I always thought motherhood would start making sense once my oldest hit seventeen, but here I am still winging it and hoping nobody notices. Raising three Black boys has taught me more about myself than any job, relationship, or life lesson ever could. I am learning in real time, growing through every mistake, and choosing to rebuild every time life knocks me flat. This is my honest look at parenting while healing, surviving, and trying to shape good men in a world that does not always protect them.
When Forgiveness Doesn’t Take You Back to “Before” and 5 Tools to Help You Navigate
I’ve been in friendships and relationships where I’ve either chosen to forgive someone or been forgiven myself—and still, things never quite went back to how they used to be. For a long time, I wrestled with that. I thought forgiveness meant restoration. That everything should snap back to normal if the hurt was truly behind... Continue Reading →
The Weight of Strength: Why I No Longer Desire to Be a “Strong Black Woman”
This past weekend, I had a conversation with my mom that left me reflecting deeply on something I’ve felt for a long time but haven’t always had the words to express. She was trying to encourage me, reminding me of my strength, of how I come from a long line of strong Black women, including... Continue Reading →
When the Old You Tries to Make a Comeback
Lately, I’ve been reflecting on some of the characteristics I had when I was younger. Back then, my temper was short, and my patience? Even shorter especially when it came to aggressive behavior (or what I perceived as aggression) toward me or the people I love. If you’ve known me for more than 15 years,... Continue Reading →
