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Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

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There are so many faces. When I look in the mirror, who shall I be today? I do not see myself anymore; I have not since childhood. I felt small, scolded for who I was, and belittled for not comparing myself to my siblings. Abused and manipulated to believe the treatment was a way of life. I grew to hate them and myself. So much anger, so much pain. How can I function in life? In my most profound depth, I want to be a good person, but my hatred is greater. I can not hurt who hurt me. What would everyone think? Because I am a despicable person, only my abusers I have to fall back on.   I pretend to be everyone I see. It makes me more interesting. I lost myself years ago. Neither my thoughts nor my emotions ever grow. So I pretend to be you to impress her. She is unaware this is your personality, which I am mimicking. She is falling in love with you, not me. Once I run out of things to say, I watch dating shows and YouTube to gather more personality. When s
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Rocks on the Porch

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  I screamed and cried out for help, but just as always, no one came. The lashing continued as I cried, saying I had done what I was supposed to. I swept the porch after school. As the tears flowed and the welts formed on my skin, I could hear my grandmother trying to get through the locked door. She eventually did, saying, “She swept the porch. Nookie told me earlier she was out there when I asked where she was.” My grandmother’s voice told me she was tired of it, but it did not save me. She left the room, and the abuse continued. My mother did not listen; she said I embarrassed her in front of my friends, closed the door, and continued. Yes, the reason changed. It did not matter if I was innocent; she would get her frustration out on me. I grew more assertive to stand in the chair while still tied and charged at her. Lose or win, I would do what I needed to because I was tired. We threw each other around until it stopped. I had to sit in a tub of water, bruised and crying, to die bec
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Villain Era

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  My now 20-year-old was several weeks old when we were out in the rain, awaiting a ride to take us somewhere unknown. I had no idea where we were going because the altercation that led to this was unexpected. My boundaries always made me the villain in every story my family told, and that day was no different. My mother had to uphold an image, and because I said something to her son in front of the company, the image cracked slightly. It was so slight that it led me to put my things outside to move out while my child's aunt (dad's side) held her. While taking my stuff outside, my mother blocked me from getting the remainder of my things and my baby. I repeatedly asked my mother to stop putting her hands on me; by the third shove, we were fighting. She bit a plug out of my chest because of the position she was in, and when I stumbled over an uneven step, I got up with a shoe cleaner can in hand and struck her. The gash across her face got the police called on me and my family,
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Heal Through Writing

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Your 1:1 Counseling session with the Holy Spirit. When the trauma can not be vocalized, smear the lines with the release of your tears. Fill the pages with liquid prayers, and healing is available to you. No longer will you be bound by hurt, pain, or disappointment. Your growth nor will your destiny be stagnant because the identity the trauma created keeps you from being who God has called you. Your time is now; soul care is essential. Materials Needed: Journal (Ear of God) Pen (Your Aaron) Nakedness (Vulnerability)  At times during this process, God may begin to open you up to you. Do not misinterpret dreams as being for someone else. God also deals with you in your dreams, so journal what the Spirit reveals. Journal the unresolved issues and confront them with the Word of God, confession, repentance, and forgiveness. This is your journal; be bold and write what you would never speak. Do the work necessary to get free and stay free.  Identify the problem:  Health problem Thought proce
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Family Anatomy, Wide Awake Part II

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  So here I am in this lifeless city. How long will I be here this time? I do not want to get comfortable, but I have already been here two days too many. Every street reminded me of my childhood as I walked through, looking for shelter. While I grew up devalued if I made the simplest mistake, male family members did the bare minimum and were exalted. If they failed, it was the women in the family's fault. I learned early men are not to be held accountable.  Wounds such as these were so deep I fought not to succumb to them. Even when I stood up for myself, I felt defeated. Men could do no wrong, but my breathing was an issue if I breathed too deeply. On many levels, I understood that growing up in a black household was one of the hardest things to do.  Explaining something to a man meant I castrated him with my mouth. Not being a doormat meant I was not submissive, and walking away told me I was weak. A woman can’t win. When did this start? Was it the misogyny we are governed by th
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The Self-Silencing Effect

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  Did you grow up believing that anything you said was wrong? It did not matter what someone did to you; you were awful for talking about it in any way. Unfortunately, this continues to haunt us as adults today. Most of us don't seek therapy to overcome the imprint left by our parents because they make us feel bad for speaking our truth.  In my childhood, my family told me and convinced others I had the worst attitude ever, so speaking up later in life was crippling for me. This has always been how I have been portrayed and felt about myself. My past made me keep quiet while I got trampled over, so I did not want to come off as an evil person by setting boundaries. During a brief stay with my aunt and her boyfriend in Madison, TN, that man spoke to me in the most deplorable ways, and my aunt tolerated it. One evening after school, he entered their apartment, asking me what I was watching on TV. After I answered him, he told me, "You won't be shit watching this bullshit.&qu
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Dream KIllers

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Photo by  Bruce Christianson  on  Unsplash Dreams are your ambitions or visions (visions we see as we sleep). Dream killers refer to factors, people, or circumstances that can hinder, demotivate, or completely stop an individual from pursuing their ambitions or vision for their lives. When we have dreams or see visions, they often align with a higher purpose, and killing those kills the aspiration. Before becoming knowledgeable through studying and meditation, I relied on those I thought were well-versed to understand what I saw. Some of my dreams were self-explanatory, while others were symbolic and required a greater understanding. At that time, I was unsure of my gift, so I sought help. To most of our understanding, dream killers are those who "hate" on us, telling us we can not achieve that which we set out to do. We understand they speak ill of our goals and constantly put us down. Some of us will say they are family members, "friends," or co-workers who
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