Leading With Love and Compassion
This blog is for the individual that desires more of themselves + the people in their lives.
I seek to love my kids in a way that allows them to understand what love looks like + what love feels like. I am honored to have a boy + a girl but truthfully I am always working on being equitable. Judicial in a way that gives my son a space to be soft + loving. I remember when I was younger watching men objectify women + abuse them. Meanwhile, I have had the luxury of dating amazing men; yet I only have felt safe with women. It’s complicated! .
Read MoreThis picture represents the beginning which started 9 years ago + by all accounts we shouldn’t be standing here unscathed + unbothered; yet thicker than thieves. We should not be unequivocally committed to our friendship, our children + remaining in each other’s life by any means necessary. Yet here we stand. Closer than most friends + people still wonder “what’s the catch?” The only thing we have managed to come up with is that God loved us so much that he entrusted us with each other + we accepted the mission. Most people wouldn’t, I get it + truthfully for a long time we didn’t want to stay in each other’s life. However, what we have cultivated is extremely bigger than US.
Read MoreRaising you + your brother has sometimes all at once been the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. It is still difficult, but I love it + sometimes all at once I cry because I love you for being so amazingly resilient. The things you give up as a parent are endless, from sleep, to just getting up + going, to hanging out when you want, to being able to have certain things to yourself + yet sometimes all at once you surrender your will + ego for the greater good. I fear that I have failed you, especially before I found myself because operating from my inner child was rough. I was petty, afraid, insecure at the ways that you loved me + I couldn’t quite love myself (not yet anyway) + then all at once you grew me up. I began to love you in ways that my mother couldn’t often being triggered by the ways that I still needed what I was giving you. It’s complicated! I tell you that sentiment often, because it is extremely complicated as I wonder will I have what it takes to give you the wings you need to soar + sometimes all at once you soar a little higher.
Read MoreWhen met with the daily task of parenting I am often reminded that all of life’s situations serve the purpose of your spiritual evolvement. However, when you are tasked go within yourself in search of the emotional lessons during a common reoccurring show down of parent vs kid; everything that happens to you is significant. Am I still parenting myself? Hell yes! Do I feel like I am a good parent considering all of my faults? Absolutely! Nevertheless, am I often triggered by parenting? Yes, yes, yes! To be honest, my children are growing me up. They are maturing me in ways that my childhood left no room for. The sad byproduct of a parent with unmet needs is the humbling realization that I can either be completely authentic or perpetually embarrassed. So I choose to respectfully surrender my wills to the power of accepting myself (flaws + all) so that I can selflessly accept my children in all of their wonderful glory.
Read MoreI have been searching diligently, quietly summoning every ancestor while chasing my purpose fully understanding that the Creator + I are in a deep covenant. I question every intention, every motivation, ensuring that my will is put in check + that my ego is buried. I die to myself daily debating my choices, scrutinizing every word that falls from my lips. Why? Because I know that I am responsible for everyone that comes across my path. I am crystal clear about many things in my life, but some things are extremely blurry; terrifyingly unclear to the point that I am often left humbled to a whisper. Often crouched in a corner with tears streaming, staring aimlessly at my plans hoping they align with the Most High.
Read MoreLately, I have been mourning the parts of me that carry the pain of holding onto my will for so long. I ache at the thought of surrendering + I cringe at the work that is going into relinquishing years of trauma. My muscles are bruised from the plight of being a single mother. There are parts of me that collapse under years of silence; having to stuff down fragmented sentences hoping that later they would make sense. Make no mistake, the heart listens to the suppressed emotions that eventually manifests in our bodies + the deeper burden is to be aware of it all. With every bit of knowledge and acknowledgment there comes an inevitable lingering despair which beckons us to forgive.
Read MoreTo carry the intersections of being black + a woman on the carousel of life while juggling the intersections of class + gender one must dissect the tradition of overcoming being a black woman. The black woman has endured destruction at every door + sometimes at the hand of her own mother, the mere reflection of her own likeness has been betrayed by generations of abandoned women. Unfortunately, even herself is not beyond her own suspicion. It’s complicated! She’s intelligent; but often insecure. She’s attractive, but often undesirable because her attitude reeks of rejection. She’s extremely loving, but unapproachable. She wears abandonment like cashmere; unemotional yet refined. Everyone has overlooked her; therefore, she must display a disposition of being perpetually guarded. God forbid she is exposed as false with all the blankets of contradictions. Striving in her career to overcompensate for the relationship she longs for. Playing interpersonal relationships like chess; never working with women who may challenge her for fear of being seen as an imposter. Dismissive at best; intimidated at worst. We struggle being seen because we have been overlooked for so long.
Read MoreTo be perfectly honest, being a mother transformed me. It exposed my agony of growing up without a father + it opened my soul to the woman my mother desired to be. In fact, it reminds me that everything isn’t as easy as it looks + sometimes raising your child looks eerily similar to your own upbringing. I imagine when the Universe bestowed children to individuals, it was a form of endearment. Somehow, I’m still learning how to parent myself hoping that my children make it to adulthood minimally unscathed. Daily I gather my mistakes + rinse them with goodness hoping to see a better reflection of myself. Every day I speak life into my children for all the conversations that escaped me as a child. Regularly, I shower them with love for all the adoration that went towards cultivating a warm house + full fridge. Frequently, I show up with arms wide for all the closed doors + silent evenings that were normalized as security. I’ve learned that the joy of motherhood exists in giving my children what I didn’t have.
Read MoreI was raised by a mother who was tough as a fistful of “no thank you’s”; yet resilient enough to beckon the sun to shine even when it was raining. She raised most of her siblings, missed half of the school year working to provide for her family + married the first person that resembled a deep breath. Convinced that she had escaped a life of monotony, she conceived me with a man who never achieved success, so he recycled ignorance. Nevertheless, my mother raised me with fortitude + grace bestowing on me all of her failed dreams + the effects of being neglected. It sounds cruel as if my life was being ruined; however, it was being created from the residue of a generation that carried the weight of being extraordinarily resilient.
Read MoreWhen I reflect on my years as a parent, I often wonder how am I doing it. I am astonished at how I am able to give my children the very things I missed as a child. I am overwhelmed at how I speak to them + acknowledge their every effort. I am surprised at how I am intentional about exposing them in an effort to spark conversations that will give them the space to be critical thinkers. I often remind my children that I would be remiss if I didn’t confess that I am far from Mary Poppins + I am not even reminiscent of a Claire Huxtable; yet somehow I manage to give them what I never received.
Read MoreMy mother, Mavis A. Carter (born McRae) is the oldest girl of 12 siblings. She was born in the 1940’s just a few years removed from slavery. The sound of that truth still haunts me; yet allows me immense understanding of who my mother was destined to be. I am a firm believer that every child should fully understand the weight of who your parents are. Alcarez, as she is affectionately called is absolutely forthright, exceptionally amusing, tremendously magnanimous, and relatively convoluted. However, I was blessed with the privilege of having her as a mother. I don’t think I always believed that it was a privilege, but wisdom grows as your experience of the world is elevated.
Read MoreIf you want to know what matters most to me…just spend 10 minutes with me and you quickly realize that I love my kids, my phone hardly rings (except for my friends and my wife), and I care about people. If you want to see me get extremely serious…play when it comes to education, mistreat anyone; especially someone I love and all bets are off! However, if you want to see my cry, become grievously inaudible, act sanguine in the face of fear…catch me parenting my kids.
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