The Mind of a Procrastinator pt. 1

All right…let’s get up and get Marlee together. What are we doing today? We need to get all the stuff done that involves using the laptop. Okay…so checking on Walmart orders, checking on Cayden’s school stuff, checking on Marlee’s paperwork. Wait…do I have a copy of the lease? Okay…I’ll look through the emails. Why is this girl trying to wear heels? Let me let her brush her teeth while I do her hair. Ugh I need to detangle

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Indecisive During the Pandemic

Has anyone else felt an overwhelming feeling of indecisiveness during the pandemic? For me, I am already a very indecisive person. This is because it seems as if every decision I make affects my life in some kind of negative way. It’s also not just MY life that hangs in the balance, but my kids as well…which brings more anxiety and makes every decision nerve wrecking.

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A Home of My Own?

For a few years now I have been wanting/needing a bigger space. A two bedroom apartment was okay…but with the addition of my daughter and my boys getting older…space was needed. After my daughter was born, my parents had given me an option of renting out their house. They were going to be reuniting and looking for a new place of their own. This sounded like the perfect thing, but this was just coming off of a huge family blowup. Did I really want to do this right now? I was trying to get myself back to “normal” and stay there. Yes, financially, it was the smartest thing to do…but mentally, I wasn’t there. So I decided Continue reading

Marlee’s Arrival…


If you know me or follow the blog, you will recognize that any and every situation in my life always comes with a story. Nothing just happens. There is always an elaborate group of events that take place for any simple act. Why did I think this pregnancy would be any different? 🤷🏾‍♀️ Marlee was clearly my child from day one. Let’s start from the beginning.

Finding out I was pregnant was a roller coaster of emotions. I was single and actually single lol. It was a month before my birthday…Mother’s Day weekend when I found out. I didn’t know what to do or expect. I drank…which made me sick…which made the pregnancy stick in even more.

This pregnancy was definitely not like being pregnant with the boys. I was nauseous, pelvic pain early on, and exhausted 24/7. I felt like I was 9 months pregnant pretty much from day one. Mentally, I was going through a lot(which will be talked about on a different post) and emotionally, I was all over the place. But, life was still forming and had to go on. Working, surprisingly, helped to keep me sane. I never wanted to go to an office as much as I did while I was pregnant. Fast forward to my 8th month check up…I was at the doctor and was told I was measuring a lot further than what I was. An ultrasound proved this and the baby was already weighing more than she should. A weight was lifted! I was in so much pain and this was proof that she was going to come soon. No more sleeping on the couch in pain…no more not being able to walk in a store and shop without being in pain…no more not being able to eat without being in pain…you get where I’m going. So, I prepared for her early arrival…that never happened 😩😩.

January was here. Her birth month. Pain and exhaustion was still here. I was beyond done with this pregnancy. I just wanted to get back to my somewhat normal life. That day, I went to work and felt shaky pretty much the whole day. I decided to go to the ER afterwards just in case. I arrived and found that my blood pressure was extremely high…but contractions weren’t causing anything so no active labor. Preeclampsia was diagnosed and I became a little excited…they deliver when you have that right? WRONG! 6 hours later…I was sent home. I decided to stop working on that day and take maternity leave. Two days later, I followed up at my doctor’s office. I didn’t even want to go because I knew they would give me the same ole story, but I went. Doctor tries to find her heartbeat and there was nothing…which was kind of normal at this point…she always hid from them. But the doctor was a little worried and asked if the baby was moving…which she really hadn’t that whole day. She became worried and said we would do an ultrasound. I said okay, trying to stay calm, and opened the door. The fire alarm began to go off! This of course gave me a heart attack so now I was definitely on high alert. She rushed me over to get an ultrasound and they found the heartbeat…but my blood pressure was sky high. The doctor comes in. “I called you the night you left the ER. I was going to tell you to stay there so we can monitor you. So, we are just going to go ahead and deliver her in the morning. You can go to the hospital from here.” I felt like I was in the twilight zone. Did she just say the magical words I had been waiting for?? Nah…she was just playing. The joke was on me right? Everyone left the room and told me congratulations. I still sat there in shock.

Fast forward, I call the important people and tell them WE ARE HAVING A BABY TOMORROW!! I go home, clean and cook like a crazy woman, and get to the hospital. Hooked up to the machines…I’m on cloud nine. Nothing could take away my happiness. Doctor comes in…”so your blood pressure is normal now and that means we can’t induce you. We can keep you overnight and do another ultrasound and see what the specialist says.” Excuse the fuck out of me???? Nah…what do you mean we have to wait?! You specifically said We👏🏾Are👏🏾Delivering👏🏾In👏🏾The👏🏾Morning! I will throw myself out this window just to get this child out. Her dad is coming from out of town…a baby has to be born. Of course, these were all my thoughts in my head as I just slowly nodded towards her. I gathered myself and my thoughts and reassured that everything would be okay tomorrow. She would be born. OR ELSE!

Afternoon comes…her dad’s there…my mom is there…and I’m over it all. My blood pressure was still normal and I had the ultrasound which basically proved what the previous ultrasound showed. She was big as hell and not moving as much because there was no space. I hadn’t eaten anything due to their orders and my head was spinning. My attitude was horrible and my ass was hurting from sitting in that bed the whole night. I had been getting only updates saying that we wouldn’t be delivering today which made me even more upset. Why would I have to keep going through all of this especially when she was developed? The specialist comes in and finally says, “Your heart rate is extremely high even though your blood pressure is fine and her lack of movement worries me. I contacted your doctor and we scheduled the c section for 3:30pm.” I could’ve cried if I didn’t think that she was lying and that this too, would fall through. My mom was happy…dad was a little apprehensive and I was still on the fence. I was waiting for the ball to drop. 3:00 came and the nurse entered with the ball I had been waiting for. “Your doctor won’t be able to come until around 6.” Excuse me?! Sooooo…now I have to wait even longer…with no food or water? What if she doesn’t come at 6? What if she comes and they change their mind? Was this baby ever going to come out of me? My mom was extra pissed and filed a complaint and asked for another doctor. I just buried my face in my hand and prayed that I wouldn’t pass out from dehydration. 6 came and the doctor finally walked in. We all said nothing to her lol.

Finally, it was happening. Dad had on his scrubs…I had my epidural(which was probably put in wrong according to Dad and the pain I had)…I was being wheeled into the operating room. I was finally happy…until I felt an overwhelming desire to throw up. Normally…I toughen through things…but I don’t do throw up. I panicked and asked for medicine and tried to calm myself down. I wanted to pass out but didn’t want to cause any commotion. I felt the tugging and pressure which didn’t help my lack of oxygen. I asked for an oxygen mask and slowly felt better. Several drawn out minutes later…I could feel her being pulled out. It was borderline painful, but I didn’t complain. I could hear her screams and I was elated. Even with the chills, the nausea, and the fact that I could still feel pretty much everything…I was in a euphoric state. She was finally here.

The biggest thing I learned throughout this was to be more vocal when I feel something. I had been feeling horrible the entire time and was constantly brushed off. No one took me serious until I started being adamant about my ailments and taking action by going to the ER. She did not descend into the birth canal and was essentially stuck, hence the lack of movement. Health is important but when you feel like no one is listening, you start to question if these doctors are really here to help. My experience definitely has me side eyeing the whole business behind pregnancy and health in general. But, luckily, I stuck to my guns and she was healthy. Thank God this was my girl because I definitely will not being going through that again. 😊 A special salute to all the mothers out there…we really put our life on the line for these kids and don’t get enough credit for it.

Depressed On The 1st

Today I woke up depressed…but isn’t it the New Year? Wasn’t some magical time bomb suppose to go off that instantly made 2019 my best year? Didn’t all that emotional shit get left behind at the stroke of midnight? Clearly, it did not.

Let me clarify this depression. While it isn’t the normal depression that I’m used to dealing with throughout my whole life…it still is a form that I’ve began to recognize. For the past month, I’ve been anxiously awaiting the arrival of my daughter. Is she overdue? Technically no…but when you’ve been in constant pain and the doctor mentions that you’re measuring further along and she is already very big…you get excited at the thought that she’s gonna be here sooner than you think. So I automatically go into preparation mode. I had to get everything ready for her imminent arrival. I had meal prep ideas, cleaned out my closet, everything was organized, I closed my business. I WAS READY!!! A whole ass month later…no baby. 🙄

This is when I began to notice the small signs of depression that many people ignore. I became a robot. I was literally doing the same thing every single day. Wake up, drop the boys off at school, go to work, pick them up from school, go back to work, come home, cook, watch Bobs Burgers, and go to sleep by 9. This was my routine. When the weekend came…I was lost. I didn’t know what to do nor did I want to do anything. I would literally just lay on the couch and see how much pain I could withstand before it was time for bed. For me, the pain meant she was still possibly coming. (Clear negative)

The week before Christmas, I magically could feel no pain. I was able to walk again. Finally!! She was coming. I Googled a bunch of herbs and foods to see how we could speed this along and went for it. It felt like it was working…she was going to be here soon…I COULD FEEL IT! I went to the doctor, knowing they were gonna tell me I was at least dilated. But again…more unanswered questions and just the same ole “lets see what the specialist says next week.” MORE WAITING!

For a person with anxiety, waiting is the worst thing that could ever be told to them. You literally want me to wait three days to see IF she can be induced? Why can’t we just get this over today? What am I suppose to do with my life until then?? So, I went home and did nothing. I slept. I didn’t engage with anyone. My mind didn’t think about anything but when will she come? I would wake up in the middle of the night wondering if my water broke, how would I react? This was consuming me.

The final straw was New Year’s Eve. I was prepared to sleep at 9 as usual. My kids were good. I put on some music to clear my head and laid down. And then my idiot neighbors commenced a 4 hour firework show in our backyard. I’ve been irritated before and normally just got over it, but this time I couldn’t. I started crying until it was somewhat over. I wondered why was I even crying over something so small and realized I just wanted to sleep and get to the next day. A day closer to her being born. I woke up the next morning, went to the bathroom, laid down figuring out how I would spend this day off and was shocked as tears rolled down my eyes. Wtf?? It’s a new year and I don’t think this is allowed. What was I crying for? I wanted my hair done but I knew I was going to be too exhausted and mentally drained to do it. I wanted to feel cute but I knew I would just end my day feeling pregnant again. Nothing was going to be accomplished today.

That’s what clicked. The only accomplishment I was focused on was delivering this baby. Nothing else mattered. For the past two months, this has been my only focus. I hadn’t been able to wrap my mind around anything else. This was a state of depression, but in a completely different form. And how was I going to combat it? I mean, I can’t just make her come out. It is a horrible waiting game so where do I go from here? Normally I would drink, smoke and start with a clear head. But that can’t be done. I could get out the house but the issue would still be looming and waiting for me when I walked back in the door.

So, the only thing I could think of was to write. 🤷🏾‍♀️ It’s always been my go to. Even if what I’m writing makes no sense. I’m getting the thoughts out of my head for the moment. It’s the one release that always works for me. I’m sure many will read this and not understand a thing I’m going through…and that’s fine. I never write for anyone but me. It is my therapy that I just happen to share with the world. That is the one thing I know will never change in this new year. Depression and anxiety will always be a part of me. No matter what. The biggest takeaway is that I recognize it and learn how to curb it so it is manageable. It never goes away. But it doesn’t have to be life consuming either.

And even if I’m pregnant for the rest of my life, medically impossible but mentally I feel it can happen 😂, I will have to just chalk it up. I can’t control everything. The anxiety will have to just deal. She’s in control and not me. C’est la vie. ❤️

S/N: STOP ASKING PREGNANT WOMEN IF THEY ARE STILL PREGNANT! Also…what kind of magical potion are these celebs taking because everyone has had their baby, but me 😩😂. ✌🏾

A New Journey

I started this post writing about how I moved to California and had to move back to Atlanta 4 months later, but decided that wasn’t the story I wanted to tell. My real story has to do with the journey that moving back forced me to be on. When I moved to California, it was out of the blue. I moved because I wanted to change what was going on in my life. I thought if I had more people around me that were like me, had more opportunities to relax and just be in a different setting, I would magically be cured and start loving my life. That was quickly dismissed when I saw that the same bs was happening in California that was happening here. Granted, a lot of the bs was off of assumptions and lack of communication, but it was still happening. When I moved back, I felt like a failure. I had so much positive energy when I moved, but it slowly broke down and turned into negative energy. I felt just as worse than when I first left. I decided to channel this energy and figure out what was really going on. I realized that I knew absolutely nothing about myself. I didn’t know what I really liked. I didn’t know who I really was. This was why I was so easily dismissed by others. I mean, who is going to respect someone who has no presence?

I decided that it was time to find me…the real Jeanine. Not who others wanted me to be, but really who I was. So, how does one do this when they are jobless and stuck at home with their parents at 30? I’m glad you asked. There is no real answer to this. What worked for me was focusing on the good and focusing on the joys of learning more about myself. Did I have bad days? Yes. Did I have days where I wanted to just give up? Of course. Luckily, my support system, (my bf), helped to pull me through. I have never been a social person. I am an introvert to a fault. I barely talk to my own family, but having that one person to open up to helped me understand more about myself when I could no longer see myself. This is the major key into successfully completing a journey like this.

My journey is still going on. I honestly feel as if it will never end. I am learning more about simple things that I love. Hair styles, makeup, different practices in life…things that make me feel like myself. Instead of putting things off, I am challenging myself to take them head on. This post, for instance, is nowhere near perfect or what I wanted to write after taking such a hiatus, but it needed to be done. Writing has always been my thing and I sadly, started to let it slip away out of fear that I was not good enough or wrote like everyone else. But, hey, that’s what makes me different. I am Jeanine. No one else can be like me. At 30, I am no longer worried about fitting in. I am more worried about loving and living my life.

Dealing with depression all my life has made me realize that I really have a choice in how I want to live the rest of my life. I can mope around all day or I can actively try to make a change. And even when I try and things go wrong, it is not the end of the world. It is not an evil ploy by God to make every day harder. It is genuinely just life. Shit happens and happens often. The way you respond and react is the difference. This is the lesson that has taken me so long to learn. But I am optimistic that now I can finally learn this lesson and move on to my next journey.

The End


“Today is the end, seriously the fucking end. One shot to the temple will finally be the end. End of…” (Because my handwriting is atrocious.)

Before I explain the beginning of what I was writing, I’ll give you a little brief history of how I got to that point. I had been stressing over finances for probably a good two months. Trying to figure out how I was going to pay this bill and that, while training for a new job (non paid training, mind you), and literally waking up to each day something being turned off and taking away the money that I was saving. Every time I thought I was okay, something else would come up. This particular week was my hardest. I had finally opened up and asked for help from “friends” and received nothing…not even phone calls. So, I did what I always do. Break down and pull myself back up. I woke up that morning convincing myself I was going to have a positive day. Yes, I had something due that next day and had no idea how it was going to get taken care of. Yes, I was finally working but had no idea what I was doing and had several technical issues. But these were things I couldn’t control. I was not going to let them defeat me that day. I was ready to have a great day…until I sat down at my computer, preparing to clock in and realized my cable was off. That was it. Nothing could stop the tears and onset of panic attacks. If I didn’t work, I would get fired. If I got fired, I would lose my place. If I lost my place, I would be homeless again. Hence, my breakdown. I was done. There was no money saved up to take care of this situation. No money to get on the bus and try to reach my mother. No way I could contact her. I had nothing. So, I laid in the bed and did nothing. Several conversations played around in my head. Some voices cursed me out, others comforted me. Finally, one said to end it all. This was the loudest. I grabbed a pen and paper and began to write. As you can see, I didn’t finish because when I wrote the second line (which took a good 5 minutes to actually put on paper), my phone rang. Yes, my phone that was off rang. It was her…my mother. The only one who could get me back to where I needed to be. The only one who could reach me on a phone that had no service.

Now, let me state this and be very clear about it. I am a writer. I was writing, “The End,” to get my thoughts out. I would never do harm to myself. Let me say it again. I WOULD NEVER DO HARM TO MYSELF! Not that I haven’t thought about it because it’s a thought I have often, but I am far too chicken to do anything. I will cry for days if someone playfully punched me in the arm, so harming myself has never been an option. “The End” was basically me saying that  I was done. I was done with everything. I was done with people. I was done with believing. I was done with trying. It was the end of me trying to remain faithful and a believer. It was the end of me trying to do something with my life. I was done in every aspect. My kids would be fine. They have my mother, who they probably like more because she has juice and candy lol. My lack of career would be fine because who really is buying my stuff anyway. What most would say are accomplishments, 3 books published and a production company, I say are failures because what revenue are they bringing in? This is what I meant by “The End.” I normally am able to talk myself out of getting to that moment. I am always able to bring myself out of it and continue to fight on. But that voice was dead(hence the bullet to the temple line). But God understood that voice was gone and sent me another. The one voice that has always been there. Even when I don’t want it, it’s there. That miracle brought me back. Yes, I was still depressed and upset for that day, but I recognized the sign and was able to bounce back the next day.

My main reason for writing this is not to tell someone how to feel. When it comes to mental health issues, that’s the worst thing you can do. I just want to let others know that they are not alone. In the “perfect” world of social media, it can be paralyzing to watch so many people seem so happy and successful. While majority, if not all, of it is fake, it is still hard to find someone who can relate to what you are feeling. ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE BLACK. Depression or mental health issues and the Black community don’t mix. It is one of those things we sweep under the rug until it blows up in our face. Writing for me is therapeutic and you never know who you are reaching or what impact it has. That is why I am so open about things in my life. There has been times where I have been at my worst and think no one else feels how I feel and I’ll read something that shows otherwise. I just want people to know that they are not the only ones. Giving up is not the answer, but I can understand why someone would. I can understand and sympathize with that person for feeling that way. No one can tell you to keep going. It is something you have to find within yourself, but I can tell you that you are not the only one feeling this way. Some times you have to step away from social media and people in general and get a better grasp on reality. And for those who have no faith or believe in God, I’m sure you will come up with some scientific reason as to how my mother was able to call me on that phone. But, for me, I know exactly what that was and who it was and that’s all that matters to me. We all have our “The End” moments, but it is up to us to come out of it and know that even though you may end up there again, it is okay. You. Are. Not. Alone. It will be okay, even if it is not today.  🙂


“You’re becoming the woman you’ve always despised. Please stop.”

This was the text message that he sent me. I was on the phone having, yet another, Dr. Phil session with my best friend. I think he was fed up with my foolishness and finally decided to let me have it. It was funny because as soon as I read those words something instantly clicked inside of me. I understood exactly what he meant. I had become that woman. That woman who complained about her guy every two seconds but constantly went back to him. That woman who allowed someone else to fully take over their emotions and control their mood. That woman who constantly let them back in and made excuses for their actions. That woman who contemplated being the other woman just for a moment of happiness. I was that woman. The woman I hated…laughed at…felt sorry for. I was her. This instantly made me realize that something had to change. But for it to change, I had to realize how I became that woman so that I would never become her again.

If you follow me on social media, you probably have seen the ups and downs that my ex and I have gone through. Finally, on my own, the unthinkable happened. I became pregnant. I was back in his grasp again. Even with him being totally against it, I was still connected, in some way to him and he was okay with that. I was still there for him, sexually and financially and most important, emotionally. We were there for each other. But, fate would happen and I had a miscarriage. As hurt as I was, and still am, I saw this as a new lease on life. I was ready to get back out there and live again. But, it was hard. I mean, I loved this man and he was one of my closest friends. He was one of those people that I hated but when he came around we always had an amazing time. It was something I wasn’t ready to give up. When my friend gave me the advice he gave me, it made me look at our situation in a different light. I don’t have to give up my friendship with him. We can still hang out and be there for each other, BUT I needed to stop with the dependency. I have never…NEVER NEVER NEVER…. been a dependent woman. I had my own place at 18, single mother at 20…I have never needed a man for anything, except one thing, and that was it. I was the type to have my fun and live my life. Never dependent on a man to give me happiness and fulfillment. My friend saw the opposite happening and this is why he said what he said. I was completely losing myself.

With that being said, there is nothing like liberation. Liberation is the act of setting someone free from imprisonment, slavery, or oppression. This feeling is amplified when you liberate yourself. When you free yourself from all the bullshit and the lies. When you are able to look at yourself and be completely honest. Yes, you were that woman…that stupid, dumb ass, woman. Yes, you were in love…that’s okay, but you cannot be her right now. You cannot have that life right now. You cannot have the relationship and the additional kids and the “Suzy Homemaker” lifestyle. It’s okay. It’s not time for that. It is time to live! It is time to get to know other people and go places and explore this world. I used to harp on the friendships that I have lost over the years, but then I realized that God is just making space for new people. Doesn’t mean those friends were not important to me at the time, but they are not important or necessary for this new process of my life. AND THAT IS OKAY. Too often do we equate moving on to never caring. It is not true. I can move on from my ex and that does not mean that those feelings were not real. It means that I am recognizing that there is nothing there, I deserve better, and I am moving on. Staying stagnant is pretty much death in my eyes because you are not living life. You are just there…taking up space. Staying stagnant will kill you. I was not put here for that. I will be 30 in two years…please someone call the old folks home and set me up a room. I refuse to be in this same place at that age. I know others always say your 30s are when you start coming into your career…no fuck that(excuse the harshness)! I have known what I wanted to do since the age of 5…5!!! There is no excuse for me not being exactly where I want to be by that age. The problem is focusing on the wrong things. Focusing on the life that I keep trying to give myself that is not for me. My life was never meant to be mediocre. I refuse to turn into that woman again and try to make it. I am liberating myself of that mental state. I vow to only live in the moment. To only live for what’s right in front of me. To only focus on my life, my family, my career. This is what I will put my energy into. The extra will come and go, but it will not dictate my happiness and my focus. It is time to stop giving yourself to everyone else and give yourself to you. You are the only one who is living your life. No one else. Do what brings you joy and prosperity and say FUCK YOU to everyone else that brings otherwise. At the end of the day, your life is your own. Make it what YOU want.