The Diagnosis.

It’s 3:26 am, and I can’t sleep because my body won’t let me. I realized that I’ve been avoiding all of the things that bring me joy, and writing is easily in the Top 3. In my last blog, I gave you the run-down of what my trip to D.C ended up being, and never actually gave the details of my doctor visits.

In short, those tumors have steadily grown over the past six months, and I have to get them removed. Many people have told me miracle stories of how they shrunk and disappeared because of faith, but I know my faith, and that just hasn’t been my story. They are still growing, and my doctor is ready to remove them. The one on my uterus, which was said to be 5.5 inches is now 6.25. The one on my cervix is still 3 inches, and the kidney tumor hasn’t grown much at all. I have nights like these when I feel like there’s a spear pushing down into my abdomen and I can’t get comfortable enough to sleep. I will soon get up from my desk, get dressed, and go to work, and I pray for the strength and ability to see past pain and be what my students deserve.

The thing that makes me most anxious about all of this is my doctor’s recommendation of a full hysterectomy. Again, people love to tell me their miracle stories, but my body and my God has yet to move in the way theirs has, so I’m trusting my process as is. A hysterectomy changes the plan I had for my future. It makes all of my friends’ pregnancies painful and beautiful all at once. I’m able to pray for them in ways I never thought I could or would. I’m able to appreciate the beauty of childbearing and childbirth while being an encouragement to them. Lots of my family members tell me not to get the surgery, but they don’t have to endure this pain. They don’t feel the tumor when they lie down to go to sleep. They don’t take 15-20 minutes to urinate because their bladder is constricted, and I’m tired of living life this way. I want to enjoy my body again. I want to work out. I want to jog with Aries. I want to live, and these ailments are making it impossible. No doctor has been able to guarantee that they won’t come back, so I’m no longer interested in living my life on the basis of possibility.

I want my freedom back.

Freedom to travel. Freedom to move. Freedom to exist in a way that I desire, not a way that my body allows.

All of this to say, it has been an exhaustive process. My brothers have seen me more broken in the past month than they have my entire life. My mama has had me curled up in her lap more than I think she did in my adolescence. I’m being humbled, and some days, I hate it. I have lost lots of friends, and many of them just don’t know what to do with this, but that’s okay because my love won’t waiver, and I’m thankful for my support system which continues to GROW.

I’m waiting for my insurance to approve the surgery, and upon approval, I will be back here- sharing my journey to recovery. Hopefully I will have more exciting and less medicinal news soon. In the meantime though, whatever it is that’s weighing you down, whatever is stealing your joy, tell it NO. Temporary brokenness cannot define your permanent joy. Refuse. Fight back. Submit it and leave it where it lies. You are not alone, at least you don’t have to be. I’d love more ham anything to walk alongside you. Thank you for walking alongside me. Thank you for hearing me. Thank you for reading.

I love you.

im His daughter.


I’m a thinker. I find myself sitting in the room, in my car, or at the foot of the Cross creating scenarios in my head. I don’t find it strange, sometimes it’s simply an interference during my day. So, I’m sitting on the couch in the living room right now right? I find myself thinking about what I would say to Charles, my father, if I had the chance. Now, my introduction wasn’t much of an introduction so I guess y’all don’t know much about our relationship. Well, to make a long story short, there was none. He left when I was 5, called on my 10th and 12th birthdays, called the week before he died, and died when I was 14. Now, you may think it cold of me to be all cavalier-like when discussing the death of the man that took part in creating me, but like I said before, we had little to no communication.

So, back to my initial thought. I’m just thinking, if I was ever given the opportunity to say one thing to him, what would I say? Well, I’m 21years old. I’ve never had to love a man and I’m struggling to learn how. My God is my Father and I sometimes struggle with learning how to love Him as well. All this to say, the whole “daddy” thing is not really my FORTE. Well, the more I thought, the more I ran through my head, the more I struggled with what I would even say.

I think I’ve concluded that I’d thank him.

I’d thank him for his deciding to build a relationship with my younger sister instead of me. That pretty much has shown me that NO man can ever be trusted to ALWAYS choose me first, other than my God. No matter my situation, age, innocence, nothing. God is the only one I am absolutely sure has chosen and always will choose me.

I’d also thank him for leaving my moms to raise me on her own. She is now the spitting image of what it takes to become a God-fearing woman WITHOUT the leadership of an EARTHLY man. She had to learn on her own what it meant to devote herself to God. She had to understand that she is not the father in our family but is given the honor to let God take the leading role when raising up my brothers and myself. She was put in a situation where when provision was questionable, her faith had to be solid in the fact that our God was the provider. She had to see him as the head of the household and teach us to look to Him for guidance and understanding.

I think I may also thank him for calling me when he was sick. Not sarcastically, or out of spite, I’d whole heartedly  thank that man. In those few minutes, laying at his bedside, watching him waste away, he showed me that no matter how wrong someone has ever done me, no matter how hard my heart will ever grow, no matter how abandoned, betrayed, deceived, or rejected one person has ever made me feel, that I am called to love them like my Father has loved me. I vividly remember that night. I see his face in my mind more than I’d like. I remember. Those memories simply remind me of how bad it can get, but it’ll never compare to the way I deny God with my sin and he continues to sit and my bedside, as I’m wasting away, losing myself, trying to tie loose ends, he still sits at my bedside and pours out His love to me in the most pure and satisfying way.

I’m not sure why Charles did the things he did. I’m not sure why he left. I’m not sure why he called. There are many questions I’ve wanted to ask him but now, while I sit on this couch, listening to John Legend, I’ve decided that all I’d want to do is thank him.

My God is more Father than he could have ever been and having to tell myself that when I struggle in any relationship is just another form of growth…i guess…

Matthew 23:9 says

“And call no man your father on earth, for you have one Father, who is in heaven.”

that verse brings me a ton of peace. I’m not sure when I’ll do a “biographyish” blog. I’m not really sure if i even want to. I just know I’m really thankful for my daddy and the way He loves me.

goodnighty ❤