Remaining Unapologetic

We have all had to deliver an apology to someone, whether it was willingly or needing to do so to keep the peace even if our pride was begging us not to. By nature, I always love to have the last word but alas, there are moments when I have to set my desires aside and just say “I’m sorry.” However, I have had to say those two words quite a few times at the expense of my inner peace, sanity and also my own dignity. That is not happening anymore and I will begin to delve further into why.

I am a people pleaser. I love putting a smile on a person’s face and making those I care about happy. While this may be an endearing trait to possess, it is also a source of many downfalls I have experienced throughout my life. I’ve discovered this has been one of the biggest reasons why I attract damaged individuals into my circle, relationship wise and friend wise. I am happy to say I am with someone now who recognizes this within herself as well and with that being said, we compliment each other perfectly. We are also both givers by nature so it is just a beautiful mutual exchange of give and take. But this blog post is not meant to speak on my relationship. It is for meant for “friends.”

Being a social person who is also getting older has me realizing that I am not with the shits meaning I no longer have time or patience to be apologetic to those who just flat out do not accept me as a person, any aspect of my lifestyle or do not want to see me happy. I am not one to wish ill on anyone. We can be on the outs and everything yet I will never wish badly on you. However, you do have those who pretend to care about you yet the minute you are doing better than them in the slightest, they turn their nose up at you and tell you that you are acting different. People really come into their own when you leave them on their own. That statement definitely needs a rewind button. PEOPLE REALLY COME INTO THEIR OWN WHEN YOU LEAVE THEM ON THEIR OWN. I refuse to filter what I say anywhere, whether it is via text, social media or in person to anyone. Once you show you are not easily molded, influenced or moved by someone else’s expectations, you lose value and sentiment to them, You become disposable. You become replaceable. Last time I checked, friendship should not be that way. We may have our moments of distance or disagreement but if you genuinely call me “friend”, “sis” etc, an automatic understanding should be present. Reading between the lines is a bit of a specialty of mine so I can tell the difference between a sarcastic “Glad you’re doing good.” versus a heartfelt “I’m proud of you.”

I have taken a leaf out of my girlfriend, my cousin and my best friend’s books in that I am not making myself available to just anyone. There is loyalty even after weeks of not texting or talking on the phone to those who have shown in the time that we do speak that they are always present, even in the shadows. Withdrawing from certain company really tears off those blinders you wore in a crowded room.

Focusing more on my family, relationship, and future moves is my main concern. Anyone who is not like minded, understanding or simply against it needs to go. Years do not translate into loyalty, commitment or allegiance. I have learned that yet again in 2017 and promise to remind myself of that lesson not only in this year, but forever. I refuse to apologize for being an ever progressing human being just to suit the tastes of those who want to keep chewing on the same hard old gum. My appetite for more is far too great to dine at wobbly tables with mediocre company.

– Writer From Jersey


Not Again

I have been pretty transparent about my struggle with anxiety/depression and also my mother’s ongoing battle with the same. Only exception is that I am obviously not menopausing. I don’t think I need to go into the whole explaining what that is and the hormonal/body changes women experience during that time. Many of you know the emotional, mental and physical toll it has taken on my family and myself. My main fear is me falling into my own anxiety pit again. I have been trying to do everything I can to prevent that. I refuse to let that all familiar consuming darkness to make it’s way back into my life again. The only thing is, it is happening. I am aware. I am scared but I am also fighting like hell to not fold.

The love I have for myself as a whole has increased immensely within the past year. It has came with a hefty price tag of losing so called friends, having a relationship I thought was going to last forever end in the most stupidest of ways, and being jobless for a few months thus making me stay home & have more time to think. All of those days of hearing my thoughts bounce off the walls led me to higher heights, being grateful for my small circle of friends, a job I love and also finally being with the woman I was meant to be with all this time. I have every single reason in the universe to be happy despite the bullshit I have to go through at home because of my mother. However, anxiety looms on my shoulder and I have not been battling it in the best of ways. Yes, my drinking has increased considerably. Not to the level that I can’t function without it but I go to that first almost always when I’m extremely stressed. My girlfriend has checked me on it and I have taken measures to find other ways to combat stress. It is not easy battling this depression that threatens to cloak me. I do not want to end up like my mother. I refuse to let myself get bad again or to lose again to anxiety/depression. I literally cannot afford it.

Reminding myself that I am not the same person I was back when the anxiety/depression was bad. I have progressed on levels I did not even think were possible. To a point that I have also helped others with their similar battles, getting through breakups and shedding truth bombs left and right when the inspiration hits. I have found myself speaking words that were uttered to me when I was navigating the sea of never ending pain I threw myself into. Yet, I live with this fear of getting bad again when I know I’m strong enough to go to war if I need to.

Not only am I not the same person I was during my previous bad period, I have so much more to lose now. Because of that darkness that once covered every inch of my life, I was able to bury the carcass of a scared, heartbroken girl and embrace the lovely skin of a woman who is loved, fierce and above all else, strong.

Even while typing this post out, I have realized how I have been speaking death into my own existence. Holding my own funeral when I’m alive and well. While parts of me have been uprooted from the ground, I refuse to stop growing, thriving and letting the sun shine providing me with life needed to flourish. I needed to write this. It was indeed long overdue and a refreshing burst of motivation. Reminding myself of who I am.

– Writer From Jersey

Why I Disposed of Religion

Funny, I had this post in my drafts for a little over a week and the original title was “Losing my Religion.” Yes that R.E.M song that is quite legendary and rightly so. I had to backtrack regarding the meaning of the title and decided to change it. I think sometimes if you lose something, you harbor this hope of maybe finding it again. Well religion and anything associated with it is not something I desire to be close to or deeply affiliated with again. I shall offer you my thoughts, experiences and some of my reasons why.

Let me just start out by saying that my family was never into church in the beginning of my life here on earth. We were what I’d like to call “fake Catholics.” Only going to church when someone died, there was a first communion/confirmation and very rarely on holidays that warranted being present in church. It wasn’t until I was about 12 or 13 that my parents decided to start going to a Christian church. Correction, I had suggested going because our family had suffered 2 deaths earlier that year and home life was tense to say the least. My intentions on checking a church out was not to convert or be saved. Long story short, me becoming “saved” was because I felt like I had to be. Not because I genuinely believed in the concept or desired to completely change my life around because it would be expected of me as a “Christian.”

My parents went into it with full force. My sister was very young and kind of raised in the church from that point going forward so it was easy for her to believe in and adopt those morals. I was about to enter into the typical rebellious teenager stage and also deep in my heart, it just was not for me. I could never wrap my mind around the thought of following every command, law, principle and standard from a book written 2,000+ years ago by several hands. I also saw right through the condescending righteousness of pastors, deacons and anyone who was a dedicated member of any church. Do not get me wrong, I have encountered some individuals who stood firm in their faith but did not judge anyone who perhaps didn’t share that same faith or sentiment. I constantly felt suffocated or left on display for all to see my “sins.” Yes, I am touching on my battle of accepting my sexuality. My parents forcing me to go to church during my teenage years was a thorn in my side when it came to this. Few know or understand the internal struggles I faced, being pulled in the direction of “being like Christ” which included living a false life just to please others or embracing who I truly was despite what inevitable backlash I’d experience. Being outed at 18 for my sexuality was a blessing in disguise from the universe because as the years passed after that incident, I began to see I was living my truth. I was finally being myself.

I know this post sounds as anti-God as it can get. Well, it is. I have absolutely no shame in saying that. If believing in God means I have to also associate my character with bigotry, fear mongering, hate, hypocrisy and also barring my right to love who I love, then I refuse to believe. This has been another long battle I’ve fought even as a young child. I can recall reading the Bible at the age of 7 or 8 and flipping those pages back and forth like, how come in one section it says this but in another it says otherwise. The Bible is the most translated book of all time and I sincerely wonder why. If it is in fact what it is, why not leave it alone? I also realize with several religions, there are loads of tailoring and modifications to their original foundations to please a certain demographic or mass population. It is also sad how the Christian religion has been imposed on people throughout history and not in the most holiest of ways. Let’s get real here. I have no ties to my faith anymore. It is a more liberating feeling than being “saved.” I do not feel any imminent danger to my sanity, heart or mind no longer.

I have felt more fulfillment in spirituality and just spreading love in whatever way I can than I ever felt within the four walls of any church.

–  Writer From Jersey

Mima’s Coffee

Its 7:41 am and of course I am up at this time on my day off. My mother just went to work and my sister is upstairs sleeping. Dad is at work and my girlfriend is sleeping as well. I am an early bird by nature it appears even if I complain about it on the inside. My usual routine is to brush my teeth and run to the Keurig to make coffee. I have the model that comes with it’s own K cup and you can put your own coffee in it. Of course, being in a Puerto Rican household, Bustelo coffee is a necessity. So as the coffee was done brewing and I put a generous splash of whole milk (Note: I usually use half and half but have neglected to buy a new one.) the taste brought me back to being in my grandma Mima’s house as a kid.

My grandma is in every essence an oldschool Puerto Rican abuela. She makes pasteles the old fashioned way, her cooking is reminiscent of someone who was born and raised on that beautiful island and she also makes her coffee the old school way. No Keurigs in her house. She uses what I like to call the “sock filter” (it isn’t an actual sock by the way) and the coffee kettle. I may be saying these terms extremely wrong but in English, I know the name for the filter is “colador.” I can’t remember the name of the actual kettle. I need to make a mental note to ask my grandma so I can edit this blog on another day.

Tasting my coffee this morning made me miss my abuela a lot and I would love to go see her this weekend. Thankfully, I still have both of my grandmothers with me. My coffee reminded me of spending countless days at Mima’s with my cousins sneaking sips out of her cup when she would go to the bathroom. I also can still hear her yelling at us in Spanish calling us all kinds of names. Trust me, the wrath of a Puerto Rican abuela is still felt even when they are in a joking mood. Her coffee still has that same taste from childhood. Strong and slightly sweet with a hint of bitterness. Her coffee is the very foundation for my love of coffee today. Also may be the reason for me not growing much over the years in height, LOL! Please don’t ever tell her that. I do not want a chancleta thrown at me or worse!

A taste of childhood is just what I needed to bring me back to my roots. A reminder that life is precious and beautiful. To never forget your inner child.

– Writer From Jersey

Spiritual Orgasm

We read each other’s minds like vibes and chakras

Ours are perfectly aligned and synchronized in perfect harmony

Together we gather in this congregation of love and serenity

To worship each other in divine devotion and surrender

Your dominance is my idol that I seek peace in

You enter into my temple gracefully but with the aggression of a zealot

I cry out to you screaming your name in praise and adoration

On my knees head bowed in reverence to you

You are my sacred space, my protector and my healer

Yet your touch, warmth and presence hold me in the highest throne of all

A place where only goddesses rest their heads

You lay down your sacrifices in offering to my temple

It is the most intimate form of worship, held near and dear to me.

It is your love for me that illuminates my astral plane, galaxies and skies.

It is our love that hangs suspended in space orbiting around the moon & sun

In utter perfection.

– Writer From Jersey







The Door Is Always There

Snakes come in all shapes, sizes, and colors.

So do well wishers, applauding friends and encouraging words uttered.

– Writer From Jersey

Life has been moving at the speed of light lately. I mean it always does honestly for me but I have just had this feeling of being more awake, or “woke.” I hate using that term as it is extremely overrated, but if I had to summarize how I’m feeling, that would be it. I do not see certain aspects of life the same way, friends included. This does not include my close friends who have been nothing but real in their own capacities. ( Forever grateful for yall ) This goes for those people I have outgrown. It is never anything personal as always but life takes us to different places. I have some individuals who are partaking in certain behaviors that are quite frankly fucking disturbing. Now I am by no means a prude in any way, shape or form. Nor am I judgmental or a harshly non-understanding person. I am as cooperative as they come. I cannot however stand for something I am genuinely uncomfortable with.

I am the friend everyone comes to for advice or input on things. I am not one to profess that I know everything either. I am always going to promise to give my opinion with absolutely no sugarcoating. I do not do the fake phony “oh you’re doing great sweetie” shit. I am going to tell you you’re fucking up and what are you gonna do to get to a better place? I will always push for you to do and be better because I am THAT FRIEND.

If me being that friend does not sit well with a person, the door is always there. If me being that friend makes you feel like I am of no good use for you because I’ll tell you shit you may not want to hear, the door is always there. If you ever get upset because I refuse to placate you with a lie just so you can sleep at night, THE DOOR IS ALWAYS FUCKING THERE.

If we cannot agree to disagree and you’ll attack me for giving my opinion/input/advice YOU ASKED FOR, the door is always there. I have never had any issue ending a friendship that was just hitting dead ends anyway. That’s life right? *Kanye shrug* Growth comes with eliminating the weeds and dead things from a beautiful garden.


– Writer From Jersey

If House Music Were A Nation

I came home from work tired and worn out. Not from work or anything related to it. But more so in spirit and physically. Could be cuz I am pmsing or because my emotions are so heightened. As I am blasting Peter Rauhofer’s (may he rest in House) remix to Nelly Furtado’s “Say It Right” remix, I feel such nostalgia, pain, joy and freedom mixed together anytime this comes up on my playlist. This used to be one of my Myspace songs back in the day. I understand why now fast forward 10 years later.

This was one of the songs that I played to remind me of my ex Elba who was tragically killed back in 2015. The trial is currently going on for her murder. I cannot divulge much in terms of details due to legal reasons obviously but the pain due to losing her never goes away. I have long since lost hope to finding a love like hers. A fact I have never came to terms with or told anyone much in detail about. It is an uphill battle not only losing a former lover but someone who was in fact my best friend and a person who knew and understood the me I was before the me I am today.

Finding someone recently who comes eerily close to that is unsettling..but in good ways. That is the first stepping stone to moving on. It is also a breaking in point I am not used to. I am being exposed in my own raw flesh and twisting my bones and muscles in ways I didn’t think I was still capable of. I can truly say I have never encountered someone like Elba in this lifetime..until now.

House music has long since been an escape, mood booster and pain reliever for me. It is in house music that I find joy to match my triumphs, healing for my wounds and the same freedom of expression I have in my writing. I have been a fan of house music since being in my mother’s womb. I believe it is safe to say I am a child of the nation of house music.

– writer from jersey


Hiding how I feel has always been one of my best/worst attributes to my personality. My face is one of my “snitches” when it comes to how I really feel about anything. Being a transparent person with nothing to hide is something I have always strived for in my relationships and how I deal with people. However, when it comes to my personal life and business, I realize that transparency isn’t always what’s best when it comes to protecting your own.

I have this blog in which I have revealed a lot about my personal life. I know my previous sentence is extremely contradicting to what I am doing now in a way. I think the angle I am trying to get at is more along the lines of how fast you are to share something via social media or to the world.

We live in an age where you can find out anything about anything on the internet. Recipes, makeup tutorials, the news, who’s screwing who and when it happened, etc. The phrase “word travels fast” is a fucking understatement. While having the ability to be privy to information quickly can be beneficial, it can also lead you to growing extremely annoyed at what and how much people broadcast over the internet. It makes you wonder what the hell goes through the minds of people before they hit that share/post/tweet button.

I will admit by saying I am guilty of being one of those who used social media as her diary in an unconstructive manner. I used to post certain statuses, memes, statements etc to be dramatic and to stir the pot. Ahh the days of being younger and petty. I remember using social media as a platform to cause drama and prove insignificant points on how much better I was than other individuals. Being in the mix of all the mayhem held such a sickening appeal to me. It wasn’t until my last long term relationship which also had much of it’s issues rooted from misunderstandings of social media posts that led me to not post about everything that came to mind.

Going through some real life adult shit will make you shift your perspective on what to post on social media and who needs to know what. It will also cause you to not have any time or energy for the drama. I see how others just post about their every move, emotions, thought and whereabout and I sit there looking at my screen like, “Can you just enjoy life and experience it without needing validation from others about your existences?” Shames me to say I have some family members who do this. It’s both annoying and frustrating. I think once you reach a point of growth with things like this, you look back and are so grateful for not remaining in at that stage of immaturity. Now, I am not saying it’s wrong to post about positive things like getting a new job, pictures of your baby/family or pictures from a special occasion. It is sometimes even okay to be transparent and open about emotional struggles because you never know who may see your post and find some solace in it. What I am not fine with is those who post every single aspect of their relationship drama or hop on any social media bandwagon just to get more likes and comments. It’s when posts like that become out of hand that I begin to understand why some people say social media is not for them or why taking a break from it all is often needed.  It has also helped me learn who to stay the fuck away from.

If I were to bring this up in a discussion with certain people, they would go on to say “oh it’s my page, I can post what I want, blah blah.” That is in fact very true but then you’ll most often hear those same individuals complaining about being involved in drama and being all woe is me. You attract what you generate and not for nothing, when you filter out all of the noise from the cacophony from social media statuses and posts, you really grow from whatever experience you are currently going through in life. You truly do get to know yourself as a person and those around you as well.

In my personal life, I have grown to enjoy whatever life throws at me by just not sharing everything on social media. It has strengthened relationships both with others and with myself. I cherish the moments and learn from them. I have also learned to use certain forms of social media ( my blog =D ) as a form of therapy and to be productive. So go out there and enjoy life!!

-Writer From Jersey


Woman of the House.

For most women, it is a great pride and joy to take on this role. For most women, it is what they’re born for, built for and destined for. I think of myself in this way for the most part but let’s face it, I grew up with my own mother taking on the woman of the house role and also being a career woman. That same statement rings true even now in my adult life..kind of. I say kind of because my mother has not been herself on and off for the past two years.

My mom began menopausing in her early 40’s. I know she’d most likely kill me for putting her business out there for the world to see but it is for the sole purpose of writing this blog and to shed some light for the next topic. This change in her mood and character prompted several shifts in my family’s life. One of them being my role in the house. I had always chipped in when I could despite a busy work schedule and trying to maintain a social life but now I had to put a lot of things on hold. It went from me being able to take my time coming home or stopping for happy hour drinks whenever I wanted to rushing home to put dinner on the table. I had to walk on eggshells and have my patience tested with tending to my mother hand and foot because she was just incapable of doing for herself. My sister had to leave work numerous times to either drive my mother to the hospital because of an anxiety attack or to a doctor’s appointment. My father had to take on sending payments for bills, a job that was once tasked to my mother. He had to be the one going to the supermarket to do food shopping with me being by his side since I was the one in the kitchen majority of the time.  Medical bills began piling up due to these hospital and doctor visits on top of the usual regular bills. As the months and years passed, my mother did have her highs and lows. But that’s the entire point. It never seemed like she would ever return back to her normal self.

I cannot count how many times us as immediate family, close friends and doctors told my mother that the road to her getting better could only start to be walked by her. Everyone else, the medications and doctors can be there to support her but the journey can only start with her. It took a 3 day hospital stay and for myself and my father to sit her down and be like, this is enough. You have to get through the periods of anxiety and wait it out. The last ER doctor even told her that there literally is nothing they could do other than what was done already, (EKG’s to prove she wasn’t having a heart attack, MRI’s and CT scans of her brain to prove she wasn’t having a stroke, echocardiograms to prove she had no abnormalities in her heart, blood work for any other underlying causes.) What was plaguing my mother was her own anxiety that she was allowing to spiral out of control. It took us to finally draw that line and to subliminally tell my mother to get her shit together.

I know for a fact this blog has a slightly whiny/selfish undertone and I am not going to apologize for it. This blog entry does not even begin to summarize the fact that my hair was falling out, my anxiety came so close to surfacing because I felt like I was taking on the role of caretaker for someone who had a deathly terminal illness when that in fact was not the case.

It is safe to say that for the past 2 weeks, my mother has somewhat returned to her old self. I am grateful but not holding my breath as I know the nature of the beast called anxiety is unpredictable. I am going to embrace her being herself and never stop reminding her that she is strong and she is beautiful. I also cannot lose sight that I need to live life for me. I can’t drop everything for my mother or anyone in my family. Anxiety is not something to undermine or be taken lightly. It can deteriorate strong ties that once held a family together, destroy a once strong individual and make even the sanest go insane. However, the road to recovery always starts with you.

– Writer From Jersey


I know it is you that can satisfy these deep rooted dark urges for pain & pleasure.

I have glanced at you from afar desiring your dominance over my body.

Never being able to escape that pull from within my soul.

We are both twisted individuals who crave devotion in the highest.

I look to you for security and you look to me for the same.

Satisfaction being reached in the tangle of ropes and sheets

Only we understand this sadistic love we share.

Clinging to our shadows of beautiful disaster.