She lives. On yet another Father’s Day. A day she once upon a time claimed. As her own. But oh how wrong. Even if he which created the seed did leave. Even if he came back a thousand times with a million lies. Even if he wasn’t exactly the best but went above and beyond for the rest. This is an ode to the one who promised to hold you down but when life got real, courage failed him and he forgot to stick around. The Liar. The Leaver. Did he really leave her? No! He left a small token of himself for her. Buried the seed in the most intimate part of her. And inside of her it grew. And that seed became you. And the life you bear and the children you rear, they sense that bittersweet truth in you. You’re mad at him. But secretly, perhaps knowingly, prayerfully unconsciously, you despise them. See the getting was good when legs were spread and you lay on your back in that bed, who knows, maybe you rode, they say this is how the sex of the child is chose — ha ha. Things done in the thick of night have a way of coming to light(life). The deed done. Nine months later you were born. Reality hits like a fist, that clenched bag of bricks. Someone sang, “What’s love got to do, got to do with it?” Everything! Even if you two are through, something created the child born of you. Love of money? Love of lust? Love of sex? Love itself? If not love then what? So you raise the child to the best of your ability. And when Father’s Day rolls around you flaunt, “Yeah, that’s me.” But it’s not!!! A mommy you are. A father you’re not. You could never create the masterpiece which is life all by yourself. So even if you hate that man, don’t discredit his help. Because without him. There is no them.
Happy Father’s Day to the men in my life. Those he came. Those who played. Those who layed. Those who ran away. The one who chose to stay.
P.S. Ladies if you missed the memo, this day is not about you. It’s about them. So stop projecting your own daddy issues and give your child’s father the chance to be there for you. If you’re running around screaming “Happy Father’s Day” to yourself, you slam the door on that chance. Basically what we’re saying is he ain’t nothing, therefore technically, the child you both created is every bit of 1/2 of nothing. Think about it…
CEO at FreedomInk Publishing, Katandra Jackson Nunnally, http://www.freedomink365.com/about_the_publisher
Late nights. Later mornings. Lazy days. Beach. Sun. Sand. Day trips. Extended trips. Cruising in the slow lane. Lounging. Laying. Outdoor playing. Enjoying a much deserved break. The kids are free from the rigors of school and I am once again in the highlight of my own childhood. This is summer. My husband heads off to work every morning at about 6 after kissing me goodbye for the day. It’s only see you later till later and somewhere layered beneath the sweetness that is his kiss, is the hint of something else, it tastes like jealousy. I know he’d much rather crawl back into bed beside me and nestle himself in the warmth of my presence, but instead he closes our bedroom door, makes his way down the hall, opens-locks-closes the front door. A few moments later I imagine he starts the engine and backs the car out of the driveway and in his rearview mirror, our sleepy neighborhood gets smaller and smaller until it is out of sight. But long before he puts the key in the ignition, somewhere in between his goodbye kiss and the front door, I’ve drifted back to sleep. This is summer. Reminiscent of my childhood days when school was out and my mom had to pull herself away from us daily. There she’d leave us slumbering as she went out into the world. No work for me though as the weeks of summer unfold, hot, sticky and much too fast at times. I’ve found myself in the education arena, which is to say I teach, well sort of, I’m employed as an Assistant Teacher. Sure there are things to loathe about every job, but hopefully there is something that you can find to love as well. For me it’s two things: 1) I love children & 2) I really, really, really love summer breaks. So this brings us to my very current situation of doing absolutely nothing at all. We’re about 3 weeks into the summer break and already I’m wishing that it would slow down. But nothing good lasts forever, right? This is summer…
CEO at FreedomInk Publishing, Katandra Jackson Nunnally
I’m new to the world of online fitness trackers, but since I need one for a class this upcoming Fall semester, I thought I’d better go ahead and purchase one and make myself familiar with it before it’s actually time to use it. I chose to go with one of the models offered by Fitbit. The design I chose is worn much like a bracelet with all the functionality of a watch and so much more. I’m not really interested in receiving text alerts via wrist, so I only use it for the sole purpose of tracking steps. Along with counting steps, calories and miles are calculated too. The usb type dongle that came with the fitness tracker allows me to synch up and keep a record of it all via an online account. Did I mention all the other functions that the account boasts, like water intake, food intake and the sleep tracker. But I’ve found out that tracking my sleep may not be such a good thing. I can feel well rested but as soon as I log into my Fitbit account and see the number of times the tracker recorded restlessness throughout my nights, I’m immediately exhausted. Having no knowledge of being restless, perhaps I readjusted the blankets, unconsciously fluffed my pillow, rolled over in the midst of a dream, or perhaps woke to use the restroom and upon getting back into bed, fell once more into that trance-like sleep. All is well with the Universe until I see 5, 11, 17 moments of restlessness during my sleep and then I feel like the walking dead.
Also because I purchased the fitness tracker for a class, I’m more interested in tracking my Monday-Friday movement as opposed to my weekend movement. Even those on diets have ‘cheat days’. So every Friday night before I hit the sack, Fitbit comes off as I opt out of wearing it during the night or the duration of the weekend. *Photo: Fitbit Alta
I’ve been told that I entered this world with no hair. Nope! Not even a little. Congratulations Ma’am! It’s a bald baby girl! All of that heartburn was not in vain. Although my mother delivered a baby with no hair, I’d soon make up for it. Thick. Wavy. Coarse. A head full of jet black hair. My momma said it’s my blessing. My crown and glory. Ok Mommy Dearest! I do believe we’ve misinterpreted the ‘good book’. I ain’t Sampson, there is no Delilah and cutting my hair, Heavens forbid, will not be my demise! Still. This is the home environment I grew up in. Can you cut your hair? Gasp! Imagine my mothers horror the first time I got a little scissor happy. Much to her chagrin, I’ve been snipping ever since! I grew up in a society that has been known to decide a person’s worth based on…
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I am my hair. Often adorned and embellished, this external extension of me, this visual exterior show of me. Be it long, short or somewhere in between, there is no denying that I am my hair. Internal factors sometimes directly affect our hair. Those that employ some semblance of a healthy regimen (diet and lifestyle) are rewarded with vibrant, lustrous hair. Stress can literally wreak havoc on a head of hair! Causing dry, brittle hair and serious breakage. Hair loss is sometimes the result of side effects of medicines and aggressive medical treatments (see hair loss and chemotherapy, http://www.healthline.com/health/chemotherapy#SideEffects3). Have you ever heard of alopecia (http://www.healthgrades.com/conditions/alopecia)? Is it safe to say that the presence or absence of a thing so seemingly simple as hair, can contribute to the overall build up or break down of ones’ personality? Is hair then an environmental factor? I did after all grow up without my father, but I been rocking this hair for 30+ years. Nevermind if the walls could talk. If our hair could talk, oh the tales each head of hair would tell! I believe that consciously and/or subconsciously, hair does affect our day to day lives. Another component which is me… My crown and glory. My strength. I am my hair.
Photos: August 2015, before the big chop & color.April 2016, after the big chop & color.
Check out first photos of my personal Natural Hair Journey… https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10208737684020292.1073741856.1257799850&type=1&l=65f1c37c62
Stay tuned for ‘I am NOT my hair…’ #IAmAndIAmNotMyHair ~Kat. CEO at FreedomInk Publishing, http://www.freedomink365.com/the_books
“Every ex is like a dealer serving my favorite brand of drug. They know what I like & how I like it and each is all too willing to give me what I want! It may seem free, the parting of legs, but it comes with a heavy price to pay…”
Carnal Sobriety available via paperback at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Books-A-Million, Indie Bound and wherever amazing books can be found. Purchase links available at the Publisher’s home site, www.freedomink365.com/the_books
CEO at FreedomInk Publishing, Katandra Jackson Nunnally
An addiction is the fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance, thing, or activity. Do tell! What’s your addiction?
“I felt like I needed a man to validate my worth. Sex made me feel wanted, needed, desired, beautiful, powerful, loved. I was totally in control! Right?”
Do you Goodreads? Add Carnal Sobriety… bit.ly/1QYxkhY
~CEO at FreedomInk Publishing, Katandra Jackson Nunnally, www.freedomink365.com