So who decides my properties value? (Speaking on houses but relating it to our person)

Too often I believe that we define ourselves by other people standards. While visiting different open houses I’ve found myself disappointed at not only the property but the value that was placed on the property. What the seller may advertise as ‘prime’ real estate, I see as garbage. After basking in that thought I found myself asking the question of me as a woman...’What’s my property value? and Who set the price? Am I settling for basic because I’m tired of being on the market; fearful that sitting too long empty will somehow make me less appealing to ideal mates, because they too are wondering why am I not taken? Or am I priced too high? Am I turn key or is there some remodeling that has to be done? Do I make the adjustments or do I leave it up to the buyer? What is my bottom line; my deal breaker? And should I consider taking myself off of the market and reassess my property? Women have a challenging task. We have to understand the game. Play the game. And pretend that no game exist. It’s frustrating when you want more but you’re not sure what your more looks like. I guess just like purchasing a home, you’ll know it when you see it... maybe.

Who Am I?

I’m a Christian. I believe in the Father Son and Holy Spirit. I believe that Jesus rose from the dead. I believe that He is the son of God. I’m not changing those beliefs nor will I force feed what I believe onto another. Aside from knowing that, the question still haunts my inquisitive nature...Who am I? This question has been a question that I’ve asked myself since I was younger girl. The question was aimed towards my biological roots. With all of this talk about Africa and slaves and natives and America, I wanted to know where did I fit in. However, whenever I asked around I got crickets. No one really knew how deep-my blood line went. Where did we come from besides from down south? What is my birth name? Who am I? So many movies depicting people of color travels from Africa to the New World, but which one of those persons was I connected to? Was I connected to any of them? How much did they pay for them? What were their mannerisms? How did they think? Were they forward moving, creating their own lanes or did they just fall in line? Who am I? Knowing who you are helps to define your journey. I need to know where I come from. Who I’m connected to? I need to know and understand my history so somethings won’t be repeated. What are my family’s secrets? What did they chose to forget? I need to know. I want to know. Who am I?

Lakita Speaks

I am Not your slave 2

The Lord didn't pull me from the foot of a man so that he can walk all over me. Nor from his eyes where I may sit in his judgement. Nor his mouth where he can spew words of hatred. Nor from his hands where he can take authority over me. But his side. His rib. His covering. We must submit to each other. Honor each other. I am Not your slave.

I am Not your slave

What is happiness really? This question won't be the same for everyone, since most of us has different perspectives. However, I still ask the question. I once thought that having kids and a husband would complete me; boy was I wrong. It wasn't until I experienced painful loss, and many dead end relationships that I realized I needed to be a whole person entering into a relationship. It was too much to ask the other person to complete me, when they themselves were incomplete. I struggled with this for awhile. I struggled to gain control over situations that I had no power in. I searched for love in empty eyes, and rested my vision on death ears. I wanted more. I wanted happy and instead of voiding my dead places, I nourished them, so weeds began to grow. When I was a kid I loved seeing the dandelions. They represented Spring (my version of happy). I knew when I saw them the warm months were here to stay, but it wasn't until I became older that I realized that beautiful dandelions was a weed. It was nice to look at from afar but they didn't offer real substance. Lately I've been observing the people in my life and asking the question: Whose the dandelion? Who has positioned themselves in my Spring but offers no substance? Whose pretending to be my happy? Then I looked at me. Am I nourishing dead things inside of me? (Thoughts,  jobs, people, fears, frustrations?) Am I my weed? What do I need to uproot? The beauty about self examination is the process of unveiling you. Every flaw, every disappointment, every frustration, every hurt, every battle lost, every thing that tries to sabotage your happy.  

Lately I've been wondering if marriage is for me. I mean I have pondered on this deeply. Life has taught me that you never stop learning and growing. Once you reach your goals doesn't mean you're complete. It just opens the door for your more. Marriage is a beautiful sentiment. I've seen some wonderful, love infused couples and have secretly wanted to know their secret. I've even asked some older couples...what's the secret? Their response disappointed me. For the most part they shared their wisdom from their perspectives. Because honestly people only can give you their own view of something from their experiences. What they described, I don't want. It sounded more like a master slave agreement than a marriage (merger). I'm not a woman who believes that 'I am woman. Hear me roar', but I am a Woman. I don't believe that just because you take care of the bills, provide shelter, and food than somehow my role in your life is lower in value. As a husband those are things that I expect. It's not a trade off, you do this-i do that. No. It's love, it's respect, it's my safe place, it's my protection, it's my unconditional, it's my trust, it's my heart. I'm careful not to covet others marriages. Some are like the dandelion that I once admired as kid. Beautiful from a distance but once you get up close and personal, it's just a weed. I want my more. And I'm wondering if I can give more to someone while still pushing to be better. I'm trying but my efforts are coming up short. Quick question: Should I diminish my stature in order for him to feel more of 'the man'? I'm curious. Life is a constant learning ground and I'm here to grow. Be better. Love him with my complete self but I must say that I Am Not Your Slave. I'm a Wife. What's your definition of husband? Of Wife? Talk to me...

A changed mind.

I've been stuck in complacent for too long. Consistently repeating in memory every thing that went wrong. Careful to underline the what ifs. Angered by the what ifs. Now here's the shift. I decided to change my mind. My definition of happy no longer resembles what was taught to me. I'm free of the blemishes, the guilt, and shame that comes when you step outside of the lines that are deemed acceptable. I'm a different picture. 

I'm not a Victim

One day while walking down judgement and critical people  blvd. I ran into you. It was only while saying our good byes that I realized the hidden tone that was laced in between your woven words of nothing. It hurt. Some one who I admired from a far thought so less of me. Your words sat with me for days. Penetrating my thoughts. Restructuring my style. Transforming my core. Your words had settled in. I began to own them as if they were my original thoughts. I slept with them. Woke up with them. But what's worse is i believed them. Until one day while walking, I walked past a mirror, and as I looked at the reflection I slowly stopped. Carefully examining the reflection that was before me, I began to weep. A low moan escaped my lips as my weeping turned into sobbing. It was in that moment I had realized what had happened. How could a strong willed, strong minded person allow anyone to influence how I see me? How did I become persuaded of someone else's theory of my life? My cries continued. I grieved for days, blaming myself. Fussing at my inner me. Disappointed with the betrayal. I hid, sunk into depression, then became what I told myself I'd never become... a victim.

My love letter to my pen...

I've been contemplating having this conversation for awhile. I'm not really sure where I shall begin. We've been seeing each other off and on for a good number of years and nothing truly has come from it. I like you sometimes but I love you always. How long will we continue this thing between us? I live in your shadow. Or you live in mines. I see your relationship with others and I'm a little jealous because that's supposed to be us! We make such great  music together yet lately our tunes been off. How do you explain that? Can you explain that? Is it explainable? I'm not sure. When I dream of what we could be my heart weeps. I need you but if I'm honest you don't need me. I believed that we would be great. What do you think? Am I alone in feeling this way? I want to walk away but I'm stuck. You keep calling me, playing with the idea of a happy ending. Yet we are not growing together. I want us to be great but maybe our greatness will shine once we are apart. But I don't wanna part, you're my heart...

Entry 15

He was dreamy. His eyes smiled and when he looked at me his whole world lit up. I felt safe with him. When we were together, I mattered. I belonged. He made me feel like I was the most beautifulest woman in the world. This was new for me and I wasn't sure it was real but I didn't want to screw it up. I wanted to see where this could go but there was just one problem, I was pregnant. I wanted to tell him when we first set our eyes on each other again but I was scared that he'd walk away. The connection that I felt with him was unexplainable. So I stayed quiet and our bond grew. We became so conjoined that one day I went over to his house and never left. I moved in. It was the day before Valentine's Day, I felt bad about not telling him my secret. Since I was not showing yet it was easy for me to stay silent but I worried that soon I would blow up and it would all blow up in my face. Please understand that I didn't mean to not tell him but it never seemed like the right time. However the day before Valentines Day I couldn't stay quiet any longer. I had packed my things and was prepared for the worst. He came home and I told him. What a relief it was to finally let him know... I guess. He flipped. I don't quite remember all of the details but I do remember some curse words, a really angry face, and a slam of the door. He hated me. I knew I should be gone when he got back but I couldn't move. I wanted him to know that I was sorry. I was sorry. Really I was. What had I done?! Why didn't I tell him sooner?! I was 4-5 months pregnant at the time, why didn't I say something sooner?! Now what?!

Entry 14

I left. I'm no longer a traveling saleswoman, nope, I'm just a pregnant teenager ready to get it right this time. My mom told me that the guy who I was pregnant by before I left, the one where I miscarried, yea him, she said that he called. I was excited to hear that. I really liked him. Our timing was just off. I didn't even have a number to call him back. In the meantime I need to decide what am I going to do with myself. This was a struggle because I never quite saw myself as being anything but a wife and a mother. Of course I love to write, but in my vision I was a wife, a mother, and a creative writer. Which meant I stayed at home and wrote short stories. Nothing fancy, very domestic. I dreamt of remodeling our home and taking our kids to school and cooking dinner, cleaning the house, domesticated. That's all I saw. What I've learned is that sometimes you have to change the way you see you. This was a lonely time for me because I was the only one who could fix me. I had to change my mind. Which took many years to discover. Outside I appeared strong but on the inside I was desperate for someone anyone to throw me a lifeline. Then he called...

Entry 13

The one thing that I'm constantly struggling with is forgiveness. Not for others but for myself. I need to forgive me. Not only forgive me but also to accept me. You're not the world's definition of perfect and that's okay. But that's a lesson that will come later down the road. In the meantime I'm pregnant. Yup. Again. And guess what, this one stays. I have to grow up. I can't keep running from life, it's time for me to live it. Living for me begins now...

Entry 12

When is it okay to start accepting what's left? A dreamer with no vision is scary.
The saying goes 'when life gives lemons then make lemonade', but what if I'm not thirsty? What if I'm not hungry? What if I'm just here? Then what? Now what?

Entry 11...

Hey You!!! How are you today? It's tough isn't it; feeling like this, Incomplete, stupid, worthless, confused,and even ashamed? We'll get through this together. No matter what we win. We may have to start over and that's okay. But we can not stay here. Let's make a plan to move on and tell no one! Every time we discuss leaving to any one they always seem to convince us to stay. So let's keep this hush hush. We're better than what we're giving ourselves.

Entry 10

   Dear senseless me, how can you keep moving as if that didn't just happen? Why are you so calm? Why not just leave? "But Where will I go?!! Where?!!!!" I felt trapped there, so I stayed. I met a guy. He was an awesome salesman and crazy about me. He made me laugh. He was tall and strong and confident. I felt safe when he was around. One day, out of no where, he gave me a ring. I didn't want it. I didn't want what the ring represented...relationship. Don't get me wrong, I was into him, but I was into myself more. I wasn't ready for what he was proposing but I was too scared to tell him. So I just smiled and played along. One evening, it was probably a Sunday, a group of us decided to go hang out. We rode in the company's van to the city where the local bars and clubs were. Since I was too young for the club, I stayed behind and hung out with the other underage crew. At the end of the night when it was time to return back Ole dude had a serious attitude with me. Even went as far as accusing me of fooling around with his best friend while they were at the club. We all were drinking however he got so mad that he pulled me out of the van yelling crazy accusations. Then he pushed me on my forehead and I went falling to the ground, hard. The other guys were trying to calm him down and had manage to do so until we returned. Word traveled quickly and here I was a victim. I just wanted him to calm down; hear my side of the story. I did nothing wrong and he had to believe me. So against my better judgement I went to talk with him. We met on the stairwell of the hotel that opened to the outside. What happened next will forever be with me. Once I was out there he was talking nice. He even smiled but then he grabbed me by the throat and had me dangling over the railing. This mofo had completely lost it! He was going to kill me! He started asking me what happened and if I loved him. I told him whatever I thought he wanted to hear! I was scared that he would drop me. I kept pleading with him to pull me back over the railing. I told him that I loved him and only him. But when my feet hit the ground I slowly moved away from him and began yelling and crying uncontrollably. This mutherlover was going to kill me over a misunderstanding. I was done. Or was I?...

Entry 9

Door to door sales wasn't bad. I started to enjoy it. Yes, the slammed doors in your face was something that I had to get use to but overall I met some amazing people. I envisioned myself living the life that many of my clients lived. I wanted their life. They seemed so happy. They had what I was missing... Purpose. One day while walking the neighborhood, knocking on doors in the hot heat a pain pierced my side. Hurt that even today I  couldn't put it into words. I sat on the steps holding my side with tears streaming down my face. A gentleman walking by and asked if I was okay and I told him no. He asked if I wanted to go to the hospital and I nodded my head yes. The pain was strong. I didn't understand it. However once I stood up blood was everywhere. Then it hit me, I was having a miscarriage! Now I was scared. The guy immediately went in his home and got some trash bags to cover his seats, then proceeded to drive me to the emergency room. Once there I was seen immediately only to be told that I had to push the baby out!!!! What?!?! Why?! What's going on with me?! Help me to understand? All of these questions but no answers just instructions. No family. No co-workers. Just me. Alone, scared, and confused. I was barely 18. After the nightmare a male doctor entered into the room. He was short and old. He ASKED ME IF I WANTED TO KNOW THE SEX OF THE BABY. I told him NO. He then told me it was a boy! I was heart broken. I wanted to go home. I wanted my mommy however when I called home and explained what had happened I didn't receive the response that I had expected. 'Stay and push through it'! I was devastated. At a time when I needed a hug and support I got tough love and I wasn't happy. I became bitter and distant. I just lost a son, now my family had turned their backs too. I was in an unfamiliar state surrounded by strangers who didn't even know that I was in the hospital! Two days later I was back to work. Going door to door selling books and magazines and I wanted out!...

Entry 8

I wasn't ready. I couldn't tell him that I was pregnant. I wasn't ready to ruin a life. So I kept quiet. I ignored it. I went away. Disappeared. A traveling adventure to sell books and magazines door to door. I didn't want to go. I pleaded with my mom to reconsider but she wasn't listening. So one evening I found myself on a bus with strangers headed to VA. I was sad. How was it okay to send your kid away with strangers? My mom said that this would be a great experience for me. I believed her. At least I wanted her to be right. Truth is, I wasn't fully convinced. I had a life growing inside of me that only I knew about and now I was off away from everything that was familiar. How it played out was anything less than crazy. This part of my journey I call abort...abort...only because I should have ditched the bus and went in a whole other direction. But I stayed. What happened next blew my mind. I was forever changed...

Entry 7

Hello again. Love sometimes is hidden behind a tough exterior. Jill Scott's song play in my mind every time I think about him. 'He loves me...' His love was amazing, honest, protective, and rare. I wasn't ready for it. I rejected it. I ran away from it. But later accepted and embraced it. He loved me back whole again. I didn't deserve him. Tried to sabotage a good thing. He wouldn't let me. I was 19. Lost. Unsure. I didn't understand his niceness. I wasn't used to being treated like a queen. He didn't talk down to me. He didn't hit me. So how could he love me. The pieces of me were broken, he loved me back together again. He was my lover, friend, and first husband. I thought he would have been my only husband. In fact, during my wedding I said that it would be the only one. Life has a way of throwing a curve ball. I wasn't ready...

Entry 6

I was an opportunist. I positioned myself in situations that worked best for me. I was running from a reality that I didn't want anything to do with. I was scared of being the reflection. Scared of falling. Because everyone who I saw fall, never quite recovered. Not that anyone was truly honest about their fall. It was a weakness to fall, they thought. No one talked about well anything. Sex was taboo. Storks brought babies and if you even thought of the opposite sex you were deemed dirty, trifling, fast, and in some rare cases a whore! A whore from a natural thought. The foolery that was taught by words and even silence crippled me. It gave me a disadvantage and from that an ill informed young woman emerged. I was left alone to define my journey and when others saw me drifting in a not so right path, they just watched. Occasionally I would receive a scripture or a scolding about how I need to go to church because that has to be my problem. However, through it all that was my one constant...God. Looking back, I see how he kept me! What do you do when you're left to do it alone with no instructions? Imagine for a moment if someone was to place a box in front of you while you're outside on the beach and ask you to prepare it. Did I mention the box had no labels or instructions on it? Somehow, instinctively you're supposed to know what to do?! That's how I felt being a girl. I should have just known, but I didn't. I didn't know. I observed a lot. Read a lot of books and just stayed quiet. Which for that I then received the label of anti social. I was book smart which gave me the label of teachers pet. I had many home responsibilities which gave me the label of mature. I was hurting which gave me the label of crazy. One thing about pain, it's guaranteed to show up. I was misunderstood. Hell, I didn't understand me. So I wrote. The pen was my friend. There were a lot of casualties during this time. Some that are forever buried and for them my heart aches. But you know in every tragedy God has a BUT...

Entry 5

Yes I slept with him! And him too! So?! I was playing Defense and sex was my weapon of choice. I was good at it. I enjoyed it. I made the rules. I determined if and when I would give it up. It a was my sport of choice. In the bedroom I was in control. I was free of criticism, laughter, pain...well there was some pain, good pain. The bedroom became my new safe haven, my freedom, my escape, and when it was over, I left it all right there. No attachments. Just play. Men had perfected this sport and I wanted in. I really didn't care if I hurt you because you thought we were friends and I slept with your man. He's still your man! Get over it! I'm done with him. I didn't need sex. It never was about sex. It was about control. My first time wasn't all sweet and innocent like I had seen in the movies. Nope. It was magical. Straight from a fairytale, Captain Hook. I controlled the show. Never was I going to let a man control me. Never was I going to allow emotions to enter into this beautiful game. NEVER!!! At least that's what I told myself, but we all know the saying...'Never say Never'

Entry 4

"He didn't have to hit me like that. I don't deserve the back of the hand. What's with the name calling?" Early on I learned the meaning of bullying. Surprisingly it started in a place that as a kid you're supposed to feel safe. Not me. Whoever said 'home is where the heart is' never been to my home. I was a mistake. A burden. An object. To be seen and not heard. Do as I say not as I do. A victim but not really. I was the cause and the effect. Troubled. A lot of tears never saw the light of day because I didn't have time to cry. Life didn't stop because I shed a tear. So I learned to suppress pain and bury sadness. Tough exterior. Thick skin. So where did that leave me...HEARTLESS

Entry 3

Even when I was a young girl, I was dreamer. I knew that it was more to my life than the pain of my reality. I created a safe haven within my mind and began to write. I was comfortable there. Only there could I speak freely and openly. My imagination was able to express without criticism. It was my life. My world. I was happy there, until one day I noticed outside voices. But the problem wasn't that I noticed them, the problem came when I started listening to them. I got scared. Believed their hype. Reconfigured my vision. I stepped away from self and transformed into ordinary. I drowned my dreams in other people tears, cries, complacency and fear. I changed my dreams so that they conformed to what others deemed acceptable. Lived a life full of others expectations. I believed the lie. Got comfortable. My dreams died and I had no compass to guide me back home. Back to Me.