31 years, 31 Likes. No Share. Troubling, What’s not Trending.

“One day at a time” Most would associate that phrase with Recovery.

That’s what I did. Thirty one years ago.

Someone recently said to me, that it’s a daily struggle.

My story.


I was five years old, when I had my first taste of beer (my dad drank) I loved it, from first sip.

Age Eleven. I was smoking cigarettes and Weed.

My Twenties. Snorting Coke with a group of friends, on Payday/Friday, was a regular, seemingly, normal thing.

Then came, Crack. One day, one party and one pull. I was hooked for two years.

I did whatever I had to, to get that rock.

A lot happened in those two years. Mostly filthy, degrading and violent.

I long for none of it.


It would be the one thing, from those days, that I know, I can’t have just one of.

Note: While in rehab, I had planned to drink beer once I “Got Out”

My “One day at a time” for a long time has been Life.

Especially when I get that slap of Reality.

In the form of some words, a phrase or an opinion.

I hurt, When I think of the lack of Unity that exists, within our own Race. Communities and families.

I feel the weight of the World.

And have a greater appreciation for those who fought and died for Us.

How did they find the Courage to do what wasn’t, Trendy?

I hurt more, ’cause it seems, We are good and that all is, OK and Just.

And if you think we’ve come far,

“You are either, Delusional or White”



Fall easy, hard and long

falling in and out of love

I remember my very first crush. It was my third grade teacher.

Who looked like, Vanessa Williams!

My second crush, involved two.

Saretta. We lived on the same block and went to the same elementary school.

And Miss Brown, who lived around the corner and taught me how to Crochet and Knit.

My last crush, became my mate, for fifteen years.

Reoccurring dreams, Seasons and dates, make it difficult to forget her and to move on.

I know, I will love her forever.

I just want to stop mourning the lost.

I thank my Pastor and Friend, Rev Shorb-Sterling. Who’s retiring soon.

Besides my dad, She was the only person that empathized with my many challenges.

So much so, she supplied the words for me, when I was unable to express how I felt.

Something I lacked from family and friends of more than thirty years.

I will miss her tremendously.

I love you Rev Sue!

I pray we all have the Peace this World needs to heal.

God Bless!


Love, Lies and Records

It seems most everything reminds me of my Ex. Now a scene in one of my shows “Love, Lies & Records”

The story line, though written for a heterosexual couple, was so similar to what I experienced in my relationship, it brought me to tears.

How do you get over someone, you still love?

Although we can’t be together, I can’t imagine myself with anyone else.

[I understand how one spouse, loses another and never wants/desires to be with anyone else]

I know it’s this idle time, that makes me think of her more. But fact is, we had a lot of great times.

[The physical attraction so strong, we had secret rendezvous, for 15 years]

I learn from everyone I encounter. She would open the Blinds/Curtains. As soon as she woke up.

[I used our break up, to lose weight and get fit]

Having depression, I liked darkness and was annoyed. But got used to it.

And I realized, it made me feel better.

[why I think of her so often]

How do you move on?

Question, Why is it, when doing online searches for Female Friends, you get directed to dating sites?!

Ridiculous, repetitive and annoying.

Someone legitimately looking for friendships, community support, etc.



Hookah, Smookah!

I remember my mother and I arguing. We never got a long. So, we were always, fighting (yeah, fist feet, whatever)

She had called me a Crack Head (I was) while she was drinking beer and smoking weed!

I’m like, what a hypocrite.

Like those who judge from the Pew.

Or through the glare of their eyes, from the tips of their noses.

My dad was the only man in my life, I knew I could trust and Never judged me.

I attribute much of my character to him. And recently recognizing that my mother too, contributed to my qualities. Unfortunately, it was by way of mental illness.


I’m secure in my relationship with the man upstairs.

I have no secrets from him.

Sniff sniff, Puff puff!!!


Cabin fever. It’s what it feels like, not having wheels.

Walking, was the first way I learned to, relieve stress or anger.

My dad walked us, my sister and I, a lot when we were little. In grade school, I learned Karate. Earned my Brown belt.

The skating rink, was right in the neighborhood. Kalorama, in Adams Morgan.

And we played. Stayed active. Due to my mental and physical illnesses, my moods and energy, are unpredictable.

I have depression (bipolar, PTSD) and CFS. Feels like I’m dying slowly.

No energy, no activity. No wheels. And I can’t visit folk in my community.

Yes, I know, they are more than ready to give me rides.

Still, it’s not in me to do.

The bright side of being home or visiting someone’s home (pet sitting) with mania despite fatigue, I can’t keep still.

I clean, organize and pamper pets with massages.

I’ve learned a lot about my symptoms. And now see them as attributes.

[I’m manic. I may be all over the place]

A friend, Ginny, just stopped by.

I’m fighting a Cold and I lost my van. So she dropped off this beautiful bag of, get well goodies.

Without even looking, I know at least, two of the items.

Because Ginny did this same, thoughtful move, when I was new to the community. Nearly 11 years ago.

And ’cause my wheels are down, check out the bag.

A Red Truck.

Dig this. My dad had a truck like this!

Lil Red, was written on the sides. It had spokes (for sho’) behind the cab.

My dad let me drive it to Canada and Martha’s Vineyard.

As I said at the beginning, I need outlets My van gave me that. Through serenity and security (my chill spot on wheels)

And I try to stay as fit as I can.

I could do 10 Push ups, before I went to Basic training. I had to do more (50 or 60) to qualify. So, I lifted weights.

I can do 25 (sets of 3 on a good day) Push ups now. But then there’s my Back, Sciatica and the ever present fatigue.

[Energized by Ginny’s coming by, I got dressed quickly. I wanted to see her. But exhausted, as I got undressed]

Still, I have a need and want to be, active. I’m 58 and would like to try Boxing.

[My dad Boxed. And it’s something I liked, because he did]

I’m sure I’m not the only one. I feel lonely, but too irritable to be around certain people.

I’d like to meet others, who may be both introverted and extroverted. And can understand what I’m saying/feeling.

And I miss my Ex (it’s been over, more than 5 years. And it was for the best)

I keep having reoccurring dreams, and reminders of her.

Anybody else going through, It?

Mental, emotional, financial struggles?

What do you do?

And seriously, Is a She Shed doable?

I really would love a community like the Barn and Cabin builders.

Why isn’t this possible locally?

Looking for a Hand Up (opportunities, not obstacles) Not a Hand Out.



I never understood why some folks find it necessary to lie. Or how one, can fake an illness.

Then I thought, maybe they tried the truth and went unheard. And found that lying got them the results they wanted/needed.

Someone says Cancer (true or not) it evokes all kinds of understanding, empathy and support.

I say (to my lover, family and friends) I hurt (PTSD) I’m depressed. And exhausted (CFS)


Or I’m told to “Buck up” and Carry on.

I wish it were, as easy as that.