My Story

February 2,2015 I got an abortion. I was fresh out of an abusive relationship I was sleeping around a lot not making many connections. Living in the physical. Owning my sexuality for once not caring about numbers, or soul ties or attachment. Just simply doing and not being. I thought I felt alive.

And then I met someone who I actually liked who I wanted to be with but who wasn’t really ready for a relationship and I wasn’t either but again I was on a physical plane not really thinking. And then I was pregnant. I remember telling my roommate that my body felt different. I knew before I knew. And I wanted to keep it to myself to keep a secret. Sometimes I wish I had. Because I never gave myself time to process what being pregnant even meant or would mean tome. I remember telling him that night. Questions of is it mine. Was I sure. It was cold. It was a cold December night.

I was scared but in the beginning I was so sure I wanted to keep her. I was so sure. I took a lot of baths I sang to her. I hummed to her. I don’t know when or how the idea of an abortion came in. But it did. Listening to other people more than myself taking in everyone else’s feelings but my own. I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t lean in my own understanding. And I remember the day he broke down in his moms apartment telling me he wasn’t ready that he couldn’t do it. By then I had disassociated myself. I could feel you growing. I could feel my body changing. My breasts swelling. But everything was physical. I gave in. I gave up.

It was Christmas. I sang silent night to my stomach rubbing in a dark bathroom in the tub. Cause baths have always been my sacred place. Water had always felt safe. We had went driving around the neighborhood to look at Christmas lights – I was holding my two month old niece in the backseat. On the phone. In the infatuation stage. Not taking this life energy serious. A lot of different men were still trying to get at me. I was high and giddy off the fleetness that life is at 22.

Three different trips to the clinic and I should’ve known the way we put it off until I almost couldn’t have the operation because I was too far along. It rained all three times on the way there. I know now I should’ve seen this as a sign. One time I had woke up and had ginger ale before going- you’re not supposed to eat or drink anything after a certain time before.  Girls at the clinic asked if I was sure if I wanted the baby gone. I wasn’t. 9 weeks in. And you were already making yourself known. Morning sickness and barley able to keep anything down. I had an ultrasound – I saw you.

The day of the operation. I was nervous. The guy I was with picked me up. Red car. His friend was in the car too, he dropped him off. He was high. It was dark still the sun hadn’t came up. I didn’t talk a lot the ride there. When we got there I checked in. They take you in a back room alone. You change your clothes. They put an IV in you and your body gets cold – you are given a heated blanket to keep it at bay – other woman sit with you in the dim hallway waiting for their turn. On woman asked me how old I was because I  looked so young. She asked if it was my first. She told me she had two other kids already but couldn’t afford a third. You walk into the room you get on the table people all around. By this time your thoughts are hazy. My thoughts were hazy. And then I was asleep – sleeping through not feeling anything. And then woken up feeling sick throwing up. Getting my prescription waiting for the car to come around. Feeling weak. Tripping. Needing help into the car. Forgetting how to walk. One foot in front of the other.

I slept mostly on the way back. I slept mostly for three days. In a daze. Laying in bed. I became extremely attached. I never wanted to be alone. I was angry. I was sad. I was emotionless and emotional.

I slept with a heating pad because it felt better. I still wasn’t eating a lot. I was drinking a lot. Smoking a lot. Partying. I remember one day specifically I went to the mall with my sister and niece and my sister asking me what had a spilt on my sweatshirt. I was lactating. A week after my abortion I was lactating at the mall. My body releasing the last bit I had left from being pregnant. I did my best to cover up all the “bad” feelings I had from the abortion. I cried. I wrote poems about it. But I never forgave myself. I didn’t talk about it. And my friends didn’t because I think they knew more than I did how much I was really bothered.

It took me along time to get to this point to admit to myself that I made this decision. For along time I would say to myself it was a miscarriage but it wasn’t. It took me along time to think about the reasons why I had an abortion. My conflicted relationship with my own mother – never really feeling close or understood by her. Never feeling wanted as a child. Being molested at nine. I never gave myself any real chance. I never gave my first child any real chance. I thought my parents would disown me that they wouldn’t and couldn’t love me because I felt this way already. I know my mother has had bad relationships with men but no details. I think mothers should tell their daughters about their relationship experiences. That they should tell them about love and what it has meant to them as they’ve gone through breakups.

I say this to say – I hope someone some girl one day who is scared and pregnant that I can talk to her. Hug her. Tell her everything will work out if she puts trust in herself and the universe. I hope one day I can tell my daughter about this. That we will be able to heal each other from my own experiences. For all the mothers out there talk your daughters but also really listen not only to what they say but their body language as well. I’m not saying abortions are wrong – but it was wrong for me. Opening up is my first step to healing. And I can only hope this resonates with some of you.

Thank you. IMG_4037.JPG






Citrine is a stone I was introduced to about 2 years ago by my daughters father. It was a stone I instantly gravitated towards I was pregnant and would sleep with it in my hand because it gave me a sense of everything is going to be okay. This yellowish golden sometimes with white or clear coloring is a stone associated with the solar plexus chakra which is all about self esteem, self worth, good relationships with yourself and others. It is a crystal that naturally repeals negative energy and cannot asorb it. Citrine is a bright stone not only in color but also in energy. It lights up or brings positivity to many parts of ones life who uses it. It is also often thought of as a success stone. Bringing success and prosperity to those who carry it. It is about personal power and energy but also about generosity and sharing the abundance of success or prosperity with those around you. 

It clears unwanted energy. It brings hope. It is good for protection. 

I talked about clearing energy from your stones or crystals in the selenite post which is usually done by washing your crystals in salt water or leaving your crystals in sun or moonlight for 24 hours. However, citrine doesn’t need this because it doesn’t asorb or is effected by negative energies. It can clear negative energy from the aura and I’d useful for mediation, and spiritual development. 

It enhances mental clarity and confidence. It is used to dissipate fear of being alone and unworthy of love. It brings happiness, increased creativity, and honesty. It can relieve depression, self doubt, anger, and mood swings.  

It can be used to heal traumas and heighten sensuality and sexuality so it can also help with any sexual issue one might be facing. 

Citrine is in the quartz family. And is defiently a crystal that should be in any beginners and advanced collectors of crystal collections. 

Personally, I had stopped focusing and using my citrine so much it is a stone that is easily forgotten about (to me) but doing this write up on its properties and healing properties has brought my citrine back out and functioning with me in my every day to day. 

Rose Quartz 

Rose Quartz is a dear crystal to me. I wouldn’t say it’s my favorite but it’s the crystal that I have the most experience with. I had my first rose quartz at 13 and had it all the way up till I was 22 and lost it. I even made it into an earring so it was always close to me. Anyway, rose quartz for me help me feel safe, clear, and grounded. The stone of love. Gentle not only in its pink color but in its qualities it is often a crystal that children (my daughter included) are drawn to. Rose Quartz is especially good for healing fears, phobias, trauma and abuse. It is said to also be useful F for bringing about quiet sleep. 

It is associated with the earth element and especially the astrology sign Taurus. Often called the crystal of love it is also used to open the heart chakra. It is a crystal for self-love. It has a very high energy that can add love to any situation whether intimate or platonic. 

It is used to relieve stress as well as headaches. It can also be used to ease anxiety. Because it is a stone that helps balance the emotions and bring one a sense of peace and calm. It enables one to see the good in them self as well as others. 

Personally, I sleep with my rose quartz under my pillow I have a few different rose quartz crystals. A smaller one I used to wear as a ring, a medium sized pyramid, and a yoni egg. It has helped me tremendously to open up my heart and myself to love, loving myself, forgiveness and healing. It also gives me a sense of security and protection easily making it a gentle yet strong crystal and one that every newcomer as well as crystal enthusiast should have in their collection. 

Book Review: Celestine Prophecy

When I was a kid I read a lot of books and I mean 50 books a summer type of deal. But rarely has a book changed my life if ever. 

It took me a little over a month to finish the book because I was going through so much of my own spiritual journey and processing thoughts and ideals that the book itself talked about. 

The book follows a main character who is never named but is always in first person (narrator). So that it seems like you are in the story and this is your own personal journey. The main character goes on this journey that involves these 9 insights that he and the people he meets along the way uncover together. These nine insights are really nine veils of the soul that are meant to help one become conscious of their own spirit and to evolve that sense of spirit and awareness of self. The book is action paced. And it helps to unveil  how there are no coincidences in life it also allows the reader to access that everything happens for a reason. That the very place and space you are in now serves a purpose. That the people you meet and connect with have lessons for you. 

If you are a spiritual person – want to be a spiritual person or at the beginning of your journey and confused about some things this book is for you because these nine insights are clearly explained in the book and dialogue between characters and scenes helps one to piece together things that have happened in ones own life. 

Later I will also do a brief take on what each insight means to me with examples from my own life. 

Anxiety has been controlling my life lately. Most days I’m trying not to think about my anxiety. Trying not to have thoughts about what people may think about me or if I’m doing something right. Am I cool enough. Am I being perceived the way I want to be perceived. It can get overwhelming. I started spiritually trying to “put myself back together” a few months back and even that got overwhelming I didn’t feel calm enough, unbothered enough, positive enough. 

Having a baby a lot of times I feel out of the loop. Even with myself. Im still in my 10th month I guess. Postpartum hasn’t been easy. It has been the middle ground of trying to be who I was before the baby and who I am now. In away when I had Sage I also gave birth to myself. A new woman. And I’m still working her out. Still not sure who or what I want to be. 

With my anxiety the space between who I am now who I was before and who I want to be just seems to be growing more and more. And I’m not sure what to do. I’m not sure what I’m doing. But I’m trying to just take it one day at a time. 

Good Parenting 

Motherhood like everything else in life has highs and lows. However, sadly there is a standard a grading system of what “good” parenting looks like. I’ve struggled with this idea myself (and still do) I’m not sure what the rules are for good parenting. Am I graded by my performance day by day? Do I get a gold star some days and just okay days on others? Do I get extra points if I read all the characters in the books at story-time with different voices? I don’t know what exactly “good” parenting is but I know what it looks like. 

These days with social media and more and more people becoming aware of the magic that is in creating life- birthing and everything that comes with it. Things like baby wearing, and breastfeeding and all the ethnic things that are essentially African in culture that are somehow becoming whitewashed by social media it’s daunting tryin to fit in as a young black mother. 

I promise you my life is not an Instagram feed. There are days were I feel like supermom and days were I feel like the most shittiest parent on earth. I’ve had to learn that, that is okay. 

Because come on now. Even when people put on Instagram how they feel at their lowest lows there is always a little truth we are hiding when it comes to parenting. 

You’re never “ready” to have kids. Not a million parenting classes will prepare you for what parenting actually is. 

It is a practice. A constant day by day. Minute by minute process. 

I don’t even know what I’m trying to say but. Motherhood is hard. And I might sound like a whining baby. But I can’t promise I’ll be like the mothers on Instagram that I spend hours scrolling through their feeds. I can’t promise I won’t fail my child at times. 

 I can’t promise anything. I’m not doing “good” parenting. Good parenting is fake. I’m taking this all in. 

Chicago (with an infant) 

The flight 

Yesterday we got up at 2 left by 2:30 to get to the Atlanta airport. The baggage guy outside was rude as hell. We tried to wait in line to get a gust pass for my boyfriend to walk through security with me even though he wasn’t flying. The line was too long. My anxiety was at 100%. Sweaty palms. Sweaty everything. And anxiety sweat smells different than regular sweat. Security was bad because both my license and my military ID are expired. I had to show my credit cards and then my Medicaid card just to get through. Then I had to get patted down twice since Sage was in a wrap. Sage was looking at the lady who patted us down confused trying to figure out what was going on. My boyfriend stood outside of security watching the whole thing looking concerned hands above his head (but making me realize again why I love him so much). The train I stood up with sage, got off at C. Found my gate C21 and waited to board the plane. The whole time I was on the train I was on the phone with my boyfriend – while we waited to board still on the phone (see how concerned he was). I sat in a window seat sage looked out the window then at takeoff I put her back in the wrap and she fell asleep. My anxiety disappeared. I looked out the window and watched the sunrise. I’ve never seen colors fade into others so smoothly. Blue a little green then yellow-orange. Sage woke up about an hour in. We watched the clouds together. We landed. I called my boyfriend. No accidents. No crying. Nothing. And my anxiety today is a little less because I can, I can. I can do anything. 


Before I birthed a daughter I knew her name. When I was a child my mom had this glass tablet like thing that was always in the kitchen. It had different herbs on it like: Rosemary,thyme, chives, tarragon, cilantro and of course sage. It had the names of the herbs and a little illustration of them. I remember then deciding that I loved the way the word sage sounded and felt on my tongue. And I knew then that if I ever had a daughter id name her as such. The word sage and I then didn’t run into each other again until I was turning 19 I believe I went to this summer fest in Atlanta and saw the Wailers perform. After my parents took me to this fancy authentic Italian spot. And I ordered this ravioli that came with a butter sauce and fried sage leaves. This was the first time I tasted sage the first time I saw sage leaves in person. Firstly, the taste of sage is not for everyone I think what hooked me was the smell and then the taste. My souls has always identified with the word sage, the smell felt just as good for my soul. And the taste omg to this day I still eat sage leaves. My family even recreated the fried sage leaves and brown butter sauce one summer after to eat. As I started my spiritual journey at 21, sage was everywhere it was burned, smudged. It was suddenly good for my health. And it’s scent was healing and the conscious connection I had deepened. But my subconscious always knew. 

Anyway, I’m saying that my soul has always known even before I knew. That sage in every way -from naming my daughter sage to -burning sage incense and oils- will always be a big part of my being.