She's Found Strength

Why Women Fall for the Same Man Twice (And How to Stop)

2026-07-22T16:12:27.079-05:00

Have you ever looked at your phone, seen his name or number because he is no longer a saved contact, and felt yourself get butterflies? You tell yourself that you are not entertaining his bullshit. You remind yourself of the tears.

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Confusion. Sleepless nights. Oh, and all the reasons you left his ass alone. But then he reaches out, and suddenly you are wondering if maybe this time will be different because the sex maybe was so good.

You are not alone.

So many women find themselves giving the same man another chance. It is not because they are desperate or weak in the knees behind that meat, but because they are human. We want to believe people can change. We want to think the love or limerence we invested was not a waste of time. We hope the version of him we have imagined will finally become the version standing in front of us.

The problem is that hope can be more high pitch than reality.

Instead of remembering the inconsistency, we remember the jokes. Instead of focusing on the broken promises, we held on to the few moments when he was actin’ right. Before we realize it, we open a door to let that bullshit we once said no to come right back in.

If you have ever wondered why, it is so difficult to walk away from someone you have already let go of once before, you my hun are in the right place. Here are three powerful reasons women often fall for the same man twice. Oh, and more importantly, how to step away from that cycle for the better.

1. We Confuse Familiarity with Safety

I had to start with this one! Look when someone feels familiar, that does not mean they are good for us. I am talking about this even when yo’ ass in ovulating too. When a man comes back into our lives, our brains tend to remember the cool on point shit, the inside jokes, and the goodness y’all shared before we remember why things ended. Familiarity feels comfortable. This is true especially when we are feeling alone, horny, or wanting that special attention. However, comfort and peace are not the same thing. A relationship can feel familiar while still being emotionally draining for you to handle mentally. Before giving someone another chance, ask yourself: Am I excited because he possibly has changed, or because he is familiar?

2. We Fall in Love with Potential Instead of Patterns

One of the biggest mistakes a lot of women also make because I have my damn self is believing in who a man could become instead of accepting who he consistently shows himself to be. We can overlook disrespect and immatureness. We can also overlook the lack of emotional maturity. We believe the versions of the man we think about when we hear our favorite love songs. We convince ourselves that this time will be different because he is stepping a little bit differently than he once did. However, real change is not announced. Real change is demonstrated over time. If his pattern has always been inconsistency, emotional unavailability, or disappearing when things get difficult or after y’all had sex then another chance will not miraculously erase those habits. Pay attention to patterns, not potential.

3. We Mistake Loneliness for Love

Sometimes it is not that we truly miss the guy. What we may miss having someone to text, someone to spend weekends with, or someone who made us feel comfort. Loneliness can make an old fling, relationship or situationship seem better than it was. That is why so many women answer a message they would have ignored six months earlier. Healing means learning to sit with loneliness without letting it convince you to settle for less. The temporary comfort of letting the wrong person back into your life for the just because often costs you the long-term peace you have worked so hard to build.

My closing thoughts:

The hardest lesson is not learning how to let someone go, my girl. It is learning not to reopen doors that life closed for a reason. Every time you choose your peace over temporary attention, you remind yourself that your standards matter more than your emotions in the moment. Yes, your emotions are still valid too. However, the right man will not require you to ignore red flags, question your worth, or keep hoping he'll become someone different after some time has passed. That man will meet you with consistency, and respect. The man for you will be one that does not require you to keep giving countless chances to disappoint you.

The Interstate Scared Me, but Dependence Scared Me More

2026-07-21T06:30:00.000-05:00

For a long time, driving felt impossible because I had already learned how to build my whole life around not doing it. All I knew was keeping enough money to give somebody gas, catching the RTA bus, ordering an Uber, or walking if the distance looked manageable.

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I stayed ready for the weather. I did because walking meant carrying an umbrella all the damn time, wearing shoes that would not hurt my feet, and checking the sky before I stepped outside. I always needed backup money for a ride because one storm, one missed bus, or one person changing their mind could throw off my entire day.

When that is the only way, you know how to move through the world, you stop thinking about freedom and start thinking only about logistics. How much is Uber? Who can take me? Do I have gas money to give them? Is the bus running? Can I take that walk with my kids? What if it rains?

Every little trip needed a whole damn plan, even if I was only going a short distance. After a while, staying in the house felt easier than figuring out how to get out of it.

Isolation made my world physically and emotionally smaller. I barely had a social life. Most days I was shut inside with my kids. Even my first job while going through my divorce was work-from-home. I was earning money and handling responsibilities, but I was still inside the same walls.

Even when my children and I lived with my friend’s family, I began to understand just how disconnected I had become from the physical world around me. Life was happening outside. I had gotten so used to being shut away that participating in it felt unfamiliar.

That is why my first interstate drive was such a big fucking deal. It was a Tuesday in the middle of the day. The traffic was moving like everybody had somewhere urgent to be except me. I was scared as hell.

My hands were tight on the steering wheel. My kids were in the car, and my friend was on the passenger side to guide me with no GPS. My mind kept running through everything that could go wrong. I was afraid somebody would hit me because I was not careful enough. I was afraid of going faster than 65 miles an hour. Every time an 18-wheeler came beside me, it felt huge enough to gobble up my Rolla Cat.

I kept checking my mirrors, looking at the lanes, and reminding myself not to panic. I did not need to drive like everybody else. I only needed to stay alert, hold my lane, and get us there safely. The fear did not disappear just because I was behind the wheel. I drove my Rolla Cat scared. I drove while questioning myself. I drove with those big-ass trucks passing beside me and my heart beating like it wanted to leap out my chest. But I kept driving.

Having my kids in the car made the fear heavier. However, it also gave the drive meaning. I wanted them to see that Mama can still do things scared and get that shit accomplished. I wanted them to understand that courage does not mean you are calm the entire time. Sometimes courage is being terrified, taking a breath, and doing what needs to be done anyway. Every mile reminded me that I can do more than I once believed I could, especially when I am doing it for them.

For almost four years, I used rideshare with my kids to reach some of the shortest distances. Four years of checking prices. Four years of waiting for a driver too. I was getting everybody ready before the car arrived, carrying what we needed, and hoping nobody would cancel.

People who have always had a car may not understand how exhausting that shit becomes. You are not only paying for transportation. You are paying with your time. Your patience and your ability to move whenever you choose.

Now, not having to wait for a ride feels refreshing and earned. I can put my children in our car and go. I do not have to ask somebody for a favor. I do not have to calculate gas money for somebody else. I also do not have to decide whether the price to take an Uber will be worth getting out the door.

That freedom comes with responsibility because I am the one behind the wheel. I am the one making the decisions and getting us home safely. Still, it feels good as hell to know our movement no longer depends on another person saying yes.

Driving has also made me think differently about my mama. She has never driven and only knows her bike, walking, and depending on somebody else to take her beyond those limits. I understand that kind of dependence because I lived inside my own version of it. The difference is that I am finally breaking away from it. I am talking one drive at a time. That is part of why every trip feels bigger than the destination.

I have only taken two interstate trips with my kids during the day. I am not pretending I am suddenly fearless. I still think about getting hit. I still tense up near 18-wheelers. I am still learning how to trust myself at higher speeds.

But I did it, and I did it well. The black woman who once arranged her whole life around buses, walking, gas money, and rideshares is now driving her children down the interstate. That may not sound like much to everybody, but to me it is proof that my world is opening back up.

The interstate still scares me. However, dependence scares me more. I know what it feels like to stay home because leaving requires too much planning. I know what it feels like to wait on somebody else before I can move. I know what it feels like for the world to become so small that the walls around you start feeling normal.

I do not want that life anymore. I would rather grip the steering wheel. I rather take my nervous ass down the interstate and keep proving to myself and my kids that being scared does not mean we have to stay stuck.

Three Bags of Trash and Everything I’ve Been Carrying

2026-07-20T08:30:00.000-05:00

My younger sister called me out of the blue and said she was at Target in Baton Rouge buying school supplies and wanted to stop by with our mama. The whole thing felt strange as hell. They do not live that far away. So, part of me kept wondering why it took a trip to Target for them to finally come out here.

I honestly did not know what to think. It was one of those wow, got-damn moments. It was almost like a mind fuck, because I was happy, shocked, confused, and irritated all at once.

As soon as I knew they were coming, I struggled to clean up as much as I could. I had been so overwhelmed that entire past week that all I managed to do was wash the breakfast dishes still sitting in the sink. I wanted the apartment to look better. I truly did. However, I did not have the energy to make it look like I had everything together when I clearly did not.

The timing brought up even more emotions. I had just started driving on the interstate this past week. I have only made two daytime interstate trips with my kids. Plus, I did great both times. That may sound small to somebody else, but it was a real accomplishment for me. I still plan to drive to Napoleonville. I am not sure what I will see when I get there or where my kids and I will fit into everything. The living circumstances down there are not the most comfortable for us. So, it would probably be a quick pass-through instead of a long visit.

When my mama walked through the door, my kids were excited to see her. Watching them together made me smile. They deserve those moments with their grandmother, and she deserves those moments with them. The last time she spent time with them Alina was about four months, and Eli was going on 4 years old. At the same time, the visit made me angry. I was angry because it reminded me how close everyone should be and how much time has passed anyway.

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Then my mama looked around the bedroom I shared with my two kids and asked for a broom. She did not lecture me or make me feel ashamed. She just started helping me clean. As we worked, I realized the room was reflecting something I had been trying not to admit. The room reflected that I had been sinking deeper into high-functioning depression. I had still been parenting, working, going to school, writing, driving, and doing what needed to be done on the outside, however, inside I was overwhelmed and barely keeping up.

Helping my mama clean that bedroom hit me harder than I expected. It was not only about the clutter or the things under the beds. It was about being seen without being judged. She helped me gather three bags of trash and take them out. With every bag that left the apartment, I felt a little lighter. Not fixed. I was not suddenly healed, but less alone.

Before they left that evening, I took pictures of my mama with my kids. I wanted something to hold on to after the surprise of the day wore off. Seeing those pictures made me smile and it pissed me off too. My mama has never driven a car; all she knows is riding her bike and walking.

So getting anywhere beyond what she can reach on her own means depending on somebody else. My mama knows codependency and I had to break away from codependency post separation. My mama deserves better than the life she is living. I hate feeling like my younger sister runs her whole life. I hate thinking that a simple visit must depend on where my sister needs to shop or what she decides the day will look like.

That is what made the day so conflicting for me. I was grateful they came. Even grateful my children got to spend time with their grandmother. Hell, I was even and grateful my mama helped me when I could not fully help myself. However, I was also hurt that something so ordinary felt so rare. They do not live far away. It should not take school supplies for college, Target, or some last-minute decision for my mama to be able to show up at my door.

Still, for those few hours, she was there. She swept, helped me carry out the trash, spent time with my kids, and gave me relief without asking me to explain why I had fallen behind. Sometimes love does not arrive in a perfect package wrapped up with a bow. Sometimes it arrives unexpectedly. It can come on a random trip to Target, asking where the broom is, and helping you clear a path through the mess.

When they drove away that evening, I was left holding all of it. I am talking about happiness. The anger. The progress I had made on the interstate. The uncertainty about going back to Napoleonville. The weight of my depression, and the love I still have for my mama.

The visit did not solve any of those things. It simply reminded me that I can be thankful and pissed off at the same time. I was reminded that I can love my family and still hate the way things are. I was also reminded that sometimes being helped with three bags of trash can reveal just how much you have been carrying by yourself.

Nobody Had to Say Yes

2026-07-20T05:30:00.000-05:00

The day started with one simple responsibility. I needed to take Alina to get her blood work done. That was the plan. Get in the car. Handle the appointment. Then come back home. For years, that alone would have required checking rideshare prices first.

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Then I would have to make sure I had enough money. I would have to struggle with getting both kids ready before the driver arrived and hoping nobody would cancel on us. This time, I grabbed my keys. I put my kids in our car and took my own damn self.

Getting there also reminded me how far I had already come. The first time I merged onto the interstate, I was gripping the steering wheel for dear life. I was going almost 55 miles an hour, but I still started shouting, “Hell yeah!” like I had just won some big money. My kids were laughing in the back seat because Mama was scared as hell. Plus, Mama was celebrating at the same time. That nervous small win mattered because it helped make days like this possible. I could take Alina to her appointment. I can choose to keep going afterward and turn a normal responsibility into a whole day with my littles.

After the blood work, I did not feel ready to go straight home. That feeling alone was new and refreshing. I did not have to check whether another ride would cost too much. Neither did I feel compelled to ask anybody if they had time to take us somewhere else. I opened the GPS and realized Barnes & Noble, Whole Foods, and QDOBA were all close by. I had spent so many years arranging my life around transportation. I never realized how close everything was around this area. The world had not been far away. I had not been free to move through it.

Alright, so we went into Barnes & Noble because we could. There were no long discussions and no big plans. I simply decided we were going inside. I watched my kids look around. I let myself enjoy being able to turn one appointment into an actual day out. I was not watching the clock for a driver. Plus, I was not wondering how we would get to the next place. The car was outside waiting on us because it was ours.

Then we went into Whole Foods. My kids had never experienced a grocery store like that before. Sha, they were shocked as hell. They looked around like we had walked into a whole different kind of world. Seeing their reactions made me notice it differently too. It was not only a grocery run. It was me introducing them to a place they had never seen. It was this way because for so long, our outings were limited by where we could walk, where the bus went, what a rideshare cost, or who was willing to take us.

I spent about $75 in Whole Foods. I put it on my Cash App card and called it a day. I did not stand there feeling like I needed permission or prepare an explanation for every item in the cart. I had the money. I made the choice. I paid for it. That might sound regular to somebody else, but regular freedom still feels like a big fucking deal when you spent years having to explain what you needed and why.

We ended the day at QDOBA with a lunch date for all three of us. I bought both kids’ quesadilla meals. We sat down together after a day none of us had planned. It was not a vacation or some expensive, IG photo-opt outing. It was blood work, buying books, groceries, and Mexican food. Still, sitting there with my two-piece special felt like proof that I could create a good memory without waiting on another person to make it possible.

Using the GPS did not make the day any less independent. I am still learning these roads. I would rather let that little voice tell me where to turn than end up on the wrong damn side of Baton Rouge. What mattered was that I was the one behind the wheel. I chose the stops. I followed the directions. I parked the car. I had got my children in and out safely and brought us home. Every turn was mine to make.

The freedom was in the unplanned part. Before I had a car, spontaneity belonged to people with transportation. I could not casually add another stop because every extra mile meant more money. It meant more waiting, and more planning. That day, I did not have to calculate whether enjoying ourselves was worth another rideshare fare. I only had to decide whether we wanted to go.

For almost four years, I had used rideshare with my kids to reach even the shortest distances. Now one appointment became a bookstore visit, a grocery-store first, and a lunch date because nobody had to say yes except me. I did not need a ride. I did not have to wait for approval. I did not have to prepare for a perfect plan. I had my keys, my Cash App card, my GPS, and my littles (two-piece special.) For once, that was enough.

What Being a Stay-at-Home Wife Taught Me About Codependency

2026-07-19T16:44:45.228-05:00

One of the hardest lessons I learned from being a stay-at-home wife and mother of two was how quietly dependence can turn into codependency. Staying home to raise my children was real work. There was somewhere along the way I stopped feeling like an equal partner.

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I started feeling isolated as hell. My entire world depended on another person. I was young. Young meaning my mid-twenties. I did not have a car. I was not motivated to drive, but I had a license. I did not have a dependable way to earn money outside the home. My life kept getting reduced. For a long time, I did not even realize how much of myself had disappeared inside it.

Before I had children, I worked as a banker. I made a decent living for myself. I knew what it felt like to earn my own money. I was able to move through the real world and contribute to my own stability. After becoming a stay-at-home mother, that version of me began to feel farther away. Everything in that marriage was almost supposed to be fifty-fifty. Yet, the reality did not feel equal especially when one person had the steady paycheck, the transportation, and more control over the choices available to both of us.

I tried to create income where I could. I made YouTube content and worked with a few brands here and there, but there was no stability in it. Some opportunities came through and others did not. I could make something one month and have very little the next. It gave me a creative outlet and reminded me that I still had something of my own. However, it did not give me the reliable foundation I needed for myself or my children.

The hardest part was admitting that I did not feel stable in my own damn marriage. I knew I deserved better for my mental health and my sanity. I was tired of having to ask for what I needed. Tired of my requests being treated like nagging. Oh, I was also tired of feeling guilty for bringing up the same problems when nothing ever changed. I felt alone even when I was not physically by myself. I did not want to keep begging somebody else to make room for my needs. I wanted to be able to meet some of those needs myself.

For a long time, I told myself I was still learning how to being a good wife. I stayed home. I raised our children. I stretched the household money. Hell, I kept sacrificing because I believed things would eventually get better. Looking back, I realized that I was financially dependent. I had also become codependent. I was arranging my choices. I rearranged my confidence, and sense of security around someone else's income and decisions.

The money was not for the household, groceries, or the kids. It was for me.

Every month, I had less than $300 for myself. That amount had to cover toiletries, clothes, hair care, online shopping, or anything else that was not considered essential. The amount mattered. However, the deeper issue was what it represented. I had to keep asking, explaining, and waiting for someone else's approval. Over time, that wore down my confidence and made me feel like a got-damn grown ass fool in my own life.

Eventually, I knew I wanted to return to the real world and make my own money again. I wanted that bi-weekly deposit or weekly deposit to hit my checking account after working for it. That desire was not about rejecting motherhood. It also was not about pretending that staying home with my children had no value. It was about remembering that I had value too. I missed the woman who had worked in banking. That woman who had earned a decent living and knew she could take care of herself. I wanted to rebuild that confidence. I wanted to rebuild that confidence not only for me but also so my children. I wanted for my children to see that their mother could create a stable life.

When Asking Started to Feel Like Nagging

There is a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from asking for the same shit repeatedly. After a while, even reasonable needs start sounding like I was nagging because nothing changes. I became tired of explaining why I needed money, transportation, time, or support. I became tired of being made to feel like the problem was how I asked instead of the fact that I had to keep asking at all. Eventually, staying quiet felt easier than being dismissed one more time.

When you hear no a lot you already know the answer will probably be no. So, you start silencing yourself. You convince yourself that you are responsible. You tell yourself everybody else comes first and push your own needs to the bottom of the damn list. That was the isolation nobody could see. I was surrounded by family responsibilities, yet I felt invisible in my own life.

When Fifty-Fifty Did Not Feel Equal

On paper, everything may have been called fifty-fifty. In practice, equal responsibility did not mean equal power. I was contributing to childcare, household labor, emotional labor, and the daily work of raising two children. I did not have equal access to income, transportation, or even independence. I learned that a relationship can be divided evenly in the belief and still leave one person feeling deeply unstable.

The biggest lesson was that financial independence is not only about money. It is about choices. It also plays into your confidence, mobility, and the ability to imagine a future without waiting for permission. Having no car and no motivation to drive kept my world small. Having inconsistent income made that world feel even smaller. The more limited my options became, the easier it was to believe I could not manage on my own.

The hardest part was realizing that I had started attaching my worth to someone else’s willingness to provide for me. If he approved it, I could have it. If he did not, I could not. That was not partnership. It was a power imbalance.

I Mistook Survival for Love

When you depend on someone financially, it becomes hard as hell to separate love from survival. You start making yourself smaller to avoid conflict. You become afraid to spend money. You can start second-guess every purchase, and feel guilty for needing basic things. You call it keeping the peace, but really you are learning how to disappear without making anybody uncomfortable.

Even affection and closeness began to feel like obligations instead of mutual choices. What should have felt caring and freely shared started feeling like one more damn demand I was expected to meet. I am talking no matter how overwhelmed, disconnected, or emotionally exhausted I was I felt almost threaten to comply. That kind of pressure made me feel even more isolated because I was present physically while feeling miles away inside myself.

Looking back, I realize I spent more energy trying not to be a burden than I did enjoying my own life.

Codependency Doesn't Always Look the Way People Think

When people hear the word “codependent,” they often imagine someone who cannot be alone. However, sometimes it looks different. Sometimes it is believing you cannot make decisions without someone else’s approval. It can be the feeling of being trapped because you do not have your own income. It can be believing your needs should always come last, or even staying quiet because you are afraid of what asking will cost.

Rebuilding the Woman I Was Before

Leaving that chapter did not magically erase the habits I had picked up. I still had to learn how to make decisions without second-guessing myself. I had to learn how to spend money without guilt, drive, work, and trust that I could create stability. Going back to school, returning to work, buying my first car, managing my own finances, and building income have helped me reclaim pieces of myself I once thought were gone. Every step reminded me that I was not helpless. I had overall been isolated from my own confidence for a long damn time.

Even today, I sometimes feel guilty for buying something I genuinely need at times. I still overthink spending money on myself. Healing is not an overnight process. It is something I keep practicing, especially on the days when that little voice tells me I am asking for too much. The difference now is that I recognize the voice for what it is. It is leftover fear, not the truth about what I deserve.

My Advice to Anyone Who Sees Themselves in This Story

Financial dependence can happen for many reasons. Staying home to raise children is real work. Every family’s situation is different. Regardless of how your household is structured, you deserve transparency. You respect and voice in the financial decisions that affect your life.

If you have stopped asking for what you need because you are afraid of the answer. It is worth asking yourself why. If you have started believing your needs matter, remind yourself that they are valid. If you are working to rebuild your independence, know that progress does not have to happen overnight. Small steps count.

What I Know Now

I do not regret being present for my children. However, I do regret how completely I disappeared inside that role and that marriage. I was young, but deep down I knew this shit was costing me my mental health and sanity. Wanting my own income, transportation, and stability did not make me selfish. It meant I was finally listening to the part of myself that remembered who the hell I was before I became so isolated and dependent.

Codependency taught me how dangerous it can be to build your entire sense of safety around another person. Rebuilding taught me that stability begins with having a voice. It also begins with having options and believing that your needs matter. I wanted to work again because I wanted more than a paycheck. I wanted proof that I could stand in the real world. I wanted proof that I was able to provide for myself and create a life that did not require me to keep asking for permission.

What I know now is that financial independence is not just about money. It is about confidence, choices, mobility, and knowing you can take care of yourself without asking permission. That lesson cost me years of my life and a whole lot of peace. I will never forget it. I refuse to make myself small just to keep somebody else comfortable ever again.

Soft-On Days for Real Life: Getting Things Done Without Running on Fumes

2026-07-19T14:09:48.812-05:00

For years, I thought a productive day meant checking every box, answering every message, keeping everybody happy, and somehow making it home with enough energy to prepare for tomorrow. You know what I am talking about the kind of schedule that makes your plans place on your calendar look like money and one of your eyes start twitching by 2:00 p.m.

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As a single mom, college student, and full-time employee, slowing down almost felt irresponsible.

But lately, I have been learning something different.

Not every day has to be an “all gas, no brakes, somebody hand me an” kind of day.

Then I came across the idea of a soft-on day: a day when you are still present, even responsive, and moving things forward. However, you intentionally lower the pressure. The original trend is often pictured as working from the softa in comfortable clothes. That sounds nice, but some of us still must get dressed, commute, clock in, stand in front of a classroom, answer the office phone, or help someone in person. We need a version that works in real life, too.

What Is a Soft-On Day?

A soft-on day is not a do-nothing day. It is also definitely not an invitation to disappear while your inbox goes crazy. It's about removing the pressure to perform at 100%. Instead of trying to conquer 12 plus tasks, you focus on the few things that matter. You still make progress. You just stop punishing yourself for being human.

What My Soft-On Days Look Like

Some days mine look like:

· Making my bed so I begin with one small win.

· Drinking my coffee or tea before I let my phone tell me what everyone else needs.

· Packing what I need the night before, so the morning feels less rushed.

· Choosing one important work task and letting the smaller, nonurgent things wait.

· Eating lunch instead of working straight through it.

· Taking the long way to the restroom or stepping outside for a few quiet breaths.

· Coming home and choosing an easy dinner without feeling guilty about it.

· Folding one basket of laundry instead of trying to reset the whole house.

· Going to bed without turning rest into another thing I must earn.

Honestly? Easy dinner, one folded basket, and everybody making it to bedtime is what I would call a respectable win. Those days usually leave me feeling better than the ones where I try to do everything.

When You Physically Have to Go to Work

A soft-on day at an in-person job does not mean hiding in one of the clean restrooms until closing time even though it may be tempting as that may sound. It means being honest about your energy. It is also about working with it instead of pretending you are a damn robot with non-stop battery life.

How to Make an In-Person Workday Feel Softer

· Make tomorrow easier tonight. Put out your clothes, pack your lunch, fill your water bottle, and place your keys where they cannot play hide-and-seek before you leave.

· Give your commute a job. Let it be quiet time, prayer time, audiobook time, or your personal car concert. Make a play list if needed.

· Choose your “must-do” before the day chooses for you. Pick one main task and two smaller ones. Everything else goes on the “if I have time and functioning brain cells” list.

· Wear your reliable outfit. This is not the day for shoes that require courage or an outfit that needs constant adjustment. Comfortable, polished, and easy is the assignment.

· Batch the little things. Answer routine emails together, make copies in one trip, and handle nearby errands at the same time so you are not zigzagging all day.

· Take the break you are allowed to take. Eat lunch, refill your water, stretch, or walk for a few minutes. Your desk will survive the separation.

· Keep a tiny comfort kit. Stock your bag or drawer with a snack, lotion, lip gloss pain reliever, mints, a charger, and anything else that prevents a small inconvenience from becoming the final straw.

· Protect your social battery. Be warm without turning every hallway conversation into a meeting. “I would want to hear the rest later” is a complete and friendly way to make your exit.

· Create a leaving strategy. Write tomorrow’s first task, clear one small space, close the laptop, and mentally clock out. Do not carry the entire building home in your purse.

· Build in your silence before the second shift. Sit in the car for five minutes, change clothes when you get home, or drink water before jumping into dinner, homework, and everybody else’s questions.

The point is not to turn your workday into a wellness get-away. It is to add small bits of ease to a day that still requires you to show up, smile, solve problems, and remember yet another password.

You can still be professional and have a softer day. Wear the outfit, scent, or even a hair style that makes getting ready simple. Start with the task that truly must be done. Gather up similar errands or paperwork together. Take your full break when you can. Keep conversations on a surface level but brief if your social battery is low. Before volunteering for one more thing, pause and ask whether it is yours to carry.

Sometimes gentle productivity is not about doing less work. It is about removing the extra pressure. It is about how to stop rushing, striving for perfectionism, and emotional labor we pile on top of the work.

For Those of Us in the School System

If you work in a school, you already know the day rarely belongs completely to you. There are bells, students, parents, meetings, paperwork, unexpected situations, and people who need an answer right now. You cannot always move the schedule, work from home, or turn the volume of the day down.

For us, a soft-on day may be smaller and more personal. It might mean using a familiar lesson instead of creating something brand-new, grading only the assignments that truly need feedback today, closing the classroom door for five quiet minutes during planning, eating lunch while it is still warm, or writing down tomorrow's first task so you do not carry the entire day home in your head.

It can also mean accepting that being present with students is productive, even when the paperwork is not finished. Some days the most important thing you do is listen, redirect with patience, solve one problem, or help a child feel seen. That work may never appear on a checklist, but it still counts.

Plus, if you are school staff while also parenting, studying, or building something of your own, you are carrying more than one full life at a time. A soft-on day is not laziness if you ask me. Sometimes it is the wisdom to save enough of yourself for the people, and the person that is waiting at home.

For the Moms Who Are Always “On”

I could not forget my ladies who are mamas. See we need our own version of this because “soft” can feel impossible when somebody needs a snack, a ride, a pick me up, clean socks, or an answer to a question they first asked while we were in the bathroom. Our workday may end, but the second shift is usually waiting for us right in that kitchen.

A mom soft-on day is not a laid back red light special. It may look like cereal for dinner, grocery pickup instead of strolling every aisle. It may be saying yes to extra screen time without writing yourself a guilt letter. It could look like letting the laundry stay in the basket because technically the clothes are clean and that is the part that matters.

· Pick the easy dinner. Sandwiches, leftovers, breakfast for dinner, or takeout all count as feeding the family.

· Choose one home reset. Clear the counter, start one load, or pack tomorrow’s bags, plus not all three.

· Create a quiet pocket. Sit in the car for five minutes, take a longer shower, or drink something while it is still hot.

· Let good enough be good. Store-bought treats, mismatched socks, and an unsigned spirit-day shirt do not cancel your Mom of the Year nomination.

· Ask for help clearly. “Can you handle bath time?” works better than hoping somebody notices you are doing twelve things at once.

The goal is not to be less caring. It is to remember that taking care of yourself is part of taking care of your family. A calmer mom is still a productive mom even if the dishwasher is full and nobody can find the matching lid.

Why We Are All So Tired and Still Adding Things to the List

Somewhere along the way we started believing our worth came from productivity.

More work. More side hustles. More content. More money. More everything. However, constantly operating in survival mode is not sustainable. Sometimes your nervous system needs to relax for real.

Soft Productivity Still Counts

Gentle productivity does not mean throwing in the towel on your goals. It means reaching them without being the one looking exhausted, feeling as irritated as you look, and wondering why everybody is talking with food in their mouths. It means understanding that consistency beats exhaustion. A 30-minute walk counts. Writing one page counts. Applying for one job counts. Paying one bill counts or getting on a payment plan counts. Reading ten pages counts. Resting when you're mentally exhausted counts too.

Five Ways to Have a Soft-On Day

1. Name your true urgencies. Choose one to three things that must be handled today.

2. Lower the difficulty, not your standards. Use a simpler lesson, an easy meal, a template, or a familiar routine.

3. Protect one small pause. Take your lunch, sit in your car for a few minutes, step outside, pray, stretch, or breathe.

4. Stop adding to the day. Before saying yes, ask what will need to move or wait.

5. Decide what “enough” looks like. Give the day a stopping point and let yourself have grace.

Final Thoughts

I am learning that my life does not have to feel rushed to be meaningful. I am starting to understand that a gentle day does not require a sofa, pajamas, and a laptop. Sometimes it looks like getting dressed, getting to work, caring for students or coworkers, answering “What’s for dinner?” for the third time, and still choosing not to give up on myself in the process.

There will always be another email, another lesson plan, another form, another load of laundry, and another goal to chase. However, there will not always be this version of me.

The woman rebuilding.
The mother trying her best.
The student working toward graduation.
The person learning that peace is productive too.

Maybe today does not need your perfection.

Maybe today just needs your presence. Maybe it needs your three real priorities. It may even need permission to leave something for tomorrow. The emails will have to wait. The non-responded text messages can sit. The laundry has nowhere else to be. And you are allowed to end the day with energy left for yourself.

I’m Not Begging for Reciprocity Anymore

2026-07-17T13:47:16.374-05:00

I knew I was done when asking for a second date started feeling like I was begging for basic effort.

Not groceries. Not money. Not a grand romantic gesture. I am talking about a day, time, a plan, and enough intention to show me I was not the only one trying to keep the connection alive.

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About almost ten days ago, I published a blog post called Single Mom Dating: The Raw Truth About Love, Kids, and Judgment. Back then, I was hopeful. I was open. I believed maybe I had room in my heart to build something with somebody while still being the mother my children needed. However, life has a funny way of checking you when you start romanticizing potential over reality.

In the span of one week, I went from feeling excited about seeing somebody’s name pop up on my screen to asking myself why the hell I was making space for inconsistency. I already knew that my real life already requires so much from me.

Maybe it is Mercury retrograde. Maybe it is exhaustion. Maybe it is motherhood, healing, divorce recovery, bills, school planning, child support stress, and the emotional labor of trying to stay soft in a world that reminds you to keep your guard up.

Whatever it is, something shifted in me.

For the first time in a long time, dating does not feel exciting this season. It feels...heavy. Heavy asf.

What did it for me was realizing I was out here asking about a second date like I was begging for scraps of reciprocity. I asked once. Then I asked again. Then after a certain point, if I must keep asking you when you plan on seeing me, then damn, am I asking for a date or auditioning for basic effort?

You can talk to somebody every day. You can FaceTime them, laugh with them, get used to seeing their name pop up on your screen, and start thinking, “Okay, maybe this could be something.” Then one disagreement happens and suddenly the energy starts dying down as if y’all were never building a routine in the first place.

That right there is the part that pisses me off. Don’t come in playing delulu with me in the beginning, acting like consistency is easy, acting like you know how to show up, then switch up the moment I start asking for intention instead of vibes. I did not ask you to pay a bill. I did not ask you to front me money. I did not ask you to come save me. I asked you to be intentional with how you were moving.

Oh yes, I need plans in advance. I have kids. I am the head of my household. My life does not operate on “let’s see as time gets closer” and last-minute maybes. I have school schedules, responsibilities, emotions, bills, appointments, and children who depend on me to be steady. So no, I cannot just float through somebody’s uncertainty because they want the benefits of my attention without the weight of being considerate.

What’s wild is that I spent three weeks of my life being pulled into a routine that clearly could not be maintained. Three weeks of conversation, attention, FaceTime, curiosity, and emotional buildup, just for the whole thing to start cracking the moment I opened up and started being more intentional about how I was seeing myself.

Then somehow, me wanting clarity turned into me “acting funny.” Me having standards looked like me causing issues. Me asking for intention got twisted into me sabotaging something. I do a lot of things for the plot but letting someone in to get to know more about me and then I pull back can be done once the sparks stop flying because it’s based on sexual chemistry. If the foundation was that fragile, maybe sabotage was just truth showing up early and doing me a favor.

Truth be told, when a man can look at everything, I have going on and suggest I should be open to exploring situationships, that tells me everything I need to know. My reality is not light. My life is denser than homemade Southern pound cake. I do not need somebody trying to turn my heart into a casual experiment, because they don’t know what to do with a woman who has done the work to heal, handling her responsibilities, not making excuses for my history of love, and getting out the way without being ghosted.

I am four years post-divorce come October. I have rebuilt too much of myself to start shrinking now. I am not desperate for a title. I am also not available for confusion dressed up as connection. If I must ask more than twice for reciprocity, I am no longer communicating. I am begging. I refuse to beg somebody to do what they had no problem pretending they could do in the beginning.

So yes, I threw the towel in. Not because I did not care, but because I care about myself more. I am fine with being the one who got away. Hell, I am proud to be the one who knew when to walk away before a situationship tried to make a fool out of her.

At this point, I cannot afford to give a fuck about inconsistency. My peace is too expensive. My time is too limited. My life is already full. If somebody wants access to me, they need to understand that access comes with intention. Not perfection. Not pressure. Just intention.

Not because every man is the problem, and not because love is not real. I am not walking away from the idea of being loved. I am walking away from the version of dating that feels like one more damn thing I must manage when my plate is already full.

As a single mom, every conversation cost time. Every date requires planning. Every ounce of emotional investment comes from a cup that is already being poured into my children first. So, when somebody comes into my life half-stepping, inconsistent, or acting confused after they were so damn sure in the beginning, I feel it differently now. I do not have extra pieces of myself to hand out just to see if somebody might eventually decide to value them.

I am not angry. I am not bitter. I am simply paying attention to what my mind, body, and heart have been trying to tell me. Peace has become more attractive to me over the years than potential. Consistency has become more attractive than chemistry. Oh, plus protecting my energy has become more attractive than chasing a relationship, because society says I should want one.

Maybe this is only a season. Maybe a few months from now I will feel completely different. Or maybe this season is teaching me that I do not have to force a damn thing. Love should not require me to abandon myself, shrink myself, silence myself, or even pretend I am okay with crumbs when I know I deserve the whole meal.

Right now, I am choosing to pour into my children, my education, my career, my writing, and the woman I am becoming. If love finds me while I am doing those things, I will welcome it. However, I am no longer making dating the center of my story. I am making peace the center instead.

Honestly? That feels like the healthiest decision I have made in a long time. I am still going to date, and best believe, a time will be had. I am not locking myself away or acting like love cannot find me. I am just not internalizing about getting to know somebody more than they are getting to know me. I am not carrying the connection by myself, overthinking every shift, or making their confusion mean something is wrong with me. I would rather be alone in my peace than tied to somebody’s inconsistency and half-ass effort. I am not begging for reciprocity anymore. I am choosing myself, and that shit feels good.

Single Mom Dating: The Raw Truth About Love, Kids, and Judgment

2026-07-08T12:25:08.160-05:00

Dating as a single mom is not a sport and many people think they understand until they are living it. From the outside, it can look as if it is “just dating.” However, it comes with schedules, boundaries, childcare, judgment, hope, exhaustion, and sometimes a little bit of excitement that catches you off guard in the best way.

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There are a lot of us navigating it. The U.S. Census Bureau estimated that in 2023 there were 9.8 million one-parent households in the United States, including 7.3 million mother-only households.

Plus, Pew Research Center has also reported that dating in the U.S. has become more complicated for many adults. This means that with nearly half of U.S. adults saying dating has gotten harder for most people over the previous decade. So, if it feels like dating can be a time waster, it is not just in your head. It is a real experience happening inside a much bigger shift in family life and relationships.

The Questions People Think Are Harmless

One thing people do not always understand is how quickly dating conversations can turn into an interview about your motherhood skills and picks. Sometimes the questions come from curiosity. Sometimes questions can come from concern, and sometimes from pure ignorance. “How many kids do you have?” is usual. That is part of my life. Wait, then it can slide into, “How many baby daddies?” or “Are all your kids by your ex-husband?” and suddenly the conversation feels less like getting to know me and more like I am being asked to defend my life story.

There is a way to ask about someone’s life with respect. There is also a way to ask that makes a woman feel judged before she has even had a chance to be seen as a full person. Single moms are not walking red flags because we have children. We are women. Women with history, standards, responsibilities, and time that deserves to be respected.

“Do You Want More Kids?” Is Not Small Talk

Then there is the question: “Do you want more kids?” For some people, that is a simple compatibility question. For me, the honest answer is that I am strongly leaning toward hell no. Not because motherhood is not lively. It is. However, liveliness does not erase weight. Getting them ready for school, appointments, emotional labor, financial planning, sleepless nights, and even constant decision-making are real.

It is okay for a single mom to love her children unconditionally. She can also still be honest about how she may not want to start over. It is okay to say, “My hands are full and I am not looking to procreate again.” That answer deserves respect, not a debate.

Time Is the Real Currency

People love to say, “Just make time,” but single moms know time is not something you can magically pull out your dresser draw with confidence. You plan for it, negotiate for it, pay for it, or ask your tribe to help you protect it. A weekend date might mean checking everyone’s schedules. It may mean asking a family member to watch the kids. Hell, it may look like swapping favors with another mom, or paying for a sitter before the date even starts.

Weeknight dating can be even harder. The way things look after work, dinner, homework, baths, bedtime routines, and trying to reset the house, sometimes can leave the mom only desiring silence. Therefore, when a single mom chooses to go out, answer messages, get dolled up, and showing up, that effort matters. It is not casual in the way people may assume. It often takes planning, energy, and support.

Yes, It Can Still Be Thrilling

Even with all the planning, dating can still feel exciting. There is something thrilling about being seen outside of motherhood. There is something about remembering that you are still a woman with preferences, attraction, humor, style, and desire for connection. Sometimes the butterflies are not about needing someone to swoop in and rescue you. Sometimes they are about realizing you still have room to get to be seen outside of a mom.

And Let’s Talk About the “Date Your Own Kind” Comments

One of the loudest opinions people love to throw at single moms is that we should only date men with kids. They say we need to “date our own kind.” As if motherhood automatically puts us in a separate dating category where we should be grateful for whoever understands the struggle. Truthfully, that mindset can be closed off.

Having kids does not mean I am only compatible with someone who has kids. Reality is a man without children can still be patient, emotionally mature, respectful, flexible, and serious. A man with children can still be inconsistent, selfish, unavailable, or chaotic. Kids do not automatically make someone more understanding. Character does.

I do not need someone to have the same exact life as me to respect my life. I need someone who understands that my time is not wide open. My children are not optional. My standards are not going down just because I am a mom. That is the part people miss. Single motherhood is not a punishment. It is not a reason to shrink my options. It is a reason to be even more intentional.

Some Moms Date Because They Want To, Not Because They Have To

Another thing people misunderstand is motive. Not every single mom is dating because she is lonely. Not every single mom is dating because she is desperate or searching for someone to step in and complete the family. Some moms date because they want companionship. Some want romance. Some want to enjoy flirting, laughing, get dressed up, eat a meal without having to turn on an iPad or tablet at the dinner table. Some moms want to have a grown-up conversation that is not about school fees, grocery lists, or who needs new shoes. Some want to be pursued, desired, appreciated, and treated like a woman with a life outside of being “Mom.”

Wanting to date does not mean needing to settle. If anything, motherhood can make your standards clearer. You learn to pay attention to consistency, patience, emotional maturity. You are able to understand whether someone understands that your children are not an inconvenience and that they are part of the life you are carefully protecting.

What People Should Understand Before Dating a Single Mom

• Ask questions with care, not judgment.

• Understanding that time together may require planning, childcare, and emotional energy.

• Do not assume she wants another child, another marriage, or someone to “save” her.

• Respect that her children are part of her life, but they are not a topic for interrogation.

• Be honest about your intentions because her time is valuable.

• Remember that she is not only a mother. She is also a woman, a friend, a dreamer, and a whole person.

The Truth Is, dating as a Single Mom Is Layered

It can be fun and frustrating, spark your curiosity and exhausting, thrilling and inconvenient at the same time. It can require a babysitter, a supportive tribe, a flexible schedule, and a whole lot of discernment. However, it can also remind a woman that motherhood did not cancel her desire for connection.

What people do not understand is that single moms are not asking to be pitied or put on a pedestal. We are asking to be seen clearly. We come with responsibilities, yes. However, we also come with wisdom, strength, humor, boundaries, love, and the ability to choose dating from a place of want and not need.

Sources

• U.S. Census Bureau. “National Single Parent Day: March 21, 2024.” Census.gov. https://www.census.gov/newsroom/stories/single-parent-day.html

• Pew Research Center. “Nearly Half of U.S. Adults Say Dating Has Gotten Harder for Most People in the Last 10 Years.” August 2020. https://www.pewsocialtrends.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/3/2020/08/PSDT_08.20.20.dating-relationships.final_.pdf

• Pew Research Center. “Romance & Dating.” https://www.pewresearch.org/topic/family-relationships/romance-dating/

June Beat My Ass, But I’m Still Praying for July

2026-07-01T19:00:00.000-05:00

June pounced all on my chest. I am not even being dramatic. This month had me working summer school. I was trying to keep my head above water. I was still trying to be somebody’s mama, somebody’s employee, somebody’s everything. I did all this while feeling like I was running on fumes with no real place to put the exhaustion down.

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I worked summer school this month. Honestly, that alone took a lot out of me. I also found myself reframing how I look at what I do. I have been posting a tad bit more reels and TikToks online. I have been showing pieces of my life and the energy around what I do. However, I am also realizing I must stop posting some bits of me on the internet. Especially when it comes to work, I would rather keep certain things under wraps. Not because I am hiding or scared, but because some of it is open access to my new chapter. People will watch you closely and not miss a post to make assumptions about what they think they know about you from what you choose to show.

Oh baby, this month? I have been burned the hell out. Plus, I am not talking about cute tiredness. Not “I need a nap” tired. I mean the kind of tired where your body is moving, but your mind is somewhere sitting in a corner staring outside from a window. Handling everything on my own has been heavy as hell. Child support never came, money was tight, and my grocery bill was crazy asf. Every time I looked around, something needed to be paid, bought, handled, fixed, remembered, or figured out. I am sitting there like, damn, can I breathe first?

I have not even been going to many places. My car has been parked for days at a time. I was so overwhelmed and overstimulated that even leaving the house felt as if it was too much. I did not want to go into stores just to spend money out of being bored, anxious, or trying to feel something. I have been trying to be responsible. However, being responsible when you are stressed is a whole different kind of pressure. It is like you know what you need to do, but your thoughts are not forming clearly at the same time.

I felt physically alone this month. I truly did. I hate even saying that publicly. I do not want it to sound as if I am ungrateful. I am thankful. I am thankful I have a place to stay. I am thankful the bills are paid for the month. I am thankful I can at least set some kind of tone in my space and not be completely out not having. However, gratitude does not cancel out exhaustion. Being thankful does not mean I am not tired as hell. Both can be hella valid.

Plus, another thing that has been eating at me is feeling like I am under so much surveillance. People are watching everything with a microscope. Every move, every post, every silence, also every little decision. Ugh. It makes me want to pull back even more. Especially because why does it feel like so many people are waiting to analyze me instead of just letting me live? I am already anxious. I am already frantic. I am already trying to keep myself together. I do not need an invisible audience too.

I am happy I went out earlier in the month even though I needed that. I needed to feel like I was more than bills, work, groceries, and stress. But now, as we go into July, I feel mentally depleted. I wish I had something set on the itinerary to look forward to. I am talking something creative, something fun, something that could take my mind off being a frantic and anxious ass mama for five damn minutes. I need something to pour into that is not just survival.

I have not been physically dating either, or honestly, I do not even know if I have the full energy for all that right now. But I would be lying if I said I did not miss the thrill of getting to know somebody I might hit shit off with. Not even on no sex type of time. That little spark of conversation, curiosity, laughing at the phone on Facetime, wondering what somebody is about, and feeling like maybe there is still something refreshing and exciting out there for me too. Sometimes I do not want pressure. I want the possibility of connection without feeling like I must give every part of myself away.

I also know I must write more. That thought keeps reminding me every time I journal. I know there is something in me that needs to be finished, re-read, professionally edited, and published. However, it has been challenging for me to create when I am in a state of survival mode. It is hard to sit down and write when your nervous system is already tired. Still, I know writing is part of the way out. I know my words matter, even when I feel upset. Especially when I feel upset.

So yeah, June was a lot. It stretched me, pissed me off, humbled me, and made me sit with myself in ways I did not exactly ask for. I am not walking into July pretending I am magically all together or suddenly full of energy. I am walking in the month tired, but I am still walking. I am praying for a better July. I am praying. Praying for more peace, more money, more support, more clarity, more softness, more reasons to smile, and more understanding. I am praying for all these specific things, because after a month like this, I am still trying to find the damn light, and I refuse to believe it is not somewhere close.

Trying to Find the Damn Light This Summer

2026-06-21T18:30:00.000-05:00

Summer has started, and I am not even about to pretend like I am walking into it all soft, rested, and carefree. I am tired. I am triggered. I am anxious. But I am still trying to make something good out of it because what else am I supposed to do? Just stop living? No.

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Today is the first official day of summer, and I am not going to sit here and lie like I feel light and free. I do not.

This is not one of those summers where I am posting packed luggage, booked flights, and pretty views like life is just giving luxury. My summer looks more like bills, kids, work, anxiety, groceries, memories I did not ask for, and me still trying to smile through all of it. I am just trying to make it from now until school starts back in late July, then into that first week of August when my daughter turns five and she and her big brother get on the bus for the first day of school. And I already know my heart is going to be in my damn throat.

That part alone messes with me. My daughter is about to turn five, my son is already eight, and time really does not care if I am ready. It keeps moving. Kids grow. School starts. Bills come. Life keeps asking me to show up, even on the days when I feel like I am barely keeping myself together.

And honestly, I am tired of pretending being strong all the time does not make me want to scream sometimes. Because it does.

I am not dependent on child support. Let me say that clearly. I have been making a way, and I will keep making a way. My kids are going to eat. They are going to have clothes, shoes, school supplies, and what they need because that is what I do. But would him paying what he is supposed to pay help? Yes. Hell yeah, it would. Especially when he is not physically present in any way, shape, or form.

That is what gets me. It is not just the money. It is the sick days and nights, the school forms, the hygiene checks, the snacks, the sibling fussing, the appointments, the bedtime routines, the emotional labor, and all the little things nobody sees. So yes, the money would help. Not because I cannot survive without it, but because these are his children too.

This summer, I am working until the end of June at my school, budgeting, creating, mothering, healing, and trying not to let all this exhaustion turn me bitter. Some days I feel like I am handling my big dawg shit. Other days I am staring at the ceiling like, Lord, I know you see me, but damn.

I am still conquering my driving anxiety too, and that shit is humbling.

People say, “Just get on the road and drive,” like it is that simple. As if your body does not lock up. As if fear does not sit right in your chest. As if the interstate does not feel like too much when your nervous system is already tired. I have not traveled on the interstate yet, and I am not about to bully myself about that. I am still moving. I am still trying. I am still taking the small roads in my city until I am ready for bigger ones.

What I want this summer is simple. I want a Friday night or Saturday night where I can breathe. I want to be outside if the weather lets me. I want good food, good drinks, warm air, good-ass laughs, and a few hours where I am not fixing, planning, providing, worrying, or holding everything together for everybody else.

And of course, this is Louisiana, so summer comes with heat that feels personal and weather that does whatever it wants. One minute it looks like a good night to sit outside, and the next minute the sky is acting funny. With hurricane season creeping into its peak, I am trying to enjoy the outside moments when I can while still knowing storms may come.

I would love to travel back home and visit my mama too. I really would.

However, going back home is hard for me. I want to go see my mama. I really do. But I hate how choked up I get. I hate how one street, one smell, or one memory can make me feel like I am right back in the middle of everything I survived. The poverty. The bullying. The shame. The feeling of being a little Black girl who had to swallow too much pain and act like she was okay. That kind of trauma does not just disappear because you grew up.

Home can feel peaceful and heavy at the same time. I want to hug my mama. I want to laugh with her. I want to feel that kind of love you cannot get anywhere else. However, I also know going back can crack something open in me. It can bring back the version of me who felt poor, picked on, embarrassed, and stuck.

Still, I do not want that to be the whole story. I do not want trauma to keep its foot on my neck forever. I want to go home one day and not feel like the past is waiting at the door to drag me backward. I want to remember what hurt me without letting it turn me into somebody I do not recognize.

So no, I am not going into this summer with some fake easygoing caption pretending everything is peaceful. Some days will be messy as hell. Some days I will cry in private. I’ma cuss under my breath. I’ma pray out loud. I’ma wash another load of clothes. I’ma feed my kids. I’ma pay what I can. And then I’ma get back up because nobody is coming to do it for me.

But I am also tired of acting like joy has to wait until life is perfect.

I want soft summer nights. I want my children to have memories that feel safe and happy. I want my daughter’s fifth birthday to feel special. I want the first day of school to feel like a fresh start and not just another thing sitting heavy on my already full plate.

I want to look back at this season and say, damn, I did that. I survived the heat, the bills, the anxiety, the memories, the parenting, the disappointment, the waiting, and the storms. But I did not just survive.

I lived.

I laughed when I could. I rested when I needed to. I showed up for my kids. I showed up for myself. I kept working on the parts of me that still shake. I kept choosing a future that does not look like everything I came from.

If you are reading this like a close friend sitting across from me, then you already know your girl is exhausted, but I am not done.

This summer may not be easy, but I am still here. Still trying. Still healing. Still mothering. Still building.

This time, I am not just trying to make it through summer. I am trying to find the damn light, even if I have to drag myself toward it one tired, sweaty, anxious, faithful step at a time.

I’m Too Busy Providing to Be Out Here Proving Anything

2026-06-18T08:30:00.000-05:00

Let me go ahead and say it, I am too busy providing to be out here proving a damn thing to anybody. I do not have the time, energy, or patience to be performing for validation. All while I am carrying real life responsibilities every day.

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Baby, I have children to raise. Bills to pay. A household to keep together. Goals I am trying to reach, and a body I am trying to take better care of. So no, I am not about to be out here auditioning for anybody’s approval, attention, or half-ass affection as if I do not already have enough on my plate.

I am not trying to prove I am desirable. I am not trying to prove I am still “that girl.” I am not trying to prove I am strong enough. Lovable enough, or worthy enough to be chosen. Hell, life is already requiring enough from me without me adding extra pressure to go out and sell myself to the highest shot caller emotionally.

Social media will have some people thinking every season is supposed to be about glowing up, being outside, being boo’d up, and making sure everybody sees that you are unbothered. Meanwhile, some of us are over here making sure the lights stay on. We are making sure the kids have what they need. The money is stretching. Plus, some of us are still making sure our sanity is still halfway intact. That is the real shit.

Right now, my focus is provision. My focus is peace. My focus is stacking money. I am getting ready for the school year. I am staying on top of my health and keeping my life moving in the direction it needs to go. That is where my energy is going. Not into proving some damn point to people who are not helping me carry anything anyway.

Let me be clear on this note too, just because I am not out here chasing attention does not mean I have lost anything. It means I know what season I am in. It means I know that being grounded is more valuable than being seen. It means I would rather build something solid than waste my good time flexin’ to look impressive for people who will clap for me and still not lift a damn finger to help.

My worth is not up for debate. My value is not hanging in balance based on who notices me, texts, chooses, or validates me. I know who I am. I also know what the hell I am responsible for. That alone keeps me too busy to be out here playing games with people who only show up when it is convenient.

So no, I am not proving shit in this season. I am providing. I am protecting my peace. I am handling my business. I am taking care of my children, my body, and of the life I am building. If that does not look exciting enough for somebody else, that sounds like their damn problem, not mine.

What Peace Looks Like When You Stop Expecting Help

2026-06-10T09:00:00.000-05:00

Baby, let me tell you something I had to learn the hard way. I learned that peace will come a whole lot faster when you stop expecting shit from people, who keep showing you they are not about to help you.

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I do not mean that in some cute, inspirational quote type of way. I mean in real-life, tired-as-hell, bills-still-due, kids-still-need-you, and your nerves-are-shot kind of way. Look, at some point, you get sick of hoping. Sick of asking. Sick of leaving the door cracked wide enough for people who have already made it clear they are not walking through it.

That kind of disappointment will wear your ass out. Not because you are doing a lot. I would you’re your ass out because part of you is still holding out hope. Hope; that maybe this time they will show up. Maybe this time their ass will follow through. Maybe this time you will not have to carry every damn thing by yourself. Oh then, nothing. Again.

I had to be real with myself and ask; what is wearing me down more? Was it the actual responsibility or was the emotional bullshit of expecting help that never comes? If we are honest, sometimes the false hope is heavier than the work itself. At least the work is real. At least the responsibility is honest. However, hoping somebody will magically become dependable when they have been inconsistent as hell? That will drain you in every way dry.

That made me stop romanticizing what was not there. I stopped dressing up crumbs that fell to the floor and calling it support. I stopped reaching for consistency from people who only know how to pop in when it is convenient for them. Baby, that is where my peace started creeping back in.

Now let me say this, people love to confuse clarity with bitterness. Me no longer expecting help is not me being bitter. It is me being awake. It is me respecting the facts. It is me protecting my peace instead of handing it over every damn time somebody decides to be disappointing on purpose.

These days, my peace looks like making plans based on what the hell is happening. Not on promises. Not on potential. Oh, and not on wishful thinking. It is about handling what needs to be handled without pausing my life to see if somebody is finally going to do the right thing.

I am not begging for consistency. I am not chasing support. I am not wearing myself out trying to squeeze giving a damn out of people who have already shown me they do not have it to give. That chapter can go to hell along with a snowball of a flavor of their choice!

Does that mean it does not still hurt sometimes? Of course it does. Does it mean I do not still feel the weight of doing so much on my own? Hell no. But I would rather deal with the truth than keep getting double smacked in the face by the same disappointment over and over again. There is freedom in no longer being shocked by what somebody has been showing you all along.

So yeah, peace for me right now does not look soft and pretty. It looks like acceptance. It looks like boundaries. It looks like moving the hell on. It looks like no longer letting somebody else's lack become my emotional emergency. Oh, and honestly? That kind of peace is expensive. However, so is denial, and I am not paying for that shit anymore.

10 Bible Verses for When Life Feels Overwhelming

2026-06-07T08:00:00.000-05:00

Sometimes life can feel as if it is throwing punches at you. The bills keep coming. You can hardly get outside to enjoy yourself. The responsibilities keep stacking up. Oh, then something unexpected happens on top of it all.

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It can leave you feeling drained, overwhelmed, and then make you feel suffocated. Whether you are trying to keep your head up through single motherhood, work stress, grief, uncertainty, or even one of those hard seasons, I want to remind you that you do not have to carry it all by yourself.

I understand how being hyper independent can be, but God’s Word has a way of meeting us right in the middle of the heaviness. His word can give us comfort, strength, and hope we need to push through.

1. Matthew 11:28 (KJV)
"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

2. Psalm 55:22 (KJV)
"Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee: he shall never suffer the righteous to be moved."

3. Isaiah 41:10 (KJV)
"Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee..."

4. Philippians 4:6-7 (KJV)
"Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God."

5. Psalm 46:1 (KJV)
"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble."

6. 2 Corinthians 12:9 (KJV)
"My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness."

7. Joshua 1:9 (KJV)
"Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage..."

8. Proverbs 3:5-6 (KJV)
"Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding."

9. 1 Peter 5:7 (KJV)
"Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you."

10. John 16:33 (KJV)
"In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world."

Life can get heavy. Trying to hold everything together on your own without asking anyone for help can get exhausting. Now while God never said life would always be easy, He did promise to be with you through every hard moment. I have been finding moments during the past few weeks where I must remember this for myself even when I am frustrated.

If this season has been stretching you every which way, keep coming back to these verses. Let them comfort your heart. Read them in the morning. If you feel compelled to whisper them to yourself during a hard day. Or come back to these verses at night when your mind is steady overthinking.

Sometimes all it takes is one verse to remind you that God is still with you. He is still faithful. He is still carrying you. Whatever you are facing right now, please remember that you are not doing this alone.

What June Looks Like When You’re Tired, Healing, and Doing It Alone

2026-06-03T18:00:00.000-05:00

June is not arriving softly for me at all. It is meeting me in the middle of where responsibility, exhaustion, healing, and hard truth lies. I am stepping into this month as a mother. One who rarely gets a physical break. As a black woman carrying the full weight of providing. Oh, yeah and as someone learning how to keep going without pretending any of that is a walk in the park.

Therefore, as I step into June, I am being honest about what this season is asking of me. What I need to carry with intention. Also, what I need to finally leave behind.

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I am carrying more than lessons into June. I am carrying real weight. As a mother, I know what it feels like to have no physical break from my two children unless I pay out of pocket for a weekend sitter. That reality is heavy. Some days it reminds me how much I hold on my own emotionally.

I also carry the physical loneliness that comes with being the one who provides. Even when a room is full, there are moments when it still feels like it is all on me. However, through every season, God has continued to make a way. He has sustained me before. I am trusting Him to sustain me again.

I am carrying a renewed commitment to my health. My blood work from late May came back to be better than it did this time last year. Chile, that mattered to me more than I can explain.

It reminded me that even with everything on my plate, I am still making progress. So yes, I will still be working this summer to provide for my children. However, I am doing it with a better mindset, a stronger body, and a clearer sense of purpose.

I am also carrying discipline. This season is not about chasing a love life or entertaining dating. Right now, my focus is on stacking money. I am getting things ready for the upcoming school year. I am making sure my children have what they need. That kind of clarity is a gift. I am grateful for it too.

At the same time, there are some things I am intentionally leaving behind this month.

I am leaving behind the habit of reaching out and expecting help from my children's father. I know now that there is no real support waiting for me there. Accepting that truth has brought its own kind of peace. I would rather move forward in reality than keep exhausting myself with false hope.

I am leaving behind distractions that do not serve this season. I do not need to prove that I am desirable. Available. I also do not need to prove that I am open to dating just because it is summer. My life has enough on its plate. Sh*t, somebody would look at my plate and see it overflowing with the gravy of struggle dripping from the brim. I am honoring the season I am in by staying focused on what matters.

I am also leaving behind the idea that survival is the only thing I deserve. This month, I want to make room to pour into my hobbies, express myself, and continue building my wardrobe in a way that makes me feel like me. Even in responsibility, I still deserve beauty, happiness, and to dwell in the things that remind me I am a person too.

Most importantly, I am leaving behind the pressure to pretend this is not hard. It is challenging as f*&k! It is lonely at times. It is stretching me in ways I never expected. However, it is also shaping me into a stronger, wiser, and more intentional black woman. A black woman who knows how to keep showing up even when no one else does.

As June begins, I am moving forward with goodness, faith, and intention. I may be carrying a lot. But it is expected on this journey. This month, I am choosing peace, discipline, better health, and preparation over chaos. I believe the work I am doing now will make life better for me and for my children.

Alright, so let’s toast to a month of strength, steady provision, healing, and gracefulness. Here is to do what needs to be done and still make room for the parts of myself that need care too.

Welcome, June. I am ready for you. Show me what you workin’ with.

7 KJV Bible Verses for Single Mothers Who Feel Alone

2026-05-31T08:30:00.000-05:00

Sometimes single motherhood can feel overstimulating and heavy. You are trying to work, pay bills, raise your kids, make all the decisions! You carry so much emotionally. Honestly, it can feel as if you are doing it all by yourself.

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Even when people care about you, there are still days when the quiet feels overwhelming. Even the loneliness hits hard. In moments like that, God’s Word can bring some comfort to you. His word can remind you that you are not alone. Here are seven KJV Bible verses that can encourage any single mom who may be feeling that way today.

1. Deuteronomy 31:6 (KJV)
"Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the Lord thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee."

2. Isaiah 41:10 (KJV)
"Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness."

3. Psalm 46:1 (KJV)
"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble."

4. Joshua 1:9 (KJV)
"Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest."

5. Psalm 68:5 (KJV)
"A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in his holy habitation."

6. Matthew 11:28 (KJV)
"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

7. Romans 8:38-39 (KJV)
"For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

Single motherhood is what you make it, but truthfully there are days that you may not feel compelled to get out of your own head. If you have been feeling unseen, worn down, or as if you must carry everything on your own. I want to remind you that God sees all of it. He sees every sacrifice. Every late night. Every cry. Every quiet prayer you whisper when no one else knows how heavy things feel. You may not always have someone physically beside you. However, you do have a God who will never leave you. So, when loneliness starts creeping in, come back to His Word and let it remind you that you are loved so much by Him, fully seen, and never truly are alone.

What May Taught Me About Strength, Motherhood, and Carrying It All Alone

2026-05-30T18:00:00.000-05:00

May pulled a lot out of me. It made me confront the painful reality that the weight I carry is mine alone. I truly understand that consistency, love, and stability my children need begins and ends with me. As hard as that truth is to accept, it has also reminded me just how strong I have had to become.

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If I am being honest, there were moments this month when I felt overwhelmed. I am talking about being overwhelmed in a way that only a mother carrying it all can understand. There were responsibilities to manage. Bills to pay. Children to raise. Decisions to make. Oh, yeah and goals that still feel far away. I had to come to terms with the fact that co-parenting, for me, does not exist.

As much as that truth hurts, all my kids have is me to depend on. I am the one giving them consistency, stability, and the kind of love that shows up every single day even when I feel overstimulated. There were nights when I wished I had more support. However, even in that pain, I kept showing up.

May reminded me that sometimes growth is not found in major milestones. Sometimes it is found in the impulse decisions we make every day. It is choosing to keep going when you are dog sh*t tired. It is protecting your peace when drama tries to pull you back in. It is continuing to believe in yourself when no one is clapping for you. It is trusting God even when you cannot see how everything is going to work out.

This month, I was reminded that not everyone who watches you is rooting for you. Hell, that is okay. I have learned that I do not need validation from people who have never contributed to my journey. The older I get, the more I understand the importance of moving in silence. I know how to protect my energy and to focus on what matters.

I also spent time thinking about how far I have come. There was a version of me who would have dissolved under the weight of the waves from some of the things I carry today. The woman I am now is not perfect. She is stronger, wiser, and far more resilient than she used to be. Every challenge I have faced has taught me something deep about perseverance, patience, and faith.

One thing single motherhood continues to teach me is that strength is not about pretending everything is easy. It is about accepting what is true. It is also about still choosing to move forward with grace. As summer approaches, I have had to face the reality that I may not get any breaks away from my kids unless I pay out of pocket.

I also know I must keep working to maintain the bills for me and my children on my own. That reality is heavy. However, I do not see myself as a victim of my circumstances. I refuse to take that weight out on my kids. Instead, I am choosing to carry this season with honesty, faith, and the determination to keep building a life that feels safe and stable for them.

As I am preparing to step into June, I am not focused on being perfect. I am focused on being consistent. I am focused on continuing to build the life I desire for myself and my children. Sh*t, even if it means carrying more than I ever expected to. I know they need at least one adult in their lives they can fully depend on. I take that responsibility seriously.

So, I am walking into this new month committed to protecting my peace. I am growing my faith. I am working hard. I am also making sure my children continue to feel secure, loved, and covered no matter what.

May may not have been a perfect month. I say this while sighing, but it was a month of growth. It was a month of lessons. It was a month of showing up even when it was not easy.

For that, I am grateful.

As I close out this chapter and prepare for a new month, I leave May with a heart full of gratitude. I also have renewed sense of hope. Some prayers are still being answered. Some goals are still being worked toward. Some dreams are still unfolding. However, I trust that every step forward, no matter how small it may seem, is leading me exactly where I need to be.

Now, let’s toast to June with a glass of sparkling juice to new opportunities, and continue to grow through whatever comes next.

I Think a Lot of Women Are Quietly Grieving the Life They Thought They’d Have By 30

2026-05-29T19:30:00.000-05:00

There’s a particular kind of whiplash that can come with entering your 30s. It is looking around at your actual life then quickly realizing it does not quite match the highlight reel you may have started building in your head or Pinterest saves in your early 20’s.

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For a lot of women, the picture was supposed to be clearer by now. They would probably have a loving relationship. They would probably be more financial stability. They may have a soft life with matching towels. Oh, a passport with a few more stamps.

Wait, and at the very least, fewer moments of staring into the fridge wondering if they should do Doordash or UberEATS dinner for the night. Instead, many are doing something far less exciting. What that may be is surviving, adapting, healing, and trying to look halfway put together while doing it.

Some women are raising children alone. Some are recovering from heartbreak that changed them in ways no one can see from the outside. Some are rebuilding financially, emotionally, or both at the same time, which deserves its own trophy gallery. Some are learning that friendships shift. Families can be disappointed.

They understand that being alone is not the same thing as being empty. The grief attached to all of this is often so quiet it almost goes unnoticed. It does not always look dramatic. Sometimes it looks like answering emails. It looks like even making dinner from a TikTok recipe, paying bills on time, posting a confident selfie, and privately mourning the life you thought would have arrived by now with a bright blinky red bow on top.

Social media, of course, does not help. Everyone seems to be on a plane. In love. Debt-free. Planning their next get-way and somehow waking up at 5 a.m. to journal with the alarm clock set. Meanwhile, in real life, plenty of women are carrying disappointment ever so privately. They carry it so well that even the people closest to them may not fully see it.

They are grieving in lost time. Lost relationships. Lost versions of themselves. They have also lost the expectations they once wore like a blueprint to confidence. But maybe strength was never about getting everything on schedule. Maybe it is about having the courage to keep rebuilding even when the original plan blows up into shambles. Then maybe the real question is not why life did not happen the way we imagined, but who we become when it does not.

Nobody Talks About How Touch Starved Women Become

2026-05-27T19:30:00.000-05:00

For all the praise women get for being strong, nobody talks openly about what that strength quietly costs. Folk’s love calling women “independent,” as if it is always some badge of honor, but baby, they do not say much about how lonely it can feel. I am talking about when you have become so used to carrying yourself that softness starts to feel like a luxury.

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Specially for women who are healing. Women who are minding their business. Women that are raising children, working, and or staying celibate. Oh, are women who are being blunt by refusing to keep entertaining men who bring confusion instead of peace. There is a kind of emptiness that comes from going so long without safe affection, real tenderness, and the kind of presence that lets your whole body yearn.

I am not talking about anything all in your face or performative. I mean simple acts. Acts of being held. A kiss on your forehead. A hand to hold. Somebody rubbing your back after a long day. Hell, just feeling safe enough to exhale around somebody. Some people see a woman choosing solitude and swear she is cold and detached when that woman may be tired. Tired of fake intimacy. Tired of half ass effort. Tired of having to explain why peace matters.

You see down here in the South, a whole lot of women know how to look fine, smile pretty, and keep going while carrying more than anybody realizes. However, just because a woman carries it well does not mean it is not heavy. We also are not referring to the wagon she may have. Wink, wink.

But maybe that is the part people miss to pay attention to too. I say this because sometimes what looks like distance is really discipline. Plus, what looks like independence is a woman finally refusing to starve herself for crumbs falling from an already unstable table.

Ovulation in Your 30s While Single Should Honestly Be Studied

2026-05-24T17:31:48.751-05:00

Ovulation in my 30s is intense. See, I can be minding my business, on my phone sending audio messages, and the next minute I am craving chocolate, eggs with fish sauce, emotional intimacy, and somebody’s grown and sexy son all at the same time.

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To be real with you it feels as if my body turns into a completely different person for a few days out of the month. My energy levels shift. My appetite gets louder than my thoughts. My emotions sit right at the surface. My cramps can come in acting straight up disrespectful. I’m talking about the cramp that make you stop what you are doing, grab your lower pooch, and breathe through it like the Lord is testing yo' gangsta’.

Okay, so the wild part is trying to carry all of that while still being a grown, responsible, and intentional woman who is still about protecting her peace. Plus, attraction and desire are natural, however so is protecting your peace. A lot of women in their 30s are handling their business. That may be a combination of healing, being celibate, rebuilding, traveling, working, and choosing not to entertain men they do not emotionally trust.

That is also considered during the weeks where loneliness and feeling aroused hits the hardest. Honestly? That level of discipline deserves a damn trophy. People laugh about women being “in heat,” but nobody talks about how mentally frustrating it can feel trying to balance hormones, crazy cravings, emotional needs, and maintain self-control. All of this can be done while still wanting affection, intimacy, and genuine connection. Sometimes I do feel like I could gnaw on a jean jacket and cry for no reason exactly. Being a woman is truly a unique experience with its on struggles.

I’m Not Broke, I’m Rebuilding My Life

2026-05-23T14:21:34.413-05:00

Let me say this plain, I am not broke in my mind, my spirit, or with my vision. I may be in a season where I must stretch, sacrifice, and move much more carefully. However, that is not the same thing as being stuck in a broke mindset. It means I am rebuilding.

It means life hit hard, and instead of folding, I got my hands dirty. It means that I also started putting the pieces back together no matter how much time it took.

A lot of women out here in their 30s are carrying way more than people ever speak on. Paying rent or mortgage by themselves. Raising kids with little to no tribe. Going to work tired as hell. Smiling through situations that would break most people. Even still trying to heal while life keeps demanding more. That kind of weight will make you question yourself if you let it. Let me tell you, my baby, that is not failure. That is survival. That is strength with bruising on it.

Social media will have some people thinking everybody else is living soft, private, exciting lives while you are somewhere in the background fighting to keep your head above water. Folks are posting trips, rings, new houses, and flourishing business ventures. Meanwhile, the whole time you are rebuilding your money, peace, confidence, career, the meaning of what motherhood looks like to you, and your sanity. That kind of rebuilding does not always look photo worthy, but that does not mean it is not powerful.

Some nights, I am up late trying to make sure I am set for the morning ahead. Some mornings, I wake up already tired. I have been already carrying the day before the day even starts. Plus real talk, that can mess with your head if you let it. But I learned that being in a challenging chapter financially does not mean I think small, live small, or see myself as small.

I still know who I am. I am aware of what I am building. I still believe better is coming, even if right now it looks like hustle, prayer, discipline, and doing without.

See, some people hear “I am struggling” and assume that means you are begging, lazy, or behind.

Nah.

Sometimes it just means you are in the middle of rebuilding after heartbreak, bad decisions, disappointment, burnout, depression, or years of pouring into everybody else and leaving yourself empty. Sometimes rebuilding looks like paying bills before pleasure.

It can look like staying single so you can heal for real, taking classes while raising kids, budgeting every dollar, crying when you get a chance to be alone, and still getting up to handle business the next morning. That is not weakness.

So, if you are reading this and you have been judging yourself because life does not look expensive yet. Understand me like a homegirl sitting across from you at the table; do not confuse your current circumstances with your identity.

You are not your bank balance. You are not the apartment. The setbacks. The survival season. The lessons you had to learn to level up. You are the person who kept going. You are the one laying the foundation and still finding a way to love your people, keep your faith, and push forward with determination.

One day this season is going to be part of the story you tell, not the place you stay. When the peace, money, stability, and softness finally meet you on the other side, will you remember that even in your hardest season, you were never broke in spirit, only in the middle of becoming?

Survival Mode Had Me by the Throat (But I’m Letting Go)

2026-05-10T14:52:00.001-05:00

Listen… come over here and chill with me for a minute. I’m also not talking about the “oh, it looks like it’s about to rain outside, don’t it?” you say in passing at the store. I mean the real kind. The kind where you exhale first is as if you have been holding your breath so long you forgot what air felt like.

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I had one of those quiet realizations the other day. The kind of realization that does not come with fireworks. It feels like a lump in your throat and then it comes as sudden heaviness behind your ribs. It hit me plain as day. I have never truly lived. I have only survived.

I know firsthand how dramatic that sounds. But I also know me. I don’t say things to hear myself talk. I am saying it because when I look back, so many of my years were not measured by joy or milestones or even the “remember when we…?” stories.

They were measured by what I made it through.

I have never had a passport. Not because I did not dream about it. I did. I pictured it like folks picture a wedding ring. It is proof; you belong to a bigger world than the one you have been stuck in. But a passport costs money of course. Plus, to me at this time it is real money, extra money and was always spoken for before it ever hit my hands.

A real vacation? Baby, I mean the kind where you do not bring your worries with you in a suitcase. The kind where you are not checking your bank app is whispering your name with every swipe. The kind of vacation where you rest. The kind that you do not have to earn first. I can count on one hand the times I have gotten close to that. Even then, my mind stayed home making lists.

For a long time, my life felt like standing in the checkout line with a cart full of necessities for me and my kids like milk, bread, dish washing liquid and silently doing math in my head. I would be praying the total would not shame me publicly. You know that kind of math? The kind where you already promised the kids a lil something extra, then you see the screen climb. That’s when your chest gets hot. Hell, you start doing mental gymnastics like, “If I put the clothes detergent back, we can keep the soap to bathe with.”

That is what survival mode does. It makes every choice feel urgent. It makes every mistake feel expensive. It turns your whole world into a compressed padded room with no windows. You thinking about the next need, the next deadline, the next “Lord, please let this work out.”

You can be standing in your kitchen and still feel like yo’ ass is running. Running from late fees, from bad luck, from that one surprise expense that could knock your whole debit account into the negatives.

So, raising kids in that. Whew. People love to romanticize motherhood. Yes, my two kids have been my joy. But I am also not going to lie to you as if I got it all wrapped up with a bow. There were days I was strong because I did not have the luxury of being anything else. There were nights I stretched dinner. I stretched patience. I stretched myself to make a way out of no way. Then I went and cried in the bathroom quietly so nobody would hear me fall apart.

The wild part is, I did not even fully realize how limited my life had felt until I got my first car at 33. Thirty-three! Like, I can say it and still feel that mix of pride and grief. Pride on one hand because look at God! I did that. I worked. I saved; I pushed through. But then, grief because I also realized just how much I have been navigating without basic freedom. How many places did I not go because I could not. I didn’t even consider how many opportunities I did not even have because getting there felt impossible.

Plus, nobody truly talks about the grieving part, do they? Nobody tells you that sometimes you must mourn the life you did not get to have. Not because you were a bum or lacked motivation. Not because you were not trying. But because you were busy surviving, busy holding everything together with tired hands and a praying spirit. I guess grief is funny like that too. Grief it would show up years later. I am talking right when you finally sit down. Almost as if it’s been waiting on you to get quiet enough to feel it.

There is a sentence that’s been sitting heavy on me, and it is this:

Some people spent their 20s exploring life. I spent mine trying to survive it.

I used to feel ashamed to admit that. I felt for a long time like did something wrong by not having the pictures, the stamps, the stories. However, the truth is… surviving took everything I had. If you are reading this with that same tight feeling in your chest, I need you to understand me: survival is not a character flaw. It’s evidence.

Still. I don’t want to survive forever. I do not want to wake up at 60 and realize my whole life was a series of emergencies I somehow became good at handling. I do not want “strong” to be the only compliment people can find for me. As if softness is some kind of luxury I did not earn.

Therefore, if you have been doing life like I have been with your head down, heart tired, while trying to make it let this be your permission slip. You deserve more than survival. Not someday when everything is paid off and perfect. Now! Even if it starts small. A Saturday morning with your phone on DND. A little drive with no destination. Applying for that passport even if the trip isn’t booked yet, because the point is you finally believing you are allowed to go.

Oh, and if all you can do today is take one deep breath and choose yourself for five minutes… baby, that still counts as living.

When You Realize You’re the Safety Net, Everything Changes

2026-05-06T22:26:00.000-05:00

Let me tell you, ‘Sha! There comes a moment that rolls in harder than a Louisiana summer thunderstorm. Also, it does not tiptoe in. What does it do? It storms through the front door. You look at your world. Your babies. Your fustrations.

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You think about the peace you are trying to stitch together. Well, it smacks you right in the soul and it grips you mentally that there is no safety net waiting to catch you if you slip. Nobody’s swooping in to clean up what you drop. There is no one to keep the ship afloat if you start feeling seasick. Guess what, boo? You are the safety net. Once that truth settles in your bones, you can just feel the game change.

Listen, for a long while I sashayed around like I had room to mess up. I used to daydream about how if life got too wild, someone would come running, arms wide, ready to help me drag that heavy load. However, life damn sure has a funny way of peeling back the curtain just when you need to see it. My huge lesson? If I do not grab the wheel and swerve a little nothing moves. If I do not show up, nothing gets handled. Realizing that? Oh, my baby, it will either break you down or make you tougher than these old cypress roots in the bayou waters. Me? I started building brick by blessed brick.

Being the family’s safety net means the pressure is real, baby. Every single decision! I am talking about what you spend, who you trust, where you put your time, it all carries weight. Every dollar’s got a job. Every move you make sends ripples to the ones looking up to you. It is not about surviving anymore. It is about leveling up, keeping things steady, and laying down stability in a way it is the foundation of your own little realm no matter whether it is rain or shine.

But let’s get one thing straight the biggest shift was not in what I had to do. It was in how I started to think. It was in how I started to feel about myself and this crazy, beautiful, and yet heavy life.

I started guarding my time like grandma’s secret tea cake recipe. I became strict with my coins. I started choosing my circle carefully If you brought chaos or confusion, the door is right there, my baby. I say this because when you know you are the foundation, you do not play around with anything that could shake your peace. Confusion? Inconsistency? Bullshit! Please, I do not have time. Around here, we move with purpose, ‘cause we already know what is on the line.

Y’all, let’s not sugarcoat it at all. Responsibility gets heavy. Sometimes it is like carrying a bucket of fertilizer in a muddy sugarcane field after a rainstorm, and you’re slipping and sliding the whole way.

There are days when you feel as if you are holding up the whole damn sky. Days when you just want someone to scoop you up, let you rest, take the wheel, and mean it. Days when you would give anything for a break from carrying it all. However, even on those nights, standing in the kitchen with your worries swirling like a category 4 hurricane, there is a quiet, stubborn strength that whispers, “Girl, look at you! You have been holding it together, even when people was just watching you struggle for filth.”

That kind of realization? It plants confidence deep in your chest that is strong as bayou made moonshine and sharp as a handmade blade of sugarcane stalk as a weapon for a comeback.

It’s not the kind of confidence one just flashes around for show. It is quiet. It is the unshakeable kind that comes from knowing, no matter what, you will figure it out. You will pivot, rise, and keep going on. Why? Well, that’s what being the safety net means. You are the glue, baby.

So yeah, I realized I am the safety net. Instead of breaking me, it gave me more fire, more grit, and a deeper understanding of why I am the way that I am. I learned to protect my peace like a mama gator and move through life with the kind of grace and grit that can only come from the soul of a Southern woman holding it all down. That is the secret. However, most folks do not even see how much you are juggling, but you know. It is true right there, that changes everything.

Keep your head up, love. You are doing more than just making it through! You are weaving a legacy day by day, growth and all. I believe that is the real difference maker in the everyday hustle of life.

Doing Everything Alone as a Single Mom: The Truth No One Talks About

2026-05-05T22:07:00.000-05:00

Hey there, can I just be honest for a little bit? Doing everything by yourself; handling business, keeping the house running, making sure the kids are all right well, it will change you in ways you do not even notice at first.

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For many women like me the change is not some big, dramatic moment where you wake up and feel brand new. No, indeed. The change sneaks up on you. I’m talking like creeping up on the back of your heels. You start thinking differently, moving differently, and you just stop waiting on folks to show up the way you once wished they would. After a while, you quit explaining yourself. You quit depending. You just roll up your sleeves. You take a deep breath, and get the job done without poppin’ any questions to anybody.

Now, there was a time I swore I needed help to feel steady. This was a time I could not stand tall if I did not have somebody to lean on. I thought I needed people to show up. I am talking about showing up with that solid, rock-steady presence. However, let me tell you, doing it all alone taught me otherwise. Stability? It is not something you get handed to you, Sha! Stability is something you lay down yourself.

You lay it down damn near brick by brick, bill by bill, decision by decision. Even when you are hella tired. You lay it down even when you would give anything for a break! You learn to keep stacking those bricks. That is just how it goes down here in Louisiana. We adapt to moving, rain or shine.

Being the one who makes sure the lights stay on, the kids are fed, and everyone has a chance of self-expression under your roof, it does something to your soul. It grows you up in places you did not even know were still green. You get sharper. You become more disciplined. You feel real protective over your time, your energy, and your peace. Before long, you see people for who they are, and not who you wanted them to be. Once you see that truth, well, you cannot unsee it, Sha.

Let’s talk about tolerance. When you have had to be your own safety net, your own shoulder to cry on, your own ride-or-die, your patience for confusion gets hella thin. You don’t chase people down for communication. You do not find yourself begging for someone to be steady. This is because when you have had to be your own back-up plan you learned to stop settling for half-ass anything. It is not that you do not care about folks. It is that you just expect more. Plus, if those folks cannot meet you where you are, you are okay with letting the good Lord take it from there and move on.

But let’s get real, it is damn sure is not always a badge of honor. Sometimes, it is plain exhausting. Sometimes it stings like razor blade cuts upon the cheeks of your face. Sometimes you ache for someone you could lean on without wondering what they are truly after. There are nights you stand in your kitchen, just you and your thoughts, and you feel every ounce of that weight. That part? We do not talk about it enough, do we?

Still, even in the thick of all that tiredness, there is a strength that runs deep. You look back and realize you have been holding it down all along. You have been making things work with what you’ve got. You have been building peace in places where chaos could have taken over. That kind of strength? It is quiet, sure, but it is powerful. It is the kind of grit you only get from living it, day in and day out, Louisiana-style.

Doing it all on my own did not make me hard. It made me wise. It made me sharper. More intentional. It made me realize I am not an option. As a matter of fact, I am the whole got-damn foundation. I may not have all the answers. Lord knows I have still got questions. However, I do know this: I’m not waiting for somebody to come save me. I already did. If you are doing it all on your own, just know you have more grit and heart than you think. Down here where I am that counts for everything.

April Was a Wake-Up Call I Didn’t Ask For

2026-05-01T21:49:00.001-05:00

Honey, let me tell you, April wasn’t here to play with me, not a damn bit. It hit me with the kind of pressure and force that will make you move differently whether you are ready or not. Look, I did not pop up on my blog much last month.

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However, that damn sure does not mean nothing was not going down. That means I was out here living, for real, tryna keep my head above water. I was holdin’ it together, and hell, not lose my damn mind in the middle of all this mess. April taught me, that nobody coming to save my ass. I had to stop waiting for help that ain’t never showing up how I need it. Between dealing with the man I kids with, the last-minute curveballs, bickering with my kids, working, paying these damn bills, and still trying to have a lil peace at the crib, I got goldfish bowl clear. I am talkin’ real quick! It is just me, dawg. Always been me. But instead of letting that shit break me, something in me flipped. I started moving differently, like somebody who knows she got her own back even when it is hard as hell.

Let me tell you something else, peace is damn sure not something folks hand you. It is a damn choice. Peace is a choice to make when folks act messy as hell, rude, or trying to drag you by your collar first out of character. April had my emotions all over the place. The month could have had me spiraling, explaining myself, or getting in some back-and-forth bullshit to prove a point. However, I am not perfect. I didn’t get it right every time. But I started choosing different. I started stepping back. Started realizing not every text needs a clapback, not every situation needs my energy, and hell, not everybody deserves to be up in my space. Protecting my peace started looking like shutting up, staying away, and holding it down. With me saying all of this I can vouch that is a different kinda strength. I’m still learning to stand in and up in peace; you hear me?

But the biggest thing in April that I was smacked behind my head with is that you can be out here minding your own damn business, handling what you gotta do, building your life quietly… and folks still gon’ watch, question, and try to figure your shit out. Whether people question how I am keeping it together solo. The moves I’m making. Or people wondering and asking how I am pushing through all the bullshit; alone with no tribe. I feel the eyes, trust. But instead of letting that mess get to me, make me feel all pressured or defensive, I’m learning to let it make me focus up. I do not owe anybody an explanation for how I survive. It is none of these folks’ business, how I get down, or how I show up in my life. This is not about proving nothing to anybody. It’s about getting shit done, staying solid, and building a life that speaks for itself, point blank that’s it.

April wasn’t easy. April was damn, necessary. It pushed me to grow up in the spots where I was still holding on to some comfort. The parts of me where I was still wishing for different results from the same folks. April had me still figuring out how to stand ten toes down on my own. If I am keeping it real, I am walking into May a little bit stronger, a little bit quieter, and a way more focused.

He Keeps Getting Me Pregnant Every Summer… So I Did This

2026-04-06T20:30:00.001-05:00

I got an email that started with… ‘I secretly got on birth control… am I wrong?

This email made my eyes water, because I know too many women living this exact life in silence.

“Hey Linda, you can share this publicly if you want because I know I’m not the only woman going through this. I’ve been with my boyfriend for 7 years. We have 4 kids together and live in a small two bedroom apartment. We have been here for some years now and I want better for us.

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Every summer for the last few years, it may sound crazy, but I end up pregnant. So, I’m now 28 and I’m tired. I love my kids, but I don’t want to be pregnant again this summer. I really don’t, girl. I want to enjoy my body, feel like myself, and get the hell out of the apartment. Being a mama can be smothering and even as a girlfriend. I’m tired of trying to convince my boyfriend that we should get out and go on dates. He works a night shift. He comes home early in the morning by the time I’m waking up to get the kids ready for the day mad and plays his game, eat, and go to bed. When he wakes up he ready to have sex. I guess that’s just his nature, but I’m getting grossed out. Two months ago, I secretly got on birth control pills and didn’t tell him. I feel guilty just a little bit at the same time, I don’t. It feels like every time we have sex that he’s trying to get me pregnant again. I want to live outside of being called mama all the damn time. I have a real name too. I’m just over it. Am I wrong for not telling him?”

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Girl, thank you so much for reaching out to me. I will say that you are not wrong for wanting control over your own body. You have graciously carried four children back-to-back and feeling like you don’t even get a break to just be you is real. Getting on birth control does not make you sneaky! Let’s get that out the way. Getting on birth control shows you are tired and you have self-awareness.

It is a great thing that you are looking to protect yourself from repeating a cycle that you do not want to go through again. However, I will say this with love, okay? The bigger issue is not the birth control pill, it is the fact that you do not feel comfortable enough to say out loud, “I don’t want another baby.”

You deserve to be able to have a voice in your own relationship. You are desiring to have one summer where you are not pregnant, where your body is yours, where you can breathe and feel like a woman again is not selfish it is necessary. Necessary for your mental health and happiness. I want you to make sure you do not stay in a situation where you must keep choosing silence just to have control. Y’all relationship deserves for both of you to honesty and peace to thrive.