Excerpts from the Diary of a Diva

Nothing happens quickly...at least not in interpersonal situations. It’s gradual...and so many times we’re so busy that we don’t even see it coming. That’s what it’s been like with you. It never occurred to be that I’d need to look for betrayal in my friendships. But as I reflect on what’s been going on, that’s exactly what has happened. You having other friends has never been a problem for me. I have other friends, too — both in and out of our circle. But you took it to another level when you started to not only leave me out of things, but favor them over me. If I had ever thought that this day was possible, I would’ve railed a bit harder when I realized that it was easier for you to ask me to bring something home than it was for you to say, “Hey, we’re making [fill in the blank]. Can we save you some?” It’s one thing to “forget” that I’m coming home, but it’s something else all together for you not to ask. With my schedule, it’s easy to forget things. When you’re tired, som

What do YOU do when you’ve done all you can and it seems like you can’t make it through? The song says you just stand. However, since this is my life and not a song, I’m going to retreat. Back into my safe space where I know I’m loved and appreciated. Back to where I KNOW people have my back and want me around. Back to where I feel safe. Where is that, you ask? Good question. When I find out, I’ll let you know...

I’m about to be 50 years old. Even typing that sentence hurts me. Not because I’m not glad to make it to this age, but because I wonder if I’ve accomplished enough. I thought I’d be married with kids by now. Not so much. I’m single with a career I love, but no one to share it with. I’m about to move back home because I need to be closer to my mother, who’s getting older. The one man I loved moved on years ago. Thankfully, I’m not bitter.  What I guess what I want is the life I thought I’d have. But you know what? I’m super thankful. I get to be alive in my middle age. So many people can’t say that. I’m glad I still have my mom. Lord knows that’s a blessing that so many others don’t get to have. And if I keep living, maybe I’ll get the chance to be the woman I want to be. And no matter how I feel about getting older, I’m glad to be able to do it.

I got a reminder on my phone today. "The Day I Broke Up with My Teddy Bear," it said. It brought a smile to my face. To be clear, I'm not proud of what I put him through. I should've broken up with him a year before I actually did. I was wrong to string him along as long as I did. I cheated on him and said hurtful things to him and generally did him dirty. If the truth is ever really told, I probably never should have dated him. When he came into my life, I was way too broken to enter into any kind of relationship -- much less a romantic one with someone whose only attribute for me was an awe-like worship of me. He said the things my battered heart needed to hear. He just wasn't the one I needed to hear them from. I was still deeply in love with New Boo. Even though he'd dogged me out and made me feel like a fraction of myself, I was so sprung that I couldn't see straight. If New Boo had tried half as hard as My Teddy Bear did, I would've taken h

I'm usually try to appear strong in the wake of tragedy. And I think I do a good job. But the one person who can always see through me is my mother. I used to try to hide my pain from her, but she can sense it in my voice. This day, I was just worn out from an article I read about the racial disparities that have been exposed because of the coronavirus. It's an amazing article, but it cut me deep in one of the many places I keep hidden in my heart. We all know that racism exists -- no matter what White people say. And we know that it colors every facet of our Black lives. But to see how people are dying because of it is horrifying to me. Add to that the fact that I can't go home. Even though my mother would welcome me with open arms,  the state of Texas won't because I happen to live in the corona hotspot of New York City. And let's be clear -- even if I could get in the state, I don't want to possibly infect my mother with this deadly disease.  So I

I just watched Back to Natural . It deals with the pain and politics of natural hair for Black women. It's a great film, and I highly recommend it. It brought up a conversation I had with my mom the other day. She was telling me that she hated the way she looked now because her hair isn't as thick and long as it used to be. She said, "I hate looking at myself now." To say her statement broke my heart is a gross understatement. My mom always had beautiful hair. She's a chocolate brown beauty whose hair was truly her crowning glory. She was bald until she was three years old, but when it started growing, it was amazing. It reached down to her bra-strap by the time she was nine years old. My mom was and is still the standard of beauty that I measure myself by. My hair was never as gorgeous as hers, but I did everything I could to make it so. Even now, I think she's the most beautiful woman I know. I wish she knew that...

I would give anything to be loved. I would give anything to be the object of someone's affection. I would do my level best just for someone to care about me. I really would. Right now, I am so broken...so wounded...so hurt. I feel like no matter what happens with me, I never can seem to make the connection that brings me to where love finds me. And while I try to make it look like it doesn't matter to me, it so does. It's all I ever think about. And I try my very best not to be consumed by my pain. Most times it works. But sometimes I get here...where I just want to be loved. Inasmuch as I'd never kill myself, I know why people do it. It's hard to live a loveless life. But here I stand. I am trying to hold it together. I really am. IT IS NOT EASY. AND I HATE IT HERE.