Self Care Saturday

My Guide to Journaling

Hello everyone! So this is my first post on Self Care Saturday! Woooo! Self Care Saturday is pretty self explanatory…I give you different ways of self care on every Saturday of the month (or at least a Saturday of the month).

Today, I’m taking you into one of my favorite self care past time…journaling! Oh how I love journaling. There is nothing more therapeutic than writing in my opinion. I actually have three of them that I carry everywhere. Each one serves a different purpose.

  • My yellow journal is for my day to day entries. I always date the page and write about what happened that day. I like to do this after I take my bath or shower and change into a clean pair of pajamas (or an overlarge t-shirt). I naturally have an overactive imagination, so when I am starting to get bored of my surroundings, I pull out my journal and write how I feel.
  • My pink journal is for my dreams, goals, prayers, and manifestations. When I’m feeling low, I like to open up this bad boy and envision myself in a more positive situation. I like to write out little scenarios that I hope will happen. For instance, I wrote one about strolling through the Louvre in France wearing a flowy white dress with my curls in full bloom like flowers in spring. Man I was really in my feelings that day, I tell you. It just let’s your mind run free to a happy place.
  • My black journal is for my short stories and poems. They don’t have to be a full fledged sonnet; sometimes they’re just little quips and ideas. When something pops into my head, I quickly jot it down. I can’t draw to save my life, but some of them have drawings and doodles on the pages, as well as little songs that I may create.

Now having three journals might be a little excessive, but for me it helps organize my thoughts. But when it’s your journal, you can do whatever you want with it. It can be as messy and cluttered as you want. It’s for you and your thoughts. I would say, when journaling…

  • Sometimes choosing the journal is important. This is something that you’re going to be writing in, have it be enticing. You should want to write in it. I bought my journals at Walmart, but they are so cute. They are Pen + Gear Five Subject Notebooks. I love that they have little tabs to divide different sections of the journal.
  • Write every day. Every day. Even if it’s just one sentence. I am sad. I am happy. Thank you God. Shoot, it can be one word if you want to. Just make sure you write something.
  • It’s okay to restart. I have journals that haven’t been finished. Sometimes the things in that journal don’t give off the energy that you expect. It’s okay to switch journals and start anew!
  • Be in tune with your feelings and emotions. Don’t hold back.

That concludes the first Self Care Saturday post! Hopefully, you find a journal and fill its pages with stories, hopes, and well wishes.

Happy journaling!!!!

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Poetry

Grin and Bare It

I can’t be free

No use to try and save

I’m chained to the life

Of grin and bare it

Upward cheek imprints

On the other side of ignorant

My legs raw bone

Weak and stagnant

My better half be over lo!

My feet become cemented

I aimed to be

The human anomaly

The black sheep

Of wiser men

But my larynx vocal folds repeat

Tape recorder conversations

I hate to see

My staggered dreams

Be exactly that

And stay that way

Until I kiss the bottom of

Limestone gravel

Sand and concrete

Blue blood obsolete

Not too discrete

But still hid it all

Like money in a mattress

Five hundred

Come up

Worthless

Shallow river bottom reverie

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Poetry

In Me

Do you see beauty in me?

In Oklahoma

Seminole

Sunshine’s smooch

Mother Nature’s soul

Brown sugar

Emerald green

The hues inside my skin

The orange-ish reddish undertones

My moonshine distilled lips

Family

Grown in Jackson

Born Biloxi

Build them healthy

Cornbread

Collard greens

History

Chitlin circuit

Wrinkled hands

Do tell their take

But haven’t sold my legacy

Cracklin’ oil

Pops strumming

Guitar groans

Intertwine the tone that comes along

Through the Louisiana bayou

Your past lies too

No handwritten

Spoken fiction

Uptown heartbreak

Rhythmic lymphnodes

Teach me the code

Reach coast to coast

Your sister’s stories

Your mother’s prayers

Crest fallen goals

That I will break

And carry on

Let me add my verse

To the song

To the hymn

I’ll make it my own

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Poetry

Autumnal Equinox

*originally written on WeHeartit*

Window pane

Window pane

Why do you mimic my sorrow?

At nature’s end

It feels so sweet

Scattered autumn leaves

And willow trees

Bid me well

Til’ then

Bid adieu

My arduous ardent hour

Mid July

August sweltering heat

Beach bound bruising

Sun burns will always lose

Me and my perspired solstice

Hot and heavy

Heavy, humid, but lovely

The atmospheric pressure above me

Soothes it out

Tones it down

Into an environment of peace

I am in my element

I radiate

I’m me again

Splintered sun

Between the leaflet pattern

Foliage magnolia

Shone on the sidewalk

When I talk

I sculpt this

Little autumnal picture

It’s envisioned in my head

Red, orange, brown

Yellow dream

Cider sky

Auburn spice

Cinnamon swirled and nutmeg accents

Transcends thy might

The nicest flavor

The warmest feelings

The greatest color

My memories rebound

To the forefront of my mind

Of innocence

The younger years

Cavity ruined sweet teeth

And face paint

Late October afternoon

Molar chiclets

Bite down and get a quick fix

Of the sugar rush

I’ve had enough

But I’ve forgotten the meaning of stop

Times have changed

Been through a lot

But through my thoughts I can escape

My youth in fall

My future in Autumn

The sensation stays the same for me

The goosebumps still are evoked

I begin to feel whole

The corners of my mouth begin to defy gravitational pull

The earth spins slower

Longing still

My depressive state has gone

Flowed away

Gone solo

For the autumnal equinox has come

And I already know

The universe connects with me

It latches on to my soul

I will never let it go

Not for a single minute

I will not let it go

I will cherish it forever

Forever

In this three month moment

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Poetry

Sixteen Shots

(I wrote this poem loosely on the shooting of Laquan McDonald when I was fifteen years old. Laquan McDonald’s killer, Jason Van Dyke, has been found guilty of second degree murder and sixteen counts of aggravated battery. This poem was also inspired by the death of an old classmate, Aaron Rushing, who was killed earlier that year)

Young Chicago boy

But his soul is old

Donning Robin

Angel wings

Head harvested

Cornrows

Butterfly strokes through

Crimson swimming pools

The darkest shade

Of melanin

Skin charred midnight blue

The shade he’s born

The darkest hue

Linked between two continents

Alpha and omega lands

He’s got style

He’s got flare

His fingers are callused

From guitar strings

Piano keys

Held tight

From pencil grips

He’s armed

With thirty dollars

And forty two cents

A brain infused with knowledge

And a decision on where to put it

Intellectual matter

Nourishes gravel rock

And pavement

Empowered by

A wasted, wound down fantasist

A purple heart recipient

Stretched out

Six foot two

Heated metal

Through the woven, cotton shield

Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen shots

Uncovered in fifteen, sixteen, seventeen months

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Poetry

First Date

Your eyes are filled with wonder
Sclera bright and white
Behold the strength of millions
On this quiet, forthright night
Impaled lover’s soul
The feelings I don’t know
Do you know?
I’ve worn tired of depression
Turns on and off like a switch
Happiness is made for someone
But it hasn’t happened quite like this
Lover’s in tow
But severed once you go
Change
Change is a strange thing
But welcome the shift it brings
You’re not alone
It’s inevitable
The transient gradients
It’s been with me ever since
All along
I’ve made a grave decision
I made it a while ago
I just had to plan the greater escape
I’ve got to examine
If it’s worthwhile
The plan unfolds
They say greater things are coming
Greater things
Greater good
I fiend for nourishment
Just like food
It gives me strength and courage
But I can’t help to think
They lie
Do they lie to keep you going?
Or is there an ulterior motive?
I probably will never show this
Piece of work
To anyone
Or any living thing
I think it’s time for me to go
I’m ready to come home

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