How broke do you have to be to get yourself out of your comfort zone?
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.
Yesterday I was reminded what my potential is. My life isn’t what I see, because this isn’t what I want and isn’t what I’m working for. I’ve been scared to finish the book and post my music because what people will think… But out of the 300 friends that I have on Facebook. 30 people probably actually read the posts and 2-8 people “like” it. So why should I care. It’s a mistake to care so much about what People think. It holds us back from our true selves. The person who can really make a difference.
Make mistakes. At least you’re trying. If it’s a mistake for me to be a business owner, preacher’s daughter, artist, older sister, wife and spill my life like this… I guess it is what it is. I will be successful anyway.
My work is my life. My skincare line is my life. My art is my life. Writing is my life. These things balance me because I can be creative in different ways and I will use what I have to achieve the level of success I’m reaching for. Made a mistake and told someone what I’m striving for and they shot it all down. That’s why I keep my thoughts to myself. No one lives in my shoes and can do what I can because we are all different with different goals.
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.
Diss- Bout in tears. I see family members, second cousins, posting pics of my grandfather, cousins, aunts and other family members I’ve never met. Unless you’ve experienced it, you wouldn’t know how it is to feel like an outcast of your own. Same blood running through my veins. The same history. I don’t get people interested in getting to know “the granddaughter” of the man whose first born came into this world a few months after he got married.
Funk- It’s not my fault. I didn’t have anything to do with that! I just want to know my family. NO, I wasn’t raised in privilege. NO, I didn’t graduate from college. NO, I haven’t travelled the world. I don’t have an extremely successful business yet. BUT, I’m making it on my own. And I will be great on my OWN, because I don’t have a choice. I bought my first car, never ask anyone for anything. No one around me has anything I need anyway.
Shun- My own mother doesn’t even follow my facebook. She can’t see anything I post, why is she even my friend on there. Why am I a problem? What is it about me that people run away from? I really don’t get it and I don’t want to do anymore crying. I’ve cried my damn eyes out since I started writing last year. (you will see why when you read my book).
I try not to care about what people think of me, but I can’t help it sometimes. This shit really hurts. I have the strangest feeling that when I make it, people will blow my phone up and try to break down my door to get to me then. It will be fake though. I’m a genuine person and that won’t be. I may cater to it for a little while to see what it feels like being loved, appreciated and wanted.
I’ve been DISSed because of a FUNK that I didn’t have anything to do with… Now I’m completely shunned. DAMMNIT WHY??? What if you were in my shoes? How would you want to be treated. Even the woman I’ve lived for, supported, trusted, followed, respected, Loved unconditionally, and worked so hard to make something of myself to buy her whatever she wanted is avoiding me.
I must be some type of fucked up person to deserve this shit. I will never treat anyone like this. I vow to be MYSELF to Change the World. Someone wants me. I guess I just haven’t met them yet. I’m proud of myself. I’m a pretty strong ass person not to have given up already. I just keep pulling myself right along until my change comes, because its coming.
If I hadn’t went through the things I have, I would not be who I am today. My struggle is a blessing.
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 