All posts by Miss



My finger kept running across the label.

Valium. For Panic Attacks and Anxiety. 

On my left was a bottle of wine. The bridge between the two sat with me for a little too long. Sure it wasn’t new. I’d entertained the idea for years. But this time I was considering dancing with it. I could hear my family laughing downstairs, gathered around a Christmas movie, enjoying each other’s company. The haphazard note I’d written wouldn’t help. Somewhere inside me I knew I didn’t want to die but I didn’t want to live either.

I don’t know the exact moment it happened but I learned to hate myself at a very young age. At seven, I took a brillopad to my leg to get off the “dirt” because I wanted to look like all of my white friends. As a teenager I underwent radical diets to look like the thin girls who got asked out. In college, I struggled with suicide ideation. All different expressions but they all came from the same place of a deeply rooted and internalized hate. I was never one of the pretty, popular girls with straight hair and boyfriends. I wasn’t tall and gorgeous like my sisters. I was sick for a good portion of my childhood and it showed in scabs, scars, rashes, and other unsightly skin reactions. I was a walking freakshow as I was told numerous times. That made me an easy target for bullies. I can still remember in vivid detail the laughs of my tormentors. The happiness in their faces when they could call me fat or ugly, pull my hair, kick me, or find some new form of torture. Each time I absorbed the shock of the blow and let it sink below the surface. Each day the pain grew. Each day the message got louder and clearer, “You’re not wanted.”

I began to hate myself intensely. I told myself I didn’t deserve to take up the space that I did. I didn’t deserve to breathe the air everyone else did. The hate morphed into impossible standards. If I didn’t get an A, I was even more worthless. If I didn’t lose the weight, no one would ever want me. If I stopped reading and thinking so much, I’d get a boyfriend. If everything that made me unique was destroyed, I’d be accepted…acceptable. 

I would sit on the floor of my closet in the dark and hug my knees. I felt safe there. Unlike most children, I wasn’t afraid of the monsters that lurked just beyond my clothes and underneath my shoes. I was afraid of the ones on the outside getting in.

But it was too late, they were already running rampant in my head.

When I started dating I was indoctrinated by the belief that I was so unloveable that any consideration from a man was met with my undying love and affection. I hated myself so much that I really believed anyone who could look past my reprehensible “faults” and at least like me was as close to love as I could get. I enthusiastically took emotional and mental abuse because I thought that was the best I could do.

When people complimented me, it never registered. Call me smart and I’d counter with, “Not enough.” Call me pretty and I’d counter with, “Not enough.” I kept praying and hoping that I would find “the enough” on the other side of some condition being met. It never was in reach and so long as I judged myself in the mirror of perfection I would always find something more to fix and less to love.

I hated myself for so long that I wanted to die. That’s all hate grants you. It exhausts you nearly to the point of no return. It infects everything good and beautiful in your life and kills it slowly. I sat in my room while my family celebrated and I wondered if it would be better without me. Then I saw their faces once they found me. Maybe they’d think I was sleeping. Maybe they’d try and shake me awake. But it wouldn’t last long and then they’d know. How could I let them feel that kind of horror? They would feel guilty for something that wasn’t their fault for years.  I didn’t want to trade in my pain for theirs and I truly didn’t want to end my life. I put the orange bottle out of sight and folded up the note. I told myself that I was either going to let my hate kill me or I was going to find a way to live and find happiness.

I used to be terrified of being this vulnerable, of opening myself up to this degree. But the more I look around, the more I see it’s necessary. I hear the little cues in conversation, “If I could just,” “When I…” “I need to do this so I can be…” and I know the little seeds of self-hate live in others. When I read the comments about Tess Holliday getting signed to a major modeling agency, I saw those little seeds come out in words. When I watched the division and negativity after the Dark Girls and Light Girls documentaries last week, I saw those little seeds come out in tweets. When I watch friends deflate because some anonymous man swiped left instead of right, I see those seeds burst and take root. We need to stop treating happiness as some carrot we dangle in front of people. No one person deserves it over another. It’s not a race. You can try and chase it the world over without realizing it starts with you.

Dark-skinned, curly-haired, wide-hipped, flat-chested, whatever you are, you’re golden. Love your rolls, love your curves, love your lines, love your shape, no matter what state it’s in because it’s yours. There’s no use in measuring ourselves against perfection because it’s just as unbelievable as it is unattainable. Why should you wait to be happy when your life isn’t a rehearsal? This is it. If you can’t be comfortable in the skin you’re in now, what makes you think the second you reach a goal, it’ll suddenly find you? You can’t fight insecurity with another insecurity. You’ll never win so chuck it in the trash. Perfection doesn’t allow you to see yourself as the beautiful person you are. It tells you you’re too much or not enough. You’re enough. I promise you, you’re more than enough.

When I stopped hating myself, I started breaking “rules” I was told to live by. I stopped relaxing my hair and let me curls show and I felt beautiful. I wore dresses that showed my dark knees and chubby thighs. The world didn’t collapse, no one was blinded by the sight of it, and I felt beautiful. I started finding joy in what I’d considered imperfections. I started finding joy in myself. Some people don’t like to see that. Let’s be honest, most people don’t like to see that. When we think of happiness as something bestowed instead of something obtained, we get envious of those around us who have it. Hurting people hurt people, doesn’t mean you have to receive it or pass it on. Let that be someone else’s fight. They have to learn, just like you will, just like I did, that the love you’re chasing isn’t somewhere over the rainbow, it’s right in the palm of your hand. Grab that happiness. Embrace that love. Reject the hate.

I wake up every morning and I write this in my journal:


It’s a reminder to myself that what the world may call faults, I call beauty. What the world may say doesn’t deserve love, will garner all the love it needs right from me.

You deserve to feel that way too. Remember that as we all aspire to feel better, do better, and be better.


Check Your Bags: Claim Your Emotional Baggage

“Do I remind you of him?”

I was sitting on the bed talking to my then boyfriend. We were talking about our fathers and the traits we picked up from them. Some of them were great, some not so much. He was staring at me intently awaiting my answer.

Of course he did. I looked away for a second.

“Not at all silly.”

That’s when I knew we were doomed.

After the breakup, I remember wailing aloud to Robyn in the shower and crying the ugliest, sappiest, snottiest cry I’ve ever done in my life. I was heartbroken…but I wasn’t surprised. In fact, immediately after we broke up, I was relieved. While I was pretending that everything was great when we were together I was stressing out internally. I was depressed. I’ve never found it hard to see people for what they are but I like to grant them the benefit of the doubt anyways. Often times they prove me right and go along repeating destructive patterns but sometimes my intentional naiveté is just the space they need to grow and transform. This was not one of those situations. There was mama drama, family drama, communication problems, a lack of emotional development, unresolved personal issues, and years of baggage that I saw clear as day. But I still went forward with it. *Sigh* I know!

I wanted into the secret club of twentysomethings that had already met “the one.” You know the ones that seem so stupid perfect in their Facebook pictures? I wanted that security because I didn’t feel secure in any other part of my life. I forfeit my happiness for the appeasement of other people. I was that same little girl who just wanted to fit in with everyone else. But at what cost?

As I leaned against the tile of the shower I realized that, even if only in a small degree, I brought this on myself. I knew we’d never last, I knew there were more than a few fundamental, major things in his life I didn’t agree with, but I pursued it anyways. He had his problems but I clearly had mine if I was so desperate to choose him.  I wasn’t going to spend this break-up blaming someone I no longer had any connection or relationship with. I was going to focus on the most important relationship I had —the one with my self.

So I cracked myself open, I looked back at all the relationships I’ve had before. Boyfriends, friends, crushes, everything. It was more than a little terrifying to see the patterns come to light. The fact that I’m attracted to anger and brokenness. The fact that I do so out of a crappy sense of self-worth. The fact that what I truly wanted was in a different world compared to what I had been accepting. It all came down to me. I might not have caused those people to be antagonists but I allowed them to antagonize me because I believed that’s what I deserved. At the end of the day, I could blame as many people as I wanted but I was the common denominator.


Have you ever wondered why it’s so easy to call out someone else’s faults but not our own? What we hate in others is usually what we’re afraid to acknowledge in ourselves. It’s not fun but it is enlightening.  We promise we’ll never be like our parents but focus so intently on it we transform into them almost overnight. It’s time to stop deflecting our pain and hurts onto other people and reflect on who we are and who we want to be. We need to really examine what we’ve held onto and why we’ve let it get in the way of healthy relationships and choices.

I looked back at some of my journal entries and created the Check Your Bags Worksheets just for you to help with self-reflection.  It’s completely free because I think it’s important to know the baggage we carry and even more important to claim it. Even though I’ve done similar type exercises, I did this again and was surprised by how something so simple illuminated some underlying issues for me. My sincere hope is that it helps you too. Work through these worksheets and let me know how it helps you. Please remember to not be too hard on yourself during this as well. Believe me, accountability will push you forward but harsh criticism will only hold you back. Be gentle!

As always my loves, feel better, do better, and be better.


Content: Being Happy Where You Are


8:31 A.M September 28, 2011. I was officially 21. Time to celebrate! Right? No. Not today. I couldn’t stop crying. My mother was walking down the aisle at my age. What was wrong with me? 

Church didn’t help. Every week came with the announcement of a new engagement. If you listened carefully enough you could hear that slight twinge in the pastor’s voice. What’s wrong with the rest of y’all? 

I read book after book after book. “How to Keep a Man,” “Pray Til He Shows Up,” “Pray with One Eye Closed,” “Waiting” and the sequel “Waiting til Tonight,” “Your Dude is on the Way,” and “Girl, He Ain’t Here YET?!”

You name it, I read it. I bought into it. I devoured them like they were magic spells that once completed, my Prince would apparate to my side. I got plenty of frogs but my Prince never arrived. What’s wrong with me?

No worries, I’ll find you Mr. Nelson.

When I couldn’t find someone sexy and sanctified (pray for me y’all), no one my age and ready to commit, or anyone sane and alive,  I asked myself again and again…WHAT THE F*CK IS WRONG WITH ME?! 

As women we naturally have a thousand answers to that question. Too fat. Too skinny.  Too smart. Not smart enough. Too light. Too dark. Not pretty pretty enough. We’re either too much or not enough. So you want to know the truth? Something is wrong with you.

Oop. I’ll let that sit.

It’s nothing to do with your looks and everything to do with your feelings. What I’m telling you isn’t some secret only married women know. A lot of them don’t, some never will. Not everyone will get married. That’s just a fact loves. When you accept that reality you should feel at peace. Why? It means that Damoclesian expectation is off the table. No pressure. But for most of you, just like it was for me initially, you probably feel terrified. “I’ll be all alone!” No girl, you’ll be with yourself and the people who love you. What’s wrong with being with yourself? NOTHING. Unless you cannot stand the sight, thought, or idea of you. So to answer the question, you is what’s wrong with you.

A man will not fix you. A baby will not fix you. A marriage will not fix you. A friend with benefits will not fix you. Do you realize how ironic it is to need someone to spend time with you when you don’t like to spend time with yourself? How sad is it to need someone to esteem you when your own self can’t do it? I know I might sound harsh but the truth is often inflammatory. You need to hear this. Stop waiting for some cure for how you’re feeling to fall from the sky. Stop posting salty things on social media about how, “You’re happy to have your newsfeed flooded with engagements.” When what you really mean is, “Where’s mine?” Stop arresting your happiness and expecting someone else to set it free {Click it to tweet that truth}.  That’s your work and it’s irrational, irresponsible, and childish to expect anyone else to do it for you. Don’t make loving yourself anyone else’s job but your own. 


You need to rewrite your content so you can be content. Marriage isn’t easy. It’s not a wedding everyday. It’s two imperfect people who commit themselves to each other daily. It’s a beautiful thing to witness when it’s done right. But as a recovering wedding coordinator, it’s mind- numbingly tragic to watch an impending wreck. So many couples convince themselves that they’ll get better after the stress dies down, like life will never be stressful again. They force a smile when something in the back of their minds is whispering, “No.” They get caught up in the commotion and forget to acknowledge their emotions. They say “I do” to terrible communication, emotionally stunted, easily intimidated, angry princes and princesses with little to no shared experience. They make promises that they’ll always remain the same while literally changing the status of their relationship in front of God, their family, and friends. They say yes because they need someone else to accept them without thinking of doing the same for their partner.

But from the outside looking in, their Instagram pictures and their cute Facebook posts look darling. That’s because we filter out the bad and tell the story we want to be told, not the truth.

One of the saddest things I’ve witnessed happened when I was ten. As an Army Brat I was used to being around female spouses who wore a smile and an empty stare. They held down the fort at home with little to no recognition…or sometimes help. “Mrs. C” was that kind of woman. She was sweet but even as a child I could tell she was very sad. On the outside everything looked perfect. Her husband was a high ranking officer and they lived in one of the mini-mansions up in the hills of the post. She loved to babysit me and I loved her because she bought me chicken nuggets (don’t you judge me!). I was waiting for my mom to pick me up when her husband got home. He smiled curtly at me but his eyes threw daggers in his wife’s direction. They went to their room to “talk.” I’ll always remember her screaming,” I did everything for you!” and his response,” I never asked you to.”

I heard with a child’s mind but I’ve processed it differently as an adult. My dearest single ladies, the books, the prayers, the substanceless dates, the products, the clothes, all the things we do to find a man, we need to be doing to find ourselves.

Stop entertaining fools in your court, queens. No more dates with guys who can only remember your number after midnight. No more putting up with verbal and emotional abuse just so you can say you’re in a relationship. No more investing in someone’s dreams who can’t invest in yours. No more enthusiastic acceptance of scraps when you deserve to be sitting at the table. No more waiting for a prince to whisk you away to a cold, dank castle. Build your own kingdom. Write your own love story and start with uncovering, discovering, knowing, and loving YOU.

Thirst. Don't let it be you.
Thirst. Don’t let it be you.

What’s something you’ll have to rewrite to feel content? Let me know and as always, feel better, do better, be better!


7 Reasons You Can’t Stick to Your Resolutions


We’re 18 days in to 2015 y’all! Did that make you smile or want to throw up? Should I even ask how those resolutions are going? Are you killing it or are they killing you? Luckily, resolutions can be made everyday. You always have the option to begin again. Don’t stress out if they’re not going the way you dreamed but you might want to evaluate why you’re having such a hard time making a change. Here are 7 reasons that might help you figure out why.

  1. Misery is Familiar: Recently, in a discussion with friends, I told them about my paralyzing fear of success.  I shared it in my Resolution of Fear post. The higher you go, the harder you could fall. Don’t let that fear hold you back! Just because you’ve gotten comfortable being miserable doesn’t mean you should remain that way.
  2. You Don’t Believe You Can: You have no clue what you can accomplish and you’ll have no clue if you refuse to empower yourself. I climbed the Great Wall of China at 10. TEN. I was a chubby little kid who refused to wear a training bra and thought windbreakers were fly as fuck but I wheezed myself to sweet victory and cherish that memory everyday of my life. Sure, I  had the blissful ignorance of childhood inhibition to never make me once question my limits but maybe that’s something we all need to adopt back into our lives. If you permit them, negative thoughts will create negative actions.
  3. Staying the Same is Easier: I would talk so much about how I wanted to change. I needed it. I was the tragic damsel oppressed by the powers that be and my only salvation was the dewy nectar of change. I’m a bit of a complete drama queen but I made myself a victim of life instead of a victor. By being reactive instead of proactive I didn’t have to take responsibility for my life.  I was consumed by the thought of change but I wasn’t convicted by it. Mainly because I’m a punk but I’m also because boooooo! Work. Blech. The mental resistance grew each time I decided against standing up to my own mediocrity and bowing down to it instead. But once I made a plan, I realized the resistance was much smaller than I imagined.
  4. Other People: Anyone who says they don’t care about what other people think is a damned dirty liar. Except Prince. But he’s a celestial being made of 85% ether, 5% alchemy, and 10% Unicorn magic. The rest of us mere mortals care a lot. Actually, way too damn much. We let the opinions of people who don’t matter cloud our view of ourselves. Give a little credence to what people think but limit it to the people who truly know and love you. Even then, don’t let those occlude your own. It’s your life for a reason.
  5. Other People:  When you make a change it requires the people in your circle to evaluate their own life. Not everyone is going to like what they see and they’ll likely take it out on you. I once had a conversation with an ex-boyfriend about becoming my next level-self and how that evolution naturally carries over into a relationship. “So if you become your next level-self does that mean I need to become my next level-self too?” The answer was yes but the reality was no. No one has to change the second you do but we’re all works in progress. When we stop trying to become our best selves we get stagnant. Cesspools are stagnant. Cesspools ain’t cute. Don’t be a cesspool.
  6. You’re Afraid: Want to know a secret? The most successful people in the world were and are probably still afraid or insecure about something. Estelle Getty had crippling stage fright but she still managed to cement herself as a comedic legend playing Sophia Petrillo on the Golden Girls. Adele upchucked on stage because she was petrified but she still made musical history before the age of 30. They were able to overcome those annoying ass little voices who told them they couldn’t because their desire to succeed was bigger than their fear. If you want it, go for it. Sure you’ll goof up along the way but you’ll never have to wonder, “What if?”   
  7. You’re Trying for the Wrong Reasons: The great Denzel Washington said, ” Don’t confuse movement with progress.” Damn you Denzel! We’re such a busy culture. We’re always doing something but a lot of the times it can seem like we’re just running in circles instead of moving towards something. Don’t change to impress anyone. Don’t do it because everyone else is. PLEASE don’t do it because someone is holding an ultimatum over your head.  Do it because you recognize it’s time. Do it for you, that’s the only way it’ll stick.

Change is never easy and often when we fantasize about making one we’re thinking of the products instead of the process. We want the rewards but none of the responsibility because the grass seems so much greener from where we’re standing. We forget that we still have to climb up the hill to get it.

If you’re ready for a renewal, a dedication, a recommitment, or any kind of change in your life, roll up your sleeves. Emotional work is murky and at times unbearable but it requires as much attention as it does patience. Be gentle with yourself. Take a breath. Are you ready?!

…and because I love you, here are some tips to help you when you’re ready to get started!

  • Prepare: Before you can create, you have to destroy. I don’t mean engage in self-destructive habits. I mean out with the old and in with the new. Ready for a bit of Twisdom?  You can’t commit to progress if you’re obsessed with perfection. You can’t start a business if you don’t believe in yourself first. Whether it’s a pebble or a boulder, whatever’s been obstructing your path needs to get moved out of the way so you can move forward.
  • Immerse: Want to go to grad school? Research. Arm yourself with as much information as possible to not only convince yourself of this change but also to remain realistic about the consequences (both good and bad).
  • Honor: Treat your dreams like a life and nurture them. Feed your vision with a daily re-commitment. Communicate and plan the goals necessary to fulfilling it.

Tell me how you’re doing and as always, feel better, do better, and be better!