Thinking Kinky : The Nappy Haired Diva

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 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...

She was 15, and boy crazy. She had a grown woman's body and a child like mind that willed her to do adult like things. It was an unfortunate combination and nothing good would come of it. He was 18 and chiseled. He often wore his shirt off on the exceptionally hot summer days. He wasn't gorgeous, but he was mature and she took notice. She spent most of her time peering curiously at him while he was bent over the open hood of a car. He may have noticed her inquisitive gaze, but he never suggested it. He continued his work, as if no one were watching. Time pressed on and what seemed like months later was merely weeks. Her mother asked her to knock on his door and request his services. She made sure she looked just right. She wanted him to notice her. She walked over and knocked on the door. He came outside with his shirt off again. She noticed every muscle on his body. She felt a familiar jitter in the pit of her stomach. He was young, but he was a man. He didn't have the l...

We were taking the clothes out of the dryer again. She used to let me help because I liked to. As she stooped to retrieve our garments, she resembled a wilting flower. She was beautiful but she was beginning to droop a bit, no longer the robust mother I remembered. I couldn't remember when exactly she began to look so weathered. "You going to help me or not?" She clucked sharply. She didn't yell as much as she used to. She just liked to remind me she can. While folding the clothes, I glanced toward the paintings on the wall. She followed my eyes and quickly returned to her task. Her brow was furrowed, she just wanted to do the laundry. "Mommy, you ever going to paint again?" I asked. "I don't know. ...No time." She mumbled as she looked longingly at her artwork displayed on our wall. This time she stopped folding. She didn't want to fold anymore. She wanted to look at her pictures. Pictures of regal women, tropical paradises, and tranqu...