Excerpts from the Diary of a Diva

I'm in a state of disarray. The aunt I told you about has died and the family is coming together to celebrate her life and legacy. I've been asked to sing at the funeral, which will probably be attended by the siblings I don't know and others in our community who didn't know of my biological connection with her.  As I sit and reflect, I realize that I really don't have a definition for my feelings right now. My heart is sore from so many things...the missed opportunity to have a regular family, for one, and the lack of consistent love. (Actually, that's not quite true. My mom and my brother love me in all of my inadequacy.) But this ache is little deeper than I can define and it's coming from a place I can't identify. I've been watching the coverage of the demise of Cesar Chavez's legacy. Several women have come forward saying that he forced them to have sex during his time of fighting for the rights of farm workers. Several entities have said th...

My family continues to be a complicated factor in my life. My father clearly doesn't want me in his. Even though it hurts me to write this, it's how I feel. I found out that he comes to my city once a month to see his sister. But he doesn't even bother to make time for me. This probably wouldn't bother me so much, but I really want a father who wants a daughter. I don't have that. What I have is a man with whom I share DNA that I can't relate to...and even if I could, he's not interested. I was having a conversation with my cousin at her mother's bedside. Unfortunately, my aunt is suffering from Alzheimer's and is slipping away slowly in real time. My heart aches for my cousin because she's an only child and she's doing the hard part of caring my aunt by herself. Thankfully she has an amazing husband who's helping her, but I cannot begin to imagine what she's going through. We were talking about our sick and twisted family dynamic whe...

Dear God, Remove the fear that keeps me small and replace it with faith that reminds me  I’m made for more. When my Apple Music revealed to me that my song of 2025 was “We Are One,” it finally unlocked the words I’ve been looking for. This year has been a whirlwind all the way around. My heart has been through so much this year — both good and bad.  Our country has gone through more changes in this one year than I’ve ever seen thanks to the Felon in the White House — heretofore to be known as FITWH. He’s made it his business to make sure that my nieces are growing up in a country that may never treat them equally and where they’ll have fewer rights than I did.  This clown car government is run less like a ruling body and more like a reality show. If you look at the players, they’re cast less for their skill and ability and more for how good they look on camera. The bad part is that the policies they’re enacting are making people that look like me less safe in America. In ...

I tend to think of myself as skilled. I may not be domesticated in the traditional ways of Southern women, but I know how to navigate most situations. However, this year I find myself at a loss. My uncle is gone. Even though I didn't see him or even talk to him on a regular basis, I could always count on hearing from him for the holidays and my birthday. This year will be the first time without him. I am completely broken up about it. All I can hear is his wife saying, "He's gone," when she went to check on him. I feel like the whole world shifted on its axis after that statement. I don't know how to do this -- live in a world without him. He's literally been there since I was born. When I went on my ill-fated quest to find myself a father, he was the first one I asked. He was the one I wanted to follow everywhere. It was him who set the standard -- good or bad -- for the men in my life. If a man couldn't be as cool as my uncle, I didn't want to be bot...

I love reading the "Modern Love" section in The New York Times. There's one long essay every wee and  a column for Tiny Love Stories. I don't get to them as often as I'd like, but when I find the time, I bing on them. Although I find the stories inspiring, I usually spend the majority of my reading time either fighting tears or drying my eyes. One might ask why I continue to read them when I react that way. After all, subjecting myself to such unnecessary pain seems pointless.  For one, the writing is superb. Even though the content makes me cry, I can't deny the wordsmithery used in telling the stories. Another reason I keep reading is that I need to see that love IS possible. Although it has yet to find me, I see that it can exist for others. You know what's even worse that reading love stories? Watching them play out in the real lives of the high school students I teach. I've given out more relationship advice than I ever thought I would to teenager...

I don't know if I'm depressed, but I'm not feeling like myself today. I'm realizing that these feelings of malaise always come after I witness love -- and realize how much I stand in the way of my own. I went to a wedding yesterday. One of my coworkers said, "I do," to her longtime boyfriend. She's one of the cutest, most petite women I've ever known. I'd seen photos of him, but had never met him. He's definitely a cutie, but when I say he was larger than life, I mean that in every sense of the word. I was so shocked. I never would've put those two together, but they both looked super happy. Their joy was palatable. I was glad I got to witness it. There were several couples in attendance. Some looked evenly matched, some not. All seemed happy. Then there's me. My birthday is approaching next month and I'll celebrate 55 years around the sun. Glad to be alive, certainly, but can't for the life of me figure out how I became so unlo...

My uncle died. He actually ceased to live. I don't know how to handle this. Even though he was my mother's brother, he was so much more than that to me. He was the coolest cat on the block, He set the standard that every man had to meet. He was the one I compared every man in my life to. For all intents and purposes, he was my de facto dad. I am stunned. I feel like someone knocked the wind out of my body. I grew up watching him. If he sat up straight, I wanted to sit up straight. I once caught him standing up to pee. I thought I'd do that when I grew up, too. (You can just imagine that conversation). That's the thing...he never shied away from my craziness. When I discovered what a father was -- at the tender age of five -- I purposed in my heart to find one for myself. I asked every man I knew, including him, if they'd be my daddy. He said, "I can't be your dad. I'm your uncle." When I pressed, he gently explained that he already had a significan...

I am single. I’ve never had a husband. I’ve never given birth to a child. I’ve never lived with a man over six months. I am 54. I’m not classically pretty. I’m overweight. I’m not very tall. My brother says I’m a unicorn. My friends are kind enough not to make me feel small. My mother mentions in passing that she wants me to find a husband. I try not to be sad about my state. I’ve lived a life that some would find enviable. I had my dream job, met and interviewed great people, made great friends, and traveled all over the world. I have a new career that I find oddly fulfilling. Men don’t always like that. Some of them are jealous because I’m not easily impressed. Some are jealous because I’ve done things they haven’t. Some are jealous because I’ve lived on both coasts. I don’t know what to do. I can’t change my life – not that I want to. I can’t change my past – not that I want to. I can’t change myself –not that I want to. I just want someone to see me, not the image I present. I want...

It's been a minute since we've talked. I can honestly say that I'm flummoxed. Let me catch you up... After a brief fling with a Bulgarian (which was kinda fun), he ghosted me. I don't know that I blame him after our one hotel stay when the black gel I use to cover up my gray edges rubbed off on the sheets. It was truly my Rudy Guiliani moment. I'm currently matriculating with a man I met at a bar/bookstore here in Dallas. I call him Barnes & Noble and I like him. However, he claims to be too wounded to entertain love in his life. I say "matriculating" because I can't really say we're dating. Although we see each other at least once a week, he's never made a real romantic move toward me. Ours is more of an intellectual situation where he keeps me in the loop of his life and I try to encourage him to give himself some grace. Several other things are wearing me out, but the final straw came this morning. The first post that came up on my Faceb...

Yep, you read that right. The long-distance "romance" -- such as it was -- between me and Tinderfella has ended. It was going good...until it wasn't. The beginning of the end was when he stopped making me a priority. He would only call me at the end of the day when he'd given himself to everyone else. By the time he got around to me, he was spent. I hate not being a priority in someone's life. When my mom hooked up with my stepfather, I know for a fact he wasn't exactly happy about having me around. But he had no choice because my mom wasn't going to kick me to the curb for him. I always felt like I was the "value added" part of the deal. Because I hated feeling that way, I promised myself that I'd NEVER allow that kind of behavior and treatment in my own relationships. Straight up, though, the real nail in the coffin was much more blatant. We were on the phone when one of his daughters walked into his room. She asked him who he was talking t...

I hate long-distance relationships. Absolutely despise them. So, you ask, why am I currently in one? The short answer is, “I don’t know.” The real answer is, “I don’t know anyone locally that gets me.” Tinderfella is in New York. I am in Texas. Maybe I shouldn’t have let it get this far. Maybe I should’ve nipped it in the bud. But I didn’t. Now I find myself strung out over a man I won’t get to touch until September — IF I’m lucky. With my cycle and every other factor that could exert itself over my situation, I don’t know if we’ll get to see each other then. I don’t like this. I want to kick it with him after work. Maybe hook up and see a movie. Or not. We could cuddle on the couch or discuss the day’s events or just breathe each other’s air. I wanna watch his face light up when he sees me or frown when he gets mad. I want to learn his facial expressions and body language well enough to read joy, peace, anger, and hatred on him. Basically, I want to be with him in a real and meaningfu...

Sometimes I don’t know what to do. There are so many feelings that I’m having right now. For one, I don’t know what do at this point in my career. God told me that my money was in writing. So what did I do all summer? Worked on getting my teacher certification. Mind you, I don’t know that teaching is in my future. I just wanted to keep my options open. Walking by faith doesn’t work like that. I know that, but I let my fear, insecurity, and need to please my mother get in the way. I can admit that freely. I’m human. Now it’s the end of summer and I’m no closer to finishing my book…or my comedy sketches…or anything. The one thing I have been consistent about is working out. I wish I’d been as diligent about my diet. I’ve been doing intermittent fasting, but not as consistently as I should have. While I haven’t lost all the weight I want to lose — not even close — I think I look a little better in my clothes. And then there’s Tinderfella. I love him. I don’t know if it’s right or proper o...

How do you know when you’re in love?  For me, it’s always been an all-encompassing thing that won’t stand up to any kind of  denial. That’s how I’m feeling about Tinderfella. At this point, I can’t see myself with anyone else. He’s what I’ve been waiting for — a nice guy who wants to love me. He has future plans that include me. Even with my suspicious nature, I believe him when he tells me, “This will be the last birthday we’ll spend apart,” or “I see us together a year from now trying to figure out where you’ll be — here in New York with me or somewhere new.” When I was feeling bad around that time of the month, I told him that I felt unloved and uncared for. He said, “That damn sure isn’t true.” (I know that was a little on the dramatic side, but the pain is just that real to me.) So what’s the problem, you ask? I want to tell him. I’m sure he knows. I believe he loves me, too. But we haven’t said it. Maybe it’s too soon. After all, we haven’t seen each other in eight years...

It’s been a while since I’ve visited this space to share. What can I say? Life has been life-ing. I moved back to Texas. I can honestly say that it wasn’t my intention, but it was necessary because I wouldn’t have any peace in New York with my mom’s health in jeopardy. I finally put New Boo in the rear view. He comes up in my thoughts on occasion, but not like before. I still have love for him…probably always will…but I can function without wondering about him every moment of the day.  Now it’s all about Tinderfella. If you recall, I met him during the initial breakup. While I recognized him as someone special, I was in no way equipped to be with him. I was too broken. Eight years later, I’m so glad we waited. While I’m probably still crazy on some level, I think we have a real shot. First let me give some context…  I was in the middle of doing my show when he hit me up on my fan page. It was strange for two reasons — one, most of my friends just hit me on my regular page, and...

  What is 51? Good question. When we turn 50, everyone celebrates. “You’ve reached a milestone,” they say. “Life is golden.” But I turned 50 in a pandemic. At that point, you thank God for being alive. It’s still sweet, but different. A year later, I’m still thankful. But it’s different. It’s almost like a letdown from the “golden” year.  Be clear, though…I’m super grateful. I do NOT take my life for granted. I lost my first friend at 23. I realize that aging is a privilege not afforded to all.  To me, 51 means that I’m now “in my 50s.” No matter how much I try to deny it, I’m now considered a “woman of a certain age.” AARP is a real consideration and there are places I can take advantage of the “senior” discount. I also realize that I probably have more days behind me than in front of me. That’s a little daunting. But you know what? It doesn’t mean that I’ll give up. Life still goes on, and I have a lot to do before I get out of here. Most of all, I think 51 means not ap...

I met someone. I get him. He's a New Yorker in Dallas. He's tall. He has that Spanish look. He's interesting. We had coffee. We talked. We laughed. He kissed me on my forehead. Twice. I know me. He appeals to me. I've got to be careful. The last thing I need is to get caught up with a man who may or may not be about the life I want. But I'm feeling something. I recognize it. It's that feeling that promises more. Uh oh...

Most women my age have kids, grandkids, husbands, ex-husbands, etc. I have none of that. I have a ton of dating stories that never fail to entertain at parties, but just don’t work well in one-on-one situations. It would be easy for me to feel down — especially on Valentine’s Day — but I’m determined not to do that.  Instead, I’m celebrating my life because I have a lot to be thankful for... My family is well. They’re not perfect, but I love them and they love me. I have friends that keep me laughing and sane. I have a wealth of experiences that make me smile. I don’t have baby daddy drama or kids who drive me crazy.. I have a job that I was able to keep in the midst of the pandemic. I have faith in a God who loves me in spite of myself And because I’m alive, I have another chance to get what I want and deserve. Happy Valentine’s Day!

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.