Growing up, there was always a sense of urgency to everything I did. I was jumpy, always on edge, much like constantly being attached to a live wire. Things that could have happened swimmingly were tackled with an insistence reserved for emergencies. I was always in a hurry to meet deadlines that didn’t exist. I would arrive places and occasions hours before it began just to wait for the time to begin and then wait some more with everybody else that would show up much later.

If there was a slight problem, although calm on the outside, I was turbulent inside, thinking up all kinds of scenarios that would never happen and exhaust myself mentally, psychologically and even physically. I was suffering from anxiety. And I hated it.

I often wondered how I had found myself in this draining state of mind. I think back to my childhood and I realize that even then, I was a jumpy mess. I grew up with a sense of panic urgency especially where my father was concerned. I am not sure if it had anything to do with his military profession but he didn’t really respect anybody’s time but his own. He would make plans and you were expected to fall in whether or not it was convenient. If we were going out as a family and he was ready to move, we were all expected to be ready to move as well. It didn’t matter that we had chores, needed to eat breakfast, take a shower…none of that mattered.

The person I often felt most sorry for was my mother.  As primary caregiver she had to take care of all three of us first before attending to herself. The most prominent memory that comes to mind was Sundays which in most households meant church. It soon became my worst day of the week. It didn’t matter how early we would wake up, we would always run late…according to my father’s timing of course. We would dash out off the house only to get to the church and meet no one there. After so many years of endurance, my mum finally had enough. The moment we got a second car, that mad rush was over. My father would leave before us and we would follow behind a little later. We were the family of five that went to the same places in different vehicles. You would think this would be the end of my mental fidgeting, Far from it. My mind had been conditioned to beat time, to worry situations to perfection.

Young adulthood was no different as all of this translated into my university days as well. In fact it only got worse. You could always pick me out of the crowd. I would be the one speed walking at 10 am to a class that wouldn’t start till noon. I was capable of rational, creative and productive thought, make no mistake, but I would second guess myself, I would over think situations, looking for errors where there were none. I had subconsciously created a standard for every possible situation that no one, not even I could attain. I was never satisfied. I would always think of the future with dread. I was extremely time conscious.

But the older I got, the more I realized I needed to change. I needed to address certain irrational fears in me. I had to confront the fact that certain truths of life were missing from my mind, that I had imbibed a wrong notion into my subconscious which was why I was such an anxious mess. But I couldn’t do it on my own. I needed help. I needed someone to show me a way out to teach me a truth I couldn’t have known otherwise.

The one consistent and most comforting thing in my life has always been my faith and my relationship with Jesus Christ. There truly is no problem I have ever encountered that I haven’t found either a solution or a management system in the Word. And so I asked God to help me and He answered me fabulously. The Holy Spirit began to disabuse my mind of all the errors It had absorbed by asking me several questions:

  1. What are you truly afraid of?
  2. Does worrying address that fear and make it go away?
  3. Do all the things you worry about ever happen?
  4. What can you do to make that situation better?
  5. You will not always be in control of certain situations. How does that make you feel?

After ruminating on these questions honestly and objectively, I realized that I was fighting a losing battle that didn’t exist in the first place. Yes there were problems that needed my attention but at the same time, I could only do so much to handle them.

My deepest fear was to run out of time. I was afraid that I would wake up one day, old and grey, out of time, unfulfilled and unaccomplished. So I raced against time, achieving nothing only to be caught up in time which moved at its same old steady pace. My worrying never made the problem go away. It didn’t make it any better. It only made me sick. There would always be situations outside of my control and worrying myself half to death, none of my negative projections ever happened…okay some did but only a fraction of a fraction.

On the basis of these realizations, the Holy Spirit then led me to the scriptures and revealed to me His word:

Philippians 4:6-8 (NIV)

4. Rejoice in the lord always and I say it again rejoice!

5. Let your gentleness be evident to all. The lord is near.

6. Do not be anxious for anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.

7. And the peace of God which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

1Peter 5:7 (NIV)

“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you”.

Matthew 6:25-27, 34 (NIV)

25. Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes?

26. Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns and yet your heavenly father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?

27. Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?”

34. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow wil worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

Matthew 11:28-30 (NIV)

28. Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

29. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your soul.

30. for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

John 14:27 (NIV)

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your heart be troubled and do not be afraid.”

These were all variations of a single truth, that anxiety is a crippling state of mind that offers no hope of resolution or productivity. I realized how foolish I had been. I had carried a weight I had no business even attempting to lift. All my life I had assumed a position only Jesus Christ was suitable and capable of occupying, a mere man trying to do what only God could do. It wasn’t my fault. Society and life had conditioned me to be that way but it was my responsibility to change my mind set.

It was an epiphany, the moment when I finally understood that there are only so many things you can actually control. Life became a whole lot easier when I started to let things go. I shed dead weight and became lighter. I still have my moments of fear, real or irrational but I always consciously resist the temptation to project them. Sometimes, you just have to let things take their natural course. Your worst expectations often don’t come true. Even when they do, you need to just breathe and let go. Even when you’re not in control, you should not worry. God is always in control.



Forgetting is a gift we take for granted. The beauty of this gift, however, is wildly relative because everyone’s capacity for forbearance is different. We all go through things in life that leaves us with memories we wish we could bury where no one can ever dig up again. From the embarrassing to the unpleasant to the downright nasty and terrifying, whatever the form, it usually always leaves us with some form of trauma or the other. Wouldn’t it be lovely to just forget?

I have had experiences that whenever I think about, I want to bury my head in shame and others still that have rocked the core of my existence and molded me into the woman I am today. I understand the argument that we are built up from our pain. That those experiences constitute the building blocks of our lives…and I agree. But there isn’t always a lesson to be learnt from a situation. I believe that certain kinds of trauma are not worth processing because their occurrence was birthed from something pointless that had absolutely nothing to do with us, serves absolutely no purpose and are best left in the past. A senseless attack, a verbal insult, things that have nothing to do with us and everything to do with the perpetrator but yet leaves such an impact that should not be.

Psychology encourages us not to bury our trauma pretending it never happened but instead to confront it. I agree. But I also think it is ridiculous to assume we can process every single trauma that we experience on a daily basis. And in the course of our interactions we encounter several.

The problem with digging up the past is that we do just that. We dig up old, painful memories. We rip open scabs of ugly wounds that have left nasty scars. We bring back to remembrance traumatic experiences and relive afresh things that are better forgotten. Sometimes, we have the curse of a good memory, the inability to forget, the ability to remember every detail and give a blow by blow account of occurrences. It can be pure torture. Psychotherapists encourage working through pain but they also agree that, sometimes, recollection can do more harm than good. Not everything needs to be attended to. Sometimes it is best to forget. This in itself is quite different but it can get easier when we exercise the power of letting go.

Letting go is easy when there is nothing to hold onto. And forgetting is easier when we know who we are. Self awareness is a must have if we are to survive in our often harsh interactions with the world. If we do not know ourselves, we become vulnerable and highly impressionable. Our experiences good or bad begin to define us and this is a dangerous place to be in.

Our values and belief systems are what give us definition, not our experiences. This knowledge fortifies us against external forces that attempt to damage us and reduce us to doubt, fear and shame as is the character of trauma. If you know who you are, what you believe and what you stand for, it is difficult for anything or anyone to cause you to think otherwise with the things they think do or say. You come to understand that this is a reflection of who that person is and not you. The slight becomes easier to let go of.

Letting go is truly powerful and is a one way street to forgetting, the good kind of forgetting. It teaches us to learn the lesson, where and if there is one to be learnt and if not, to move on to putting it out of memory.

Now I am not trivializing painful experiences by just saying “get over it”. That would be cruel and highly insensitive. There are experiences that can damage even the strongest of psyches, experiences that need to be that need to be worked through as they should. I am speaking to the relatively trivial things that we pay too much mind to. We know what they are because to each his own. And we know that in the grand scheme of things, they have no relevance. So why we don’t just let go? Nip it in a bud before it settles crystallizes and becomes a stronghold.

It is a terrible thing to be haunted by things from the past that do not reflect who we are nor have any bearing in our futures. The amazing thing is they are only made powerful by the attention we give them. They cling to us with loops made of guilt and shame and every time we encounter something that bears even the slightest resemblance to an element from that event, we panic and it grows stronger.

When we let go, we rise above our trauma. We dominate it and tell it where to go. We sever the bonds installed to perpetuate it as our reality and we free ourselves from its vicious hold over us. As time goes by, we think about it less and less and one day, if we are lucky, we don’t remember it at all. The gift and privilege of forgetting falls on us. It doesn’t mean we are in denial. It means we have moved on and remembering serves no purpose. And that is okay.


So it was a Monday morning and I was trying to get to work on a lean purse. I was all dressed up and ready to go an hour before I was to be in the office. I was right on schedule. If I had made a beeline for the front door, I would have been in the office in forty five minutes. But no. I decided to take the cheaper route and save a couple of coins by hitching a fee ride from someone headed in my very same direction. Big mistake!

I called him (as I will refer to that person for the entire article) at 7:30am and he assured me he would be at the junction in ten minutes. So I bade my mother goodbye, have a nice day and strolled casually to the agreed meeting point. And there I waited. Ten minutes after the fact, he hadn’t shown up. So I waited ten more minutes. And then another. Thirty minutes in, I called him, just to be sure he hadn’t left without me or that his car hadn’t developed a problem. He assured me none of my concerns had occurred and that he would be at there in five minutes.

Five minutes turned to ten and by now, I was beyond agitated. My patience had worn out and I was mentally at war with myself. Do I continue waiting for this guy to show up? Which would mean that although I would be ridiculously late, I would get to work for free. Or do I leave? Which would mean that I had wasted over an hour waiting for someone who didn’t show up, only to arrive work extremely late and a couple of bucks short. In other words, a complete zero.

It all banked on my capacity for forbearance and at this point, it was shot. I was done waiting for someone who obviously had no respect for time, his or mine (which is one of my pet peeves). I now considered him fickle and inconsistent and could not stomach the thought of waiting another second and sit in the same vehicle with someone like him. That’s what I do when I’m mad. I ostracize. I huff and I puff and I ostracize.

I hailed the next tricycle headed in my direction and began the long, arduous, three stop journey to the office. I arrived almost two hours late and a good couple of bucks short. Bummer! Absolute bummer!

But while I was fuming in anger, I felt the Holy Spirit begin to speak to me and convict me. He was direct and clear to me, as He always is and His first statement, a question, was:

“Don’t you think your anger is misdirected?”

You know that feeling that comes heavy on you when you know you’re wrong? Yeah. I felt that.

“He may have wasted your time, but he is not the reason why you are angry or late for work. You are.”

I took a second to let that sink in and began to mull over what He just said to me. I felt the urge to argue otherwise but stopped myself in a hot second. I’ve learned in my walk with God not to argue with the Holy Spirit. It has never tilted in my favor. Not once.

So I’m here thinking, how is it my fault that I’m late for work and upset when clearly that man’s tardiness set the whole thing in motion? I considered it objectively for a few minutes, all the while feeling salty when it finally hit me.

I sought convenient travel and attempted to save a few pennies on someone else’s time. I had control over my mobility and finances but NOT HIS TIME. I had reached out and asked for a favor and had thus placed myself at the mercy of this individual and his plans. He was never required at any point to ensure I got to work ON TIME, only that I got there when he was good and ready. So he technically did not waste my time. I did by gambling on him showing up at the junction soon enough for me to get to work on time.

But why did I ask him for a ride in the first place? Because I was broke! These were lean times. Payday was a little over a week away and I barely had enough to get by. Why didn’t I have enough money? Because I was a grossly underpaid government worker living pay check to paycheck, who was unable to harness and cultivate her innate skill sets enough to be exchanged for value. Again, I was broke. But my brokenness had absolutely nothing to do with this man.

I was angry because I was poor and it was my fault. His tardiness was not the crux of the matter here, my lack and insufficiency was. His actions only exposed a primary weakness I needed to rectify. That episode drew my attention to a part of my life I needed to take seriously and change for the better. My finances. And until I did something about it, I would continue to find myself in pathetic situations like that.

It’s amazing how our circumstances can rob us of certain choices. The only way out is to assume responsibility for our plight. It may not be our fault, but only us can make it better. Blaming other people for our problems is counterproductive. Whatever situation we find ourselves in, if we don’t like it, it becomes our responsibility to change it.

What area of your life is waiting for you to assume responsibility for? Give it a thought.



The extreme fear of writing in public.

I don’t know that I have an EXTREME fear of writing but I do have a fear of letting people see my work. I have been writing since I was a child, cognizant and purposely, since I was twelve years old but I have never allowed anyone to read my work.

Growing up I was acutely aware of how drab and mundane daily routine life could be. I hated the ordinary and most things were ordinary to me. To satisfy my desire for excitement, magic and wonder, I would often retreat to the recesses of my mind. The world of fantasy. For most of my childhood (my entire life really) I lived inside my head. My imagination was so much more fun than my reality that the lines between them were almost blurred. My budding imagination was fed and nurtured by books. As an avid reader, I developed a passion for the written word from the moment I could make coherence of words on paper. It shaped my thoughts and perceptions and it perfected my ability to create worlds in my mind. I would often write about them but I would NEVER show them to anyone.

As I grew older so did my passion for writing. I love writing. It is both cathartic and therapeutic for me. The idea of immortalizing my thoughts on paper was thrilling. I had a lot to say. I wanted, needed, to communicate and share. There was so much going on in my head and I needed a channel to let it out. But I still didn’t want anyone to read my work.

All artists are sensitive about their work and harbor some varying levels of insecurity for their craft. I am no exception. Art is subjective. There is no telling how people will respond to what you choose to put out there. Questions borne from my insecurities burned in my mind like:

  • What do I write about?
  • Who do I write for?
  • Am I interesting enough for anyone to want to read about?
  • Would people like my work?
  • Can I handle the criticism that will surely come?
  • Can I be honest enough to write the truth?

If I had any hope of becoming a consummate writer, I needed to confront these questions and deal with them one by one. I had to address my irrational fears.

First off, I have an insecurity I believe to be common to all beginning writers. Would people find my work interesting enough to read? I have often wondered if I would be interesting enough for people to want read about. Writers are stereo-typically some of the most boring people ever (except of course you’re a travel writer). Notorious for having sedentary lifestyles, posted up in front of a computer or typewriter typing away for hours on end, we don’t go out and do fun things like other people do. But the gag is we have all kinds of fun but not in real time. For the most part, we live in our heads. We create larger than life worlds with engaging characters. But our real lives are often simple and ordinary.

I was also afraid of exposure. A friend said it was a fear of success (or failure). I didn’t really see it in that light. It was more a fear of the exposure putting my work out there would bring. My circle of friends and association is very small. I am quite introverted and my aversion to sharing personal information on social media and in real time has made me somewhat of a mystery to the people around me. I will admit this reaction isn’t completely undesirable on my part. There is something powerful about being mysterious and unpredictable. You draw a different kind of attention and response as people try to unravel you. Their interest could fall either way. They are either fascinated by you or they flat out dislike you both of which have been my experience. You are unique, uncommon, weird and unrelateable.

To be fair to myself, I have never gone out of my way to be so. I just am. I personally think it’s a generally held misconception about people who don’t engage much. I admittedly have not helped in dispelling this erroneous perception. I am eccentric enough to not mind sticking out like a sore thumb. But through publicizing my writing, I may lose that essence. The world will see how normal and ordinary I truly am. I will be demystified. I will be common. They will see my ordinary, they will see my pain.

(Side note, there is absolutely nothing ordinary or common about me. Wink)

No matter how objective you try to be as an artist, you will always interweave bits and pieces of yourself into your work. It is a window that gives readers a view into who you truly are, your values, beliefs and thought process. My work would do no different. I can only write what I know and some of what I know is sourced from very painful experiences that I am not sure I am ready to dredge up and relive let alone share with the world. Sometimes, I would have to tap into my very dark place to get the very essence of what I am trying to communicate and this is scary.

As a writer, you cannot help but be honest about the things you write. You must be real and authentic. Anything less than and your readers can tell. This is especially true if you create from an emotional place. Taking those strong emotions out of you, inking them on paper and presenting it for the world to see puts you in a very naked and vulnerable position. You are raw and exposed as you permit your readers to pick and probe at your ideologies. It is a very frightening place to be in. Article by article, blog by blog, book by book; they gather puzzle pieces until they finally get a picture of who you are. The funny thing is that no two pictures are the same. Everyone has their own perception of your work subjective to their feelings about you and what you are talking about. You will be remiss to think that readers will agree with everything you write.

Which brings me to another big concern which is my ability to handle potential criticism that may arise from people’s interpretation of my work. As earlier stated, all artists are in some way shape or form, emotionally attached to their work but honestly, there is no room for over-sensitivity in written art especially when it has to do with content that are controversial in nature like sex, politics or religion. Everyone has an opinion about something, some more and stronger than others. When you touch on something sensitive, expect a reaction and whether they agree with you or not they will let you know in unequivocal terms. I personally do not care much for what people think. Your opinion is just that, yours. You are entitled to it and I respect it. Thing is, if I deliberately post up my opinions in people’s faces, they will respond in kind. Am I ready to expose myself to potential persecution? Can I take the heat?

Writers have guts of steel and I admire them for it. You have to be ready and tough enough to handle the criticism, ridicule and embarrassment that come with writing publicly.

Free speech these days is a very relative concept. In our modern day hypersensitive world, where every statement is construed as an attack and everybody is two seconds away from offence, you can say what you want but be ready to deal with the consequences. And while I do not think I would venture deep into those murky depths (you never actually know when you’ve done so these days) it is better to be prepared.

These are my concerns. These are some of my fear. It doesn’t stop me from writing or putting things out there. Instead acknowledging them gives me an advantage over them and a chance to build much needed artistic confidence.

Writing is a beautiful form of expression which is open to interpretation. While what I write is not for everybody, someone will always find what I write interesting. It’s okay to be at the mercy of interpretation and nobody ever died from criticism…which even as I write this I know is not true lol.


I recently found myself in a most uncomfortable mess that caused me to question everything I had ever believed to be true on that particular issue. I needed help in the worst way imaginable but didn’t know how and couldn’t bring myself to ask for it.

‘We all need help’ is a popular mantra we all say but it doesn’t mean we know how to ask for it. The emphasis is usually on giving. We are conditioned and encouraged to give which is a virtue but we are rarely taught to receive help which is usually an implication of asking.

Self dependence, empowering and liberating as it is, has brought with it a false sense of Social, Economic and Emotional self sufficiency and exclusivity. We have imbibed a ‘Me, Myself and I, I don’t need anybody’ mentality. At first, this seems to work just fine but over the years, particularly recently, I have tasted a side of life that has rubbished the integrity of this mindset.

Growing up, we never lacked for the basics. We were raised to be content with what we had. If there was something we wanted and our parents were unable to provide it for us, we would have to do without it. There was never the option of receiving it from an external source. We were never taught to ask for help. It was considered inappropriate, an act of greed and discontent and it stuck. I morphed into adulthood with this mindset. I honestly believed that the good and right way to handle issues was to keep it to myself and tough it out. Even my closest friends were left in the dark concerning anything I was going through. It was a source of pride to me that I could manage my way through life without burdening people with my problems. Ironically, people could come to me and I would gladly assist them if I could but I would never let them see my weaknesses. It made me feel strong, balanced… superior even, until I found myself in a situation that forced me to reconsider what it really meant to be strong.

So there I was desperately in need of financial assistance, surrounded by a fair number of variably successful people who would fly to my rescue in a flash yet unable to cry out because my mouth had been clamped shut by some nonsensical notion that I was supposed to be ‘too strong to need help‘. I had basically shut the door on myself. But deep inside me, that still quiet voice that peace that is relentless in the delivery of truth kept telling me that I had believed a lie, that I had been deceived and that admitting weakness was a sign of true strength. I did not really understand this so I had myself a little “think for thought”. I mulled this over and over in my mind wondering what it was I was doing wrong until I got the revelation that had eluded me for so long.

Need is a litmus test of our humanity. It is what keeps us connected to each other. We were never created to be independent of one another. We were designed to rely on each other. No one is truly self sufficient. Asking for help is not only proof of our humanity; it is also a very humbling experience especially when you have erroneously thought yourself to be supreme in the past.

The state of Need forces people to discern the value of that which is needed, whether a person or a thing. You do not recognize the value of something you do not need. A deliberate refusal to recognize value and trivialize importance, especially of a person, is an act of disrespect and dishonor and you cannot receive from whatever you dishonor. There are quite a number of passages in scripture that each the virtue of helping and receiving help. The lesser will always receive of the greater.

Hebrews 7:7 “Now beyond all contradiction, the lesser is blessed by the greater” (KJV).

Thus the one who has what you need is your source but we often fail or refuse to admit this especially when it’s someone that we know. Asking puts you in a position of reception.  And you only receive when you ask.

Matthew 7:7-8: “Ask and it shall be given you; Seek, and you shall find; Knock, and be opened unto you. For everyone that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened” (KJV)

Furthermore, seeking help humanizes you. It reveals your weaknesses and vulnerabilities to the ones who once considered you indomitable to the harshness of life. This makes you relatable. It draws people to you, to connect, share and to provide much needed support and this makes living so much easier.

Ecclesiastes 4:9-12: “two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up. Again if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone? And if one prevail against him, two shall withstand him; and a threefold cord is not quickly broken.” (KJV)

But I didn’t have this understanding. I was conditioned to work hard for a chance at a great future while expecting and preparing for a possible life of extreme limitation. It meant that whatever life threw at me, good or bad, I could handle it all by myself. But I was now realizing that that which I had been taught was a discipline and a virtue was plain old PRIDE because anything that causes you to esteem yourself above your humanity is pride.

So what did I do? I purposed in my heart that this mindset needed to go. I admitted to myself that I wasn’t so strong, that I had weaknesses and I needed the support of the people around me to help me stand. I took the first step in confronting this gate that had held me imprisoned for so long. I swallowed my pride and I asked for help. It was the most terrifying thing ever especially considering the person I sought help from. Before the fact, I even called a few friends and sought their opinions on whether or not I should do it. The similarity of their response made me realize that I was really stuck in a defeatist mindset and I needed to decondition my mind from the way it processed the issue. It is good to be strong but it is also okay to fall apart sometimes and let people who truly love and care about you gather your pieces and put you back together.

There is absolutely nothing shameful about needing help. We all need help sometimes and we need to surround ourselves with people we trust enough to bare our wounds to, people who will not use our vulnerabilities against us and to their advantage. There is a big difference between needing a hand up and imposing your problems and the consequences of your irresponsibility on other people. Knowing the difference is everything.

Pride really is the worst of evils and the most embarrassing. You’re all puffed up on nothing, like an empty vessel filled with stinky gas.

What are your thoughts on this? I would like to read your opinions. leave a comment below and than you for reading.


The Greek philosopher Socrates penned the famous saying “Know Thyself”. He also stated that “The Unexamined Life Is Not Worth Living”.

We all have questions. Questions about life…The who, what, when, where, how and why about everything. I’ve had questions for as long as I can remember. Until fairly recently, I have had an existential crisis for almost all my life (which I will chronicle in one of my posts). Unwilling to settle for anything but the truth, I searched to find my purpose and place in life. The comforting part of my journey was learning that I was not alone. The world is rife with people searching for answers. Everyone has questions. But it is amazing to note that there has never been a time in history where there was so much information about everything out there but fewer answers to the questions that truly matter. We know so much about the world but so little about ourselves as individuals outside of social construct.

My mentor and teacher (of whom I intend to write about in the future) always emphasizes that true value is never found without but within. I have spent a better part of my youth searching for…something that would satisfy me and give me peace and relevance. There has never been a more intense period of audiovisual distractions as our current day. There is always something trending, a new remedy to try, a game changing discovery or a magic pill that will make all the bad things go away. It took me a while to consider that maybe all I truly needed, God had put inside of me and all I needed to do was to settle down, stop being distracted and develop myself and soon, my true potential, as He intended, would unravel.

It took me a while to understand that this world operates by laws and principles, the accidental or deliberate violation of which would never negate the consequences.

It took me a while to see that although unintentionally, I perpetuated my problems. I may not have caused them but I was responsible for my current circumstances and if I wanted a better life, I needed to DO something different from what I had done unsuccessfully for years.  

It took me a while to finally realize that truth cannot be created. Truth is found. It is definite. It is constant and never changing.

I do not presume to have all the answers quite the contrary. I don’t have all the answers but I have found some, along with a strong leading and push to share and continue sharing as they come. The things I have been through have left their mark. I cannot go back to where I used to be but I also cannot remain where I am. The proof of life is growth, change, movement. Stagnancy is death. My experiences are not peculiar to me. So many people, young people especially, are in need of guidance and direction. I know I am. I may have finally found my footing but I still need a compass every day. I am not so arrogant to assume I can do it all by myself. I was helped. I received the assistance of both God and man and I recognize that I should pay it forward, help someone like I was helped. I seek to know and understand myself and hopefully proffer a means through which people, especially young people can find themselves as well while not compromising my core values and belief system. 

Think for thought is a platform for introspective thought. it is about self assessment, Identifying long held beliefs, values systems, mindsets and perceptions that may be holding us back from living a truly meaningful life. I know it did mine.

I am Christian and my communications are largely based off of my experiences and my walk with God but my message is all inclusive because the truth is one. If you can relate, if it helps you some or even if you just simply enjoy my exegesis on the things I write about, please subscribe or follow my blog. Referrals would be most welcome and don’t be shy to speak your mind in the comments section. I would love to read your opinions and get a new perspective on posts. Thank you and happy reading.