At work.

​I could feel the heat rising in my chest, to my face, if I was any lighter. the rose color would flush across my cheeks, exposing the vulnerability I felt in that moment.

I held back tears.

For far too long, my wheels have been spinning in my career. I know, my life looks glamorous to most, success has seemed continuous, and certainly I have made moves that some would envy. But, secretly I've stalled, in positions that ultimately, I do not love, and where my gifts have not fully flourished as I know they can. I've felt perpetual anxiety...how come they do not see me?

Again, I'd been passed up.

Friday night, I'm talking to my friend Jazmin Bailey. We both work grueling morning hours, a 3:00 am call time at our jobs in news, but we were set on attending an event to empower us both after shift. We made the trek about 40 minutes away to Disney for a Black Enterprise: Women of Power conference, and had a blast.

During our ride Jazmin shared with me God's dealing with her on obedience and trust, and his wanting to bless her. She kept bringing up the amount  $100 and how he showed it to her several different ways. Literally, mid sentence, a friend randomly cash apps me $100. I tell her, and we got a good faith laugh out of that. Meanwhile, deep down I'd been having my own struggles with trusting God and whether he would really provide financially, as well as other ways. I said a prayer for my friend, who I was more than gracious sent the money, and moved on.

Fast forward to later in the night, and after being up about 23 hours...on the way home, I fell asleep while driving, one block from my subdivision. It was sudden, and quite frankly, terrifying. 

I walked out of Black Panther feeling the power of the ancestors pulsating through my veins. It was a reminder of our resiliency, our greatness, our POWER.

However, I couldn't help but feel the pang of sadness, when the narratives got too close to my own reality, as a black woman, as an American. The feeling that we don't belong, and are not wanted. The longing for a home untouched by oppressors.

It happened when we first got into the car, my 8-year-old, still hyped from the film, asked in amazement, "is that place real?" And I didn't want to break her heart, because mine had already been broken a couple years prior.

I remember what it felt like to be on government assistance, walking in bleak offices with raggedy chairs. The faces staring up at me, sometimes from behind plex-glass, weren't always friendly.

"Next," a woman would yell from behind the glass. I had a name, but did it really matter? Just another black girl using the system. Those workers always looked tired, their attitude reflected that. Conversations short. They wanted my info. They wanted to be done.

Honestly, I have an amazingly smart, responsible daughter.

This week I have been deathly tired, I mean TIRED, on top of that I've had a daily headache, and feel like that eclipse might have screwed with me. Anyone else?

Anyway, my 8-year-old came home Wednesday, cleaned up her room, did her homework without my telling her. I left Abram asleep on the couch and went to my room for a bit, next thing I know, she's walked him up the stairs, put him in the bed, closed the garage, turned off all the lights, plus brought me Advil and a drink (at my request). She'll also run Abram's bathwater, no problem, and is just great overall help. And this isn't a one day thing, she's consistently this way.

I could not have asked for a more mature, kind child. She just has a big heart and has made my transitioning to being alone with them so much easier.

​Divorce is hard. Yes, I am divorcing. Yes, I am happy, at peace, content. Yes, I put in a long 12 year, good fight. No, there is no chance at reconciliation.

Back to my point. Divorce is hard, but even moreso for the children.They don't deserve that type of burden. Yesterday, I spent my GOLDEN birthday alone. I was not particularly sad about this. The kids are visiting family for the summer. I have sincerely enjoyed my time, spent on me.

And before I knew it, time slipped away...

If I had a dollar for every time someone lovingly stared down at my first little bundle and whispered, "enjoy it, time goes by fast," it still wouldn't have been nearly enough to capture this feeling.

It's something you comprehend intellectually, but it doesn't hit the heart until you run across that tiny pair of pants that no longer fit, or the "I love you mommy" handprints you'll get a dozen times in preschool. You miss it because each milestone, the first words, first steps, the first day of kindergarten brings this immense pride and excitement for what's next. You live for those new developments with your first child, especially, until you look up and they're no longer babies anymore. Where did the time go?

Moment of vulnerability...I didn't slow down enough to savor the moments with Samara. I'd become so intent on proving that I was a woman who could conquer societal expectations of wife, mom, and career woman that life became a series of check-marks, hell bent on proving my worth and ability to thrive, rather than living in the moments in between. It's those experiences, not accomplishments, I'm learning, that create the fullness of life we all seek.

It's also what I wanted to impart in my daughter as she celebrated her 8th birthday, to create and fully enjoy experiences. She can always get stuff, she can always buy gifts...but that is fleeting, she will remember and look back on a life that she intentionally created with joy.

In turn, we had a blast this past weekend. ​

Exploring and lounging in an amazing five star resort, with a cool view of the Atrium from our balcony, complete with Koi fish and alligators inside. Outside was a  huge waterpark, Sam splashed and played her heart out with friends. We enjoyed the sights and sounds of the brand new Planet Hollywood restaurant, eating under a massive 3D screen with all sorts of neon lights. And we laughed, hysterically, and danced at Blue Man Group, the girls were so happy and carefree.

(Might I add, we did all of this on a budget, happiness does not mean breaking your bank account.)

It's what I owe to her, for being so resilient. For making this parenting "practice run" a completely fulfilling and amazing life. Samara is a kind, brilliant, loving soul. She deserves all the best the world has to offer. I hope to give her a sliver of it.

Happy 8th Birthday Samara!!!