Cottage life – Day 7

There is one type of energy that you don’t want ringing on your doorbell.

It’s the “Wake up. and Grow up.” Truth be told, I wish I could stay behind these white picket fences and be happy but I’ve had an itch to go beyond what I’m safe with.

I am just afraid of the toggling. Being on your own is tough, but growth seems necessary.

Today the door bell rang and said that I had 7 more weeks to figure it out. My mood began to deflate. I know I have to face that reality, but hearing it out loud put a damper on my un-made up mind. Damn it. Why can’t I just figure it out.

Meanwhile, one of my friends (who is basking in the real world) just dealt with an atrocious shooting at her apartment…as well as the paying and nonpaying roommates that have been giving her hell. Would I have to put up with that?

Can I do it? I did it once, twice…and now my third. I’m somewhere between “Do I really have to?” to “I have to.”

Sacrifice is going to be a big theme in the coming months. I just hope it’ll all be worth it.

Day 4 ā€” cottage life.

I enjoy small spaces. They make you want to run out and do something. All you really need is a nice clean place to lay your head in. A small kitchen to prepare good meals. Life is simple, especially when you can walk to the beach.

I’ve been getting into the groove of things. It’s become a ritual to begin my day by walking or running to the beach. Before that, I greet myself with a home cooked breakfast.

On my walk, I’m entertained by the cooing of the insects and the sea breeze that hits your face. When I open my mouth I can taste the salt. Really early in the morning mist and salt take space in the air, it gives my walks a very mystical vibe.

The air will get so thick with cloud matter that it almost feels like you’re in one. The ocean and the clouds meet so close that it feels like a figure of some heavenly kind will appear in the twists of light. I think I just walked into the gates of Heaven.

By the afternoon the sky clears up and you begin to recognize the lush nature the ocean provides for us.

I’ve taken it upon myself to baptize myself with the ocean water. I was reading in my book, Women Who Run With The Wolves, about the history in cleansing yourself with water and how it still resonates with the life-death-life cycle.

I’m not the woman of my past, but she is still celebrated because she is my teacher today.

Someone abusive to my nature from my past life tried to connect with me yesterday. I had no sympathy in rejecting them. I will respect the lessons they brought me, but I don’t keep souvenirs of mistakes I’ve made. Lessons bring you values, too many, can also devalue you. The invisible scars on my heart are enough to remind me to stay away from certain folks. I’m also learning that they don’t mean to cause harm, it’s just in human nature to hurt when we are hurting. Unfortunately. For some. That’s sad.

I like this time alone. I get to restore myself. The world takes so much away from me. At times. Much like a bird that flies from home to home, I like to also coop up in my own nest and take time to lay my own eggs.

Well… yeah. This is a beautiful life. And I get to live it today.

The cottage

I remember the spring of 2017. Gari and I were shacked up in a hut/motel.

Well, it wasn’t something that we necessarily planned. It sure as hell wasn’t advertised the way we both expected. I remember the day before she arrived, I walked into the place and was so thankful she needed a place to crash. I could’ve not done it alone. The purple-grape-vine-covered studio will always hold a special place in my heart. We were both lost and we got to press the pause button and enjoy it. We made our place a home, well, it was mainly her. We had clouds of smoke fill up the space around us, lots of deep talks, laughs and run-ins with the Bills. On our last day there, a sand storm hit, it was the end of that small world we created. I miss her. A lot.

Today, I checked into a cozy cottage by some rich elderly lady’s home. She has the second biggest property out here. The land is filled with lush gardens, a tree house and a place to ride horses. It’s a dream.

I forced MK to dust what the maid couldn’t. Had he seen the studio Gari and I were in, he’d laugh in my face. Some things are better left unsaid.

I guess I’m just a little sad that Gari isn’t on the other end of the room knitting. It’s just me now.

I’m developing a little wellness plan while I’m here. Eat, pray, love type of stuff. I plan to write, read and visit the beach a lot. Besides my blog and a few minutes of social media, I won’t hesitate much to check the net. I need a break from it all.

Cheers! To another self-discovery adventure in a tiny place.


I took a lot of traits from my mother, so you must be like yours. Although, you never talk about her. I wish you did. History would give us a good sense of where we came from. Licking old wounds that were set into me by my ancestors. I feel them inside of me when I rage. When I speak of death, I mean, shedding an old life. An old way. Thousands of years of conditioning. I speak about the root of the problem, but they just want to see the flower. Glory is shed. In this garden I will not grow. Let the seeds of my imagination be planted in richer soil. The color grows from the darkest flesh; my soul.

It’s a full moon which means my menstrual cycle is kicking in. It’s dope because it means my body is in tune with the universe. But it also means I’m extra sensitive and easily irritated.

Could it be the fact that some street merchant “accidentally” hit me with a fan and caused me to spill my coffee on my lap. Out of all of the people sitting down at the restaurant I was the chosen one. Damn it. Should’ve bid on the lottery.

Or could it have been the 80 year old woman who thought I was coming on to her 20 year old boy toy.

Or was it another older white man who began to squirm in his seat when I brought up racial matters — and then proceeded to hit me with the “but you look white.”

And? Does that mean racial issues aren’t an issue? No, you’d rather talk about football. Another organization that is run like a slave ship.

Everyone and everything is pissing me off. I have the right to be angry. People have been treating me unfairly — too often. They think they can say/do/assume anything they want.

“Why is she here? And what does she really do?” Type of questions.

Sometimes I want to grab them by the neck and give them a dose of reality.

The underlying issue of my anger is frustration.

I’m sick of feeling this way. I’m sick of tolerating these ignorant crowds of people. I’m sick of being sick of it. But why haven’t I done anything about it?! Frustration. Fear. Stagnancy. Ugh. Never having time for myself.

I don’t want to put a smile of my face…no…I just want to tear the world apart.

Now I’m left with pieces of these worlds I’ve destroyed. And somehow, I have to piece it together…you know, to make a better one. But this summer breeze … ugh … focus. Focus. Focus.

They don’t want you to win *dj Khaled voice*

I really want to be on my own for a while but for now life is a compromise.

My soul is tired. I need fresh air.

Apart of me wants to run out into the wild — and find myself. Find my passions, find my true nature, my people.

I want to become this person I’m slowly creating in my head.

Who ever she is… I wonder if she’s waiting for me. Because I’m waiting for her.

What’s strange is that I feel like I’m losing myself.

Today I was in a fitting room and I realized I don’t fit in with who someone else wants me to be.

I want to be myself, but I don’t even know who she is. She’s been mislabeled and pulled around by others.

She feels like an object. Used for sex in exchange for gifts… that gift is survival.

Sometimes I think … well, what’s the worst that could happen if I don’t survive?

She dies. And maybe she’ll finally meet herself….

Dear universe,

This time last year I prayed to meet someone that would give me a better life — and boy did you come through. My life became a Cinderella story over night.

And I’m thankful of that. But the thing is… what I’ve discovered most is that they never told us how Cinderella felt after the fact.

You see, Cinderella never had much of alife besides cleaning up after her sisters and evil step-mother. So of course, a handsome prince was her only way out. But what happened to her after she saw the world? Did she still want to be with a man who fell in love with a fake facade of her (after one night)?

I wanted to change the world. I wanted to do something that would help people… but all I’ve learned is that I need to help myself first.

I’ve never had a life of my own. At 20 years old, after working 3 jobs and paying for college on my own — and also being in a very toxic household — I had to get out. I put myself in a position to make more money and in turn it cost me my friends, family and a community. 6 years later, I’m still in the same position — it’s just on different terms. It’s been really rough. Last night I cried and kept thinking: “how much longer can I do this?” And sadly, the words I promised I would never say again came out: “I don’t want to be alive.”

Truth is, I do. I just want a real shot at life. The one I never got…. you know… I want a career I’m passionate about, extra smart and genuine friends and true love. Is that too much to ask for?

I’m going into a transition in my life that isn’t going to be easy. I’m pressing a long overdue “restart” button that I’ve been neglecting. I’ve been avoiding it out of fear … what if I can’t do this … but I can. I’m a survivor. I’ve been through so much on my own that I can handle it.

It’s time I do this … on my own.

As my favorite singer once said: “it’s nice to be love and be loved but I rather know what God knows…”