Tell the truth, shame the….

I spend a lot of time obsessed with my flaws. I’m not a good mother. Wife. Daughter. Sister. I’ll save some characters and say sometimes I am just NOT a good person. Not because I don’t want to be, but because it is HARD. I hate my job with the fiery passion of two star crossed lovers. I am too kind to people who do not wish me well. I’m overweight and obsessed with food. I mean, I could go on but let me not bore any one with my mental and emotional sparring.


Let me try this again.

I try so hard to be a GOOD person, that the end result is my disappointment in myself. I’ve spent the almost 15 years as a parent trying to raise intelligent, humbled human beings and so far… well…they are human. I’ve tried to be a supporter of the people that I love and care about and it’s often to their detriment. And mine, because again, I am left with disappointment.

So I guess I am not a BAD person, just one who tries too hard. I have a hard time accepting the truth in many situations. So I’ve decided to use my first dalliance reuniting with personal blogging to tell myself the truth.


BeBe’s kids

My kids will not be perfect. I think I know this one, I am just not accepting of the imperfections that they have. And honestly, I REALLY need to be.

To be, or not to be….

I cannot be upset with my employment situation because I chose it. Instead of following my passion and doing something that I enjoyed, I  took the road often traveled and went with what provided a check. I can either have a sit down with myself and figure out what IS my passion now that I’ve lived a little more life or shut up and give praise on direct deposit days.

People are not always going to treat me how I treat them. And that is ok. No it’s not, but for the sake of my own sanity I will have to suck this one up. The thing I have to get over is that the joy I used to get from loving people has turned to distrust and ill feelings, so it’s not worth it. Love people who genuinely love you, Nackia. Your shoulders are not big enough to support people who aren’t willing to support you when you need it. I have got to stop driving myself crazy over other peoples problems to avoid dealing with my own.

Screw telling the truth and shaming the devil, I’ve got to stop shaming myself.


Self care- practice makes perfect

I am admittedly and unabashedly a social media junkie. Wake up- facebook. Can’t sleep? Twitter. Instagram for the interim. Hey, I have a desk job. A boring one at that. That’s neither here nor there.

For the past few years social media has slowly become my community news source. I believe it began for me with Trayvon Martin and reached its peak with Michael Brown. Twitter was where I was able to get the news the mainstream media didn’t give a flying fist of fury about reporting. Why? Because it didn’t align with their agenda. Another post, another day.

My tweeple became my sounding boards for my frustration and fear. Every so often a twitter beef or black twitter roast would pop up and distract us from the angst we all felt.

Then the stories became more frequent. More senseless. More names. More hasthags. More grieving families. I began to feel my morale not only slip but fall like an old lady on ice. I was consumed by the injustices my people were facing and the ignorance and hate my “fellow Americans” REALLY felt. Oh and meanwhile, life continued around me in the form of work and family. It started to take a toll on my mental and my physical.

Then the phrase “self-care” was tossed out. It wasnt a phrase I had heard before, but I liked it. It seemed the missing piece to the depression I had been prone to before. Self care. It was like someone had finally shared with me the secret to life. This was something I could share with the masses who were hurting like I was.

It’s as simple as unplugging from the things that bring you down, be it tv, social issues, social media and doing something for SELF. Something to uplift you. An activity that makes you smile or gives you that child like giggle. A walk in the park to simply appreciate the fact that you are HERE. Life is a gift. An unappreciated one mostly but a gift all the same.

Since my discovery (yes…I am Columbusing it) I have tried to implement it as often as I remember which these days is pretty scarce. I can’t watch every video. Read every story. They won’t find every missing child.  I have to separate myself from these stories at least twice a week. It’s in the back of my mind though and hopefully the closer it inches toward this forehead mole, the more I will practice what I am attempting to preach.


This was already in my head, but my daughter just brought it out.


I was sooooo conceited when I was her age. My sister or any of my Foster sisters will tell you, compliment my eyes and meet a diva. But bump that, I DID know they would tell me how pretty my eyes were. They always did. Thank GAWD I didn’t get dad’s mint greens…..Jesus be some vanity.

Anyway….that was then. As I grew up, became awkward and met that hoe “puberty “, my vanity faded. There were a few other events that took away from my confidence,  but again, another post…maybe one day.

Queen of Digression, this one. The older I got, the less I felt beautiful, cute, worthy.  Being smart only took me so far. Who was really checking for the bookworm in hand-me-downs with the goofy grin, right?


I’d say by age 10, I didn’t love myself. Not just because of my looks, I just didn’t. Could be genetics.  Nature. Nurture. Didn’t MTV come out right after I was born? The blame can be endless. And unfortunately,  it carried itself into my adult life and to this very day I struggle with self esteem.

Pick your jaw up, shocking. I know.

But I see in my daughter that same vanity with a twinge of “say what you want, I love ME.” I pray that in my own deficiency I can foster that into a young woman who is confident in who she is and what she can do.

Be who and what you want. Don’t Let anyone make you feel as if you aren’t good enough. If you know you are smart, talented, beautiful Inside and OUT,  in the ever pertinent words of Pastor Mason Betha….

“Can’t nobody take my pride….can’t nobody hold me down…Oh No!”

sans the double negatives.

I pray that the demons and acne/badteeth/bad people. Media  images don’t influence my kids like they did me and they flourish.

Talking just to talk….

Whether we want to admit it or not, our whole lives are based on the acceptance and approval of others. Face it, your pursuit of happiness isn’t because it truly makes YOU happy but makes you APPEAR happy to others.

Working extra hard to buy clothes by a “designer”, it doesn’t give you super powers or anything, it gives the ILLUSION that you are financially superior and therefore HAPPY. To people who don’t even really matter to you. And you really don’t to them. Conversation pieces, if you will.

Having a 100 bedroom home for 2 isn’t because you plan to expand your family exponentially, it’s because it’s something to TALK about. Something deep inside you believe will impress the imaginary masses. Make people like you; accept you for who you are. Or aren’t. Or portray. Or wish to be.


Stop. Take a deep breath. Think about you goals, dreams, desires, accomplishments. Are at least 75% of them to prove something to someone else? Impress them? What you’re proving isn’t the point, the point is- is it really for YOU?

Humans as a whole derive their pleasures and advancement on how much “better” or “different” they are than the next. Think about it. Comparing jobs, cars, homes, relationships, finances, education…the list goes farther than I have time for. The crabs in a barrel mentality is so real and so deeply ingrained in us that we don’t even realize it.


Reputation is the one thing I can say will have people living outside of their means, tolerance and capacity. All for the sake of saying “I can. I have. I did. I am.” When really it only matters to one because they believe it matters to all.

Maybe this is a personal epiphany and maybe I’m just choosing to share with the few people who read my rants. I’m guilty on multiple counts of living my life as expected by others. It’s a hard habit to break as it usually is learned as a child. Behave as others want and expect. Maybe I just want someone else to see it with me.


Story time. Like to hear it? Here it goes

The year was 1997. I was pure, not necessarily innocent, but pure. My best friend at the time was “dating” a guy and as a result, I ended up meeting his friend. And this is where the story begins. Literally my life changed in 7 days.

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When I stepped off of that bus, I was greeted by a young man in a yellow FUBU jersey ( that part may not be completely accurate, but follow me), surrounded by a halo.  Laugh if you want. It’s all true. All I seen were ears, yellow, the light of God and my future. I knew then and there he would be mine. And eventually….I think I got him.










There was something about him that made me fall right then into the pits of Hell, I mean love. He was funny, dominating, not too bad on the eyes and he was great with kids.


Fast forward to where we are now. Finally going to tie the knot. Been through every peak and valley imaginable with a road map that seems to be heavy in them. Anyone who knows our relationship can attest to the good, bad and ugly. We’ve loved, hated, bonded,split, fussed, cussed and mussed enough for everyone. Through it all, I still seen that halo around the asshole I grew to know and love.


What started out as a friendship has evolved to this; two people raising Hell and children. What started off as two wild children has resulted in a family of 6. What started off as a follow up to a phone number at a basketball game has made it to the man I plan to spend forever with. Sham fucking wow.


As much as I would like to say that all of the trials and tribulations we’ve endured were worth it, they weren’t. Let’s not be cliche. That bus fare back in 1997, however, was.



When I say Whitney has sung a song for my every thought or emotion…..listen.

Watch “Whitney Houston – Unashamed” on YouTube

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