Thinking Kinky : The Nappy Haired Diva

I’m really nervous right now . It’s been about six years since I’ve posted. I’m not sure who’s going to even read this. Everything moves so fast. Phones change, emails change, social media platforms emerge left and right… everything moves fast. The only thing that’s moved slowly was each year that passed by being stuck in the abyss that is writers block. Somewhere along the way, I lost my inspiration. The thing is, I know exactly when it happened.  It all started with the pills. There was a pill to speed me up, a pill to slow me down, a pill to help me sleep, a pill to curb my binge eating and focus. I think you get it. I was on a crapload of medications. My pill box is the size of a soda can and when you shake it sounds like maracas. Problem was, with all those medications it took time to find the right combination to keep my moods level. While figuring that out, you’re going through insane side effects from falling into deep sleep 20 minutes after taking one drug, to having panic...

Photo by  Nicholas Bui  on  Unsplash Just typing this post is a ministry of preparation. I don't know how people will receive me. I don't knowwhat people will think. I don't know how I even feel honestly. For years, I have battled depression. I even posted about my journey as a depressed person. For some reason, the medication never seemed to work for long before I was "off". I can't completely describe what "off" feels like other than moments of battling what feels like the onset of a crisis or feeling my mood shift despite taking a drug that was intended to stabilize it. I wasn't always depressed while on anti-depressants but I wasn't always well either. I've always held a job. Being the sole provider for my household, holding a job has been a non-negotiable necessity. The issue? I never held a job for more than five years. Five years was the cap for me. I had something called the 3-year-itch. No matter what the position, or the c...

Photo by  Victoria Palacios  on  Unsplash I'd finally reached a point where I was able to careen down the dangerous road that is depression without steering toward death and hoping for "the best". I just want to clean up my life and make myself a normal happy person. It was hard learning where to start. I learned my triggers. That means I figured out what made me feel depressed. I realized that I had numerous triggers, some that I had no control over and being the control freak that I am, it only aggravated my anxiety once I figured it all out. Steering clear of my triggers became an obsession and I took an unfair and unrealistic approach toward friendships, relationships, job opportunities and even food. I would often become very rigid all for the sake of preservation of my sanity but my unwavering approach only isolated me. It was a complete mess and I was the orchestrator of it. These periods of extreme discipline would be followed by periods of extreme care...

Photo by  Priscilla Du Preez  on  Unsplash You would think I would have been more creative the second time I tried to die. I wasn't. I was a single mother with a very young toddler and I couldn't figure out how to be a very young twenty-something, a mom, a college drop out, and an adult who was aspiring to build a career instead of just having a job. I was waitressing and my tips weren't enough to make the rent for my studio apartment. My daughter was always at her father's parents home because I was working nearly 53 hours a week. Despite my hard work, I never had enough money. I dropped about 15lbs and everyone was complimenting me but I was starving. I would feed my daughter and pray she would be full so I could eat whatever she left over. I didn't care if it was cold Farina or chewed up and spat out chicken and veggies. I needed to eat and I was broke. Realizing that I was working for my daughter but hardly saw her started to wear on me. It didn't hel...