I often wish my memory were stronger, as I tend to be out of sight, out of mind, frequently forgetting details of my past. This challenge is compounded by my diagnoses of relapsing-remitting multiple sclerosis, mild cognitive impairment, and ADHD, all of which contribute significantly to my memory loss. Yet, it’s fascinating that I can recall the lyrics to TRU’s 1997 song ‘I Always Feel Like’ featuring Mia X almost word for word.
I always feel like somebody’s watchin’ me
I’m paranoid I can’t sleep, I’m in the dope game
I think these hoes and these n*ggas out to get me mane
I often find myself wishing I could better remember the moments of my past. Without a significant nudge from someone who was there, recalling events feels like trying to piece together fragments of a story. Despite this, I am—and always have been—a bold, pink starburst kind of person: spontaneous, vibrant, and full of surprises. I speak freely, with no filter, and even I don’t always know what’s going to come out next. This fearless approach has brought me countless amazing experiences over the years, moments of joy, laughter, and connection that I desperately wish I could remember in detail.
Today is my BIRTHDAY, and I have one special request that would be the perfect gift to make my day. Has there been a moment during our time together that stands out? Maybe something I said or did that made you laugh or left an impression? If so, could you share it in the comments and help jog my memory? Your stories mean the world to me, and they would be a wonderful way to relive those precious experiences.
Lately, I’ve been on a rollercoaster with Facebook Dating. It’s been a cycle of joining, swiping, chatting, and leaving—only to come back and try again. A few meet-and-greets have come from it, and while some were genuinely pleasant, none have led to the connection I’m looking for. Either the spark wasn’t there for me, or it wasn’t reciprocated.
I’ve met some nice people, but I’ve also found myself matching with individuals I wasn’t initially attracted to. I told myself it was about being open-minded, giving people a chance to grow on me, and stepping out of my comfort zone. But time and again, those efforts have proven unsuccessful. Attraction, as it turns out, can’t be forced—and neither can chemistry.
Here’s the thing: I know I’m the prize. I know my worth, my value, and all the amazing things I bring to the table. So why is it so hard for me to truly live in that truth? Why do I keep finding myself settling for less than I deserve, hoping that somehow the situation will rise to meet me?
The hard truth is, I’m the common denominator in all these experiences. It’s not easy to admit, but if I keep falling into the same patterns, I have to ask myself: Am I the problem? Am I the one blocking my own blessings by settling, doubting, or compromising on what I truly want and need?
Recognizing this isn’t about self-blame; it’s about self-awareness. It’s about understanding that I can’t expect to find a deep, meaningful connection if I’m not fully aligned with what I deserve and willing to hold out for it.
The truth is, being the prize means more than just knowing it—it means living it. It means refusing to settle, trusting the process, and having faith that the right connection will come when it’s meant to. It means being patient with myself, being okay with being single for a little longer, and focusing on my own growth and happiness.
So no, I don’t think I’m “the problem” in the traditional sense. But I do think I have work to do. Work to ensure that my actions align with my self-worth. Work to break free from patterns of settling. Work to remember that I am worthy of a love that’s reciprocal, passionate, and authentic.
DDC
Lesson: Yes. I may be the problem, but I’m also the prize—and it’s time I start living like it.
Six months ago, I packed up my life, loaded a U-Haul, and left behind nearly two decades in Texas to start fresh in Louisiana.
I had spent 19 years building a life, raising my son, and making memories away from home, but the pull to return was undeniable. After my Daddy passed, my Mama was left alone, feeling aged and heartbroken, and I found myself alone, without a career, and needing a new direction. So I made the choice to come back, ready to be there for my Mom and to start life anew.
The decision wasn’t easy—starting over in your 40s takes resilience, adaptability, and, to be honest, a good supply of lotion infused tissues for those tough days and deep, tearful moments. A lot of tears have been shed. I felt a pull to rediscover my roots, reconnect with family, and carve out a new path.
This journey has come with plenty of adjustments and a fair share of unknowns. From adapting to life with my mom under one roof again, to building a new career, nurturing my faith, and even finding ways to invest in my own wellness, these last six months have challenged and changed me. Each step has been about more than just unpacking boxes; it’s been about uncovering pieces of myself that I hadn’t focused on in years. A new beginning.
Home. All boxes are unpacked, and my clothes and things are put away—everything has a place, and there’s a place for everything. After twenty years of living on my own since leaving my parents’ house with my one-year-old son, moving back has been an adjustment. A huge adjustment. I was a bit worried, knowing that in the past, Mom and I had a track record. We could only go about four days together before our personalities started to clash. How would it be to live under her roof, under her eye, and under her expectations?
Now, we seem to be adjusting pretty well—or at least, I think so. Wishful thinking. Every few weeks, I get the inevitable “we need to talk” conversation. This month’s topic? Replacing the wine I finished. Fair enough. So, after work, I’m off to the local grocery store to pick up two bottles of wine per her request.
Career. I now hold three jobs: bartender, barista, and Bursar’s Assistant. The first two are part-time weekend roles, while the Bursar’s Assistant is a full-time, four-month contract position with the college. Being in a state role here in Louisiana feels significant, and I can almost feel my dad smiling down, proud to see me in a government-related role like he once was. Miss you Daddy.
This summer, my good friend encouraged me to apply to a temp agency with hopes of finding work at Southern University, despite it being over 30 miles away. And about a month ago, I received a job offer much closer to home—a position at a local community college less than six miles from where I live. Blessed and highly favored. I’ve driven by the sign for the college countless times without truly noticing it, so discovering it in this way felt meant to be. Huge thanks to TT!
My second week at the college I expressed my interest in becoming a permanent team member and asked to meet with the Director of Human Resources. I came to the conversation prepared with points thoroughly outlining my qualifications for a posted Technology Coordinator role—and it was clear that the Director was just as ready to discuss the unposted HR Coordinator role with me. Smile. After a welcoming conversation, I applied for the HR Coordinator position where I’d be “the face of the human resources department.” The face? Wow! Right up my alley!!
Wellness. I’ve been doing pretty good with consistent daily walks, which have become a reliable part of my routine. I tried the Beachbody 21-Day Fix program, a plan that helped me lose 30 pounds in the past, but this time, I haven’t managed to complete it. I’m leaning towards a simpler approach—sticking with daily walks, strength training twice a week, and practicing portion control. My sweet tooth had been out of control, but I’m finally reining it in. Though my attempts to restart a more intense fitness regimen haven’t stuck, I’m grateful for the consistency I’ve found in simpler routines that keep me grounded and healthy.
Relationships. This is an area where I continue to struggle. I am intensely lonely. Tears. The last six months have been deeply lonely; when I arrived, I isolated myself, rarely reaching out to others. Depression weighed heavily, leaving me without much to say. Worried about being perceived as “the depressed girl,” I stayed in my own bubble, finding comfort in audiobooks. So far, I’ve listened to 50 books this year—more than I have read in my lifetime combined.
Now, I almost feel ready to reconnect, but I’m not quite sure how to step back into social circles. Do I need to schedule time with friends, like an appointment? Everyone has busy lives of their own. Maybe I will ask ChatGPT to create a structured approach to re-entering the world. Gotta love the ChatGPT! Mom and I are under the same roof but I still can’t quite say we are close. Tears. My son and I have set up a weekly call, and each week we find a good time to talk, catching each other up on our lives. I love me some Mason Riley:) That one connection has been a lifeline, and maybe it’s a good model for reconnecting with others.
Spiritual. In October, I took a meaningful step and became a member of a local Baptist church. This past Sunday, I signed up to serve in the Media Ministry, and I’ll attend my first meeting this Wednesday. I also began a prayer journal over the weekend. Since I’m new to prayer journaling, I’m using the ACTS Prayer Model—Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, Supplication—as a guide for my entries.
Personal. I started the Google Project Management Program two years ago. 24 months. Though it’s advertised as a six-month program, I have a former colleague who managed to complete it in just five weeks. I’m currently on course 5 out of 6. I finished the coursework once but didn’t pass the exam, so I’m going through the modules a second time, now taking detailed notes to ensure I fully understand the material.
Finances. I’m thrilled to say that I finally have a little cushion in the bank, and it feels amazing. My bartending job has allowed me to save cash money for the first time in my life. Last month, Mom and I went to get our toes done, and being able to pay for my own gel pedicure was a small but meaningful milestone in my financial progress.
Creativity. Becoming a YouTube content creator was one of my top goals for 2024, but so far, I’ve only managed to produce a handful of videos. I’m not entirely sure what’s holding me back—maybe it’s the fear of others judging my videos, a lack of clarity on how to navigate YouTube, or perhaps I don’t want it as much as I initially thought. I need to reflect on my motivations and determine the next steps to move forward.
On November 16, 2024 it will be officially six months back in Louisiana, and I’m finally beginning to feel grounded. Unpacking all my belongings was just the first step; now I’m learning to navigate life with family again and balancing new roles that push me forward professionally. I’ve embraced each challenge with patience and humor, including the occasional mother-daughter “we need to talk” chats. Every area of life has required intention, from joining a church community to stabilizing my finances and prioritizing health and creativity.
This season has reminded me that starting over is complex, sometimes messy, but it also brings growth and connection. Whether it’s learning to find joy in the simplest things, reconnecting with people, or laying the foundation for new habits, I’m realizing that “home” is more than a place. It’s a process of rediscovering who I am and creating a life that aligns with that. And while I’m not where I thought I’d be, I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
DDC
Lesson: In the words of Fantasia Barrino’s brother from her short lived time in reality tv, “It feels so good to be home, shorty!”
Question: What’s your go-to move for staying connected without looking like you’re desperately craving human interaction …even though you definitely are?
PS. I went to Alexander’s Market to my buy my mom’s wine. It costs $18.99!! She got money!!! Two bottles are not in my budget, so I bought one bottle. I will get bottle #2 next week and I will no longer drink her 5% ALC wine anymore.
Why do we begin conversations with new people by asking what they do for a living? Perhaps it’s because I’ve never truly loved my job, or maybe it’s because I feel that my profession doesn’t reflect who I am as a person. I have always found the “what do you do for a living” conversation to be uber annoying.
We are often quick to ask about someone’s occupation, as if our job is the definitive factor of who we are. Personally, I would much rather discuss what brought me joy recently, my goals for finishing the year strong, or my most prized possession and why it matters to me. These questions hold greater potential for meaningful dialogue. Additionally, I prefer to keep conversations about work confined to the workplace.
I was at a local lounge, sitting at the bar with a football game playing on the big screen. While chit-chatting with the guy next to me, he asked what I do for a living. I paused, trying to come up with a witty reply, but nothing came to mind—I was just sitting there, speechless. We both laughed, and it made me realize I need to think of an answer—something clever and memorable that I can adjust as needed. I have a friend who says she’s a chimney sweeper, and I love that so much!
DDC
Lesson: What do I do for a living? My best.
Question: What’s a clever reply that says I have my own money, I work to get that money and I do not want to discuss it any further?
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.
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.
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?
I’m feeling low. I haven’t had an income since March. I’m literally living off the grace of God and my Mom.
I’ve had a few interviews. The interview process is completely draining. I am drained. Mentally drained. Physically drained. In the interviews, I turn my personality all the way on. I am engaging. I take notes. I’m knowledgeable about the organization. I’ve made notes about the interviewer from their LinkedIn profiles. I show my interest in the role without the true desperation I actually feel. When I really just want to say, “pick me, choose me, hire me. Please, just give me a chance!”
I want to push through. I’m trying to push through. It’s a daily struggle. Trying to be hopeful. Trying not to drown in my tears. All the while I really just want to give up. I want to curl up in the bed. Comfy pajamas. Covers over my head. Schitts Creek playing in the laptop. Crumpled up used tear stained tissues all around.
DDCANDTHECITY 