Leading With Love and Compassion
This blog is for the individual that desires more of themselves + the people in their lives.
Dive into the intricate tale of blended love, where the dream of a larger family clashes with the complexities of reality. As an only child, the allure of noisy holidays and unfiltered laughter was irresistible, but my journey through blended families unfolded as a nuanced narrative.
Read MoreThis picture is a moment of love. Deep love. Measured over moments of struggle + sometimes immense joy. I am learning to enjoy the view. Consume every moment of every second as I watch my daughter become a woman. As she emerges from the residue of trauma from two parents who collided without understanding the capacity of ushering an entire soul earth side. Its complicated! I wait patiently as she wonders will she be like me. I observe her as she begs Spirit to release her from the shackles of my life. I see her. I comfort her daily returning her to herself, the original design. I return to me as well….as I re-mother the broken parts of me.
Read MoreFathers hold a substantial about of weight in a child’s life + I carry the residue of this sentiment. My existence came on the hills of my mother’s + father’s relationship which I learned later in life was destined to never stand a chance. My father wanted kids + my mother did not so I was conceived in a womb that was vacant from the beginning. I understand that children can sense everything just from the intention of the space they reside. I understood that my existence frustrated my mother not because she did not want kids, but she wanted so desperately for her marriage to work. So when my father could not remain on the pedestal society put him on, he quickly fell from grace + so went my self-worth along with the marriage.
So here we are stepping into a new season. Somewhere I imagined this day. I even anticipated it. The day your moon would come to claim you as its own. I remember when you looked at me with such uncertainty, hoping that my love never diminished. Praying that this was the moment we empathized with each other because we could now understand the journey we both were taking. Isn’t it miraculous how the Universe climbs into our lap without warning only to swallow our fears and replace them with massive portions of purpose that will only fit in the Creators hands?
Read MoreWhen I see my daughter, I am humbled by her ability to carry the weight of peer pressure + being a middle -schooler like a 4-foot promise. Committed + occasionally drenched in momentary sadness; yet wearing her resilience like a finished sentence. On point + exact! She is everything I wanted to be but never had the space, bygones!
Read MoreLately, I have been mourning the parts of me that carry the pain of holding onto my will for so long. I ache at the thought of surrendering + I cringe at the work that is going into relinquishing years of trauma. My muscles are bruised from the plight of being a single mother. There are parts of me that collapse under years of silence; having to stuff down fragmented sentences hoping that later they would make sense. Make no mistake, the heart listens to the suppressed emotions that eventually manifests in our bodies + the deeper burden is to be aware of it all. With every bit of knowledge and acknowledgment there comes an inevitable lingering despair which beckons us to forgive.
Read MoreThe weight of my skin wakes me up every single morning. I am jolted by the day begging me to be quieter + less black. I crawl out of bed pulling the hopes of my ancestors from under years of self-degradation praying that my parent’s trauma doesn’t trip me up today. Trusting that my vernacular is articulate enough to get your attention because most days I am injured by the explanations; bruised by the shape-shifting + code switching. Transforming to fit into something worthy of being acceptable + magnificent. Grasping the understanding that we wouldn’t return or recover. Reminded that being glorious is dangerous, especially when you are black. Warriors must walk lightly taking into consideration their gifts as well as their frailties. We hail from things that are fascinating, but up close can be misconstrued as ice sculptures; gorgeous + emotionless.
Read MoreWords were abused in my home + smashed against mistakes as you casually watch your self-esteem fall slowly to the ground. Disputes were adorned in extravagant gifts + gently wrapped in confrontations that never ended with forgiveness. I don’t know what resolution looks like + often times it’s an all-out tussle to find it. Sometimes it’s a street fight where no one wins + I am left with the baggage of seeing way too many adults disagree in unhealthy ways. It’s a thing!
Read MoreHow do you heal from years of trauma inflicted from one generation to the next? How do you carry the weight of pain that was allocated on you just because it was too heavy to keeping lifting? I am convinced that the residue from years of silenced fears + broken families + illegitimate children coupled with physical + verbal abuse has seemingly disabled us. It has seeped into our homes, coated our walls, soaked our furniture + broken our spirits. We are branded with the scars of perilous times + memories of the middle passage.
Read MoreMy mother, Mavis A. Carter (born McRae) is the oldest girl of 12 siblings. She was born in the 1940’s just a few years removed from slavery. The sound of that truth still haunts me; yet allows me immense understanding of who my mother was destined to be. I am a firm believer that every child should fully understand the weight of who your parents are. Alcarez, as she is affectionately called is absolutely forthright, exceptionally amusing, tremendously magnanimous, and relatively convoluted. However, I was blessed with the privilege of having her as a mother. I don’t think I always believed that it was a privilege, but wisdom grows as your experience of the world is elevated.
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