values
Speak Up
Things start getting real when you start setting boundaries and owning your truth. However, you lose everyone who is not for your highest good. Now that's a hard lesson to learn because the people you thought were supposed to be in your life the people who said they loved you or they got you, hid or left you alone to drown in your pain unbeknownst to them because you hold everything inside until you finally can't take it anymore, then you explode....learning how to react differently than what you normally do is a challenge and you must stay calm to pass that test.
By Annetta Brown2 years ago in Families
A Journey of Promise
In the heart of a bustling city, amidst towering skyscrapers and bustling streets, lived a man named Ahmad. He was a migrant, a dreamer who had left his quaint village nestled in the lush greenery of the countryside to seek a better life in the city. Yet, despite the allure of urban prosperity, Ahmad's heart remained tethered to his roots, to the humble abode where his aging parents resided.
By Tri Ferianto Hersusoko2 years ago in Families
The Canine Companion
In the quaint village of Highbury, where the cobblestone streets wind between picturesque cottages and the scent of freshly baked bread lingers in the air, there resided a loyal dog named Rufus. He was a handsome creature, with a coat as golden as the sun and eyes that sparkled with boundless devotion. Rufus had been the faithful companion of young Master Thomas since he was but a pup, and their bond was as strong as steel.
By Joshua Davis2 years ago in Families
Why This Christian Isn’t Raising Her Children In A Church.. Content Warning.
I live in the Bible Belt, in the beautiful state of Tennessee. My state is famous for several things: The Vols, Memphis and Elvis, Rocky Top, Dolly Parton, Trees and Jesus. I love my state, and for the most part, I love my community.
By Hope Martin2 years ago in Families
Echoes of Valor: The Untold Stories of Forgotten Heroes
In the dimly lit corridors of history, where the echoes of the past fade into obscurity, lie the forgotten heroes whose deeds remain unsung. Among them, a tapestry of untold stories awaits to be unraveled, revealing the resilience and courage of those who dared to defy the odds and carve their mark upon the annals of time.
By Fathoni Rochman Subagio2 years ago in Families
Harmony in Healing
The crisp autumn air carried a sense of nostalgia as Emma strolled through the park, the fallen leaves crunching beneath her weary feet. She clutched a faded photograph, a snapshot frozen in time that told a tale of laughter and vitality. But the woman in the picture seemed like a distant echo, a melody fading into the background of a symphony that once resonated with life.
By Kepler Oates2 years ago in Families
Sad Songs. Content Warning.
I knew who Roberta Flack was at a very early age; God knows I heard every song she sang. I love her still, yet undoubtedly she reminds me of him. Daddy sat with his record player on the floor, his legs crossed in what some called, "Indian style" which by the way is not correct to say now. I don't know any other word to describe it though. He would smoke Marlboros, drink cheap beer or dark wine and cry. Daddy cried a lot. I did not know why way back then. As a broken woman now, well, I guess he had good reason. Nothing soothes the soul more than music. We remember who we are, where we were, why we smiled, all because of music. Late at night I miss him despite his need to keep moving, not only place to place but woman to woman. I was his only until I wasn't. My Momma loved him even when he was cheating, threatened with statutory rape by an underage girl's parents and that left us broke, Momma scarred and lost in his wake. Momma took up more than one job and he didn't help us one bit. He told everybody he did help us though. He was always so charming, as smooth as chenille, and oh so handsome just like a movie star. His lies were so believable it made anyone who contradicted him look bad, let's just say, he had a hold on people; good people who believed in him sometimes questioned other good people who were also up against a wall with their truths, their own 'believe it or not stories', that were entwined with his lies. There were so many others than me with their own broken up dreams, their need to feel safe, to be heard. I was part of his tribe until I began to remember and as always girls like me are just considered delusional. I have half sisters and brothers, too. None of them really want to know my story 'cause it messes up theirs. I remember his fourth wife coming to live with us. She did not want a daughter older than she, I mean who would? She believed in him after I had given up a million times and damn, she was cold. It was clear there would be no place for me in my nostalgic, narcissistic, father's life once she set foot in the door. Where should I be, where should I go? She not only wanted me out from my father's home, but just gone, like in disappear. It was a slow burning fire and I was not about to see my, at that time, only baby sister be distanced from me. Suddenly, at least to me, this wife became the accessible one, the reliable one, the Alpha. Losing my baby sister's faith in me when I had taken care of her alone, when he was drunk and falling all over the place felt like a wasp sting in the heart, hell, a whole hive of wasps stinging me to near death. To watch him manipulate and groom this new woman younger than myself was, and still is, an unnerving experience. I know deep down my sister loves me, yet she became the good one and nobody saw the good in me anymore. So, back to my father's love of a good time I remember us flying down the highway in a convertible and blue grass music was blasting; I hated the wind so I was scrunched down into the backseat floorboard. He had a girlfriend I liked a lot who had a dachshund named Lucy. Anyway, in that little space between two leather bucket seats I saw my daddy's hand slip over to his girlfriend's legs, then he moved it up to the top of her pants and wedged it down the front. What the heck was he doing? He then started talking about cotton, rubbing her and saying how he missed her little cotton. I was frozen. It did not come to my mind until I was a young teen; after babysitting somebody from church's kids the father drove me home. He smelled like booze and at a side road he slowed the car down, he put his nasty hand on my thigh and leaned in to kiss me. I knew right then to push him away as no way he was going to try to touch my cotton. He said something about he had the wrong impression. I was fourteen, what impression did I give him? When I got home and went inside, just like always I said nothing. The wife of this man would call and ask me to babysit and I'd say no and Momma didn't understand; I was so afraid to tell her. What is wrong with me? I ask myself this a whole lot lately. My little me pushes through and wants grown up me to deal with my creepy past; I wish my memories could be stolen. I'd do anything to sleep through the night and not remember no more.
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)2 years ago in Families
Love Has Become Rational
Deep down we all want to feel loved regularly. We forget that even the love from our parents at times was not felt every moment of every day. We seek to feel understood, valued and wanted. We want to believe it is possible to create a family of our own that is better than the one we were born with.
By Relentless Kindness Lila2 years ago in Families
