mental.

This past weekend was pure bliss but I was stripped of it before the sabbath.

I try to remain positive, and strong about the situations at hand but it’s so difficult when your mother is sitting in a hospital bed.

Surgery was a few weeks back and now she’s back like remission.

There’s infection, we don’t know where.

There’s negligence coming from everywhere.

There’s maltreatment screeching as the wheels of her bed rolls her down the hallways.

I don’t understand why poverty is hovering over the head of my mother.

We can’t afford the surgeon that she needs.

We just need justice and prayers.

My sorrowful song is over but as the excerpts of these words reign true,

Mama I love you.

You’re going to be fine.

I pray for your health everyday, all the time.

You are a gift from God, a blessing to me.

Thank you for everything, even things I was never meant to see.

You are a Queen, and I am your flesh.

I promise you mom, we’ll get you out of this mess.

Red Table Talk.

The benefits of living at home probably outweigh the cons but I am ready to go. 

There is nothing in this world that agitates me more than having to remind myself that school is my scapegoat. I love being educated, I love feeling accomplished.

I hate living at home, I hate being stressed by school.

As positive as I have been about all these misfortunes, every week I have a pitfall.

I try not to react to all the things that aggravate me but here we are, yet again.

This week has been trying, very trying.

Every week, there’s something at school that makes me wish I never pursued this degree.

Every week, there’s something at home that makes me wish I never moved here.

Between these two irritants, I am here and I remain.

If I am able to heal in the same environment where I got sick, I would have conquered myself.

If I am able to pass these classes, I would have conquered this program.

If I remain FAITHFUL, I will prevail.

 

CHEST.

SAY IT WITH YA CHEST,

SAY IT WITH YA CHEST.

I SAID IT SO LOUD

MY VOICE IS COMPRESSED.

MY VOCAL CORDS ARE WEAK-

CRYING FOR ATTENTION,

I LICK MY TEARS, WHEN I SPEAK.

I’M SO LOUD,

I’M SO LOUD.

I’M OVER MEDICATING WITH THIS STRANGE FRUIT BLEND

HYBRID JET FEUL REEKING CLOTHES.

IT’S SINKING IN.

I’M ALONE,

I’M BY MYSELF.

WITH ALL THIS SUPPORT I CAN’T GET HELP.

I’M IN THERAPY,

BEING HUMBLED.

I LEAVE, GET MY LIFE

THEN I STUMBLE.

I’M SENSITIVE SO I CRUMBLE.

MY CHEST,

MY CHEST.

HIT ME WITH THAT NINE,

I CAN’T FEEL MY BREATH.

HOLLOW WALL BEHIND MY BREAST.

MY CHEST,

I CAN’T BREATHE.

LEAVE ME ALONE,

DON’T BOTHER ME.

JUST LET ME BE,

I’M FINE.

JUST SUFFOCATING IN INFATUATION.

DESPAIR HAS FALLEN AMONGST ME.

 

TOP 10 REASONS TO TELL PEOPLE YOU’RE IN THERAPY.

  1. YOU MAY BE A MEMBER OF A MARGINALIZED GROUP WHERE THERAPY ISN’T A NORM                                                                                                                                     When my family first found out that I was seeking cognitive behavioral therapy, they had tons of questions. My favorite being from my older brother. “You’re seeing a head doctor!?”
  2. SOMEONE MAY NEED TO KNOW THAT THERE ARE RESOURCES AVAILABLE                                                                                                                                               I love telling people about my therapist and how I’m able to see her for free with no copay thanks to medical.
  3. HAVING AN OUTLET                                                                                                                       I can vent to my family and friends all day about my problems, thoughts, and lifestyle but none of those people can assist me professionally in correcting anything in my life from a non biased standpoint.
  4. SELF-AWARENESS                                                                                                              There’s nothing like being self aware. When you are fully aware of self, you annihilate your old ways of thinking. You are less likely to enable yourself.
  5. PINPOINTING YOUR TRIGGERS                                                                                          We all know what pisses us off and what makes us sad but the key is to avoid them. If they arise anyways, you will be able to deal with them in a more appropriate manner.
  6. RETRAINING YOUR BRAIN                                                                                                                    Your mind is the most profound weapon you’ll ever have. It has the ability to control your body, your destiny, and your actions, and your beliefs. As humans, we tend to overthink. Overthinking can easily become one’s demise. You get upset by an image that you created. Thinking negatively will create negative spaces and sometimes negative occurrences.
  7. SUPPORT SYSTEM                                                                                                                   By attending therapy, I have gained something that I feel I’ve been lacking for several years. I gained the unbiased, and unwavering support that I sought in my loved ones. What I’ve come to realize is that support not only comes in many forms, but that everyone’s perception of support is different than my own. I would constantly express to people how I felt as if certain people didn’t rock with me the way I rocked with them. It always baffled me but now I know that it’s true. I’m just looking at things in a more positive light now.
  8. NEW WAYS TO PRACTICE SELF LOVE                                                                      Everyone practices this act differently. I always thought of it as spending time alone- painting my nails, deep conditioning my hair, or reading a book. Now, practicing self love is less about the act but creating an environment where I can just vibe alone. I speak to myself differently, I carry myself differently, I’m more conscious of the things that I speak over my life. I am more positive. I stop negative thoughts when they begin to form.
  9. Acceptance                                                                                                                        Despite one’s place in my life, I accept people for whoever they have chosen for them to be. Whether they’re a scammer, an atheist or a cat lover I see them as humans. I accept their flaws, ideologies, and I respect who they have chosen to become. Acceptance is something that I used to have a huge issue with. Though I’ve always been a fair person, I had my own ideologies, and hangups. I am much more respectful of the next person’s journey.
  10. REMAINING POSITIVE                                                                                                                I always catch myself slipping with this one! It’s not always easy but I was taught that you can’t assume you know what the next person is going to do. So whenever I get ready to assume something, I stop and say “we don’t know that.” Again, I slip up but I’m a work in progress. Staying positive is definitely difficult in this climate but it can be very rewarding. It’s definitely helping me to remain self-motivated.

This concludes my top ten reasons to tell people that I am seeking therapy. I’m a pretty private person beyond this blog and I enjoy living that way. I just know that without therapy, tackling post-grad depression, consistent anxiety, and everyday issues would be a lot harder. It’s also allowed me to step outside of my own mind to take a look inside of it. If you haven’t already, talk to someone. It will only enhance your value, I promise!

 

Safety.

Have you ever just wanted to breathe and couldn’t?

Like your mind was swallowing what’s left in your chest?

Ever been gunned down eating skittles,

that’s cold blooded.

I needed a vest.

I needed a rest from the confines of this social disorganization.

It’s amazing how well we take offense

but the defense is still tackling.

I move to the beat of my heart racing.

While my heart raced down in the pit of my gut,

I swallowed hard and stared down the business end of a gun.

At the hands of my neighbors from up the way.

This is gang land,

Ayo wassup esé?

I swallowed a shallow breath and fell on the inside.

My flesh stood there in tact as I stared back and my brotha in the black hoodie who got clapped in his back by the bad cop.

The good cop remained standing because no one wants to face the oppressor man to man.

Hiding behind the barrel like that dude who almost shot me.

All I saw was the headline.

Two dead,

three dead.

One died anyway.

Me too.

I think I had a panic attack in class today. I’m surprised that I got through my powerpoint without letting my class know that I was buggin’. It’s crazy how I went from being an incredible public speaker in high school to suffering from a lack of confidence. In undergrad, I was on birth control and I had a lot of really bad side effects, one of them happened to affect my speech. Fast forward to the present day, I guess I still have issues with public speaking. Whether it be one on one, or just being called on in a class discussion- I’m not always confident in my speech. My anxiety got the best of me today because I couldn’t stop shaking. When I sat down, my legs jumped, my hands twitched, and I barely even remembered what I had just presented to the class. As I stood there before thirteen people, I felt faint. I was reading from the powerpoint but everything grew hazy. I was embarrassed at one point because I saw that my hands were trembling. My body language should’ve told it all. I began to move in a manner that I knew was unacceptable when giving a speech. My body twisted, my eye contact was nonexistent, and all I wanted to do was sit down. I couldn’t give my class their activity because I was so embarrassed at how shaky I was. I fought back tears the remainder of the class because I knew that my grade would suffer. Today marked yet another day on the calendar where I was suffering silently.

I try to be very transparent with certain things that occur in my life. I also tend to be an oversharing person. Here I am, sharing.

I’ve battled with anxiety. I’m learning to channel the bad into the good.

I’ve battled depression. I now refuse to say that I suffer from it because I don’t want to speak ailments over myself.

I’ve suffered silently with both. So much so, that my family members don’t really know the severity. In fact, very few people do.

Being in a battle with yourself is like no war you can imagine fighting.

Today, I think I had a panic attack. Those symptoms were more relatable than those of an anxiety attack.

P.S. I’m so glad that I have cognitive therapy this weekend.