What will it take?

What will it take?

How broke do you have to be to get yourself out of your comfort zone?

  • Car repossessed 
  • Evicted
  • No food
  • No gas money
  • Holes in clothes
  • Lost job
  • Electric cut off
  • Selling prized possessions 

We go through things to show us how strong we really are. It’s up to us to see the power in that and use it as fuel to change your life. 

Don’t Misunderstand my Grind

Don’t Misunderstand my Grind

Everyday is about work. I feel bad when I watch tv because I know I can be hustling in some way. At times I wish things were a lot easier because I feel like I’ve struggled all my life. I guess this is just making a better story.

When I look at my life, right now, I feel like I’ve had more downs than ups. Not feeling sorry for myself, I’m good, I’ve had to adjust and make shit work. People have NO idea, not a clue what I’ve gone through. It makes it worst being a preachers daughter, hustling for EVERYTHING I’ve ever gotten. #Truth

I’ve been researching and teaching myself how to be a business person, create brands, understanding  what customers want and be authentic to who I am and what I stand for. So blogging is the ultimate way to get my feelings out instead of holding them in.

Mentors have taught me a lot over the past couple years and helped me realize a lot about myself. (These mentors have never met me, they don’t even know I exist, but they’ve helped me to get where I am) I’ve learned that hustling is more than doing something in secret for 50 years. Let me explain. My way outside of abuse was creating. I made many different types of artwork, danced, wrote, designed houses, created new hairstyles regularly… Whatever I could do to create something with what I had, and I didn’t have much. I kept it all in my room. I didn’t even hang art in my house when I was younger. My mom probably never even saw most of the work I did. Why? Why did I keep a large stack of drawings and paintings under my bed? Why was their pottery and sculptures on my floor?

Unfortunately, they are all gone now. You will read about that in my book.

But my hustle, my grind, is for people to know who I am and what I have to offer, because it’s better than good. I can’t worry about the lost art, I have to push forward. If people see me push past all the shit I’ve been through… Maybe that will encourage someone else. My decisions haven’t always been the best, and I don’t want people to judge my businesses off of that. You have to see the overall picture of what I stand for.

I stand for GREATNESS. Working until you achieve what you want. Hustle. Get your work seen. Be true to who you are no matter what people say or think. There will always be someone who doesn’t like you. Who cares!!! There may be 1,000 more piece whose lives you changed.

So the people who know me have seen me change my pace. I’m not going to wait to get seen and pray some celebrity posts a pic of my art or skincare on Instagram. I’m going to hustle my ass off to prove to myself that I can do it and help show the world that you can’t wait for anything Drop out the sky.

Remember, the richest place is and will always be the graveyard. Don’t add your contribution. -Reality Of A Preacher’s Daughter

I have to finish this book!!!!

I have to finish this book!!!!

Everyone has had a broken heart, I guess. It’s just worse when it’s the person you call father. The news I’ve been hearing lately about him has me very concerned (more like driving me nuts). I’ve tried time after time year after year, and he just makes . It’s like he just doesn’t care about his life anymore. There is nothing I could say to him because he would never listen anyway. So maybe, JUST MAYBE, when I finish this book, he will still have time to bounce back and turn his life completely around. Maybe I can save the father who could care less about me. #Prayforme

-Preacher’s Daughter

And the tears begin to flow…

And the tears begin to flow…

I’ve been crying for days. I wish he would just listen… It will never happen.

I’ve been messed up for years, but no one would really know. Covered it up quite good. I just wanted to have a relationship with my father that I never got. Since I was a little girl it was all about being tough, not being his little princess. I just wanted my daddy. The one who would hold my hand at the park, or tell me how proud he was of me. Tell me how beautiful I was, kiss my forehead and pray with me at bedtime. I cried a lot. I cried myself to sleep a lot. No one knew. I had to be the strong one for my siblings, for my mom. I had to be strong in front of my dad because when he saw a weakness he would irritate it, nag at it, scratch at it, until I fought back. It always ended badly.

As I grew up, I had to put on an armor. Changed my outward to look harder than I actually was. People who knew me when I was younger know how I use to dress. I was a tomboy. Boys clothes, worked out everyday, push ups, sit ups, running, boxing in the mirror. It kept the pain at ease and I had to make sure I was strong enough to fight my dad back.

I watched how he treated my brothers. One was the Favorite, the other was not. My mother and I would try to take up for him, but Dad was too overpowering. He never listened. It was always “his way”. His way was horrible. I prayed all the time that this would end. EVERYTHING WOULD END. It didn’t. It just got worse…