back where we came from

Hello Friend,

Transparency, Trauma, Abuse, all the things I avoided bringing here. I was told to be mindful of what I write. And calm down. Definitely told to calm down. Let’s get into this so I can finally put this to rest.

I don’t wish to add a trigger warning (TW) prior to sharing my story. That alone gives me anxiety. I have anxiety using that term because this is my life. The things that happened aren’t aligned with my destiny, but they still exist deep in my body.

I truly thought this would be a tribute to someone, but they ghosted me. Called them, left messages, no answer. I was contacted today by someone I thought was a solider, but they’re not. I’m over people attempting to spread lies about me. I was finally diagnosed with PTSD in July 2026. Yay, I have the same diagnosis as my father, mother and my entire family. I knew that. My PTSD doesn’t stem from my dad’s death alone. It’s those partners. The ones that behave like feral cats in heat. Before I went to the hospital that is the true hood of all hospitals, RUMC let’s be fr, some of my exes suddenly came forward to apologize after 20+ years. Very interesting. So they both got turnt up like the old days, only I didn’t invite them into my life. Someone I thought I was close with did. One stepped up on the bad romance tip. Girl. Girrrrrrl.

So, just in case they didn’t get the memo after their frat boy days-yelling, screaming, threatening or abusing someone is the sign of a person that needs a psychiatric level of evaluation or even higher. Inpatient? Not necessarily. Psychopath? Yes, inpatient all day.

Working through releasing trauma(s) requires way more than talk therapy can even touch. Talk therapy in a trauma client is a big no-no, that causes re-triggering. Re-triggering (for me) felt like the loneliest, most painful place in the world. Fear takes over, stress hormones are released (fight or flight response) and personally, my heart rate hit up to 170-200bpm. I sat in my room alone, scared of the world. I cried for months scared that I wouldn’t live to see tomorrow. Most of those feelings came in June this year, when life felt completely out of control. The ex-partner that became what my mother described as “Mighty Mouse” is always here to save the day. He’s an opportunist, at best. Another ex-partner made an appearance suddenly. Then another one. One hundred flowers or apologies mean nothing to the person that ends up on the end of their trauma induced rages. I’m unable to dive deeply, just grieving and over every single one of the people involved in this matter. Sorry without accountability isn’t my thing anymore.

Sitting in counseling with the person that abused you will truly unravel your mental health. Fact check me, I’m so tired I’m unable to do research, my apologies.

A liar often tells a more exciting story than someone quietly carrying the actual truth.

If you’re confused, I am too. All I can say is I got the block spun on me because the crazy people always get away. That’s all. Men, women, bullies. I see bullies that the NYPD sees too. I have several ex-partners. If they want to knuck, they will get aired out. Publicly. With that in mind hopefully they’ll stop. No identities will be revealed. I don’t snitch on people. Snakes are another story. I already shared that I am not about that Eve life. Adam was, a naked snitch. There’s no bro code, btw, but that’s another story for another day.

Being referred to a liar or crazy was certainly not on my Bingo card this year.

This conversation isn’t a comfortable one, but a necessary one. It’s 10:51 PM. I had this slated for this morning. Today is the first day of a month-long celebration of my mother. I would hope people close to me would realize this isn’t a good time of year for me, but they don’t. As of today, I don’t care. I’m tired of my traumas being used to attack me. Where they do that at? Everywhere, to be honest. A PhD level professional started it. That’s that.

Many, many, many people have asked me how I’m surviving right now. I wish I had some eloquent answer, but I’m used to it. “It” is being disrespected for nothing more than being a 49-year-old baddie. If you think I’m joking, I have texts I can share saying I think I’m better than everyone, huh? I look like Chewbacca, friend. This isn’t a flex at all.

Next up. My ACEs (Adverse Childhood Experienced) score is 6. If a link is blue, you know what to do lol. Click it, please. I’m unable to be the sharer of everything. I am a black woman. Multiracial because my family enjoys visiting other places and literally sowing their seeds. I am the descendant of a colonizer, my family has/had black Republicans in it. I don’t get turnt up about political affiliations. Not when Donnie went so hard with his campaign all over social media. What my lineage did or didn’t do really isn’t anyone’s business. I have no social media because the Boomer’s like to act up at 3:00 AM. I am awake sometimes at that hour. People also liked to stalk me. I’m not that cute y’all, I’m sorry.

I’m an RN and a doula. 7-11 is that girl to me. I’m wearing a Cleo Sol oversized t-shirt, drinking a 2L bottle of Sprite straight out of the bottle. I lost some of my plant babies. In the plant community, it is known that depression can show up in your plants. I’m not sure how many I lost. I’m devastated by that alone.

NYPD was certainly flirting with me, well one officer did. He was about that life, but he eats red velvet cookies. I eat chocolate chip. He thinks it’s ok to eat all the cookies in 7-11. It’s not. Unfortunately, Staten Island’s police officers are fine as hell. I’ve seen said officer three times since, drove right by me, thank you baby JESUS. I’ll leave that there. Y’all pray for me, it’s rough out here. He likes my bamboo earrings, too. Ok, that’s enough. Call me? Just kidding guys. Girrrrrrl. Auntie, where?

Becoming a doula really showed me a different version of myself. I found out I was a pre-eclampsia survivor a few years ago. Survivor? What in the hell is that? Suddenly I’m hearing that we (black women) have an increased risk for nearly everything. TikTok even knows that. Tearing down Cassie over P. Diddy, Diddy, Prison Dude, whomever this man is today—the switching of Sean Combs names isn’t highlighted. Just for Men even tapped out. Cassie was dragged by online bullies while she was leaning into her beautiful family. This isn’t Diddy’s world. This is Cassie’s World. I said what I said. Gentlewomen only. Thank you. Tell him to take that, take that.

I figured if I dumped out all my secrets, I wouldn’t have to worry about people using them against me. Doulas are disrespected on the daily. We cry to each other, so we don’t bring our pain forward to the masses. Abuse is not uncommon here. Being brought into the OR isn’t some special event when they’re 50-11 people already in there, but we get barked on. Oh no ma’am/sir/it. Our families mean the world to us. They actually ghost us, no I’m serious this isn’t an urban legend, they ghost us like we cease to exist to them. Most times, without a simple “thank you”. It’s not ok. It they think it’s, ok? That’s ok, we don’t.

Whomever wishes to argue that point down can go argue with their mama. We, the collective of doulas that actually work, have no time for the copy and paste business methods, nor do we wish to argue with anyone. Women are too aggressive for me at this point. I was called a little boy by one. I have your little tomboy right here. Victory Lap is my song, I can take Fat Joe, Jadakiss or Yung Mami’s verse. please hold my Stanley cup if that song comes on. NYK LFG!!!!! This group can curse something awful, unfortunately I’ve been about that life. My mother caught me and I’m still doing it. That’s all y’all.

Alexa, please tell them that these DJ sessions (by me) are rated E for Everyone. The song I posted on 7/5/26, Bohemian Rhapsody, wasn’t a coincidence. I didn’t anticipate that being my segway into retirement. I didn’t think that someone would read about my experience at Bellevue Hospital (In a previous blog-Are You There God, It’s Me AJ) and try to make my worst fear my currently reality.

But it was and it’s ok. Everything will be ok. It always is in the long run.

Fat Joe - Victory Lap (HIM) ft. Yung Miami x Jadakiss

*Clears throat in Yung Mami, since you want to know.

You the main character, you in 1st place
And you caked up, your (absolutely not) thirsty
Got my opps down bad in the worst way

Slim Fat Joe

Uh
I'm HIM, I said it, yeah, I'm HIM
Walk in like Fat Joe, but I'm slim
Who's HIM?
He can never be that, he not trim…

Please head over to YouTube to listen to the legends remind people who the KNICKS are. And who they are. NYPD, Mary J Blige, Jadakiss, the people twerking on NYPD had me screaming laughing. I missed the Knicks parade for a court hearing. We’ll be right back next year. Talking junk in cursive.

My final attempt at being a DJ for free lol. I shared a verse about the boys out there. As an equal opportunity type human, the girls can catch the ball this round. It’s in their court, not ours.

The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill taught us.

Lauryn Hill - Doo Wop (That Thing) was our song. I love how Lauryn healed her pain through her music.

I attended the Million-Woman March in Philly that Lauryn Hill mentioned in the song. I found the t-shirt of my dreams there. I quickly threw my shirt off to wear my new one. I bought a t-shirt with the image of a cocoa-colored pregnant mama? That had to be mine. The march took place on October 25, 1997. I had the time of my life with my women. On November 21, 1997, I conceived my first child thinking that being freak of the week wasn’t going to land me into pregnancy. EPT determined that was a lie. But this song came out in August 1998. Trust me I was dancing my pregnant self in front of the mirror rubbing my belly. Yup, pre-eclampsia and all. In my 95-pound weight gain glory. I was told not to dance while pregnant. Imagine that.

I won’t share the lyrics here because I’m not trying to get in trouble with copyrighting. As per my last email, please refer to the first verse of Lauryn Hill - Doo Wop (That Thing). Women aren’t innocent either, but we shouldn’t be competitors. If we are, we aren’t in alignment anymore. These bully corporate energy types can get gone. Corruption isn’t a legacy, it’s what will end anyone’s career in a system wrought with health disparities.

The End

PS: Typos? It’s my mommy’s first day of celebration. We don’t care. Stay safe everyone, you are loved. I’m sorry if anyone ever made you feel worthless. You are valued more than you could ever imagine. And it hurts. Grief hurts and I’m sorry this world breaks our hearts so easily. We’ll be ok. We don’t stay. We never stay. Embody the essence of a gentlewoman. These Timbs hurt my feet anyway.