Thinking Kinky : The Nappy Haired Diva

The Richest Soil: A Lesson On Strength  When I turned twenty-one, my life got very serious very quickly. My first daughter was born and I was nursing and craving the chance to flash my ID in a liquor store and actually get alcohol legally for a change (or lets pretend I wanted to taste it for the first time...whatever floats your boat. I'm not adverse to placating a few sticklers). However, the point here is that I was twenty-one and a single mom. This was indeed a predicament I orchestrated, tailored and then stepped into. I will never say that I have no idea how it happened, it was quite the contrary. Being a single mom wasn't easy at all. My boyfriend revealed himself to be a cheating boyfriend (much later, a cheating husband- got to love a man who is consistent). He went off to serve in the US Airforce while I tried my best to figure out what motherhood was all about. During that time, I struggled. I tried to do everything right and it always seemed to turn out wro...

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...

Mega Millions: Why The F@#% Do I Even Play? I purchase a Mega Millions ticket now and again but when the jackpot grows to vast proportions, I make sure I purchase a ticket. Why? Because I want that money! Here's the thing: the chances at hitting the jackpot are slim to none. If you want the depressing facts, as of 2013 your chances of hitting it big were 1 in 175 MILLION. So when you do hit the jackpot, just know you have a buck for every other person that played and lost to your lucky arse. So why do I keep playing the lottery? No, I'm not some gambling addicted fool. I play because I can't win if I don't. Wait... I do sound like a gambling addicted fool. Well the truth is that while the odds are not in my favor and I am getting my financial Hunger Games on whenever I purchase a ticket, I'm aware that there is zero of chance of winning if I don't play at all. The lottery gives someone a dream they can actually pursue with one or two bucks. How aggressive ...

Photo courtesy of MotherTruth About 11 years ago, my mornings typically consisted of me hoisting a sleeping toddler into a stroller, speed walking to a train station, granting obligatory good mornings to day care staff, signing my child in, and rushing back to the train station to go to work. Somehow my heart got the best of my mind and I was insane enough to hit the reset button after 5 years and start the routine all over again with my second child.  I recall nervously avoiding mentioning my children during job interviews knowing that it would hurt my chances. I was a single mother, with two children and every sniffle, fever, and boo boo was going to take me out of the office. The realization that this information is unfavorable to the employer will make any hopeful candidate nervous. Even after being hired, I would try to keep my status as a parent private until I felt secure in my position.  With a pre-teen and tween, the pressure hasn't been alleviated. I'm n...