I went to an event last night. Spoke to some people about my art and skin care. Had a couple embarrassing moments and always try to remember it’s all part of the process.
At the end of the night I started having a conversation with a stranger. It was a friend of another artist. We went from talking about music, to the “church life”. The life of staying in this Christian box with other Christian people so you can recruit people who are not Christian to live in this box 🔲 with you… 🙄
That sounds ridiculous. It’s not everyone, but it’s a lot of them (Christian folk). –RealityOfAPreachersDaughter
You ever think about how you know your life should be. Everyone seems to be content with their day to day struggle and do nothing about it. Living with no purpose. Just a slave to your own existence.
It takes a thought. A simple decision can rewrite your story. It can take you to another direction. Your life doesn’t have to be all about drama and bullshit. You should be enjoying everyday because you’re doing what you love. Figure out how and do it.
The life I’ve experienced has brought me to a place where change is necessary for me. I talk so much shit to myself. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” “Why won’t you try?” “What are you afraid of?”
After asking myself a lot of questions and answering them, I realize I have a lot of issues. LOL. But everyone does!!!! So I need to stop making excuses about why I’m not good enough for this and that and DO THE DAMN SHIT!
My dad and mom were preachers, they still are, but we still didn’t have shit. I refuse to become my parents and keep myself from all the happiness I can have. I don’t want their lives. I have to make the decisions they didn’t make to have the life they didn’t have.
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
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…