Mirror Mirror, On The Wall....

Ever stood in front of the mirror and ask yourself, "Why do I complain so much?"

Well, I do.

When I look at myself in the mirror every single morning, I see the following:

Moles.
Dark skin.
Heat bumps.
Dimple.
Big brown eyes.
Eyebrows that need to be plucked.
Short hair.

Often, I forget that I am staring back at a young woman who is dying to be the best she can be. Every single day. When in fact, she needs to be LIVING to be the best she can be. When will I ever learn? Then again, I am hardheaded. Very.

This past Saturday, the Honey and I participated in the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life in Oak Park, where we met an elderly lady who is a breast cancer survivor. Her spirit was amazing. With her pearly whites, she joyfully asked my boyfriend, who happens to be a brave brain cancer survivor, on how he feels.

He told her that he felt great and he bent his head down to show her the scar on his left temple.

She chuckled and told him that it is fading away. She then asked him if his hair fell out and he answered with a heavy sigh. "Yes," he said. "All of it fell out. I was bald for a few months."

She nervously chuckled and told us that her precious hair fell out and described the dreadfulness of looking in the mirror, greeted by her new found nakedness. Yet, she then said something that dawdles in my head still to this day. "I used to hate looking in the mirror, but hey, at least we can look in the mirror."

And that's true. Every few seconds, someone is dying. And every other second, we are always complaining. Instead, we should be giving thanks for being able to do the simplest things, such as making up our beds or walking into the bathroom and looking in the mirror, seeing ourselves staring right back while we brush our teeth. So, now, I feel that my mirror is showing the reflection of my biggest blessing: My spirit.

Life is so damn hard. But loving thy self should not be. Right? One minute your spirit is here, the next, it's gone. Forever.

So, maybe I should stop focusing on those heat bumps and focus on living my dreams, eh?

LA!!

No Idea.

I always hide behind my smile.
Why? I have no idea.

I always tend to be extremely emotional.
Why? I have no idea.

I always felt a bit insecure in my dark skin.
Why? I have no idea.

I always cry every week.
Why? I have no idea.

I always had a potty mouth.
Why? I have no idea.

I always sweat the small stuff. No matter how hard I try not to.
Why? I have no idea.

I will always wonder why I do such things. And I probably will never have an idea why.

Ever wonder why you do certain things that you do? Do such things make you a weak person? Am I a weak person?

I have no idea.

Struggling With Faith

Worrying is a disease. Killing us all every second.

Over this past weekend, I was stressed out. Over nothing, of course. Just worrying about things in my life that I have no control over. And my mind was paying the price.

During church service, the sensation of wanting to cry stung my eyes. I found myself, sitting next to my boyfriend, silently suffocating as my worries saddled me. Sitting pretty in the pew, ugly thoughts infested my brain. I have never screamed the Lord's name so LOUD... I actually looked around to see if the lady sitting next to me could hear my thoughts.

The stench of all my fears was strong. Why was I so emotional? What was I so worried about? Why do I have so many complaints? So many feelings of discontent.

As the pastor hollered in his sermon, I zoned out. While singing the hymns, the voice of my boyfriend singing slowly faded away as I stood there next to him like a zombie, as my soul searched for Jesus in His own house.

...I was losing a grip on my faith.

Do you know what that feels like? Let me tell ya, it feels like your blood circulation grows cold. It feels like your heart slows down. And it feels like your brain freezes. It feels like you are "blocked."

When it was time for prayer, I closed my eyes and cried. Every muscle fiber in my petite frame flinched, preventing me from crying like a newborn in that sanctuary.

Later on that day at church, I was reintroduced to a small word: faith. One should not tell God about her problems. She should tell her problems about her God.

In the end, faith can buoy us up and bring us to something greater and better than we ever imagine. Faith without action is dead. Faith is maintaining focus on God's divine power so that we can succeed and flourish. And I will. My God says so.

Faith has brought me through a lot of sticky situations. Faith saved me from an unhealthy relationship with myself as I fought depression. Faith saved my boyfriend's life as he and God fought against cancer. Faith kept me on the path to my dreams of being a writer. Essentially, Faith has brought me closer to my precious God.

But I still struggle with these "blocks". Don't you?

Will You Forgive Me?

I need to learn how to forgive.

I thought I knew. But I don't.

Do you? If so, prove it.

It boggles my mind because I really thought I knew how to move on and forget. But forgiveness is nowhere near that.

Forgiveness is letting go. Not of what has happened. But the pain associated with the incident.

Over the course of the last few years, I have been hurt, physically and emotionally, was beaten, socked in the face by an ex-boyfriend...more than once, lied to, lied on, stolen from, betrayed, feces of lies thrown all over my name and the list goes on and on.

whew.

But I still put a smile on my face, disguising the pain that crawls all over my battered soul.
A smile of deceit. A smile of despair. A smile infested with decay of hatred.

Will I ever learn? I find it funny how God forgives me. But I can't forgive nobody fully. Not even my damn self.

Forgiveness is a sprinkle of honesty. A sprinkle of God's mercy. A sprinkle of the recognition that there are no excuses or justifications, but love.

The quip of it all is that we all say we forgive each other. But we don't. True forgiveness is a cool breeze of fresh air.

Can't wait to feel that.

One day...

happy. birthday.

My sophomore year of college, I was seriously fighting depression. There was no escape. My soul was trapped in the tunnel of turmoil. I heard screams all day and all night.

My heart was dead.

Now, looking back, I realized that I was in a place of not knowing who I am. But within the last year, I have re-discovered who I am.

I am a lady who is passionate of almost everything. I am an emotional being. I feel every type of emotion. It beats through my chest. It is a beautiful flaw.

My life flashed through my eyes the night I turned 24 years old. It is too late to care about the past. It is over and done with. I need to focus on what my present has for me.

I have so many amazing opportunities that are blooming like the tulips on a fresh Sunday morning. And I plan to not let anything stop me.

I promise.

The truth about Me.

My affliction gave me a pleasure unspoken of... a feeling that left me wanting more...

Why do so many women hate themselves? What a tragedy...

Sometimes, those vile nightmares still sneak into my bed, roll under my covers... in each breath, my dreams are paralyzed by the scent of hell. Point blank, I used to hate myself.

It was a wicked disease, crawling beneath my skin.

Musk of hurt, disappointment, shame and guilt transmitted from my brain into my soul. Detrimental.

I hated my dark skin. I hated my nappy hair. I hated my fragile body. I hated how I didn't accomplished anything great like my counterparts, and if I did, it was never ever good enough.

But nobody knew. Which made it worse.

Days of suckling on the Devil's venom of self-destruction were woven into my addiction.
In the past, I was a coward. Not to face the world. But to love myself.

...would you believe that I just started truly loving myself?

It's amazing how God loves us when we don't even love ourselves... Now ain't that the truth?