The Truth About Self-Care

Babydroppings
“And this teeny slice of the pie is Mommy’s free time.”

It’s been quite some time since I posted. Valerie and I optimistically took on this self-care challenge at the beginning of this year, hoping to lead by example and help parents (especially moms) everywhere learn how to prioritize their own health and well-being. I was so excited. I’ve been burning myself out trying to juggle school, the (multiple) sites I write for, my full-time job, my part-time job, planning an overseas trip, my kitchen renovation, and of course, my toddler.

In one organization that I’m affiliated with, they say that when you make a new commitment to something, what will inevitably start to happen in your life is that you will see all the things that no longer fit with who you want to be. It’s not that things are so wrong, it’s just that you’re seeing them in the light of the new determination that you’ve made. Continue reading

You Can’t Afford NOT To Go

Go on and take that bubble bath, already! Self care challenge #babydroppings
Go on and take that bubble bath, already!

Okay, folks. We’re almost one month into this self-care thing. How’s it going?

Yeah. I thought so. Me too.

It’s HARD to take care of yourself. It’s hard to prioritize your own care in a world that is constantly pulling on you in every direction. How can you afford to take the time to take care of yourself when you can barely hold it together at work? Continue reading

Breastfeeding Almost Made Me Quit My Job

Allaya pumps on her break at work.
I love my job. I’ve been teaching adult education classes for the last three years, and I feel that helping people establish their new careers while simultaneously teaching them about finance is rewarding and important work. However, since I came back from maternity leave, I’ve thought about quitting before every. single. class. Continue reading

The Black Abyss: Being Not-Black-Enough In Angry America

Not black enough, but definitely not white, either.
I am African-American, Dominican, and Cherokee.  I grew up in a home where there was a lot of love, and my family brought in enough money to pay the bills, but we were paycheck-to-paycheck anyway.  When I went to public school, my class was predominantly black.  To them, the Dominican boy was Dominican.  The Polish boy was Polish.  Both of them were lighter than me, but to my class, I was white.

At eleven years old, I received a scholarship for minority students and was accepted into a prestigious private school.  I was surrounded by white people and I was definitely not one of them.  I thought the two Chinese, one Puerto Rican and two other black students that were accepted at the same time as I was would have my back, but they drifted into their cliques and I was alone.  And light-skinned. Continue reading