Motivational Affirmations to Self

Below, you will find a few affirmations I’ve been saying to myself daily, and sharing them to LinkedIn. I hope you find them helpful, just as much as I have, and others too.

Each day, I try to find something positive to remind me that life is still worth living. These affirmations come to me because I think about my cousin’s incredible spirit and her undeniable knack for making others feel good, and because I have also been reading/listening to a few “Grief” devotionals via my Bible app.

I’ve another appointment with my therapist next Tuesday, at 7 p.m. Lord knows I love our sessions. I think I am going to need this one so much more than any other because this week has TRIED my patience. Seriously. I am glad I have my memories, these thoughts, some tools, and a loving and supportive tribe.

Healing is a journey. I think I am on the right path.

Spring And Its Many Gifts

In Bloom. Photo by Tremaine L. Loadholt

The dog and I walk our path just as we do each morning–the gift of sun and a slight breeze await us. We breathe in the fresh air and breathe out the peace of another day beginning. In this part of the South, Spring greets us just as she should, but she has on her wings a thick strip of pollen to sprinkle everywhere as she sashays by. 

I am an allergy sufferer–one of 50 million in the United States. The culprits? Pollen and shellfish (when not eaten in moderation). As much as I love to feel the sun’s rays beam down on my skin, during the spring months, I suffer the worst. The dog–also not too keen on pollen, does her share of sneezing and coughing. While I take a Claritin-D every morning, I also do nasal spray, and eye drops, and I sometimes have to take two Benadryl at night if the pollen count has been extremely high during that day. 

I’m no stranger to Spring’s many gifts and I appreciate life awakening from the dead when she comes around. She lends us the beauty of sunny and longer days, the peace that can be found in birdsong, the cheerful laughter of children’s voices, beautiful blooms on trees and bushes, and wearing less clothing because of warmer temperatures.

But she can be vindictive, too.

It comes at a high cost when you’re an allergy sufferer. Spring can be your best friend or your worst enemy. I try to find the beauty in her without slashing away at her for the many days I struggle to breathe. I try to focus on the positive rather than the negative. I love the newness that surrounds me when she makes an entrance. 

At least I know, I’ll garner more photos to look back on when I need a quick pick-me-up.

Spring–dawn’s gift to us
comes at a high cost sometimes
yet we welcome her.


Originally published via Simily.

the mystery of the flirtatious woman

A Prose Poem

Photo by Derek Fahsbender via ReShot

she doesn’t come wrapped in bows boldly standing at your doorstep–she creeps into your thoughts unannounced and ready to test your loyalty to the image of her you have tried hard to forget.

she carries herself well–bust intact and perfectly pressed into a pushup bra, eyebrows threaded without a flaw. she blows her honeyed breath in my direction, flashes a brief smile–I catch her pearly whites before blinking.

I want to place my hands in places not meant for prayer. I stand unsure of where to go when she is near. should I carve a path? should I move my mark?

she is a mystery to me–showing me what I could have, but keeping me at arm’s length. I have all these inches yet I yearn for a mile.

I am a patient person . . . 
I whisper to myself. 
I am a patient person.


Originally published via Simily.

After the Storm, There Is Still Hope

A Prose Poem

From a harsh windstorm, we had in my area over the weekend. Friday, March 18, 2022. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

I haven’t gone a full day without crying since your death. Some days, I think, “This could be the day. A full day with no tears”, and then I hear, smell, see, or remember something that has you all over it, and I begin to puddle. Triggers . . . I hate to dub them as harshly as I have, but that is what these things are . . . Triggers.

I haven’t been myself lately.

How can I be myself without you? I am writing more; fulfilling requests from interested people, doing what I said I always wanted to do. You have always been vocal about my writing and supported it undeniably.

The little things pump their way into my view, and I find myself trying to shun them without several blinks.

I don’t want to really see them.
I don’t really need to. Do I?

After I lost the part-time gig, I waited a few months and sold my car. We discussed this. It was best for me, and at the time, financially fruitful I was not. You listened intently, knowing I’d do what I needed to in order to get back on track.

Four months later, I am at a place where breathing is easier and above water is where my head seems to rest. The Powers That Be saw fit to give me a raise, and I paid down two bills significantly. I set my eyes on another vehicle, purchased it, and blended my life into the interior of a compact Chevy I call, “Solo.”

I wanted you to know, but I couldn’t tell you. Not like before. There’s no actual way of getting the news to you, but I speak to the air. I whisper to the clouds. I pray that you will hear my faint-barely-holding-on statements to you when no one else is around.


We have had several windstorms — weird for this time of year. A tree toppled my neighbor’s car. I’d just moved mine to venture out to the store, and when I came back, she and her sons were outside assessing the damage. My jaw dropped, as I’d not had Solo a full four hours, and had I not left for the store when I did, I would have been outside, alongside her, shaking my damn head.

I prayed for her to have patience — for her to gain what she needs monetarily to get another car. I prayed for any emotional distress she will endure — for the will and fight to duke it out with her insurance company and our property manager.

I look at her deformed vehicle — and send a word of thanks to God for making sure she was not in it.

I come inside my quiet apartment, pat the dog on her head, give her a treat, and put the groceries away. It had been nineteen hours without one teardrop. I read an article and watch a commercial about a fellow artist who is taking her art to new levels and the tears begin.

Triggers. That is what these things are . . . Triggers.


Originally published in soliloque via Medium.

My Emotional Journey from Menstruation to Menopause

An extremely detailed article on “medical menopause” from Janice Reid at Navigating the Change.

As a child, I had always dreaded the start of my menstruation. I had seen my mother go through it and then my sister a few years before me. By 1980, I had seen and heard enough to know I wanted no part of it. But because Mother Nature knows best, at twelve years old […]

My Emotional Journey from Menstruation to Menopause