The Sexually Pregnant Mind

I see the curves of my breast and they please. I see the round of my rump and it entices. I see the button of my belly & giggle at its cuteness.I rub the bulging bump that sustains my daughter it is tight but lovely.My legs are thick pillars supporting the whole of us, two beating hearts.My areolas expand into flying saucers while my nipples take on an unyielding demeanor pushing past 3 sturdy layers to embarrass me fully. My breasts have plumped to the next cup overflowing with milk & honey.My face has smoothed itself into a summery glow while my feet have spread into an ogre-like aura.My hair curls tighter while my sense of smell betrays.I lose a few meals now and then but this does not betray my overall impressionI am a voluptuous, baby-making goddess.My mind is on sex to desire and be desired... Join me for the rest on the Mudroom blog? (Where we are exploring sex & sexuality for the month of March). … [Read more...]

The Joy & Pain of a Broken Empath

Empathy. Many days, it's awful. Being a broken empath? Nearly unbearable. I understand the "gift" of empathy. I understand that those of you who connect with my writing & have encouraged me to *finally* finish my memoir -or any book for that matter- see the spiritual gift of empathy in me. Being able to see & speak into the pain of others is a tremendously beautiful gift God has graciously allowed me to have to make my sista-frans & beautiful brothas a bit more at home in a world full of rejection. But. Empathy is the taking on of others pain. And I am a "high empath." Which means I'm feeling another's pain *almost* as if it were my own. If I'm closely connected to someone who's pain is unleashed in irresponsible ways, I am literally absorbing toxicity much like the dude on the 1st season of Heroes who absorbed others powers after he killed them, except I don't kill people so there's that. I digress.Yesterday I had a safe space conversation in which I ran through … [Read more...]

Jars of Clay

When I was a kid my Ma often told me how things were 'going to get better.'  She was never one to keep the hardships of life for me. I was the 4th, the unexpected later-in-life baby due to a bad hook-up after a tumultuous marriage to an alcoholic, years of single motherhood, crushing life disappointments, exhaustion from years on the Detroit police force, the beginnings of mental illness & of course the ever threatening presence of poverty.  Then me. At almost 40? Sista girl was tired.When I wanted a new toy or new clothes, she didn't mince words. We couldn't afford it. When our lights or heat wasn't running. Sorry, not enough money to go around. When we couldn't get to places because we didn't have gas, I knew money for the month ran out. She let me in on all of it. The weight of financial worries sat like an elephant on my chest for much of my childhood.She often promised things would get better. Next year, she'd say. Next month, she'd say. When this happens, things will b … [Read more...]

Nevertheless She Persisted

[Credit] One of my former students from when I served on staff with InterVarsity, is a proud multi-racial Native American who has recently taken up the mantle of resistance at her children's elementary school who uses R-dsk*ins as their school mascot. She frequently posts screenshots of the hateful & personal attacks other parents at the school launch at her as they inexplicably fight to keep this word as their mascot name.The ensuing battle has been so intense the local news recently aired a few minutes of the community gathering in which the Board of Education disappointingly ruled to keep the mascot name.  During the video an older white gentleman stood at the microphone with anger & disgust & forcefully told my friend that anyone who didn't like discrimination in this country can leave with his packing assistance. She replied, "we were here first, I'll help you pack." The irony of a descendant of an immigrant so foolish to utter those words to the descendant of an … [Read more...]

This is 40, Dahling.

So. Here's the thing. I turned 40 since my last post. FORTY!?! To commemorate this blessed event, I decided to do my usual annual birthday pearls post in video.The chunk of what I've learned in so far. Forty whole years worth!Enjoy!https://youtu.be/LrJ1EJFKeOw … [Read more...]

Everyday

Perhaps fittingly, I'm beginning to explore the life practice of doing little things everyday as opposed to saving one day for an 8 hr. Project. Why not take 8 days in bite-sized chunks?I've been trying to function this way for only a few months now & it's driving me nuts. For most of my professional career, I've sent my kids to daycare & had 6-8 hours of straight focus time. If I wanted to work on my blog or books I'd head out to Starbucks for 3-4 hour chunks on a weekend or a weekday evening when inspiration hit. This past half-year, I've been attempting to work from home while juggling my newborn & drop-off/pick-up times at my boys school. Maybe I'll attempt a bit of productivity before but definitely not after the bedtime routine. It's just plain old different. When I see 15 free minutes I don't get excited for what might be accomplished, I tend to think "oh yay, 15 minutes on Instagram because what else is the point?" And then of course, inevitable … [Read more...]

In Which Rescue is on Deck

I turn 40 later this month, and as such have become hella reflective. This year has been one of the worst years of my life. So much so, I’m thinking of canceling my 40th birthday party. Please, please forgive my swears, but what is the gottdamb mutha-effin’ point of a celebration when you are wildly swiveling through the five stages of grief every other day or week? And please know, I do not say any of this lightly. I do not say that for the sake of page hits, Facebook hyperbole, ‘likes’ or pity.I say this because it’s completely, wildly, disappointingly, surprisingly, mortifyingly true. For those of you who’ve kept up with my blog & my writings know that the implosion of my 1st marriage, a complete breakdown, a fierce custody battle, an ugly divorce are all a part of my story, and that too was deeply painful. This year rivals the level of pain & hopelessness of those years. I cannot say why. I am still surprised at the turn of events. I only know life is as equally a nightm … [Read more...]

I Hate Thanksgiving

The day after Thanksgiving, I sat & cried with my husband about how much I hate Thanksgiving. This year, I find myself emotionally gutted over Drumpf's politics of course. Who isn't?  Even bigger than that my heart remained heavy at the treatment of the Standing Rock protesters. On Thanksgiving. With frigid water. In frigid temperatures. Why can't the United States keep it's treaties with Native Americans?  Why are we incapable of treating Native Americans fairly? Why God why? My heart hurts for them. They fight to protect sacred land & get nearly killed for doing so.So. There's that. Sigh.Without fail, every year I tend to dread Thanksgiving & Christmas. Has anyone else noticed this incredible expectation attached to these days? YOU AND YOUR BIG, BEAUTIFUL FAMILY MUST ALL BE HAPPY! THANKFUL! FULL! *Insert eye-roll emoji* This expectation was something I read loud & clear long before social media gave us clues about not only what we should feel on these holidays … [Read more...]

Why Don’t You Believe Us?

I am a queer woman. I fear for the dissolution of the legal marriage with my wife.I am an American-born, Arab-American. I fear Islamophobic harassment which almost every member of my American-born family has experienced. I fear the impact of registration on my friends & family.I am a refugee hoping to be united with family. I fear I'll never see them again.I am a Black American. I fear the implications of a white nationalist recently named as Trump's chief of staff.I am a Mexican American. I fear the impact of The Great Wall of Mexico will have on immigrant families & the poor.I am a woman. I fear the implications of living in a country where it's okay for our President to explain away sexually predatory behavior even as he's headed to trial on child rape charges. //// Many of us are legitimately scared. Lots of us are terrified. Some can't stop crying. Others have overwhelm. There is an unrest that has very little to do with losing the candidate of … [Read more...]

Sitting with Jesus at Sex Camp

I remember meeting Jesus once at sex camp. It wasn't our first meeting, but an important one.Everyday I walked up to a giant, beautiful, colorful painting of Jesus’s head, hair blowing in the wind. The massive painting hung on the wall of the Church where I was attending a week long retreat for women being treated for female sex addiction...what I like to call 'Sex Camp.'When I first saw the painting I was taken aback. Great art captures one that way. And the size, my God, it was huge. I said “well hello there Jesus.” In that moment he seemed so real with his piercing brown eyes bigger than my head. In the course of the week, every time I passed it I'd say “Hi Jesus!" I’d try to say sweetly but somewhat sarcastically “it’s another great day at sex camp!”  "How are you feeling about sex camp?"  "Me?" "Oh, well I feel deep shame & loathing self-pity, so there's that. I'd rather be on a cruise. No offense."Join me to read the rest over at the Mudroom blog?&n … [Read more...]