I’m sure I’ve talked before about how I used to always feel ugly. How I longed for people to tell me that I’m beautiful. There was a huge whole in my psyche that refused to allow “good” thoughts to filter in. It was a really big problem. And it was also confusing. Let me explain:
Back in the day (3 years ago) when I started sewing, I could not imagine how quickly my skills would progress or how much joy I would get from sewing my own clothes. Continue reading
I’ve been a reader an avid reader for as long as I can remember. Continue reading
I love the mama and me trend that I’ve seen going around where mamas and their littles dress in coordinating outfits or even the same outfit. I have a couple of patterns that are the same as Laila Grace and I always have these grand plans of sewing the two of us cute little outfits. But, let’s face it, my sewing plan is usually, “SQUIRREL!” I let myself get pulled this way and that way by the latest and greatest patterns from my favorite designers. And I’m always working on something. Because sewing is therapeutic for me and a key component in helping me handle post partum depression and body image issues (this is also a good blog post).
I am black. My husband is white. My daughter is half white. Nearly half of my extended family is white. I receive conflicting responses, or even silence, when I talk to about issues that matter to me such as systemic racism, Black Lives Matter, body positivity and reproductive rights. It may seem contradictory that I am a pro-choice, Jesus-following feminist. Aren’t some of those ideologies conflicting? Continue reading
A lot of you have asked. I’ve thought about it for a while now. I’m finally going to do it. I’m going to do it. I’m going to “dare greatly” and put myself out there.
Thanks to my friend Christine C. for digitizing my logo for me!
I admit that I am that annoying person on Facebook. I shout my POV from the rooftops. I post tons of articles hoping that people will read them. I sometimes engage when I really, really know better than to do it. I am a keyboard activist if you will.
The last two years were easily the most difficult years of my life. I struggled with being controlling. I struggled with defining my importance based on Who I belong to instead of what I do (or what I don’t do). I struggled with accepting my extraordinary body. I realized I had post partum depression. I sought help. And here we are: nine months after I began treatment for PPD. Here we are embarking on our 10th wedding anniversary on August 12. It is all so surreal.
Well, more like “pestering my hubs to allow me to measure him so that I can make him a proper fitting garment.” Except he refused to let me measure him until yesterday. And my post for the tour is due tomorrow, August 5. To say I’m a little annoyed about the situation would be a definite understatement. Continue reading