In my young adult years, I had a hard time being seen for who I was.
I was always identified by where I grew up, whose sister I was or who I hung out with. Although I loved those aspects of myself, I was more.
As years went on, I had to make choices for my happiness. Choices often opposite of what I thought was expected of me. That meant becoming vulnerable to change and criticism.
That shift came with a yearning to experience more of what life had to offer. I began to look outside the walls put in place by others and myself to live a life God wanted me to live.
I began to capture these experiences in my writing. This became a way for me to purge, process and heal.
This blog is that journey and it continues. A journey full of love, tears, pride and lots of laughs.
Thanks for joining me.
Our Crowns
Swim class was the first bell class at the local high school many of my cousins attended in the late 1960’s early 1970’s.
Most of them wore a press and curl. A ritual on Saturday, hair was washed and dried then pressed and curled with a hot comb. Later before bed, the hair was rolled on pink sponge rollers. This process took hours.