Dear Crush,

I struggle between letting my innermost thoughts and feelings be known for fear of misunderstanding. At least, thats my normal routine. I dont feel like I need to guard them so closely with you. Honestly, I dont want to guard them from you. I called you family and that is what you were all along. Not being too familiar with each other until recently we didnt get to feel like that but now I do. I am grateful for you too. Especially right now because I am in a vulnerable state of healing and heartbreak. I got a few vultures circling around me. I know they are opportunistic and see me struggling and seemingly alone. They are pretending to have a genuine desire to be a friend, but I know better. I dont mean to sound bad but it seems all anyone wants is to take from me. Im over giving away pieces of myself hoping someone catches feelings and decides to do something different. I said all that to say that I remember what you said about being a friend and a comfort to me in a way that no one else could. I dont see any hidden agendas between us. I know that you have an agenda. I would describe it to be an exploration into all of who and what I am in every aspect and tangible way possible. Possibly, if you can imagine even more than that! I feel like were in sync and everything is fine.

Doing all this writing is akin to having someone coming into the darkest room of my spirit and throwing open the shades! What I am really enjoying is that someone is me! Typing that and knowing that you are the one reading it strikes me there is no need to explain! You know exactly what I mean. Theres been plenty of times when I have had folks smile and nod pretending to follow what I was saying and along the way I saw they were clueless about me.

An enigma you said. What makes me baffling? It certainly seems to be like that. Then again, I havent said a lot in the past to people.

Im working hard at typing this letter in a way that appeals to your imagination. I think about you holding the unfolded pages in your hand. You, hearing my voice speaking, the pitch rising and falling at the same time that your eyes dance with the rhythm of the words across the page. Im laughing a little to myself cause with all my studying while I am deliberately putting words together in a way to move you the picture flashes in my mind of electrical impulses shooting from the back of your eyes and along your optic nerve (the second cranial nerve connected to your spinal cord) into the space of your nervous system!! Lol! Nerdy girl

Anyway, I was attempting to make a confession! I feel like I know you and yet, we dont have any shared physical experiences. I recognize that energy that seems to rise up in my chest when I interact with you. I recall having the surges at other times before I knew you. Somehow its different this time. The idea of me being wrong about my interpretation enters in, but I am beyond the point of no return and I dont care. You excite me and I dont want to ignore it. I want to take that energy and harness it. I can and do use it to express myself online. I use it to write my blog. I use it to write poetry. I use it to study human physiology. I use it to create playlists when Im noticing the lyric to a song I like suddenly has a new meaning. I use it to keep from crying when I think about losing my mom. I use it to keep me company when Im feeling lonesome. I use it to keep from seeking out comfort in anothers arms. I use it to touch myself in the middle of the night when Im tired and restless. Did I just make my confession? This is as good a place to stop! TTYL

Would you wanna know?

Dear friend,

I am writing this letter to get this weight off my chest. My knees are buckling underneath the pressure. I can feel palpitations in my heart. Out of nowhere I get shortness of breath!

Each day I notice at the oddest of times I get these pangs in my side.

I been thinking about how there seems no rhyme or reason to it!

Do you know? What could it be? Am I dying? I gotta figure out the source or the problem cause this cannot go on!

Once I set out to examine the facts and I spotted the pattern. I knew I had to find a cure.Can you see it on me?

I gotta shrink myself (continues)

img_4600-1DrFeelGood: “When last week we concluded there were a couple of points that I believe we should revisit.”

Me: “Ok doc! Those points are what exactly?”

(DrFeelGood looks over his notes, and reads aloud softly to himself)

“Let’s see, Daddy issues and homework.Ok let’s start there!”

Me: “Where? The issues?”

Dr: “Sure! What do you consider to be ‘Daddy Issues’?”

Me: “Well you know that it means?”

DrFeelGood cuts me off and says.

DrFeelGood: “I am aware of how it is defined. I am more concerned with your thoughts.”

Me: “I lost my daddy suddenly, when I was 14 years old. I was daddy’s girl! He gave me everything I wanted, and even protected me from my mom when she wanted to discipline me!”

This practice of keeping my momma from snatching my ass when I needed it, I don’t think was the best idea. Momma and I are still 34 years after his death, sparring with each other! She’s long been trying to prove to me that she is the boss.

Me: “I feel like I have been on this search for him my entire adulthood.”

DrFeelGood: “What do you mean? How have you been searching for him?”

Me: “I mean I look for the man in my life to treat me that well. I’m a hardworking woman. I deserve it!”

DrFeelGood: “This is good! So, you seek out men who will spoil you and not expect you to be accountable?”

Me: “Yeah! Wait…what?

Me: “Doc! That’s not what I said!”

DrFeelGood: “Isn’t it? I got it right here in my notes! Daddy gave me everything I wanted. Wouldn’t let momma whoop that behind even when you needed it!”

Me: “That is not the same thing!”

DrFeelGood: “Honestly Salt, I am trying to see how it’s different, but I don’t!” What did your father recoup from spoiling you?”

Me: “Daddy got the undying love and adoration of his baby girl!”

DrFeelGood:”As well he should, and that is all a father wants from his children. To be admired for duties fulfilled as a father.”

DrFeelGood: “How does that relationship translate into a marriage of two peers?”

Me: “What do you mean Doc? I’m not sure I understand.”

DrFeelGood: “Your relationship with your father is an important part of your life. It’s key to defining roles as well as developing healthy relationships.”

Me:”Yes! Daddy was the first man in my life. My first love and my man should love me like that!”

DrFeelGood sighs and shakes his head, before saying, “I believe this a great place to start! A man and wife relationship cannot operate in the same way as father and daughter. The only real similarity is the opposite genders involved.”

Me: “Are you saying that I don’t deserve to be spoiled?”

DrFeelGood: “Not what I’m saying.”

Me: “What is it that you mean?”

DrFeelGood: “Not my job really.”


DrFeelGood:”Teach a man to fish. Salt you must fish!”

Me:”Uh yeah. So my dad spoiled me. My husband shouldn’t?”

DrFeelGood:”Should your husband spoil you?”

Me:”I had a husband that did try and spoil me like my daddy. I resented him for trying to buy my affections.

Daddy was good to me. Really good, but he loved me selfishly. I mean maybe he didn’t know, or couldn’t consider that tough love was also necessary. It was a disservice to me to keep me from suffering the consequences of my behavior when needed. It taught me to give little consideration to others. In my dating relationships I operated on a mildly narcissistic level. Mine was the only viewpoint that I considered. It would always puzzle me, once things began to fall apart, why I couldn’t ever seem to stay in a loving partnership.

You make me feel normal


I hated this picture! For the longest time this picture of me, and a few of my cousins was hard  to see . I love each person in this photo, as well as their siblings, parents and children. No hostility towards any of them. It was me that I suffered to witness. I know the pain that I was underneath at that time. You can see by the second chin around my neck that I was using food for more than sustenance.

I was so heartbroken then. I was on the verge of losing everything that I went to Portland to accomplish for myself, and my children. The storm a category 4 Katrina did come and destroy it all. It caused collateral damage to some of us to the point that it is perhaps, easier to just stay away from the memories, and the people linked to them.

So I’m not ready to detail the Katrina storm of my life, but I know the day is coming. That will be an unveiling of a great and terrible gift to offer on the altar of my hard earned wisdom.

Back to today, and my sweet and beautiful cousin Michelle. This morning my daddy’s sister’s daughter gave me the most incredible gift. Her offering had the aroma of a sweet fully bloomed dozen of  roses, and was equally aesthetically pleasing to my eyes. Her endowment was heart warming to the touch. My spirit breathed in the life that she spoke into the atmosphere around her. I told her of the enigmatic aura I see that surrounds her. She wore it like a robe. I could only label it as calmness. Now I understand. I see now the benevolence that you carry. It is agape love.

It is not until you begin to listen to yourself, and listen to that voice inside that begs to be heard, that you learn about true love. It begins within. I am learning to love and accept myself. In my healing process I offer up cries of relief as I dress my wounds in front of the world. I am beginning to notice why it needed to be done this way. I am humbled by the idea that my blog might help someone else. I am writing to find love for myself. I tried finding it in others, especially men only to find that reciprocity is the only way. I must be able to give it, and only then will I receive it. So I am forgiving myself for not knowing any better then, and searching inside for the love I have wanted for so long. It is a process that I want to hurry through, but can’t get it to go any faster! When it feels good, it is like a balm soothing my wounded soul. When it hurts, and that is most of the time it seems, even the pain somehow relieves me. It feels like healing and growth. Beyond the pain I will have a stronger muscle to work! Continue reading “You make me feel normal”

Cyber crush

I can’t help but laugh at myself when I grin the cheesiest grin cause I see your icon come across my screen. In cyberspace the language is its own. Likes are like hello waves. Shares are like a whats up nod! In that space we show up in digital media expressing a comical quote or #wordsofwisdom for the day.

In my feed I see the regulars doing regular stuff on a regular day. Then you come through and suddenly the regular fades away to make way for extraordinary to burst onto the screen I got it bad for you and I don’t doubt it that you know! You charmed me out of the main feed and pulled me into the dms. Got my inbox so open I may drown should a nice rain come through! I’m open to downloading what you got for me! Bring it on daddy! Post your best meme. Share your most precious thoughts. Click the link in my bio and connect my frame to yours. Let’s be friends and if you follow me I will certainly follow you back to where you keep the best shit. That elevator to the stratosphere type shit! You got me tagged in the heart and it’s tugging at my timeline.

Cultural appropriation (The N-word)

I haven’t ever been one to get offended easily. I’m not confrontational. I have probably quoted Michael Jackson a million times saying,”I’m a lover not a fighter.” It’s not because of anything that I can think of except that it’s not in my character.

We can’t all be liked. For one reason or another you will unwittingly rub someone else the wrong way. I’m in a season of my life where I’m looking at how and why people do and say the things that they do. Most of the time we practice learned behaviors. Our parents did it, and we follow suit. Hopefully, that includes being hardworking and productive citizens, and not the alternative.

I was raised in a two parent household. I have an older brother and we grew up watching our parents go to work everyday and come home and care for us. My dad drank one or two beers after work during the week every evening before dinner. On the weekend he would graduate to corn whiskey. My mom would drink Pepsi, and on special occasions she’d have a virgin pi簽a colada. I figured we were a normal family and without looking at the skin color, we were for all intents and purposes normal.

My dad left his parents home in Texas at 14 and my grandmother found him again, in California, when he was 33 years old. He was her first born and I’m guessing her favorite, because she moved from Texas to California to live in a house 3 doors down from us, and lived out the entirety of her life here. Madea (the name we called her) brought her younger kids with her, and I was raised amongst my fathers family.

Being a mixed child my hair wasn’t the same as my cousins. They got their hair braided in frenchbraids during the summer so they could go swimming. Coarser hair is harder to manage with swimming and braids help to keep from having to wash and comb it every time they went swimming. I didn’t like braids! I had what we called a “tender head”. Braids didn’t stop hurting once they finished braiding. I could feel the tightness and pulling for days afterwards! No thanks!

My cousins didn’t use sunblock. They didn’t think they could get sunburned after swimming all day. I would be guaranteed a nice hue of red resembling a lobster if I did not put on sunscreen!

Little variances like these pointed to the difference in my skin tone and theirs, but I was still a black girl. My momma said,”Your Daddy is black man and that means you are black.” Nothing in the culture that I adopted was any different than my black family. Nothing I did was ever pointed out as inappropriate because my behavior was culturally appropriate. I am a black girl. I had my hair in corn rows at times. I wore dashikis during black history month. I cried the first time I watched Alex Haley’s “The Roots.” I participated in the black history parade, as a dancer in a drill team. I always have been a black girl.

In high school I was introduced to a wider range of ethnicities, and I discovered a new element of people. Now I’m old, so high school was in the late 80’s. It was when scientists were only beginning to learn about HIV and AIDS. Homosexuality was still something that you didn’t openly talk about, and with gay men dropping like flies, they kept their sexual preference secret. The same can be said about interracial dating. Especially, white girls with black boys. It went on more so behind closed doors then in public. Although I was a product of such, it was still a surprise to see another couple like my parents. When you did see it you didn’t see cornrows in the white girls hair. You certainly didn’t hear her casually using the n-word like it was not a racial slur at all, but an ordinary adjective like bum or hood. White girl stayed in her cultural lane. She had stepped out enough just displaying her acceptance of dating outside her race.

I must state right here that I emphatically disagree with using the word “race” to define ethnicity! We are ONE race, and that is the HUMAN race. Culture, melanin and hair texture among other less obvious elements present to us differences between us, but these differences do not by any means makes us any less the same human beings in every way. We are the same biologically speaking. However, I see a rising up of cultural appropriation that troubles my spirit.

The use of corn rows in the hair of a non black person. That’s strange to me, because my cousins wanted the braids to keep from having to damage their hair. Swimming would necessitate washing their hair. Black hair is dry and stripping the moisture with soap would dry it out even more. Coarse and tightly curled hair is harder to comb through so, pressing and curling the hair made it easier to manage ,but the heat would also cause damage. So braids alleviated the need, at least for a week or two. It wasn’t out of style but necessity. But it’s cool I can see and understand the appeal of the braids. I get it.

I can even understand adopting the slang, and hip hop cause it’s dope! Hip hop culture is a great way of expressing what is on your mind. Poetry, beats and dancing is akin to the drums, and rituals still played in mother Africa.

Something that I cannot understand is the use of the n-word by non black women who date black men. Now don’t misunderstand me when I say that, because I don’t believe that word should be used by anyone. The original intent of it was to belittle and demean the slave into believing that he was less than the slavemaster. I have learned to live with hearing young black people use it, because it is a good point that I have argued that falls on deaf ears. They say they use it to take its power away. That’s a lie they perpetuate, because it is still offensive to them if someone not black calls them by it.

The use of this derogatory word by the very people it was created to harm has created a cultural appropriation that I vehemently oppose! No one should be tossing that word around. Especially not black people! I must bite my tongue when they do because I don’t want to waste my pearls on swine. But to these non black women who seek out black men to date I just need to say this, fuccing black men don’t make you black! It’s not ok to open your mouth and degrade the men that you claim to love! You look and sound stupid!

You’re giving your body to a man, who is a member of a culture and ethnicity that the n-word was used to degrade their own self-worth! You show blatant disrespect for him when you use it! Stop the madness! Read a book about slavery and the truth of the history of that word! You love the black man so much to lay down with him. Try educating yourself and stand up for him.



Grace and Frankie

Watching Grace and Frankie! They’re both stuck on the floor due to their backs giving out. Their racing to the phone as fast as they can sliding on their backs. Frankie says,”Listen to your limits!” My mind immediately disagrees with that sentiment!

I gotta shrink myself!

My life is crazy! I am a 48 year old divorcee mother of 3 adult children. I’m currently attending college in pursuit of a nursing degree. My son and I live with my 81 year old mother who is disabled and very sick. My current occupation is titled “Direct Support Person or professional” (one or maybe both of those) and my duties are cleaning, cooking and caring for 5 developmentally disabled adult men. My weekdays start at 4:30 am and most days I’m dragging my ass to get out of bed!

The man that I am divorcing, (does a comma go there ) I only married to try and save my house from foreclosure. He failed miserably at being what I wanted in a husband. Although, his biggest failure was not his fault. He could only be himself, and I just couldn’t create a passion inside myself for him. I tried. I failed. The heart is a dumbass! 仄賤儭

I used to think that we could choose who we love. I have seen lots of posts online describing how love is a choice. One post said love is commitment. Sticking in there and putting in the effort and making it work. That last one made me wonder what is wrong with me? How could I be a grown ass woman and not know what love is? I thought maybe I need a shrink. That’s a great idea but how do I pay for a shrink? Ha! $12 an hour 4 hours a day 5 days a week equals, I gotta shrink myself!

How would a session begin? What would a shrink ask me in order to get to the heart of the matter?

Dr. FeelGood: It’s good to meet you today! So tell me, what brings you here?

Me: I don’t know what is going on with me. One day I am dancing around and singing with the music on my radio. The next day it takes every ounce of gumption in me just to make it through my day!

Dr: Hmm, that’s interesting. What seems to be the problem from your viewpoint?

Me: Umm I don’t have a clue! You’re the professional!! You tell me. “WTH?” I say to myself,”If I had the answers I wouldn’t be here talking to you!”

Dr. Feelgood clears his throat. “Alright no need to get anxious! Let’s try something else. Tell me about your childhood.”


Dr: “Take your time and give me something.”

Me:”I have Daddy issues that much is clear!”

The Urban dictionary defines Daddy issues as -“What a girl has when she is rejected by her father. Often results in her having trouble finding a significant other and trusting people.”

My daddy didn’t reject me. It was quite the opposite but he died suddenly when I was only 14 years old.

Me: My childhood was the greatest beginning to a life of confusion. It’s been a rough road. If I was to pick a song that sang the soundtrack I would choose Controversy by Prince. “I just can’t believe all the things people say. Am I black or white? Am I straight or gay?” I’ve always been straight. Well there was that one time when I was digging my coworker Audrey. I was too afraid to say anything about it, so nothing ever happened.

I am a mixed chick. Black and white like the Dewars sundae. Growing up it affected me because I wanted to be like everyone else. I was far from ordinary. I grew up surrounded by my dads (black) family in a black neighborhood. In elementary school the boys hit and chased me and the girls pulled my hair when they weren’t ignoring me.

Dr: “So from childhood you experienced abandonment from your father.”

Negative attention from female peers and sometimes violent adoration from male peers can mess with a little girls head. Unfortunately, young boys are not equipped to deal with being attracted to the opposite sex! It left me feeling that something was wrong with me. I was not just ugly. I was a freak of nature!

Dr:”Your homework until next time is to determine what you see is the problem that you’re having and how do you define it?”

Me: “This’ll be fun.”

The sound of my day (final)

Rat-a-tat tat!

4:35 am! Rat-a-tat. Its time to get up!

Aww, I hit the snooze  Nine more minutes please

Rat-a-tat-TAT-TAT! OK Im up! 

To the beat I march semi- soldier like,

but there are no drill sergeants in sight

To work I go to cook and clean

At home I return do the same for me

My day unfolds the humming of a low  staccato

No real rush now just a slow and steady outflow


Noontime arrives and with it the snares crescendo

A bright clattering of beats moves me to dance

I move back and forth as if in a trance

like a marching band of one,

a lone woman show.

Out the door and in my car I go

I rush to class that starts at 1!

As I drive my speakers blow

the beginning of

Erykas window seat a hiphop flow

Rat a tat tat-tat, tat- tat ta-tat

The initial drumbeat pulls out in front  

To lead the beats along

Paired with strings getting plucked

And winded toots of the brass

My day is winding down to dusk

The evening breaks

the drum decrescendoes

quieter and quieter still until to bed I go

The day ends with a fading pitch beat

silence comes over me as I fall asleep

in my bed poised to awaken and repeat.