Happy Birthday to Me!

I just turned 27 years old, and for the first time in my life I've celebrated with a long birthday weekend!

This is a big deal.

This is actually monumental for me.

Children of narcissistic mothers do not get to have celebrations.

Graduating from high school and then from college were not as joyous as one would hope because my mother was hungry and "ready to go".

My mother took it upon herself to inform everyone at my engagement party that she was sooooo  happy for the occasion because I'd been depressed and crying watching my friends get engaged before me....which was not true. Was I anxiously longing and awaiting? Yes! But depressed and weeping? Not quite.  ( Even if it WERE true....why would you share that with everyone in attendance?)

My sister and I were usually in tears by the end of our birthdays growing up because mother had found some reason to lecture/discipline us...usually revolving around the fact that we were not giving her enough credit for bringing us into the world.

Even when I moved 6.5 hours away, the mind-control and fear followed all the way up I-95, and every holiday and celebration was full of dread, counting down the hours until I would talk with her on the phone.

Am I calling her today?
Will she call me?
When is too late to call?
When is too early to call?
How long will the conversation have to last?
What will we talk about?
I can't sound too happy or occupied or she will go on complaining about how nice it must be for me to have a social life and how lonely she is. 

My mind wouldn't stop racing, but not this year.

NOT THIS YEAR.

This year, I would breathe easy.

Thursday, I ate M&Ms for dinner, and they were delicious. THEN, my aunt arrived from South Carolina and was describing delicious southern fish and grits....so my husband, aunt, and I got up and drove to get some delicious Sea Food and I ate again...a wonderful fried flounder sandwich with sweet potato fries...and it was amazing!! I've lost over 20 lbs in the last 3 months with dedication, and I was going to enjoy myself!! And I did!

Friday, my aunt ventured to camp with me! We had a great time, and my kids sang happy birthday to me, and some even made me cards. After work, we chilled and had a mini-marathon of So You Think You Can Dance.

Saturday (birthday!), I had to breathe and tell myself it is ok to not answer the phone if my mom calls. I also had to breathe and tell myself it is ok to live happily if she doesn't call, and my life is better for it. Hopefully it means that she realizes I will not subject myself to her abusive mind games any longer, and I do not need her approval to be happy. There are better birthday gifts in life than well-wishes from someone who loves so conditionally.

My father called me, and I couldn't answer because I was in a Spa waiting room. My husband arranged for me to get an hour long massage and then a 15 minute Hydro massage. *woah* It was amazing and so needed.  -Breathe -  My father is not my mother. He will not be upset that I could not stop my life and would not disturb others with my phone conversation just to appease him. My father will still love me and be kind when I call him later.

My aunt (who looks remarkably like my mother) was with us as we went from birthday surprise to birthday surprise, and I had to breathe and realize that she was happy to celebrate with me....not sad that we did not make the day all about her since she travelled to join us.

What is this existence? Am I actually celebrating with people who actually want to celebrate me?

Sunday, we went to church and then Mango Mangeaux! Delicious food! More celebration!

I wasn't quite sure what structure to give this blog entry, but since we are documenting evolution, I just wanted to provide a quick overview of a few days of this past week and how I decided to have a happy birthday instead of letting myself go down the spiral?

Why doesn't my mother want to celebrate with me?
I've lost so many chances to celebrate. 
She doesn't want to call me. Should I call her?
Should I call her?
Should I call her?
It's really just like any other day.
No one will want to celebrate me. They've got better things to do. 


I decided to silence those voices, and as a result, I've had the best birthday of my life, and I'm looking forward to many many more.

Unwinding

Enter the 10-day stint with a 5'7 sociopath. 

Whew, glad that's over.

June 30.

It's official. I packed my belongings and left my job. 9 years of what most people called a career, I called Limbo. That's the interesting thing about it, you learn a lot but you keep yourself busy to avoid being engulfed by indecisiveness. Why did I hate that job so much? Yes, I held different positions, but they all had the same outcome--no growth. I should mention, having a mild stroke at 27 will really shift everything. 

"But you had a retirement plan, benefits, a set schedule, you can take time off whenever you want. No weekends. You were dumb to leave."

 I've never felt more alive. Doing something for yourself, living on your own terms is a concept I still haven't grasped at 28...and that's okay. I don't own a house, I have no children, I'm single. Gotta be more selfish more often. 

4th of July weekend. 

I've already been promoted in the job I want. It's crazy. So many things are happening and I don't know how to process it all. I'm blessed and confused because I think things are moving way too fast for me to comprehend.

7/11

I hope you got your slurpee and posed for Bey one time. 

I realize what it means to have one job. It makes you budget...which is something I don't do well at all. Seriously. Every day presents a new challenge there, but I get to leave work at work. Which is wonderful.

7/18 and towards end of July:

Anxiety has packed and gone on a sabbatical. Depression, well, we're working on her, too. My mind is starting to clear and as the fog subsides, the picture is presenting itself. There's so much I still need to get done, but I'm headed in the right direction. 

Remember: a day at a time. Nothing is overnight. Storms don't last forever. 

Peace.

It's Okay to Be Good at Things

I've never known how to take a compliment, and I'm one of those people who tends to dim her own light so that others may shine. I tell myself I do it because I want the other person to feel good about themselves, and I don't mind taking a back seat because, well, isn't it enough to know I'm great? Do I have to force it down the world's throat? Yes. Yes I do. 

This is something I've been working on for a couple of weeks now. Letting someone compliment me. Boasting (not in a rude way) about the things I do well. Letting others see my greatness. Taking a chance on all of this not killing me (because of course that's the irrational fear in me--if I accept this greatness it could very well kill me. Don't even ask me to explain it.) 

So here's what I've had to accept and say back to myself: I have a strong body for being so injured and out of shape. I can live more than I care to admit, and I can hold a plank for at least a minute if I really put my mind to it. I am a talented writer, and I can ride this talent all the way to the top. I shouldn't let rejections piss me off or make me bitter; I know better. 

A lot of the publishing business is who you know, not always how good you are. There are a lot of good writers. A rejection doesn't mean I suck. I can be a good partner. Despite the persona I've cultivated all these years (online and off) I'm not that Jaded. I can like people and be good to them, and in turn let them like and be good to me. I can let someone look in my eyes and tell me I'm wonderful and not mush them in the face (true story) or assume they're lying or make a self-deprecating joke to deflect attention. Ahhh. That felt good. 

Now if only I didn't have to repeat it to myself over and over. If only it could just seep in and undo 40 years of nonsense thinking. But, baby steps. I'm still working out. I'm still writing (and editing and moving forward with my literary projects). 

And the third thing is none of your business, but let's just say I smile a bit more these days. It's a daily struggle; kinda feels good to talk about it, though. And it will be even better when it's all second nature to me to say and know and feel that it's okay to be good at things and to be happy in life. It's not all about struggle. This is what I'm fighting. But surely I'll win, right? Any day now...

Five Ways I Help Myself Feel Safe in Slowing Down

When I was in high school I started having trouble falling asleep at night. My pediatrician told me that it was probably anxiety and suggested slowing down. Because I knew everything as at the tender age of 14, I decided to fill up more of my time. Slowing down is what triggered the racing thoughts and senseless panic. Why would I intentionally make space for anxiety to manifest? It wasn't until years later (ten to be exact) that I realized my Dr. Miller may have been on to something.

I function really well as someone living with generalized anxiety. Or so it seems. I'm always busy. Always moving. Always working. That feels safest for me though it's not often what is best. My #allsummersixteen goal of taking care of myself in the midst of "doing the work" is tied to really slowing down. So this week I decided to focus on one project rather than splitting my energy between a million things like I usually do. I decided to prioritize everything that has to get done and pick two things to complete this week.

Branding and website design are my top priorities right now. I need a way (other than word of mouth though I thank my lovely clients) to communicate to the world more about me and the work I do. I probably spent a focused 20 hours on that so far this week. The 'about me' section needed some work to be website ready. Redrafting the bio led to a lot of time thinking about how I got started which led to me thinking about how much is still left to be done.

Currently, I'm working towards completing my Sexuality Educators certification and looking into human sexuality MEd and PhD programs. I know where I want to be ultimately. It's the process that is causing me a little bit of trouble. Life is happening really quickly. And I am freaking out.

Instead of ignoring that and rushing onto the next project, I am taking a proactive approach and decided to share! These are five ideas I've come up with to help myself feel safe in slowing down:

1. Spend intentional time each day just being.

A friend recently said to me "you're a human being, not a human doing." It really struck me, firstly as nonsensical, then as an "oh!" moment. I often have to remind myself that I am not what I produce. That I am not "the work." I'm the person who does the work and I need to take care of myself if I want to continue. One small way I do that is by leaving my headphones and books at home and taking the longer route when I'm traveling on MTA. There's no way for me to fill up that time doing things. I can only sit with myself and with my thoughts. And in those moments I learn a lot about myself, a lot about the place I live, and a lot about the people around me.

2. Ask yourself 'what is the rush?'

Is there actually a reason to rush? Is there a deadline approaching? Is it a real life deadline or is it one that you've imposed on yourself? Does this thing absolutely need to be done right now? A big part of taking care of myself while working in such a high emotional stress position is taking inventory of what actually needs to be done in each moment. I spent a lot of time in my previous position juggling way too many tasks and assisting way too many people at once. I felt like I needed to do everything, all the time, by myself. Rushing takes the joy out of right now. It makes the work feel heavier and less rewarding. It feels task orientated rather than people and healing oriented.

3. Ask yourself what you're willing to struggle for and what kind of struggle you're willing to endure?

I've been doing the first part of this for a few years now. Rather than asking myself what I want, I ask what I'm willing to struggle for. It helps me to put things into perspective and focus my energies on things I will actually work towards. For example, I want a seven figure income. But I'm not willing to slave in anyone's office to get it and I'm not willing to trade in a fulfilling-my-life-purpose job for a simply-filling-my-pockets job. I only recently started asking myself what kind of struggle I am willing to endure. I'm still figuring that part out.

4. Invest in the process.

Too often I get caught up in the end goal. I'm so busy charging ahead that I often miss the moments that happen along the way and often neglect my needs in the process. Investing in the process means that I invest in myself, in my health and wellbeing. It means making time to eat and sleep and get outside my four walls because I can't commit to my goals without also committing to being well enough to achieve them. While keeping my sights set on the future I envision for myself, I am intentional about finding the beauty along the way. I try to focus on how I spent spent my day and whether that got me closer or further from where I want to go.

Which leads us to the last one...

5. Give yourself credit for the work you've done.

 It is a long and slow process. Acknowledge the little victories on the way to the dream.

I Want Nice Things..And It Scares Me

On June 10, 2009 a young lady named Kelsey published a Facebook note entitled "one of these days ima be a beast dammit [random thoughts on life && poetry]." Horrible grammar and punctuation choices aside, in it she poured her heart out about how she wanted to be a better poet and all of these action steps she would take to make that happen. And you know what came of that passionate post? Nothing. The note disappeared from her memory shortly after Facebook buried it with other fun distractions and all of the confidence displayed was quickly replaced with fear. The usual..

Surprise! That girl is me. And I am still struggling with "being a beast" but not for the reasons 18 year old Kelsey was focused on. I would be silly and a liar to say that my poetry is not "good". Over the past year, I've come into my own writing style and experienced significant breakthroughs. But this post is about sharing struggles so I can be honest among friends right? I still feel like a fraud. Maybe fraud isn't the accurate word but it pops up in my head the most. I constantly feel, when in the spaces that poets reside, I'm just a girl that occasionally does poetry. 

Recently, while visiting my best friend in Maryland, I begged her to take me to Busboys and Poets. It was a venue I heard a lot about and was excited to see what the DC poetry scene had to offer. I was overwhelmed as usual but surprisingly once I got on stage I felt extremely free. I allowed myself my words to float off the stage and was really tapping into the emotional space I was in while writing. Dope right? 

When I returned to my seat the host asked "You said you're from San Diego,  are you an artist out there?"

And I froze. 

Approximately 30 seconds after one of the freest performances of my life, I was prepared to reassume the role of unassuming and downplay my aspirations once again. Though I've made great strides in my writing and delivery, I have hesitated to use the label artist or poet or anything that implies I have mastery of my craft. It sounds too legit.

Lucky for me, my BFF is the down ass chick Ja Rule crooned about and she answered yes for me. What I lacked in confidence was overshadowed  by her resolve and the night continued. However, for days that scenario played over and over in my head. Why was I hell bent on not embracing compliments and acceptance? What was blocking me from breaking out of my comfort zone.  I knew that I had to fix my life and get to the root of my problems like a kinder Iyanla. 

I wish that I could blame my confidence woes on the list of people in my life who have hurt me but that wouldn't be the self-actualized thing to do. At the end of the day, I have chosen to internalize the negative messages that insist I don't deserve good things. As my birthday sister Beyoncé would say, I'm supposed to be my own best friend. And I have been a crappy person to the girl in the mirror. My self-sabotage game is strong and I constantly run away from opportunities that excite me but require me being seen. Being seen means allowing a space for my feelings to be critiqued and my heart to be exposed. When I am seen, it means I am letting the world know that I am trying to do something I'm not a master of while simultaneously creating an opportunity for public failure. That terrifies me. Yet, true growth rarely happens in the shadows. I've been out here, stilted and mad that I'm not progressing while steadily running from the work that will get me there. This isn't the legacy I want to leave. So I'm taking the first step: I'm publicly admitting I want things. Nice ones.

This summer, I'm taking a page from Auntie Shonda and saying yes to greatness. At the end of the summer, Slam season will start in San Diego and I want to be in the number of contenders. But more than that, I want to feel I deserve any and all great things my heart desires and be willing to put the work in that is required.  I will not downplay my talent and I will allow myself to be seen and grow. A more self-love filled Kelsey coming at you #AllSummer16 

My Darkness and the Infinite Power of my Light......Finding ME!

I turned 36 today, I'm warm and clammy, my body aches, my head pounds, congested beyond belief, stuck in bed. I scroll through the 89 happy birthday post that I had received by 12:20 pm, June 26, 2016. I'm touched by the amount of people that I barely see or communicate with that took the time to send me happy birthday wishes. As I'm lying in bed watching my favorite YouTube channel "MadameNoire", I stumble upon a wedding video of Gabrielle and Dwyane Wade's wedding, I'm impressed by it all and it got me to thinking. The way they looked at each other was uplifting, I want someone to look at me that way. So I thought about it for a few seconds and wondered how does that happen and then I thought about a prior moment in the video when Gabrielle looked at herself in the mirror with her wedding gown on and there was a look of love and admiration for herself and it took me to those Mary J Blige "Be Happy" lyrics "How can I love somebody else if I can't love myself enough to know when it's time to let go", during the wedding video Kevin Hart made a speech about being happy, I said to myself it's all connected finding happiness, loving yourself and loving others but how do we get there? The video ended and I went back to my favorite YouTube channel.

About an hour later as Facebook notifications flooded my timeline with birthday wishes, I came across the post Erica put up about #AllSummerSixteen and the blog. I knew exactly what I needed to write about, exactly what my goal would be, to fall in love with myself, to let go, to be able to look at ME in a mirror and feel a genuine love and admiration for the reflection, I want to see me and not what I think others see in me.  

I've experienced so much emotional trauma in my life that I don't know when or if I've ever been completely in love with myself, so I don't know if I've ever really been in love, except my first love SB (Late Teens), I think we really loved each other for who we were at the time and but we were still kids, with my other "first" MB (Late Teens-Early 20's), I think we grew to love each other as friends well after our relationship ended, NR (Late 20's-Early 30's) he showed me the most love I've known, emotionally and physically, he was the nicest to me when we were together and he was the first man to make me feel like a woman but when it was over it was over, LW (My 30's) never loved me because he didn't know how but he made me see who I really was and how I really felt about myself, he was a reflection of who and how I was down deep and dark inside, he brought out the best and worst in me and it's because of him that I now know I need to find every reason to fall in love with ME! I have to let go of who or what I was and admire the woman, friend, confidant, educator, business owner and human being that I've become.

Brene Brown says "Love is not something we give or get; it is something that we nurture and grow, a connection that can only be cultivated between two people when it exists within each one of them – we can only love others as much as we love ourselves.

Shame, blame, disrespect, betrayal, and the withholding of affection damage the roots from which love grows. Love can only survive these injuries if they are acknowledged, healed and rare.

Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light."

Join me as I tackle accountability, vulnerability, letting go, falling in love with ME, exploring my darkness and the infinite power of my light

As I'm wrapping up this post I received this from a dear friend that brought tears to my eyes.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAZ!!! You are such a wonderful friend and you bring so much positivity to our circle. I wish you so many blessed moments and and endless happiness!! Love you!!"

Here's to being loved and being happy!!

#iWrite #TruthOnly #EvenWhenItHurts #ITISEntertainment #AllSummerSixteen

Weight Problems or Weight Solutions

Hello World, my name is Jessica Sinkler and I am turning 30 on July 1st. 

Yasss, turn up for the BIG 30. I am happy and excited to be 30. I want my 30’s to be better than my 20’s. All through my 20’s I kept saying this is my year to get my fitness/ health together. I would start a diet and within a week I would give up. I would always say to myself, “Okay, since it's Wednesday and I messed up already lets refresh Monday.” Monday would come around and I would say well the month has already started let me start again next month. Next month would come around I would make excuses after excuses. Want to hear my excuses? Here they go:

1)      I do not have energy today

2)      I get off today at 5pm so once I get off I am going to work out, but I am sleepy so I am going to wake up early in the morning.

3)      Its 6am, heck naw, I deserve sleep I work hard,

4)      A fresh month, yes let’s get it Jess…….. 1 week later ohh I don’t see progress (yes, I am one of those lol) let’s try again next week.

5)      Ohh, I am started to see progress 1 chip don’t hurt……. 2 bags later well I already messed up my diet let’s start again next month.

I’m sure you get the point of my madness. Now that I walked you through a little of madness let me tell you how I got there. I was always a little chunky growing up. I remember my Aunt Cathy would joke around and say I have a, “pot belly” I think that was the saying. It didn’t bother me as a kid until one day in 9^th grade,  I was standing in an area with my friends and I saw a group of guys looking at me pointing and laughing. In my mind they aren’t laughing at me, but they were laughing at something.

I was friends with some of them, so I was sure they weren’t laughing at me. I got closer to see what was up. 

I heard one boy, “Yes she is the fat one in the group."
Another boy, “Don’t forget ugly."

 My heart started to race because they noticed I caught on and instead of saying sorry they said, "Let's make her feel like dog poop (shit)."

*mom if you are reading this I know I told you I want to stop cursing but forgive me*

Wow, I never in my life have been called that to my face. Elementary and middle school was fine for me. I felt so low.  All I could go is cry and cry and cry. My friends kept telling me to ignore it. but how can you ignore that? To make a long story short about my high school years I dealt with that every day of high school.

I tried to put on a poker face and let me tell you Jessica doesn’t have any type of poker face at all. While at school dealing with that I was also dealing with it at home, with my father’s mother, (okay I am going to call her grandma). I stayed at my Grandmother's house because my mom didn’t want me to go to school in the area we lived in. I could have stayed at home with my mom, but I wanted to be closer to my friends. My grandmother would remind me about my weight, almost everyday, and compare me to her adopted daughter. My own flesh in blood was talking crap about me. 

“You sure you want to eat?"
 “You are so stupid."
“You are on a diet,"
 "Well, your aunts are fat and your dad is fat so good luck.”

 Those are some of the things I dealt with instead of telling my parents. I would always cry and talk about my weight to my mom and older sister. They would do everything in their power to make me feel better, but I felt powerless and if I was honest with them I am sure all of this would have gone away. I am not telling you this to feel sorry for me but I want to give a history, as to why my excuses started to be created. Recently, I told my dad everything that happened and I realized I was scared to tell him since that’s his mom. 

I did a lot of diets to lose weight. I would lose some pounds, but it wouldn’t stick. One reason they didn’t stick was because I never did real research about changing my eating habits and two I wouldn’t exercise. I finally admitted it lol. *I am sure my friends and trainer are happy that I've stopped lying to myself.*

……….. If you did any of the following diets please raise your hands...

1)      Special K diet (You eat two bowls of Special K cereal and 1 real meal, in between you have snacks). I am not a cereal person. You are supposed to do this for two weeks and lose 6 pounds. I made it to 5 days and said no thank you.

2)      I did “Weight Watchers.” I was 17 or 18 at the time one of the members kind of discouraged me by saying, “You are young I am sure you can’t relate to us."

3)      My favorite not really, “The Grapefruit diet."  I lasted for about 4 hours, lmao. Maybe that one shouldn’t count lol. Plus grapefruits yuck!!!!!

In addition to the diets, I would buy fruits and vegetables in bulk and of course they would go bad. At the age of twenty-nine, yes 29, I am happy to say I finally learned to buy fruit and veggies, only for the week lol. 

Every time I tried to lose weight I would hear those voices in my head saying, "You CAN'T."

I am ready to tell those voices to SHUT UP!!!

Here are my goals:

I am going to release 60 pounds from my body. Right now, I weigh 201 pounds and I want to be at least 140 (I remember when I thought 140 was fat).  I’m 5’2.  I am going to give the 4 reasons why I am going to release 60 pounds:

1)      To feel good about myself

2)      More energy, I am too young to have low energy

3)      Beautiful skin that glows

4)      Start putting my health first (better self-care)

5)      Bonus to finally wear a bikini and feel comfortable

The way I am going to do that is by studying the effects of food (reading, watching documentaries, etc.) I am also to work out (I have a personal trainer already Donnie you are the best). The days I am not working out with my trainer I will be working out with friends and family. Plus, I am going to be doing yoga again. I love yoga it gives you a chance to shape your body into what you want. I have accountability partners. I am going to cook and make healthier choices. As of June 1 2016, I removed meat from my diet (chicken, pork, and beef). I am still eating fish. Today has been 22 days since and I feel great, I’m doing this for 90 days. 

I removed meat from my diet to see how I feel plus how my health shapes. I'll get into that, in my next post. I will be brown bagging for lunch instead of buying out all the time. My budget will be happy, lol. I am going to ask my community for help and take feedback. The days when I feel like giving up I am going to write out why I am doing this. I want to show Jessica (myself) you are worthy of completing your goals and worthy of a healthier life style.  I want my nieces and younger cousins to know that you can do anything.  

I want to show younger girls you can love your body if you are fat, skinny, in the middle but in the process still make healthier choices. I want to be the woman I know that’s in me. I am going to make Jessica proud and finally complete this goal. Even after my goal is complete, I am going to still make better choices. This is the summer of miracles.

Sit back and let’s get IN-FORMATION together.

My Happy Self

“The way we talk to our children becomes their inner voice.” – Peggy O’Mara

“Look in the mirror. Look! Don’t you see how fat and sloppy you look?”

“I don’t know why you have any friends.”

 “Why are you so happy? Calm down!”

“Why are you so sad? You’re so dramatic.”

“No one is trying to hurt your feelings, Nikieta. Stop being so sensitive.”

“………..”  (extend for 3 months)

                My inner voice is the voice of self-doubt and self-degradation. While my father and I dreamed dreams for my life of success, leadership, artistic freedom, and joy, my mother was hard at work to overshadow those dreams with premonitions of loneliness, rejection, failure (my own fault, of course), and regret.

My mother: This is the woman I so badly wanted to love me. This is the woman who was supposed to care for me unconditionally. My mother, who was supposed to provide me with my identity and how to live life as a woman in this world and cheer for me as I ran the race of life, jumping over many hurdles and falling over others.  

My mother.

              It was my mother’s voice that won the war for the homeland of my heart, and as she took residence within me, she took it upon herself to create a civil war. I was her favored child when it was time for the adults to compare their offspring. She could spout off my achievements and even embarrassingly embellished them. 

1. Student body president

2. Black belt

3. Look at her amazing legs. 

4. AP and Honors classes

5. Going to Hampton University

6. Such a good cook

7. A talented writer

8. Won awards for public speaking

9. Boys love to look at her

10. Sings in the school chorus

When the guests went home (My mother scarcely let anyone into our home.) Whenever we left the public eye, my mother would angle the rear view mirror ever so precisely to allow her eyes to pinpoint me as she would ridicule me the whole ride home. She would debrief me on how I laughed too much or not enough. I shared a detail too personal about our lives (like how we buy our groceries from Wal-Mart). Or maybe I ate too much bread, and she needed to remind me that I was on my way to being, "as big as a house". If none of those were the case, then it was definitely the time to reiterate how boring I am in social situations and how I fit the mold for becoming a librarian. 

Then, there was the silence. Maybe we would ride home with no talking. If that was the case, I was not allowed to break the silence. Breaking the silence would result in a painful stare, a short and severe response, or the beginning of a long lecture...none of which were pleasant. 

As you can imagine, the frequent and quick script changes for how my mother would address and describe me caused quite a bit of confusion. 

Then there is the face I would put on for the outsiders. My peers and mentors have always known me as quick-minded, well-spoken, capable, and over achieving. For me, though, all the achievements were only to prove I'm not a waste of space. I'm not incompetent, and I am worthy of acknowledgement. 

I've always known that I am talented. I've always known I am capable of something special. I've always known I can do whatever I put my mind to doing, but I've always doubted anyone would care to see it. 

My mother has always had a strong personality, and my family just realized last year that her personality has a name: Narcissistic Personality Disorder. I've lived under her torment for 26 years, and I'm just recently figuring out how to get untangled from her grasp. 

• As I graduated college, my inner voice whispered, “You’re going to fail and be a waste of money and time”.
• As I landed my dream career, my inner voice grumbled, “You will never advance and always struggle financially. You’re untrainable.”
• As I married the man of my dreams, my inner voice questioned my ability to love him and be loveable. “Is THIS how you treat the love of your life? He will be unhappy and wish he’d never married you.”

No matter how hard I fight to live a life full of joy, surrounding myself with uplifting people and loving mentors, my inner voice cheers jeers from the sidelines.

As my subconscious tries to trip me up and keep me chained to my 10 year old self, ever fearful of my mother’s disapproval, I have to remind myself I am no longer a child. I am no longer in my mother’s house. I am no longer under her reign.

I’m an adult, and my life is amazing.

This Summer, I'm evolving into my happy self. Every word of that goal is important. 

MY- I will not be anyone but God's and my husband's....and that is because I am giving myself to them. I will not be some image of what my mother (or anyone else) wants to portray me as. 

HAPPY- I was diagnosed in 2014 with a severe anxiety disorder, depression, and ADHD. Now that I know, I have tools to manage them, and I'm learning more every day about how to use them. I'm the program director of an AMAZING preschool in Norfolk, VA, and I am set to be the Executive Director in 2 years. I was married in 2014, and my husband and I communicate. We love each other deeply, and we fight fair (mostly...we're learning). We are new home owners! My 3 year old niece and my aunt are coming to visit us at different points during the Summer. I am in the best physical shape of my adult life. I still find ways to feel sad and to play the old recording of my inner voice....but #allsummersixteen will be devoted to being happy. I have much to be happy about, and there is no room for my old inner voice. 

Self- Who is myself? I've always been my mother's. What do I like? If I'm not fearful of someone thinking I'm boring or someone analyzing what I ordered off of the menu or picking apart my wardrobe, what does Nikieta like? What do I want to look like? Where do I want to go? I'm almost 27 years old, and I don't know what I like. This isn't in the "I'm discovering myself because I'm young" way. This is the, "I've had to like what my mom likes or she wouldn't like me any more" way. 

Not only that, I’m letting go of grief. I’ve been grieving for about 1.5 years now over the mother I wish I had. I’ve been reliving every silent treatment, every harsh word and public shaming. I’ve wept on Mother’s Days over the mother that was incapable of loving me with a mother’s love, and I’ve mourned what I missed out on…I never really had a mom. So, I’m stopping the grief. I’m not losing anything. I’m gaining freedom. I’m gaining ownership of my life, and this Summer I’m gaining and owning an evolution.

I have to.

I'm going to evolve into my happy self, and this blog will help me do that.

Writing makes me happy, but commitment makes me scared because my inner voice tells me I'm a flake, and I won't be good at following through.

 Even now, writing this blog, I keep thinking, "I will be everyone's least favorite contributor. Why am I even doing this? This is a joke. Are your thoughts even coherent? No one cares about your journey. You're actually not even that interesting or that good of a writer." 

This summer, I'm taking chances unapologetically, and I will stop living under my mother's looming shadow. 

I am my own person.  (My own grown person)

I matter. 

I will be happy. 

I will be my happy self.

Kendrick Lamar Knows Best...

SuperAuntie Isn't So Super, After All.

Three little girls. Two little boys. They have a few things that correlate. They are cousins, born to 2nd generation Jamaican parents. The main correlation, they call me SuperAuntie. I wear my cape for them at all times. Even through the 18-hour work days, sickness, missed birthday parties, etc. They continue to believe I'm great. Thank God for the innocence of a child. I don't know what I would do if they knew the truth.


I stopped dealing with my anxiety.
I stopped dealing with my depression.
I stopped showing up to my therapy appointments,
I stopped take my medication.
I stopped believing good things can happen to me. 


Their parents have no idea. My siblings, we aren't close. My parents, love them, but this isn't something that can be "prayed away." Mostly my fault, because I'm skilled in building a wall greater than the one in China. Letting people in is an anomaly. Anyone who gets through the wall ends up being destroyed. By a warrior who, in reality, is weaker than a torn ACL. My friends, they have some idea, but I don't bother telling them more than I need to. Who needs a black Debbie Downer? Why am I this way?

Maybe because my "dad" preferred to stay with his wife after cheating on her with my mother. 
Maybe because I don't attend family functions knowing my attacker will be there sitting with everyone laughing, with them not knowing he ruined a 12 yr-old's life for three years.
Maybe it was my alcoholism.
Maybe it's the reoccurring dream of  me driving into my neighborhood lake and no one around to save me.

Yes, this is heavy, but it's also my reality. My early 20s were a scene from Sing About Me...the death in question...my soul. Void of any feeling of remorse for anything I'd done.

I ruined relationships. 
I ruined opportunities.
I burned every bridge possible.
I ruined good people.
I, in turn, continued to ruin myself.

I was broken.

"I should've kept the baby. But then who would protect her from the evil of the world? Who would ensure she would never be raped and abused like her mother was?"

A part of me still is.

Sitting in a room, Indian style on the floor, just you and the bottle. A set of keys. A phone with a note. The fifth is finished. The pill capsule is empty. Are you getting in the car? Is this the final ride? Is this how you end it all? The final selfish act, do you go through with it?

When Riv came to me with this idea to write about our journey, I instantly said yes. It's time. It's time to tell. It's time to reflect. It's time to recollect. It's time to rebuild. It's time to rejoice.

Breakthrough.

 Someone is going to read this; because pieces of it will be her story too. It will resonate with her, and she will realize she isn't alone.

I pray whoever this reaches to, you CAN make it. You WILL make it. Because God never left, even in the darkest hour.


It's going to get better because I say so.

Come away with me, follow my struggles and help me celebrate in my triumphs.

We gon' be alright.


Peace,

The Ethnography of a Disaster

There is weariness that weighs heavy on your shoulders. It shows up everywhere, clouding the brightest areas of your life. You carry it to work and unpack it at the end of the day. It doesn't fit anywhere comfortably. It makes its presence known and isn’t easily tended to. You’re tempted to ignore it but left to its own devices it becomes another monster entirely: a kind of tired that even sleep can’t cure.

It creeps into the quiet corners of your life. You don’t even notice it at first. It's a sly life mate. It knows all of your sweet spots, tucks you in at night, wakes you gently in the morning. It’s polite—never interrupts and cleans up after itself. It becomes something you can trust. Fitting perfectly into the places you forget to dust off or shake out, in the hidden places you never bother to look. And it almost feels like the veil is lifting. You can almost see the sun on the other side. Until you can't.

I’m just tired.

I slept.

And woke up the next day.

Not the plan.

Not enough pills.

Only days earlier I was kicking and screaming, thrown over the shoulder and beating the back of a man I didn’t know, who had probably saved the life of the man who had raped me. He took me outside and waited to put me on the university bus back to my dorm.

I don’t know how to live anymore.

My friend, who had been at the party with me, tried her best to calm me. She reminded me of the things I’d already overcome and the things I had yet to do. She recalled my success in the face of a justice system that was more concerned with the future of a man who admitted to his violence, a school that cared only about their reputation, and a world that blamed me for my own violation.

You gotta pull it together.

There are as many responses to pain as there are people who endure it. For me, my work became my coping mechanism and it's gotten me pretty far. I'm a full spectrum doula, a sexuality educator and trauma consultant, and I own and operate a self-care/intimacy boutique. I've worked with amazing people and done some pretty amazing things. And, in the process, built up one hell of a guise. If you keep busy enough, most people don't notice the mess that is your own life. If you're helpful enough, most folks won't bother to check in on you. And the facade remains. Until it doesn't.

My summer began with one goal: secure fifteen new education and consulting contracts before the end of September. I sat with a friend, we developed a plan to reach our goals and to hold each other accountable. And I broke down. I had kept myself so busy helping other people heal their trauma that I hadn't even properly processed mine. My impulse was to pile on another project. Maybe it was time to start that intimacy podcast or revisit that doula opportunity at Rikers.

Maybe it's time to slow down.

"The work" will always be there. There will always be another training to give and more students to teach and survivors to support. What's more, there will always be days that the tiredness sets in. And that's when the real work begins. It's a struggle and that may always be the case. There may always be a part of me whose initial reaction is to overcompensate with work. I'm striving for a healthy balance and this summer will set the foundation. I'm going to get my contracts, I'm going to launch my brand, and I'm going to take care of myself in the process.

Evolution is deliberate. Irreversible. It’s only goal, beyond your survival, is to ensure that you thrive. To get you to your highest self.

And I will get there.

Eventually.