Category Archives: Where to?

About Me, Chapter 2, Mental Health, Where to?

Beige

Lately, I’ve been wrestling with a strange feeling. I feel like I left my sparkle in DFW. Back then, I shined bright—bold, vibrant, effervescent. I was the type of person who lit up rooms, who carried a certain energy, a certain extra that made me feel alive.

Now? I feel beige. Neutral. Faded. Completely… blah.

It makes me wonder: is this what growing up is supposed to feel like? Trading in sparkle for steadiness, vibrancy for responsibility, joy for a “just get through the day” kind of existence? If it is—then I don’t want to grow up.

Moving, transitioning, and starting over later in life are not small things. Sometimes the sparkle isn’t lost—it’s buried under the weight of change. We juggle work, family, bills, routines, expectations. And slowly, the parts of us that once danced so freely get quiet. They’re still there, just muted.

But here’s the thing I’m starting to realize: sparkle doesn’t expire. It doesn’t vanish when you turn 30, 40, or even 70. It doesn’t disappear when you relocate or reinvent yourself. Sparkle is a state of being, a choice, a return to what lights you up.

Maybe the question isn’t, “Did I lose my sparkle?” Maybe it’s, “Where can I find it again?”

Finding My Sparkle Again

For me, sparkle looks like:

  • Being around people who energize me, not drain me.
  • Doing things that bring me joy simply because they make me smile.
  • Saying yes to experiences that scare me a little but also make me feel alive.
  • Dressing up just because, blasting music in the car, laughing loudly at all times.

In other words—sparkle is about choosing vibrancy in a world that often feels dull.

A Note to Myself (and Maybe to You Too)

Growing up doesn’t have to mean giving up my sparkle. Adulthood doesn’t have to equal beige. Yes, life changes. Yes, I carry more responsibilities. But that doesn’t mean I can’t sparkle again. Maybe the grown-up version of sparkle just looks different: less about wild nights out, more about being fully alive in the little things.

And if I’m really honest, maybe the fact that I even miss my sparkle is proof that it’s still in me somewhere—waiting for me to bring it back to life.

Here’s to sequins in the everyday, laughter in the ordinary, and sparkle— always sparkle— no matter the season.

DDC

Question: Have you ever felt beige? Is “beige” a phase we all go through, or a warning sign that I need to recalibrate? And maybe most importantly—what’s your go-to move when you feel beige? What do you do as your personal “anti-beige” to bring the sparkle back?

Lesson: Growing up doesn’t have to mean dimming down. Adulthood doesn’t have to equal beige. It’s possible to carry responsibility and still keep joy, spontaneity, and vibrancy alive.

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About Me, Chapter 2, Love Life, Mental Health, Therapy, Where to?

Haphazard

The only man you can prove I’ve been with once called me haphazard.

At the time, I wasn’t clear on the definition, but the word stuck with me. Haphazard. Neither “hap” nor “hazard” sounded like he meant it kindly. The moment has clung to me for over 20 years.

We were at a gas station exchanging something—I can’t remember the reason why. The why has faded. The what, however—what he said—stuck.

Haphazard means something done in a random, disorganized, or careless way—lacking a definite plan, order, or direction.

And the truth is, twenty-year-old DDC was, in fact, haphazard. No plan. A little order. A vague direction.

Fast forward two decades.

While preparing for my son’s college graduation, I realized how many days I’d be away from the office and thought: Maybe I’ll dye my hair hot pink while I’m off. A bold vacation choice. I’d done it before—dyed it pink in January for our family cruise, then went back to “office-approved” before returning to work. I’m not loyal to any one hair color these days, but I absolutely love hot pink.

So I asked my son if he cared.
He said, “I couldn’t care less.”
Cool. He’s calm like that—unbothered by most things.

Then I mentioned it to my mom.
“Hot pink hair is unprofessional,” she said.
I explained I’d return to work with a natural color. I even recalled that during my job interview, I specifically asked my supervisor about hair color. He said he didn’t mind pink hair.

But as the trip approached, I stalled. I never bought the dye.
The night before we left, I realized: I’m not doing it.

And that’s when it hit me.

Haphazard.

He called me that twenty years ago—when it was true. But even now, with a plan, permission, and pink hair history, I still didn’t follow through. Why?

Because some part of me didn’t want to hear his mouth, even if only in my memory. I didn’t want to imagine his face twisted in disapproval.

Why do I care?
I wish I didn’t.
I’m disappointed that I gave energy to a man from my past whose opinion should hold no power today. But here we are. It happened.

DDC

Lesson: Even when we grow, old voices can echo. The challenge is learning to turn the volume down—and let our own voices lead instead.

Question: What old label or comment still lingers in your mind—and how much of your present is it quietly influencing?

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About Me, Chapter 2, Where to?

My Kitchen

I was ingredient prepping this weekend—chopping sweet bell peppers, steaming spinach, blending eggs with cottage cheese—when an uninvited guest made an appearance. A fly started buzzing around my ingredients. Instinctively, I yelled, “Get out of my kitchen!”

That’s when it hit me.

I yelled at a fly to get out of my kitchen.

This wasn’t just any moment. This was Friday, May 16th—the one-year mark of my move back to Louisiana after nearly two decades in Dallas.

One year ago, when I returned home, I was riding a rollercoaster of emotions—hopeful, yet often deeply sad. Starting over in your 40s isn’t as simple as packing a U-Haul and driving across state lines. It’s raw. It’s humbling. It’s layered.

And the kitchen? The kitchen was my mom’s. Her space. Her rhythm. Her routines.

Sure, I scrambled eggs most mornings, but for the longest time, I had no desire to truly cook. I had spent 19 years cooking dinner almost daily for my son and me. But when I got here, something changed. I was in survival mode. I didn’t want to try new recipes or meal prep or bake for the joy of it. I tiptoed in and out of the kitchen like a respectful guest. It wasn’t mine.

But on this ordinary Friday, 365 days later, while speaking to a fly, I unknowingly claimed ownership of a space that once felt foreign.

“My kitchen.”

And when I realized what I had said, I shed a tear.

A single, grateful tear.

Because in that small moment, I realized something big:


I am home.

—DDC 🩷

Question: What’s one unexpected moment that made you realize you were exactly where you were meant to be?

Lesson: Home doesn’t always feel like home at first. Sometimes it takes time, healing, and even yelling at a fly. It feels good to be home. 

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About Me, Career, Chapter 2, Mental Health, Where to?

One Year Later: A U-Haul, a New Chapter, and the Fragile Gift of Starting Over

A year ago today, I loaded up a 15-foot U-Haul with my memories, my belongings, and a heart full of hope (and fear) and drove away from the life I had built in Dallas over nearly two decades.

I didn’t know what would meet me on the other side of that drive to Gonzales, Louisiana. I just knew it was time. Time to be closer to family. Time to listen to that quiet inner nudge that kept whispering, “It’s okay to begin again.”

Today, I find myself in my feelings. Raw. Reflective. Fragile.
I’m struggling to concentrate on my HR duties, so I decided to pause and write. It’s been a while since I’ve posted—my last entry was on my birthday, November 23, 2024. I had just turned 43. A lot can happen in a year.

Since that post, life has unfolded in unexpected and beautiful ways.

I landed the job I once dreamed about—an HR Coordinator role that truly fits me. For years, I worked in recruiting and longed for something broader. I wanted to expand beyond interviews and resumes into a more holistic HR space, and I did it. My current role allows me to support employees more fully, contribute to engagement, and still flex my recruiting muscles—without it consuming my entire day. It feels like purpose and alignment found their way back to me.

Slowly but surely, I’m settling into life in Gonzales.
I have a church home that pours into my spirit.
I’ve joined a local Toastmasters club that’s helping me grow in courage and connection.
I’m meeting new people.
I’m rekindling old friendships.
I’m rebuilding a life from the ground up—and letting it look different this time.

But even with all the progress, there are days like today—quiet, emotional, and a bit heavy.
Days where I miss the familiar. Days where the cost of the move feels loud.
Where the memories from Dallas tug on my heartstrings, reminding me of what was.
Starting over is brave… and it’s also tender.

I’m learning that success and sadness can coexist. That growth often walks hand-in-hand with grief. That joy doesn’t erase the ache—it simply reminds us why we keep going.

So today, I’m giving myself grace.
To feel it all.
To celebrate the milestones.
To mourn the losses.
To rest in the middle of the journey.

If you’re reading this and you’ve started over recently—know that you’re not alone.
It’s okay to feel everything.
It’s okay to still be finding your footing.
It’s okay to be proud and sad all at once.

This isn’t the end. It’s just the one-year mark.
And I have a feeling year two will be even more powerful.

All Good Things,
DDC

Lesson: Starting over is both brave and tender—and it’s okay to feel everything that comes with it.

Question: Have you ever made a big life change — like moving, changing careers, or starting over? What helped you get through the transition?

You can leave your response on IG.

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Career, Chapter 2, Personal Finances, Where to?

The Jedi and Me

I’ve been a bartender at a local daiquiri shop for about a month. I started with zero professional experience as a bartender, and aside from making a Tequila Sunrise, I am unfamiliar with cocktail recipes and techniques. I initially applied to the daiquiri shop thinking my job would mainly involve pulling levers to dispense daiquiris. I was surprised to find out there’s a full bar, and my duties include preparing mixed drinks. Fortunately, they hired me despite my lack of experience and assured me that I could learn on the job.

My initial training shift was with E. An 18 year old on her last week at the daiquiri shop before going to school. I arrived before she did. That should have been my first clue to lower my expectations of training or at least of my trainer. Thankfully, since then, E has had her final shift and I have my fingers crossed that I never have to work with or see her ever again. 

I worked my first night out of training with K, also known as, the Jedi. She was the only Black employee until I started, and we connected instantly. In her mid-20s, she has a no-nonsense quality about her. Her training was thorough, teaching me the right way to do things, not just enough to avoid trouble, which was a stark contrast to my earlier training from E. The Jedi also gave me the lowdown on my new colleagues, including who is related to whom. Additionally, she advised me about the patrons of the daiquiri shop, warning me that the regulars are chatty and to be cautious about who I entertain.

The Jedi is moving this week and will no longer be at the daiquiri shop. Her parting words to me were a reminder: this daiquiri shop is my job, and I should keep my personal life separate. She emphasized coming to work to make money, not friends. Her words reminded me of my Daddy, who would share the same sentiments with me whenever I started a new job in the past. I needed that reminder from the Jedi.

Despite the unexpected challenges and steep learning curve, my experience at the daiquiri shop has been rewarding. Tips!!!! 

Thanks to the valuable training and advice from the Jedi I am adapting slowly but surely to being a bartender. Her guidance has not only equipped me with the skills to handle my duties but also offered me crucial life lessons. 

Lesson: I am a working woman. 

Question: What’s your drink of choice? 

Note: I have two part time jobs now. First came the bartender and I started as a barista at a coffee shop a couple weeks ago. More to come about the life of a barista. 

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Chapter 2, Mental Health, Where to?

Adjusting

I’ve been in Louisiana for 70 days now, and I’m just about settled into my space. I have one moving box left to unpack—shoes. It’s amazing how many shoes I have, considering I wear the same pink flip-flops on a regular basis.

I know to clean the guest bathroom every Friday and take the trash out on Tuesday evenings.

I’ve got a couple of churches on my radar and have selected a local Toastmasters club to join.

I know of two taco spots with great deals. Mi Padres has a Taco Tuesday special: three tacos and a margarita for $15.

I started working as a bartender at a daiquiri shop three miles away and had an interview with PJ’s Coffee today, which went well.

Mom and I have developed a good rhythm. I enjoy quality time with my mom and Mason. We saw Inside Out 2 together. Great movie. I’ve made a few connections with old friends.

I was introduced to a very nice cigar bar in town. Good vibes. Great music. Perhaps I enjoyed the venue more because of who I was with than because of the venue itself. Perhaps.

How long does it take to start over? I am starting over in my forties. I have the opportunity to choose my identity. I am trying to figure it out as I go.

Lesson: It is starting to feel like home.

Question: Daiquiris or coffee?

DDC

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Career, Chapter 2, Mental Health, Where to?

Future State of the Union

July 1 – September 29

Spiritual

◦ Find a Louisiana church home.

◦ Become an active member of church. Attend Bible study. Ministry participation.

◦ Watch at least one online sermon 2x weekly.

Relationships

◦ Active daughter, sister, mother, friend, niece and cousin.

Wellness

◦ 21 Day Fix.

◦ 80/20 eating plan. 80% paleo. 20% Wtf.

◦ Current weight 246 lbs. Goal is to weigh less.

◦ Stop eating at 9p nightly.

Personal Growth

◦ Complete HubSpot free Digital Marketing Courses.

◦ Active participation in WBC Toastmasters.

◦ Morning/ evening routines daily.

◦ Listen to “No Excuses” and take notes.

Creativity

◦ Post to DDCandthecity weekly. Thursdays at 10a.

◦ Post YouTube weekly reviews on Wednesdays at 8p.

◦ Research cucumber and tomato container gardening.

Home

◦ Purged and organized bathroom, closet, and bookcase.

◦ Stick to bathroom cleaning routine. Friday mornings.

Career

◦ Get hired.

◦ Complete Google Project Management Certification.

Finances

◦ Save a starter emergency fund.

◦ Earn $$ daily w/ Lyft.

Someday, Maybe

◦ Certified Associate Project Management study prep

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Chapter 2, Mental Health, Where to?

Settled

It has been a little over a month in my new to me home. I am officially all moved into my new bedroom. I now inhabit the room that has been historically called my Mom’s “sewing room” my entire life. My parents moved to this home after I had been in Dallas for a few years. Until a month ago, I had not spent longer than two consecutive weeks in Louisiana in the last 19 years. Needless to say, I never felt at home in my parent’s house. I was a visitor. 

There are four bedrooms in my parent’s house and I always chose to sleep on the couch. My parent’s occupied the owner’s suite. My Mom had her sewing room to create magic. My Daddy had his version of a man cave called “The Chamber” which he shared with Mason over the summers. The last bedroom was called the “Black” room because of the elaborate black bedding, black headboard my mom refurbished, and black ornate curtains on the windows. My sister has spent time living in this home. She slept in the “Black” room for several years. She had positive affirmations posted on the walls. It has always been my sister’s room in my mind. Therefore, I slept on the sofa (whether Nicole was here or not.)

Now, I am extremely grateful to say that I officially have my own room. My Mom has moved her sewing things to her bedroom. I’ve got my black and white decor with a pop of hot pink. White dresser, white nightstand and white bookshelf. Black queen headboard and black bedding. A black and white striped plant stand with pivotal books placed on top for decor. Becoming, A Belle in Brooklyn, and a NIV Journal the Word Bible. There’s a piece of me in every room of the house now and a few 27 gallon storage containers in the garage. There’s a black painted accent wall. Limousine Leather by Behr. Semi gloss. The cherry on top is the perfection that is Dandelion, my oversized mirror, exists perfectly as the first magnificent image you see when you enter my very own room. It all screams DDC! 

I officially have a space to call my own. 

DDC

Lesson: I am incredibly grateful for having a room to call my own. This experience has taught me the value of having a personal sanctuary, a place where I can relax, reflect, and recharge.

Question: What possession do you own that whenever you see it, then you immediately feel at home?

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About Me, Daddy, Mental Health, Personal Finances, Where to?

Starburst

A change of address is coming and I am experiencing a multitude of emotions. Excited. Sad. Nervous. Eager. Nostalgic. Regretful. Joyful. Curious. Grateful. 

Excited. I moved to Texas two weeks after my college graduation in May 2005. I have visited throughout the years but never longer than 2 weeks. I am excited to experience the 2024 version of Louisiana. Excited to establish a life of intention. Excited for a chance for a new beginning. A life reset:)

Sad. 

Nervous. Being in my parent’s home without my Daddy has saddened me every visit. Sometimes just for a moment. Sometimes for a few hours that include wailing tears. I am nervous about my ability to maintain a positive, happy, hopeful disposition. Nervous that my sparkle will dwindle in my new environment. Nervous that the grief stricken energy which permeates the walls of my parent’s home will transfer to me. Nervous that my pop of pink starburst energy will become beige. 

Eager. Moving home is the ultimate reset. A metamorphosis. During metamorphosis, the caterpillar undergoes significant changes in its body structure and physiology, eventually emerging as a completely different creature with adaptations suited for its adult life. I am eager to undergo significant changes. Change in body structure. Change in environment. Change in mindset. 

Nostalgic. A time was had in the DFW metroplex these last 19 years. I have been reflecting over the people and places that made an impact on who I am today. I spent many a Friday night happy hours at the Pappadeaux’s on Frankford then would let the night take us where it may. Hey Kelly*. I remember the night that a semi famous comedian gave me the dollars out of his pocket after I performed Mary J. Blidge’s ‘Not Gon Cry’ at Maxwell’s on a Tuesday. Karaoke was, is, and will forever be my love. Thankfully, I stumbled upon a Thursday night karaoke only 3 miles away.

Regretful. Are you familiar with the butterfly effect? A concept which suggests that small changes in initial conditions can lead to vastly different outcomes. New discoveries of productivity and attention strategies that I have been learning recently make me wonder who I could have been if I knew then what I know now. I am currently using a pomodoro technique to write this blog. It is a time management method designed to improve focus and productivity by breaking work into manageable chunks and incorporating regular breaks to maintain mental freshness. It involves breaking work into intervals, traditionally 25 minutes in length, separated by short breaks. I wonder who would I be if I knew the pomodoro technique in 2005. What could I have done with that one simple technique? We will never know and it does no good to ponder over the what ifs.

Joyful. I am moving home to live with my Mom. Last year my Mom suggested the idea of my moving home. I am still in shock that this move was her idea. I am joyful to have the opportunity to build a meaningful relationship with her at this stage of our lives. Joyful for the front row seat to her potential metamorphosis. EXTREMELY joyful for having a significant reduction in monthly living expenses. 

Curious. What lies ahead? Will I shine bright like a diamond? Will I be a neutral beige? Will my Mom and I become buddies and have a made for television relationship? Hallmark not Tubi.

Grateful. I am grateful that my Mom has welcomed me into her home. 

DDC

Lesson: A passenger called me Starburst as a nickname this week and I liked it. 

Question: Any tips on starting over in your 40s? 

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About Me, Chapter 2, Where to?

Leo’s Roller Rink

I walked into the room. I didn’t know what to expect. My Daddy was laying in a hospital bed. His eyes opened with a slight smile. He was happy to have a visitor but unsure of who I was. He blinked a bit. He focused. Then he quickly arose beaming with pure joy. I knew the moment he recognized his visitor. “Badness!” My Daddy consistently made me feel like I was the most important person in his world.

I remember going to Leo’s Roller Rink on Saturday mornings.

Just me and my Daddy. I’ve always been a devoted Daddy’s girl. Saturday skating sessions would always close with a race. One lap around the rink with your age group. I was fast (in elementary school). I often won the free small cold drink. After each win I would sashay towards my Daddy. Biggest smile my face could hold. He would clap so loudly. I remember the commanding clap coming from his soul as if I won gold in the junior Olympics.

My Daddy is … was … my biggest fan.

XOXO

Lesson: In Loving Memory. Dean Renea Clark. June 6, 1948- August 13, 2023.

Question: Who does a Daddy’s girl become in Chapter Two?

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