The Older I Get, the Less I Feel Like Explaining Myself!
I'm Strong, Not Stress-Proof!
When Did Going Out Become So Much Work?
🎂✨ Life Be Life-n: Welcome to Taurus Season
Welcome to Taurus Season ♉✨
I love April—not just because it brings in that fresh Spring energy, but because… it’s my birthday season.
Now I know some people dread their birthday every year…
trying to skip over it like it’s just another day.But not me.
My birthday?
It’s a celebration.In the past, I’ve made it a whole experience—
taking trips with my girls to some beach,
spending a full day at the spa,
and ending it with good food at one of my favorite restaurants.Because for me, it’s not just about getting older…
it’s about celebrating making it through.Through the good times.
Through the challenging moments.
Through everything life decided to throw my way.And if that’s not a reason to celebrate, I don’t know what is.
So yes—bring on the birthday cake 🍰
add a scoop (or two) of ice cream 🍨
because it’s time to celebrate me.My birthday is a holiday in my book,
which means I’m taking time off work
to pour back into myself—whatever that looks like, however I need it.This year? I’m doing just that.
I’ve got a 90-minute massage lined up (because listen… we deserve luxury and relaxation),
and I’ll be vibing out at a Floetry reunion concert—
because nothing feeds my soul like good music and poetic energy.And honestly? That feels like the perfect balance of self-care and self-expression.
Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned…
Life be life-n.
But that doesn’t mean we don’t pause to celebrate ourselves along the way.So here’s your reminder—whether it’s your birthday or not:
Celebrate you.
Rest when you need to.
Indulge a little.
Reflect on how far you’ve come.Because every year you’re here?
That’s a blessing worth honoring.
March Forward, Sis
Winter Weather, Southern Style
February 2026
Keeping Tradition Alive: Christmas Moments With Family & Friends
There’s something magical about Christmas that goes far beyond the twinkling lights, perfectly wrapped gifts, or even the smell of fresh pine. For me, the heart of the holiday season has always lived in the traditions we carry — the ones passed down, the ones we’ve created on our own, and even the messy, chaotic ones we never planned but somehow repeat every year.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned that Christmas isn’t always about doing the most. It’s about celebrating Jesus, creating memories and creating memories.
The Traditions That Raised Us
Growing up, Christmas was celebrated in different states since we moved around a lot. My brothers, sister and I went to bed early while my parents ran around wrapping the last of the presents like it was a competitive sport. But underneath all that last minute chaos was love — pure, unfiltered, “we show it even if we don’t say it” love.
For some, it’s the annual baking marathon with your mama, grandma or auntie. The house is so warm it feels like the oven is judging you. Flour on your clothes, sugar on the counter, and laughter that fills the whole space.
For others, it’s the tradition of matching pajamas, or exchanging one gift on Christmas Eve — a simple moment that makes you feel seen and remembered.
Friends Who Become Tradition
As adults, friendships take on a whole new meaning. Some of my favorite Christmas memories didn’t happen under the family tree — they happened at the dining table with friends who have become family.
The last-minute gift exchanges, the potluck dinner where everybody tries to outdo each other with “their specialty,” the group photos that never come out right… those moments matter just as much.
Sometimes even more.
There’s a softness in celebrating with the people who choose you, support you, and show up for you in ways that feel like a miracle during the holiday rush.
Creating New Traditions
The beautiful thing about life is that we’re always allowed to start over — even with tradition.
Maybe this year, you’re cooking something different.
Maybe you’re staying home and resting for once.
Maybe you’re traveling, or volunteering, or celebrating in a quieter, more intentional way.
Maybe you’re creating traditions rooted in healing, peace, and meaning.
Whatever it is… it still counts.
The True Gift
At the end of the day, Christmas isn’t the tree, the décor, the matching outfits, or the mountain of gifts.
It’s the connection.
It’s the way we pause and gather.
The way we make space for joy — even when life has been heavy.
The way we honor each other with presence, not just presents.
So whether you’re surrounded by family, laughing with friends, or carving out a peaceful moment for yourself this year, I hope your traditions — old or new — remind you of one thing:
You are loved.
You are remembered.
And you deserve all the warmth this season brings.
Life Be Life-n: Things I’m Thankful For That Hurt First
In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I wanted to take a moment to give thanks — not just for the blessings I’ve received, but also for the trials and tribulations that came along the way.
Let’s be real — since the pandemic, people’s emotions have been all over the place. Many of us are still trying to process everything we’ve been through. I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting on the hurt and pain I’ve experienced over the years, and surprisingly, I’ve found gratitude in it. Those moments have taught me valuable lessons: tomorrow isn’t promised (though we expect it), not every battle is worth fighting, and you have to take time to recharge — because you only get one body to live in.
Writing has been my emotional compass through it all. Putting my thoughts on paper helps me navigate what I’m feeling, and this journey has truly been amazing. My heartache, frustration, and pain have become fuel — pushing me to keep going.
Yes, there are days when I don’t want to get out of bed, when motivation feels miles away. But then I remind myself: I have a purpose. Reading my older poems reminds me how far I’ve come — from that little broken “fat girl” to a beautiful, intelligent woman who knows better and is still growing.
I’m thankful for the drive and determination that keep me moving, even when the road gets rough. Blessings come in many forms, and they don’t always arrive easy. Sometimes, through your pain, there are blessings in your bruises.
Happy Thanksgiving — and here’s to being thankful for both the beauty and the bruises.
— Da Passionate Poet that Spits Fiya
Friendships That Shift With Life
Life Be Life-n: Protecting My Peace in a World That Won’t Stay Quiet
Some days it feels like the world never shuts up. The news scrolls across the TV with one tragedy after another. Social media can feel like a never-ending scroll of negativity — people arguing, comparing, clapping back, or just being loud for no reason. Even when I log off, it lingers in my mind like static I can’t turn down.
I often wonder, why is it so hard for people to not take every post so serious? Before the internet, the only way you would hear other people’s opinions was through the grapevine or from a friend or family member. Now, everybody wants to add their two cents about every and anything. If someone is mad, sad, or depressed, they voice it on some social media platform — and when the negative comments outweigh the positive, suddenly folks get defensive and start blocking people.
Whatever happened to keeping things private? Not everything needs to be added into a post, and not every comment is meant to be agreed upon. The truth is, a lot of people get online just to be faceless word bullies because they’re unhappy with themselves or because causing a stir gives them some kind of satisfaction. But social media was supposed to be entertainment — not a battlefield, not a place to tear people down.
This world is already dealing with way too much destruction. The last thing we need is to carry the chaos of strangers into our own spirit. That’s why I remind myself — and anyone reading this — to close out the unwanted noise by simply logging off. Protect your peace, because once it’s gone, it’s hard to get back.
Reclaiming My Breath, One Stage at a Time
Title: I Got on Stage and Spoke My Truth
Today was intense—when I tell you I can’t believe I did it, I mean it! I actually got on stage and performed not one, but two of my poems.
Here’s how it all went down. Earlier this week, I signed up for an open mic. I didn’t want to make a big deal about it because the more I told people, the more pressure I felt. I wanted to keep it low-key, but I did let one friend know—just in case she needed to pick me up off the floor if I fainted. I also asked her to keep it quiet and secretly record the performance for me.
When I arrived, I tried not to overthink the performance. I was pleasantly surprised (and relieved!) that the open mic was being held in a cozy coffee shop. That meant no massive crowd staring me down. I found a seat, trying to blend into the background while I waited.
Then, just as the open mic started around 6:30, I found out I was the first one up. My nerves? Gone. Strangely, I felt a sense of calm and ease. My first poem, Skinny Dipping, rolled off my tongue better than I expected—especially since it’s been over a decade since I’ve read any of my work out loud to an audience.
After that, I sat back, exhaled, and enjoyed the show. The atmosphere was beautiful—so many talented people sharing music, poetry, and heartfelt stories. I felt so comfortable and inspired that I decided to get back up there and perform a second poem, one I wrote for all the single ladies who are tired of receiving unsolicited advice from people in relationships.
Honestly, I only planned to read one poem and leave, but being in that space made me want to stay and support everyone else. Getting up there isn’t easy—it takes courage to stand in front of strangers and bare your soul. I wanted to give that same support back.
I met some amazing people tonight and left feeling full—full of connection, inspiration, and gratitude. I hope to keep meeting more beautiful souls and growing in my passion for poetry.
Here's a video of my first performance. I haven't looked it at all yet because I know if I do I wouldn't post it..lol
Life Be Life-n: Working While Black (and a Woman)
When I'm not writing in my spare time, I’m working a full 40-hour week in corporate America.
Before COVID, most of us had to go into an office every day—remote work wasn’t even on the table. These days, while many companies have loosened the micromanagement belt with flexible remote schedules, others have returned to traditional office settings… as if the cubicle were some kind of jail cell.
For many women working in “team-oriented” environments, it can still feel like they’re fighting the corporate battle alone. And for women of color—especially Black women—that feeling can be even more isolating.
You want to speak up in meetings, share your ideas, voice concerns to your manager… but your boss and most of your coworkers are white. So you weigh every word. You try not to sound “too passionate,” “too assertive,” or worse, “too angry.”
Because let’s be real—Black women often come home not just physically tired, but mentally drained. We’re constantly working harder than the “average” woman just to be seen and respected. We have to manage our tone, double-check every email, and triple-proof every task—because the fear of being labeled a “difficult Black woman” is real.
Meanwhile, you’re watching coworkers who are loud, lazy, unprofessional—or all three—get recognized, praised, and promoted. And most of them? Don’t look like you.
It’s exhausting. It’s unfair.
But it’s also why I write.
Because life be life-n.
And I know I’m not alone.
6/26/25
Life be Life-n hard sometimes—and nowhere does it hit more than in the 9-to-5 hustle. Here’s a raw, unfiltered look at the corporate maze through my eyes. I found a poem I had written almost two decade ago while sitting in a cubicle and wanted to share.
The reflections and expressions shared in this post — and throughout my poetry — are deeply personal. They represent my opinions, experiences, and points of view. This content is generalized and not directed at any specific person, place, or situation. It is never my intention to harm, hurt, or offend anyone through my creative work. Thank you for engaging with my art respectfully and with an open heart.
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