Good Morning, Good Morning


I don’t know you all remember are not but I’m on my turning FIFTY tour in five months so I have been playing around with makeup which I have never wore before.. so here is my before picture up below .. and my now picture up top.. still learning ho to do it right.. YouTube and watching my daughter.. I am slowly learning how..

Enough of that.. Be blessed.. do what you can do.. and trust God with everything else.. never too old to start over.. even when you feel like giving up ,don’t find a reason to fight.. to live..

original me..


Blood Runs Down


I never thought I’d see the blood run down my gown.. I never thought I have time to remember before the blood ran down my gown..

I remember your laughter.. I remember your touch in the middle of the night.. I remember the smell of your body.. I never thought I’d remember before the blood came running down my gown..

I remember the smiles and the tears.. I remember hearing what’s wrong with you.. I remember hearing the children playing.. I remember the smell of Sunday dinners.. I remember the texts messages of encouragement.. I never thought I’d remember before the blood came running down my gown..

I thought I would go quick nothing to lose.. just close my eyes and I’d be gone before the blood came running down my gown.. but I lay here remembering how I promised I wouldn’t give up.. that I would be strong until I see the blood running down my gown..

So much I left behind people, places and memories yet to be made.. don’t be like me don’t give up on life.. for once the blood starts running down your gown.. you start to realize it’s over.. 

I never thought I’d see the blood run down my gown.. and watch the life leave my body.. no more me to be remembered.. just the blood running down my gown..



original me

Is It Okay To Ask

imageWell we have made it through one holiday.. with extended family and friends.. full of happiness and cheer.. are was it..

Is it okay to ask.. How are you doing really.. how is the depression.. how are you feeling.. do you have someone you can talk too.. that you trust to listen to you.. and not judge your feelings.. or try to justify how you are feeling.. or try to make you feel differently..

Is it okay to ask.. what happened to you.. how did you know this depression was different.. what were the signs.. did you just start feeling different.. was it him or her that cause it.. are you taking medication for it..

Is it okay to ask.. what can I do to help..


Yes it’s okay to ask .. how can you help.. Depression is a sickness especially chronic depression just like diabetes, heart attacks.. it is not just sadness that passes in a day or two.. it is lost of interest in normal activities and relationships.. it is staying in bed all day.. it’s crying all day, believing that you have become an existence.. instead of a life.. it is a feeling of hopelessness.. a place of darkness in your mind..

What it is not .. lack of faith in God.. it’s not for attention.. it’s not a magic pill to make it go away.. it’s not laziness.. it’s not you just don’t want be happy.. it’s something to be ASHAMED OF.. it happens to the best of us from the richest to the poorest.. we are not crazy just like the body gets sick.. so does the mind..

Yes I am an activist for Mental Illness.. I want people to know that their is help.. I want people to not be ashamed to say.. I’m sick in my mind.. or I feel sad and it want go away.. I’m having trouble concentrating.. I have insomnia or I am sleeping to much.. I can’t get out of bed..


I want people who know someone that is suffering with Chronic Depression.. to take time to ask them about their depression.. just like you would ask someone about cancer.. be just as concerned about them as you would any sick person.. Stop making us feel ashamed to say.. I’m suffering from chronic depression, anxiety, panic attacks, schizophrenia, paranoia and post traumatic stress disorder and many other mental illnesses.. help us to not be ashamed to get the help we need.. NO MORE LIVING IN SILENT.. Yes It’s Okay To Ask.. The question is it okay for me to tell you without judgement..

original me..


imageWell today was a good day.. I enjoyed spending it with family.. and the food was delicious.. but I couldn’t over indulge.. I guess because of the ACV .. I drink at least three times a day.. quick note don’t drink it straight.. not a good ideal at all..

The only thing I missing is the shopping.. I can’t do it anymore.. and believe me I loved it.. something about the atmosphere, the game face , adrenaline rush.. I loved the feeling..

So now my greatest joy besides being with family.. is listening to my mother scream for Dallas Cowboy.. like they can hear her.. and the occasional threat of getting put out if I don’t stop cheering for Washington.. I was a Dallas fan when I didn’t know any better.. I really wish I could use emojis.. but anyway I’m riding with Carolina but I got love for Seattle too..

It’s just now 7:00 and I feel like my bed is calling me.. I always wonder why old people went to bed so early.. but I honestly believe their bodies starts to just shut down on them.. I’m not old but I tell you the truth.. I could close my eyes right now..

Kohen wanted to spend the night but I told him grandma is hurting to bad.. that’s the problem with chronic pain.. even the best grandmas have to say no sometimes..

Well tonight as you close your eyes.. remember how blessed you are.. and how today you made it.. even if it was just for a few moments of being outside your comfort zone.. you did it..

original me

Black Superwoman Syndrome

Depression and the Black Superwoman Syndrome
Josie Pickens shares her personal bouts with suicidal thoughts, and how counseling and sharing burdens with others makes for stronger mental health

by Josie Pickens, April 15, 2014

After reading the news of For Brown Girls creator Karyn Washngton’s passing, I immediately went to tapping away on the keys of my laptop. The late 22-year-old’s story of dedicating much of her daily life to empowering Black women, and even the possibility that she ended her own life, felt eerily familiar and close to home.
The peculiar thing about doing the work to uplift others is, the world often forgets that the worker also needs uplifting, that the work becomes heavy, that frequently the work is being performed to soothe one’s own soul. And that when one lives even a small portion of her life publicly, that public too often expects perfection. The expectation is that s/he has conquered those challenges s/he advocates against, and that s/he is therefore the face of overcoming.
The reality is, however, that there’s sometimes no such thing as overcoming—not wholly, not forever. Overcoming is daily work, and we often fail miserably at it. Many days we are doing our best to survive, and some of those days we may not be 100% sure that surviving is what we truly even desire.
And we are dying…
Masking up as superwomen is killing us—whether we meet that death as a result of suicide or the stresses that lead to heart disease and other serious, life-threatening illnesses. According to Lottie Joiner’s recent post at The Root, stress accelerates the aging of Black female bodies, and Black women between the ages of 45 and 55 are “biologically 7.5 years older than White women” of the same age.

I don’t know Karyn’s personal story enough to comment on why she possibly chose to commit suicide. But I know for certain my own story. I’ve battled depression and anxiety much of my adult life, with some bouts making me feel like I was stuck in a cave-sized hole that I was unable to climb out of.

A most recent period of depression came as I was building a name for myself as a writer, particularly a writer who’d struggled through many of the difficulties Black women face and had come out on the other end. A bit bruised, but smiling. What my readers may not have known was that, upon moving back to my hometown due to some legal and child custody issues, I was struggling daily to get out of bed, to eat, to sleep, and to care for my daughter.
Honestly, there were days when I felt that breathing was an impossible task, and sometimes I wondered if things would be easier if I stopped.

How does one share her struggles with mental illness when she’s convinced the world that she is strong, when she has somehow become an example to others? I suffered silently, and the little I did share was met with the common responses we as Black women frequently hear from our families and friends. “You’re strong,” or “you’ve been through storms before,” or “you just have to pray and trust God.”

I honestly believe we’re so accustomed to delivering the strong Black woman speech to ourselves and everyone else that we lose our ability to connect to our humanness, and thus our frailty. We become afraid to admit that we are hurting and struggling, because we fear that we will be seen as weak. And we can’t be weak. We’ve spent our lives witnessing our mothers and their mothers be strong and sturdy, like rocks.

We want to be rocks.
Somehow realizing I wasn’t a rock (and that I had honestly never been one), I fought my way out of bed and onto my therapist’s couch. I became exhausted with carrying all of the masks and the capes. And I knew if I didn’t get help quickly, I wasn’t going to survive.
I’m grateful to still be here, but my struggles aren’t over. Recently, I’ve been contemplating how my life and the stresses I face are affecting my long-term health. As with many of us, I’m working to improve my diet and incorporate more exercise into my daily life, but the stresses of wearing the capes and masks are doing damage as well.

To battle against the challenges I face regarding both my physical and mental health, I’m taking the following actions:
Practice self-care. I’ve gotten into the habit of scheduling spa time, girl time, therapy, meditation and more in the same ways I schedule work meetings and my daughter’s field trips. We have to remember that we can’t be good mothers, partners, daughters or friends if we’re not good to ourselves first.

Share the load. Often we adopt the idea that it’s easier for us to do it all ourselves, but we have to remember the long term affects of that behavior. We need to begin asking for and accepting help, because we need and deserve it. Start with small tasks and work towards larger ones.

Seek professional help. I always say that if I had Oprah dough, I’d pass out therapy the way she passes out her favorite things. Your girlfriends, as well meaning and supportive as they are, have their own Superwoman capes to throw off, and they honestly don’t know the answers either. Seeing a mental health professional to confide in and ask direction from can mean the difference between life or death—for real, for real.

Josie Pickens is an educator, cultural critic and soldier of love. Follow her musings on Twitter @jonubian.

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The Dumpster

imageI use to always wanna go dumpster diving.. but I could never get my kids to do it with me.. I heard of all the good stuff you find in dumpster.. in rich neighborhoods and college students.. but for the last three years..

I feel like I have been dumpster diving.. I am at the bottom of the dumpster.. and instead of diving .. I am drowning in my own garbage.. I had allowed fear and doubt to be thrown in my dumpster.. I look around and I see depression at the very top.. along with pain and anxiety.. I turned around and I see despair and hopelessness.. I turned to the other side and I see loneliness and unrest.. I look down at my feet and I see something shiny..

I really see can’t it..  so I get down on my knees and I see prayer.. and I can reach it..

So I began to move stuff around.. and I see mercy and grace as they embrace the side I see salvation in His hand and I grab it.. and I continue to move stuff there is forgivenesses and I jump as it wraps itself around me.. I bump up against peace that transcends all understand.. and the more I’m moving stuff around the closer.. I get to the top..

I thought I was moving stuff around.. but stuff was moving in me.. everything I needed to overcome..  all the trash that had been dumped into my dumpster.. the closer I looked the more I could see Jesus.. was still here with me at my lowest.. right in the dumpster with me..

What’s in your dumpster? Don’t give up just start moving stuff around..

The Grab, Sista

imageI know I can’t kill him but there is apart of me that wants too.. apart of me that hates him as much as I love him.. apart that hates most of all what I have become.. he has started jerking my hair and grabbing my arms.. he pulled my hair so hard my my neck and the back of my head still hurts.. Sista gurl what am I to do is this the beginning of physical abuse.. I saw my momma go through a lot but one thing I never saw was a man put his hands on her.. and get away with it.. I remember when we were young and my step daddy would get drunk.. and the fighting would start.. until one day enough was enough and she put him out.. divorce him and raised her five kids on her own.. and I am my mothers daughter but damn what has happened to me..

Sista gurl, I hate him yet I can’t let go.. what the freak is wrong with me.. I know this not my life not the life I plan.. by my fifty birthday I was supposed to retire early with my husband.. and walk around the house naked.. until we had company.. but now Sista look at my life.. a husband who I left because I thought I missed out on my youth and I did.. but I learned the hard way you can never go back.. I should still be able to enjoy life but if it’s not physical pain, then it’s mental.. even on days that start out good like today.. always end up being just another bad dream.. I long to wake up from this nightmare.. I call my life..

I looked him dead in his face and said we are DONE.. he started to talk but I stopped him by saying there is nothing left to discuss.. because I knew if I let him talk.. the next time he would not just pull my hair are grab my arm while I’m driving.. but it would be not only my mom and step dad but me and my husband.. see I’m a custom to the fighting , abuse and everything that comes with it..

All I can do is pray for every batter woman and man out there.. and remember to take it one second at a time..

original me

Same Old, Same Old

imageI was devastated to say the least when I heard Trump won President of the United State of America.. I really don’t know how I feel because it’s like my insides are numb.. I can only pray that God will protect us His children..

Moving on these last two days have sucked.. I had a doctor appointment Tuesday.. I am so tired of trying to convince doctors that I’m hurting.. it like every doctor say the same thing it’s not surgical.. well that doesn’t make the pain ago away.. it’s still here getting worse.. all I want is some relief at night so I can sleep.. Oh did I tell you my sleeping pill works when it wants too.. sometimes it makes a fool of me night after night.. no sleep makes an already depressed Angy.. worse..

I don’t know what to do I don’t have money for therapy anymore.. but I am still seeing the one who handles my medication.. I know I need someone to talk too.. that’s why is important I blog as often as I can.. if I have learned nothing else .. I have learned that you have to be your own advocate.. and you have to keep going until you find someone with the right answer.. no matter what they tell you don’t give up on You.. I’m one of the bless ones my son helps me all he can.. or I would be homeless.. but I think about the ones who have nobody.. to help them, who have lost everything.. even there hope for a better tomorrow.. I want to tell you I know how you feel.. but Jesus said he would never leave us or forsake us ( Hebrews 13:5).. even when we feel like we are all alone He is with us..

I have no new words to say about the doctors except.. I am disappointed in them.. I only pray that my depression medicine hasn’t stopped working.. because I feel that it has fail me to.. maybe I just need a good night sleep.


imageI’m not psychic.. but when I am connected with someone of the opposite sex.. I can read their thoughts.. so much to the point that they (he) thinks I have been going through his phone.. which he has locked and I don’t know the code.. so since I’m not psychic.. I began looking up words like telepathy- extra-sensory perception).. I was looking for a word to try and communicate what I am talking about.. and the closest I could get is psychic- psychic powers, psychic ability, psionics these words are used to describe all so-called powers of the mind, including telepathy but also such powers as telekinesis, clairvoyance, aura-reading, precognition, extra-sensory preception (ESP) and whatever other abilities you want to write about..


When I think of psychic.. I think of witchcraft… I don’t think of it having anything to do with God.. and the Bible tell us to have nothing to do with such people.. “For rebellion is like the sin of divination, and arrogance like the evil idolatry. Because you have rejected the word of the Lord, He has rejected you as king.” (1 Samuel 23) “He sacrificed his sons in the fire in the Valley of Ben Hinn, practiced sorcery, divination, and witchcraft, and consulted mediums and spiritists. He did much evil in the eyes of the Lord, provoking him to anger.” (2 Chronicles 33:6) “Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these; Adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lascivious, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, orgies, and the like of. I warn you, as I did before that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God.” ( Galatians 5:19-21) 

This how I know I am not a psychic because of what the word of God tells me..So what I do have is Intuition- the ability to understand something immediately, without the need for conscious reasoning. (synonyms: hunch, feeling, (in ones bones) inkling (sneaking) suspicion, idea, sense, notion)So I did a lot of research just to find out that I have a Woman’s Intuition..


original me..