HEAUXLISTIC THERAPY

Entry 1

Life gave me the lemons that I asked for...

The best way to start this is by saying that you should prepare to laugh cry hate me and relate to me. Your jaw might drop. Pick that shit up and keep reading. Your eyes might water. Let the tears flow sis. I'm all about feelings and expressing pain and fear and sadness. You know you'll develop stomach tumors by holding things in right? So in case no one else ever said it, girl just cry or be mad or whatever and get it over with. This story will take me quite some time to write, & most of it will be true. Some of it might be true but not MY truth. A little of it will be solely from my imagination. Try to guess what's what.

I was born in Shreveport, LA in 1984. My birth mother was a beautiful dark skinned woman in her mid 30's. Her name is Ozetta. She basically pushed me out & walked away. She gave birth, signed a few papers & walked to the bus stop at the corner to go home. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Someone on the bus recognized her and asked her about her pregnancy. She said, "that baby died. She gone. Don't ask me about it no mo". And just like that, I was dead. At least that's what she told her family, her 4 children, the married man who got her pregnant. She told all of them that the baby was born dead. When people questioned her about the funeral or any details. she would cry and pretend to be too sad to talk about it. She was not sad, but she got away with it. I would remain dead to them all for about 17 years.

In reality though I was alive and well. I was placed in foster care and a few years later adopted by the same foster family. My life for those first 17 years was great compared to most of the girls in my trash ass hometown. I was not abused by my family but I witnessed a lot of abuse & even saw my friend raped by her own father. I'll get to that later though. I watched a lot of bullshit go down & the whole time I was planning my escape to NYC. I KNEW THAT I WOULD BE THE BLACK CARRIE BRADSHAW ONE DAY. And I actually fucking made it!!! But the road that I took was so so so messy & traumatizing and violent and excruciatingly painful at times, & dangerous. But it's a very necessary story to tell. So here we are. I believe in facing my trauma and learning a lesson from every life threatening or unsafe situation, & finding a way to heal from the nightmares and PTSD. Writing and telling this story is necessary for me. It's all Heauxlistic Therapy. Beauty, fashion, mental health, relationships, sexual assault, homelessness, domestic violence, betrayal, escapes, arrests, marriage, divorce, beatings, religion, awakenings, guilt, murder, death, suicide, robbery, whoring, judgement, pimping, revolution, revelations, love, hate, & happy endings. THAT, all of THAT, discussing that, living that, learning about and from that, THAT is Heauxlistic Therapy.

If you want to know my story, please comment & stick around to read every messy shocking detail. I am very eager to tell this story, but only if people are eager to read it & know it. I gave you trigger warnings with this first submission. You KNOW what you're getting yourself into. I won't sugar coat. Take this therapy raw & unfiltered. It's bitter with a few random sweet shots. Enjoy 🧜🏿‍♀️❤️