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Looking in the rear view

Today marks 1 month since my faith was seriously tested. On January 27, 2020 around 7:30pm I was driving with my sister and three young children. We were rear ended and then we hit the van in front of us. I can still remember the  disoriented feeling, the sent of intense heat and fumes. I cringe and shutter every time I think about it because it’s so vivid in my mind.

I remember looking behind of me and seeing my 4-year-old face full of blood, my 3-year-old looked fine, and my 1-year-old’s rear facing carseat was slightly elevated and his legs were dangling up in the air a bit. I later found out he had a bruise and cut on his forehead.

I couldn’t get the door behind me open and as I frantically began to undo my kids’ carseat buckles, a panicked man furiously tried to pry the other backdoor open. When that didn’t work he banged the glass in attempts to free my baby boy but nothing. I eventually handed my daughters one by one to strangers who waited by the passenger door. I held on to my son.

We huddled in a ditch next to the wreck. There were so many people there, helping, coving my kids with blankets, PRAYING OVER US. My son began to go limp in my arms. From crying and clutching me tightly, his grip loosened and his eyes began to roll back into his head. I thought, no God, NOT MY SON. I prayed, that was the only thing I could do in such a helpless moment. Some of our rescuers began to join me and my son gained back his strength.

Shortly after that, the man we hit came over and began checking my kids. He was an EMT in training. He checked them for any signs of trauma to their neck, ribs, and stomach. There was none. I just remember feeling so grateful that when the police arrived and asked if we were ok, I walked off and began shouting, “In Jesus name we are fine. God is good!”

I didn’t feel fear in that moment. Nothing in the world seemed to matter. All I could think about was how blessed we were to be alive. Seeing the car and feeling like we were hit with an explosion, I knew it wasn’t anything short of a Miracle.

My faith kept me sane in the crucial moments after the crash. So many questions come up after seeing the car. There was a lot of impossible things that happened that night.

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Check out photos of the car Here

Hear more details Here

Please drive safe and NEVER drive distracted. We were blessed to literally walk out of that car alive.

We are all doing okay. Driving now does get me anxious but I can’t be afraid of being behind the wheel or even in a vehicle. Mentally, I have to pray everyday about the crash because I am traumatized. It’s a lot more mentally taxing than I anticipated. You never get over the event.

I just wanted to make a quick post so as always (HUGGZ & LOVE)

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Listening ears on: God told me to visit my ex in-laws.

Being human is hard. Add being a Christian and you have a whole list of rules and regulations you must follow in order to truly be a follower of Christ. Usually, especially now, doing the right thing and being sweet and kind has come easily. Even things that would trigger me, just goes over my head and I say a prayer in my mind, grin, and keep it moving. Last week however, I was thrown a curve ball that I really just wanted to dodge.

My ex told me that his parents were going to be cooking a big meal and asked if the kids and I would come over. Without hesitation, I said NO. I mean, why would I? Besides the fact that I’d have to drive over 45 minutes, I’d have to come in close contact with the family of the man I abruptly left in the middle of the night, with a week’s worth of clothing, and my kids. It wasn’t exactly a peaceful breakup and I found myself on the hated end of the stick. His father had a lot to say about me in the past and would quickly jump on social media in defense of his son, whenever I was the topic of a falsified rant.

I insisted that I had no business going there and I prayed to God that some crazy occurrence would happen so it would be set in stone that I couldn’t go. Be careful what you pray for because four days later a tropical storm came through AND a tornado happened 9 minutes away from us. We were obviously spared and I thought that was God’s answer to my prayers– no honestly! You want to know something? It wasn’t.

My ex told me he would be getting out of work early so he could take us if I didn’t feel like driving. I told him that was great because that meant he could take the kids and leave me out of the equation. He seemed hurt and told me not to be that way. They weren’t my family and I remember how dysfunctional it was when all of us lived together. I did not want to go so I purposely ignored all my ex’s text after that.

You know, God works in very BLUNT ways and as I headed to the bathroom I heard, “Go” in a vey soft voice. Now, don’t call the luny bin on me but I heard it clearly. I remember saying, “yeah right, God. You would never want me to go there.” I then saw a vision of me walking into their home and a voice said, “Go, so they can see all I’ve done for you. Go to be a light. ” Guys, I laughed so hard and said NO! Then I tried to convince myself that I was the one creating the instructions that I had but when I said the word “Go” in my mind it sounded different from what I first heard. This was not something I wanted to be obedient to. I didn’t want to feel uncomfortable and I didn’t want to break bread with my ex’s family.

When my ex arrived, I grabbed my purse and roughly told him to hurry up and let’s go. He was shocked but he got up from the chair quickly and we headed to me car. Once we were all buckled and ready to go, my ex thanked me for going. I heard a voice say, “I told you.” I rolled my eyes and replied ok God, of course in my head because I didn’t want to sound crazy. 😂

The drive down was actually enjoyable and I didn’t find myself ready to jump out the car or complain to the heavens. But when we got to his parents house I found myself feeling uncomfortable and nervous. My girls rushed inside and I bought myself time by getting my son out of his carseat. Surprisingly, I was greeted genuinely and asked if I wanted some food and my ex made me a plate. I can’t even lie, for a second I thought they were trying to poison me so I asked my kids if they wanted some food and when no one screamed out “No”, I knew that the food wasn’t unsafe to eat.

I stayed for maybe an hour and a half and I watched as my kids enthusiastically ran around and played with the side of their family they hadn’t seen for so long. I felt relieved. My kids were so happy and I felt good. I talked with everyone and at no point did I want to run for the door. When I left I almost felt sad. His dad thanked me for coming and said we could do something for Christmas if I had no plans.

Before last Sunday, I had so much anger towards my ex father in-law. I was upset because he knew what I went through with his son and he completely turned against me when I left. I was mad and hurt and really wanted nothing to do with him ever again. Visiting him was a healing moment for me. It thought me forgiveness in a way I did think I needed. There is so much truth in forgiveness being for you and not the other person. I was released from the grip of anger.

If there’s anyone you need to forgive, whether they said you an open invitation or not, forgive them. Listen to the voice inside that sounds crazy because it goes against every logical thing you believe in. I listened to God and went somewhere I DID NOT want to go and it ended up being a beautiful moment for me.

I hope you liked this post and as always Hugs and Love!

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Giving birth made me look at my body differently… but in a good way.

From as way back as I can remember, I always had an obsession with my image. Being the daughter of a black woman and a Puerto Rican father, who looked like a Taino Indian, there was a “look” I was suppose to have. Of course, I didn’t create that idea, instead it was implanted in me by my elementary school classmates and random people I met growing up.

I remember being told, quite often, that I couldn’t be hispanic because I wasn’t light skinned. They expected me to be Selena Gomez’s when, mind you, my mother’s skin color is comparable to Denzel Washington’s and my father was darker than her! Sadly, it didn’t stop there. You see, my father had long, straight, black hair and I don’t. So, it became “you can’t be hispanic because your hair is too nappy.” As a seven-year-old, those words knocked bits of my self esteem away.

Fast forward three years later when puberty started. When I was younger, I expected to look a certain way physique-wise. I had been surrounded by voluptuous women my entire life and when little lumps appeared on my chest, I thought I’d be a D cup the very next day. Okay, maybe not the next day but when an entire year had passed and I resorted to stuffing my bra with toilet paper, I knew something was up.

A lot of the other girls in class seemed fully developed and I felt like nothing had changed for me. I’d overhear them talking about how annoying bras were while my bra was really just for show, a placeholder for what could be. I couldn’t understand how I had started puberty earlier than most of my classmates and was now the hare losing the race. The body I dreamed of was just that— a dream.

My teen years weren’t any better. The taller I got the more my weight evened out around my body. Being tall plus having a fast metabolism equaled out to be for one very skinny me. I was embarrassed. How in the world was I still looking like a little girl when I was supposed to be blooming into womanhood? I was pissed off and I was jealous, jealous of every girl that didn’t have my struggle.

I would see other females and pick out the parts of their bodies that I liked and imagined how I’d look with them. I was creating a Dena-Stein monster in my head. Even at seventeen I was sure that I’d still have a chance of looking like everyone else. But puberty was done. My body had missed the train to Voluptuous Vile and I was stuck in a body I did not want.

I was able to give myself some reassurance that my body wasn’t all bad. I had a thing for how I looked in lingerie and by gully I bought so many pairs of matching sexy underwear that I own less actual articles of clothing. But I didn’t care. You could’ve told me to wear bikinis everywhere I went and I would’ve gladly done it. My past boyfriends always complimented me on my pretty underwear and it felt amazing. Really, I should have known it wasn’t the underwear they were excited about.

I was searching for any reason to simply like my body. I was tall and thin and though I started getting praise for it by older women and mothers who just couldn’t lose their baby weight, I hated my body. I didn’t want it. I wanted the body I was so sure I would get once puberty hit. I didn’t get that and I resented every bit of the body I felt I was punished with. I was desperate to feel proud of it but I couldn’t help but loathe it.

I was like a spoiled child not getting what they wanted from the store when there was no promise of getting anything to begin with. I’d throw tantrums in the bathroom when the jeans I had just bought didn’t fit right or my bra didn’t quite hug my barely there girls. As dramatic as I acted, no one truly knew how I felt about my body and I tried really hard not to roll my eyes at comments like, “You’re so lucky! You can eat whatever you want and not gain a pound.” I didn’t feel lucky, I felt plagued.

The grass wasn’t green on my side, in fact it was brown! Sure, I got into a relationship with a guy that loved all of me but he was over 300 lbs and hated his own body. We were an insecure mess but I loved him just as he was and he loved me the same. It’s a strange thing to come across someone the complete opposite as you but they have the same body image crisis. It’s like the universe brought us together to learn from each other or as a joke.

About three years after we got together, I became pregnant with our daughter. After feelings of fright and excitement came thoughts of my perfect body. “All pregnant people gained a ton of weight”, I thought. Finally, I was going to gain weight! I was actually looking forward to that. Imagine my surprise when I found out that’s not how pregnancy worked and even with a bun in the oven, every body is not created equally.

Normally, I weighed 141 pounds the highest my weight got, while pregnant, was 156 pounds. The crazy thing is, I gained 15 pounds but my pants were falling off of me and shirts that were tight around my arms were now loose fitted. No doubt about it, I was upset. The one sure way for me to get child bearing hips didn’t work! My body had the audacity to betray me?! I felt defeated.

After my nine month pity party, labor and delivery went easy enough. It’s funny how at no point during my thirteen hour ordeal did I think about how my body looked. Not when the EMTs wheeled me into the hospital and told me how “lucky” I was to look four months pregnant instead of 39 weeks. Nor was I thinking about my physical appearance when my stomach felt like it was getting ripped apart or when I was in my birthday suit with strangers huddled around me screaming “PUSH.” Oh, no. I just hoped that my body wouldn’t fail me— that it would dig strength from the depths of my soul to help me bring my baby into the world.

As I laid with a tiny person on my chest, I couldn’t help but look at my sagging stomach with no regrets. And when a TV commercial came on for wounded soldiers and then for breast cancer survivors, I couldn’t help but weep. I was holding a life that the body I rejected created. How could I have been so ungrateful? I hadn’t gone through war that left me disabled or gone through a life threatening disease but somehow I had less of an appreciation for my body than the people who did. They were happy that their bodies survived— that they survived. Their bodies mustered up the strength to keep going. I cried and I cried.

When you look at life through insecure glasses, you tend to find every pathetic flaw within yourself. You build this idea that first and foremost you must be good enough for everyone else. You create the assumption that somehow what others think of you is more important than what you think of yourself. From an early age, lies about who I was suppose to be trickled into my mind and created a flood of unnecessary and preventable insecurities. Even on the days that I felt beautiful, I worried about whether or not others would think the same thing.

It took giving birth and being in such an open and exposed state for me to fall so madly in love with every part of me. It didn’t come from a family member, or friend, or even from a significant other. It came from the very body that was no good to me for years. There’s a certain kind of freedom that comes from being released mentally from something that weighed you done all your life. My body impressed me more in those thirteen hours than it did for twenty four years.

I’m not saying that if I woke up with junk in the trunk I wouldn’t be excited. What I am saying is that I love the body I have for what it is now. However it changes, I’ll love it then, too. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to tweak your body here and there: Get some abs, tone up, get a bigger butt(wink wink). I’ve just learned that I have to want it for myself and make sure it’s not some idea someone else tried shoving down my throat because they think God created me jacked up.

I’m unapologetically showing off my thin frame with pride, with the knowledge that it kicks ass. Yes, I am “lucky” to have my body but not because I’m skinny. I’m lucky because it hasn’t failed me— because after all those years of completely hating what I considered a corpse, I realized how valuable it is. I look back now and pity myself. I spent so much of my life incredibly insecure for no reason.

Now, I go out of my way to tell women how beautiful they are. It doesn’t matter if I know them or not. I struggled in silence pretending to have all the confidence in the world and if I had genuine compliments instead of sugar coated insults, growing up would have been a lot easier. The truth is, there’s no such thing as the perfect body. As cheesy as it may sound, we are different and that should be celebrated not judged. Heck, if you’re the only one celebrating your body that’s really all that matters. I learned that what I think of myself is far more important than what others think of me. Others might come to that conclusion in some other way but as long as they do, it’s a major win!

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The reality of my life as a single mother.

If any of you have read my posts in the past, you’ll know that I left a very bad relationship about 2 years ago. What I never updated you on was that I went back to my ex a year later. Long story short, I was living the exact same hell as before and then some. Surprised? I surely acted  like it was surprising.

So, four months ago I truly decided that I had had enough. I spent the day feeling miserable and down, wondering what kind of life I was living.  My ex’s family had flown up to LIVE with us just a week prior. From the moment they came, I could tell my ex was unhappy. So from him being OKAY and us being in a decent place at the time, the added stress of  having 3 more people in the house got to him. It showed in the way he treated me because as usual he never took his frustrations out on who caused it. And here I was feeling out of place, getting treated like I was a plague to his existence.

I snapped emotionally. I decided that I didn’t want to stay there any longer. I told him I wanted to leave and he told me no. Months before, he had implied that in order for me to leave, I’d have to be dead, so a part of me was afraid to go. He also had my debit card and refused to give it back to me because his money was on it ($19) and told me when I started working I could get it back. I made sure to call my sister in the middle of the drama so if anything happened, someone would know. After realizing that I was telling my sister everything that was happening, he snatched the phone from my ear and left the room.

Guys, there is so much that happened that night that I might just make a video about it. What ended up happening was I packed a weeks worth of clothes for the kids and I, got my cousin to pick us up, and left the apartment around 12am. He was so pissed; if looks could kill, I’d be dead.

There was constant fighting and back and forth after that. Then he’d pretend to be good and act like he was changing only to flip out when I said I was never going back to him. I felt nothing. Plus I had already told all my family members what really happened behind closed doors and if I even thought about going back to him, they wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.

Within a months time, I got a job. It felt like forever! I was blessed to get hired at a daycare so my kids could be there with me. I love my job and honestly the hardest part about it has been getting to and from work. I catch the bus at 7 am but I have to leave the house by 6:35 am in order to make it there in time. Sometimes, if I’m late, I have to carry my daughters the entire 20 minute walk. It might not seem like much but when it’s pitch black outside, you’re carrying around 68 lbs plus their backpacks, and you have to power walk, it’s tiring mentally and physically.

The afternoons aren’t any better. It takes me an hour to get home from work between the bus and walking. It’s a 13 minute drive! Then the sun is so hot some days, I want to pass out. And those are usually the afternoons where I carry my daughters in my arms because I know if I feel weak, hot, and tired then they do too.

It’s not easy. Sometimes I cry and pray and cry and pray because I don’t know what else to do. Each blessing comes with another challenge and I feel so burnt out. I am grateful for everything, it’s just hard trying to keep going when you feel like you have nothing left.

I can say that this experience has shown me that there is a serious need for assistance to help people who have been in my shoes. I hope that I can start some sort of charity to help people get on their feet especially with kids and little to no one to turn to.

The truth is, I’m better off now than I was two months ago. It’s all about progress. Yes, I struggle a lot but it’s only for a shot time. I hope to get a car, more than anything, so that my kids don’t have to go through this. One day!  By the way here’s a Video  of what outside looks like when I head to work.

As always ((HUGGS & LOVE)) and I plan to write more soon!

 

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Now officially a mother of three…and I LOVE it!

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In the hospital waiting on daddy to finish work and me and baby to be discharged.

For anyone that’s read a few of my last post, you’d know that I was having another baby. If you didn’t know, well, now you do. 🤗 My pregnancy was a bit rough but not too bad. When I first found out I was pregnant, my stress level went to an all-time high. I felt guilty. I had a one-year-old and a two-year-old who only had been two for three weeks when I conceived. I wondered how in the world I would be able to give three kids, under 3, all my attention. I did it with two easily but THREE?! I didn’t know if I could handle it…I didn’t know if my older kids could handle it. Would they hate the new baby? Would they feel like I was neglecting them?

I barely accepted that I was pregnant. Why? Because I didn’t think I could do it. I didn’t think that I would be mother enough for three babies. It’s not like it hasn’t been done before but I couldn’t imagine having the capability to be a super mama of three. Other women had done it and are doing it now, but I never thought I’d be joining them.

Fast forward two Thursdays ago. I’m in pain so bad my vision was failing me. I had to be super mama still. My kids were in my room and I couldn’t let them see me in pain. I comforted them and talked to them, making sure they were okay. I hugged and kissed my little humans because no amount of contractions could stop me from making my kids feel safe.

You have to do things like that. Be strong, even in your most painful moments. Your kids need that from you. I couldn’t believe what I was able to do! All my fears were erased. As much as I wanted to hoot and holler, I sucked it up for my baby girls.

My daugthers were able to be in the delivery room with me. One was sleeping and the other one was watching videos on my phone. Surprisingly, they actually caught on to the fact that their baby brother was no longer in my belly. It’s amazing how smart a then one-year-old(turned 2 two days after her brother was born) and a two-year-old can understand.

I took the first picture you see after my kids and their dad stayed my second and last night at the hospital with me. He had to go to work for two hours that morning. He left around 9am so he could go home and get ready for work at 10:30. As nervous as I was to be alone at the hospital with all three of my kids, I let him leave the girls with me. I got discharged after 12pm and he came for us a little after 1pm. By some miracle all of my kids slept for most of the time I was by myself. Both girls woke up briefly and then went straight back to sleep. Of course my newborn only woke up to eat, or rather, I woke him up.

Honestly, there are certain points in our lives where we are taken over by fear. Sometimes we think we don’t have the strength to live through something or to do something but we do! We just have to believe it. The idea of having three kids under three, petrified me. I was beyond scared but once I had all my kids with me I thought, “Yeeeeeaaah, I can do this!” Encourage yourself and believe you are capable of anything. No matter how difficult you think it might be. You got this! You can do it!

Like always guys, ((HUGGS & LOVE))

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One week after the first picture! 🤗❤️
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What if Love was truly contagious

Right before the year ended, my boyfriend’s father, stepmom, and little came to stay with us. It was a full house to say the least. For the most part we were cooped up in the house because there was no going anywhere with 4 adults( 1 being very pregnant), 2 toddlers, and a nine year old in a regular ole’ SUV. The weather was a hot mess. If you know anything about Florida you know the weather, especially during winter time, is bipolar. Now, we did get to go out at one point thanks to a rental. That’s how I got sick. I was the first to go down. Everyone else followed, leaving only my two-year-old miraculously healthy. In my misery, I couldn’t help but think how awful it was that a cold could be passed on so easily. Then I thought, wouldn’t it be so wonderful if love was passed on like that?

Some people say love, happiness, and joy are contagious but to me it really only is if  you have the heart for it. Unlike the cold, which doesn’t discriminate, love can’t break down some people’s immune system. Imagine if a warm and loving person touched a doorknob and then some mean, maybe even evil, person touched it right after. He or she doesn’t wash their hands and randomly rubs a finger across their  lips. WHAM! Love enters just like that. Or maybe someone bursting with a loving heart coughs and everyone who happens to be nearby is immediately infected. Wouldn’t that be cool? Instead of all these stinking illnesses being spread, love could get passed on in this way.

I’m a person who is big on love. It’s the best feeling in the world and I value it so much. I’ve always been like that but when I was younger I simultaneously was a very angry person. Ontop of being anger I was also extremely protective and easily bothered. I wasn’t afraid to get into physical fights or confront people. A lot of the problems I got into were mostly me defending family or a friend and the rest was me overreacting about a look someone gave me or me thinking someone said something rude about me.

I remeber being so bothered by people with bad attitudes. It would literally ruin my entire day if I came across someone with a bad attitude. I would be pissed leaving their presence. It was like they infected me with their hate and misery. I always felt like anger was something easier to “catch” than happiness. Sure good deeds go a long way but a batch of anger people go the distance.

I had to learn to ignore and realize that whatever made people so upset, had nothing to do with me. That’s when I decided that I should spread happiness to the best of my ability. If it worked it worked. If it didn’t, at least I tried.

Nothing was a better eye opener than a day I went to Mcdonalds to get some food.  The line was long and the amount of people waiting for their food was alarming to a very hungry me. I got in line  anyway. Only four workers were there that day. One cashier, two cooks, and one person getting the orders together. The other customers huffed and puffed. Even though they knew the line was long and the workers were short staffed they refused leave and continued groaning. For a split second I almost found myself complaining too. I almost let everyone else’s negativity affect my mood.

When it was my turn to order, the look on the cashier’s face said it all. She had no smile, looked tired and worn out. I looked at her with a big grin and asked her how she was doing. She was shooked but she smiled back and said she was doing good. She asked me how I was. With a bubbly voice I told her I was doing fine as well. Matching my tone, she asked what I would like. After I ordered I told her thank you very much and I hope she has a nice day. Now, her smile stayed when she attended the customer after me and I was extremely happy to see that customer be friendly and respectful to her also. And there it was, I had spread happiness just like that. I chose to look positively at a situation and realize how much I could affect those around me.

Unfortunately, you can’t catch love the way you catch a cold but you can spread it around in hopes that others will respond well to it. And whenever you find yourself in a situation where you’re surrounded by  the grinches, stand firm in your happy thoughts and share a little bit of it.

Like always guys ((HUGGS AND LOVE))

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I need a sponsor

Sometimes I feel like I need someone to keep me going…keep me from slipping. You know the way addicts have sponsors. I don’t know that much about it but it sounds good to me. Life is hard as it is but how great would it be to have someone in your corner that knows what you’ve been through? That type of support should be for everyone!

I have family that I can talk to but it’s so different. Family  are as emotionally invested in your life as you are. You’re happy, they’re happy. You hurt, they hurt. Sometimes you don’t want to add any more stress to their plate. Does that sound crazy?

I want someone to say, “Hey, how are you doing? Have you sewn anything lately? Do you need inspiration for a painting? I hope you’re still blogging on a regular!” And still I want them to be like a shoulder to lean on and talk things over with. Like family without the blood ties and a therapist without the hefty price. Someone who can guide me along this journey of life because they walked it already.

Does it seem greedy that I have family I can talk to but still want more? Some things you can’t bring yourself to tell your loved ones. I, for one, hate feeling like I’m burdening my family. You know it’s funny because I feel like I’ve be a “sponsor” for so many people even complete strangers and now I find myself NEEDING the same level of concern I gave. All my strength has been given out. It’s a funny place to be. It’s also hard to except needing someone to be there for you when it’s always been the other way around. I suppose that’s why I don’t tell my family much, because I’ve always been their strength and their backbone. How useful would I be if I was vulnerable? That’s what I think anyway.

Is there some anonymous group that helps people, who are use to being there for others, accept that they need support too? Are there enough people like me out there to begin with? The ones that give their all not wanting anything in return. The ones that forgot that they’re human too and need to be taken care of just like everyone else.

This was honestly some random thoughts that popped into my head after watching “Dexter”, of all things. Anyway, like always guys, ((HUGGS AND LOVE))

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Relationship Dumpster Diving

I’m pretty sure we’ve all been in a relationship that seemed to be dragging us down rather than lifting us up. I’m talking about the type of relationship where your partner makes you feel like pure crap. It leaves you wondering if something is wrong with you. You’re head fills with self doubt and you assume that he/she is as good as it gets. I mean, after all, they’re putting up with all your flaws and problems, right? Wrong!

You’ve heard the saying, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” I bet you’ve also heard of the phrase “dumpster diving.” What if I told you that the comparison of a relationship to garbage isn’t a bad thing, at least not the way I see it. Let me explain a bit more. No one wants trash…no one. We all know that. And what’s worse than having a partner that makes you out to seem like trash? They might even tell you directly that you are trash, that you are no good. Okay, so what do you do with that?

Don’t let an unappreciative person determine your worth. See it as an opportunity to spin their perception of you on its head, not because you need their validation but because you should always solidify your value. Just because they don’t think you’re good enough doesn’t mean it’s true. Heck, it’s not!

So, let’s get to the point. Relationship dumpster diving is something that came to mind when I thought about one person appreciating what another didn’t. People sift through trash on a regular basis looking for something that they can’t help but think someone else was crazy enough to throw  away. I’m not saying that a person is truly trash by comparing them to garbage in a dumpster, so please don’t get the wrong idea. I simply want you to realize that as much as a person doesn’t want you, there will be someone who thinks you’re the greatest and can’t believe they stumbled on such a find.

Okay, let me give you another example. Let’s compare expensive clothing to ones found on the sales rack. Most people believe that the expensive clothes are one hundred percent better than anything found on clearance but how many times has designer or name brand items become available at an extremely discounted price? Does that make it any less valuable? Does the fine material automatically become mediocre? No! Sometimes, even though you are simply amazing, you might end up on the sales rack. You were unfortunately put there by someone who KNEW your worth but in order to make you seem less-than, stuck you with a 90% off tag. I don’t know about anyone else but I always head to the sales rack first, not because I’m cheap(well not mostly) but because I know how many great items were shoved in there.

Don’t get me wrong, there are some people who specifically look for broken and battered individuals for selfish reasons. However, many people will choose to look beyond all of that in order to discover who you really are. They’re not worried about what your ex thinks of you. They see you as a prize. They value you and don’t try to make you feel worthless. Hence, “One man’s  trash is another man’s treasure.” You are worthwhile and the right person will recognize that.

I want to leave you with this final thought, don’t let a bad relationship hinder you from recognizing your own worth. A person who truly values you will appreciate everything you have to offer and not treat you any less than what you deserve. You will ALWAYS be treasure to the right person.

((HUGGS AND LOVE!))

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Daily Prompt: Priceless

via Daily Prompt: Priceless

Some things are worth nothing, some things have significant monetary value, and some things are completely priceless. Sometimes, we focus so much on things that we can buy and show off, but what are they really worth? What do they say about us as people? That we have a good life, are good people, or we’ll be happy forever? Things are just that…things.

We value material things with high reguard and if we lost them, we’d go out of our minds. I’ll tell you what is priceless–Family, friends, love. Those are things we can’t buy or replace. If we lost any of them, we could lose ourselves. There is no amount of money in this world that could amount to what they mean to us, yet on a daily basis we don’t recognize their worth. How many of us haven’t called a family member in a while because we’re too busy? Have you stopped hanging out with a really close friend because the have a new baby? How many times have you treated a person, that has only ever shown you love, badly?

They say you never know what you have until it’s gone. Why do we neglect the very foundation of our existence? I am definitely guilty of taking loved ones for granted. I couldn’t give you a proper answer if you asked me why. I make up excuse after excuse, sometimes to get out of family get-togethers.

If the few days have taught me anything, it’s to appreciate the ones I care about and to value their love. So many people in Texas have lost an outstanding amount of their possessions but they’re grateful to have family at their sides. Some people were helped by pure acts of kindness and love from complete strangers. That’s priceless!

Lets not allow disasters and tragedy to remind us of what really matters, of what is really valuable. Tell the people you care about how much you love them and how much they mean to you. Never get sick of expressing your love to them because one day you might not be able to.

As always guys, thanks for reading. ((HUGS & LOVE))

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The “R” word

I don’t know what you might be think the “R” stands for. Rights? Romance? Nope, RACE. Nowadays, it seems like race is a dirty little word that no one wants to say for the fear of being judged. It has become a topic that people cringe at because, automatically, they think it’s going to end in picking a side. That is the sad world we live it my friends. A person can’t say black, or white, or any other race outside their own because they’ll get fiery looks and probably stopped before they really begin talking.

I for one don’t have a problem talking about race. In actuality, I see only one race…the human race. As corny or lame as it sounds, we are all human and should be judged based on our character and not our race. I also don’t think that race should be used as a way to judge a person’s character. Contrary to popular belief, not everyone from the same group of people are the same. *Gasp* There’s a shocker! I mean look at your immediate family. Are you all cookie cutter? I doubt it. I’m not even exactly like my twin.

Sometimes, I wish race didn’t exist. Not the human race itself but the “what are you race.” You know the one they make you check off for a job or some formal exam. I’m black but I ‘m also hispanic. I check off hispanic on everything unless I don’t feel like being judged by my ethnicity(even though they claim you don’t.) The black community is not fond of my decision to list myself as hispanic because I’m supposedly neglecting my true self. But I’m not going to check “African American/Black (Non-hispanic)” That too, in my eyes, is neglecting my true self. I’ll check my hispanic box and if you give me an interview or see me face to face you’ll see I’m a black woman. Anyone with some sense would know that hispanic, in itself, is not a race. There can be people that look like Hillary Clinton all the way to people that look like the singer Seal. There’s no RIGHT look. It is very annoying feeling like I have to choose. You have to be one or the other because that way it’s easier for us to be put in a box. That’s why I sometimes wish we all looked exactly alike from head to toe so the madness wouldn’t exist but then I think of all the beautiful people and rich culture this world has, and know that would be a horrid thing.

Why can’t we all just be excepted for who we are as people. I was lucky enough to be raised by a mother who didn’t see race. My mother is black and my father was a hispanic man that looked like a dark skinned Native American, flowing long hair and all. My mother had a best friend growing up who is Arab. She gets upset whenever people talk crap about Arabs because to this day she has a bond with her friend and her friend’s family. My mother’s mother was also very excepting of other races. I made the mistake once of telling my mother that I didn’t really like people from the Dominican Republic. She quickly put me in my place. Besides the fact that her boyfriend was from there and my little brother were technically half Dominican, I wasn’t raised to say such stupid things…to think so stupidly. I couldn’t be racist even if I wanted to. My mother would probably snatch my soul from my body if I ever told her I hated an entire race of people.

I don’t know how people do it. How can you hate a group of people based on skin color. For whatever reason, people think that racism is reserved for whites only. As if there’s segregation in racism. Like only whites can be racist. Far from it. But you see people use the past to justify their racism like, “well we were oppressed, so in reality, we can’t be racist.” Oh, yes you can sweetie! Denial is a terrible thing, especially when it comes from an ignorant person. Yes, there was unbelievable cruelty done to people based on race but that doesn’t give us the right to spew hate, because it would just make us as bad.

Nothing justifies hatred of a person for basically no reason. If all you have to go on is race or skin color in order to like someone , then you’re crazy. I find it beautiful and intriguing that we have such a diverse human race. I think it’s sad that someone could deny themselves the ability to appreciate that. How, in this day and age, can people be so ridiculous? Is it based off of fear? Hatred that was passed down? Plain and simple ignorance!? Whatever it is, I pity people like that.

Don’t ever let someone’s race determine how you value them…how you see them. We are one. Despite our physical traits, we are family. I can only hope that my daughters won’t grow up in a world that will continue to separate us based on something so trivial. My wish for them is that one day, race won’t be a factor as much as it is now. I understand more now, after having children, why Martin Luther King JR wanted so bad for equality. It’s one thing when you as a parent might deal with racism but you pray that your kids won’t have to go through it. We should love each other and respect each other no matter what!

This post is not to condemn anyone or to offend but to open a line of communication about race as it relates to equality and love. As always, ((Hugs and Love))