Learning to love myself

Is It Too Late to Dream at 44? Maybe it's not too late. Maybe I'm just getting started. Growing up, I honestly can't remember spending much time thinking about what I wanted to be when I grew up. At twelve years old, I already thought of myself as a little adult. I was the oldest of twelve children, and childhood didn't always feel like childhood. My mother struggled with drug addiction, and there were times when she would disappear. At first, it might be a weekend. As I got older, those weekends turned into weeks, sometimes even months. I remember one time when I was around fourteen or fifteen. My mother disappeared for approximately two months. When she finally came back, she was pregnant. Growing up was a struggle in ways that are hard to explain. There was always something happening, something to adjust to, something to figure out. I don't think I spent much time imagining my future because I was too busy dealing with the present. When you're young, y...

My Dreamy Book Escapes: When Even a Tawdry Romance Can't Save Me From a Book Slump Let me tell you something about me: I LOVE a good romance novel. And when I say love, I mean LOVE. Give me a deliciously tawdry romance with a swoon-worthy hero, a heroine who can hold her own, a little danger, a little drama, and enough passion to make me fan myself. I'm here for it! I've been a romance reader for as long as I can remember. I fell in love with the genre when I was just a girl, and I haven't looked back since. Books have always been one of my favorite ways to escape the world for a little while. One of my favorite authors is Christine Feehan. There's something about getting lost in her paranormal worlds that hits differently. I love the combination of romance, danger, supernatural elements, and those intense relationships that make you want to keep reading just one more chapter. You know the kind of book I'm talking about. The one where you tell yourself you...

Finding My Way Back to Me: One Week at a Time Have you ever looked at your life and realized that somewhere along the way, you stopped making time for yourself? You spend so much time being there for other people, handling responsibilities, and trying to get through whatever life throws at you that you forget about the person who needs your attention the most: YOU. I've been there. Life has a way of changing us. Sometimes we experience losses that leave us trying to figure out who we are all over again. Sometimes we spend so much time being strong for everyone else that we forget we're allowed to have difficult days, too. I've been on a journey of healing, learning, and trying to understand myself better. It's not always easy, and I certainly don't have all the answers. But I'm learning that I don't have to have everything figured out to take the next step. That's part of why I started this blog. I wanted a place where I could be honest about life...

Just Say No: Why I Don’t Borrow (or Lend) Money — Even to Family Let me say it plain: no. You should never borrow money — especially from family. That might sound harsh, but it’s coming from someone who’s learned the hard way that money and blood don’t mix . I don’t borrow money from anyone. Not from family. Not from friends. Not even in an emergency. If I’m down bad, I deal with it . If I’m hungry, I skip a meal or two. Hell, I’m fat — I can afford to miss a plate or two. It’s not about pride. It’s about peace. See, when you borrow money, you invite expectations, guilt, and judgment into your life. Suddenly, every family gathering has tension hanging in the air. Every phone call feels like a debt collector in disguise . If I choose to give money, that’s one thing. I can do that with a clean heart because I already know who I’m dealing with — the ones who always have their hand out, never bring anything to the table, and somehow always have a story to tell. I accept them for w...

  No More Favors Can you do me a favor? That sentence should come with a warning label. Hell, it should be illegal to ask someone that, especially when the favor is “free,” but somehow ends up costing me forty dollars. And not just in money, but in time, peace, and self-respect. I’ve said this before, but this time I mean it: No. More. Favors. If you lead with “Can you do me a favor?” I will hang up the phone. Immediately. Because here’s the truth—those favors never get returned. They’re taken, expected, drained out of me like I’m some endless well, when I barely have enough to give myself. The people I keep helping? They never offer a hand when I’m the one in need. If I’m hungry, I go without. If I need a ride, I call Lyft. If I’m short on money, I figure it out. Alone. Not because I want to be, but because I’ve learned—asking gets me nothing but disappointment. Why? Because my family is self-serving. A collection of users. And it’s taken me too long to finally accept that truth. ...