I’ve heard that people are utterly disgusted by people blowing their nose, and I can understand that.😐
But damnit, it’s allergy season, So I apologize in advance for all the nose blowing I’ll be doing for the next few weeks. I’d rather you hear my blowing my nose than watching snot run down my face! 🤧🤧🤧#notreallysorry #RealityOfAPreachersDaughter
What is Christianity? Where did it come from? How many wealthy people consider themselves a Christian? How many Christians are wealthy?How many Christians are miserable? How many Christians are Happy? How many Christians are Black? How many Christians are White? How many Christians are “other”? Who started Christianity?
Maybe not all of those questions are relevant, but maybe they are. From a child I was taught, but growing up I taught myself. Know who you are and what you’re doing. With that being said, I lost my religion a long time ago. I said I was not a Christian, I follow God. In some people’s eyes, that makes me a horrible person, a blasphemer. Well I’ve said worse… -RealityOfAPreachersDaughter
Ever had one of those days you just wanted to break down and cry. Someone asked you how you were doing and you have to change the subject as fast as possible so you could keep from crying… I cant take it. Not at the moment. I’m at work and feeling emotional. It’s a little overwhelming, but I have no choice but to take it. What other option is there?
God When is my change coming. I’m really trying to stay focused and not get stressed out. But life is stressing me the hell out right now. No one knows… and I don’t really want to talk to anyone about it because they will judge my life.
I don’t have anyone to talk to. I don’t have mentors well real ones because they don’t know me, Daymond John and Eric Thomas. My parents are unavailable.
I can’t sleep at night. Not because I’ve had too much coffee, but because I wonder every day if I’ve hustled hard enough. Did I get enough completed today. Did I do enough art? Did I read enough? Did I write enough? Should I have made a song? Should I have made another skincare product? Did I promote myself enough on social media?
Laying down listening to my husband struggle to breath at night because of the construction job he has breathing dust and pollen all day. He’s had enough, but I’ve really had enough. My husband has to sleep sitting up! Damnit! I don’t think he realizes how much I hate his job. His potential is infinite, and he’s working there all day to barely pay bills. That’s why my hustle has gone to another level.
“Less Sleep More Hustle”-Reality of A Preacher’s Daughter
You ever been so concerned with details that you can’t get shit done. I’m not making excuses, but I don’t have any one to talk to, no one to give me business advice, no one pushing me to keep going, so this is all me. My way to converse is writing, whether I’m writing music or my book.
So my life… I feel like there’s always so much to do and I don’t know what to do first. My focus is my book, my art and my skincare. Overall, I need to get these bills paid. There is always a bill coming out right after they are paid. I’m pretty good with money, but unfortunately there were some setbacks. I read in most peoples success stories where they maxed out credit cards, cars repossessed, late on rent, eating the minimum… so I don’t feel sorry for myself. I just need to know where to go from here.
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
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…
Reality Of A Preacher's Daughter 