Boys to Men - A New Perspective

When I raised my son, I thought being a good mother meant fixing everything. If he had a problem, I wanted to solve it. If he struggled, I wanted to make it easier. I was his mother, and protecting him came naturally.

But raising a child—and then watching that child become an adult—has taught me something I couldn't fully understand back then:

Struggle builds character.

My son is 33 now, and our relationship has evolved. He has reminded me that he isn't simply my “child.” He is my son—a grown man with his own thoughts, opinions, experiences, and voice.

That distinction may seem small to me, but it means something to him. And I've learned that loving my children means being open enough to hear what they are saying, even when their perspective isn't the same as mine.

When my son was growing up, one of the things I intentionally did differently was allow him to have a voice. I didn't always agree with him, and I still had the final say when I needed to, but I allowed him to express himself and have some say in the things that affected him. Looking back, I believe that mattered.

He has even told me that the way I raised him—the sacrifices I made, the things I did to make sure he had what he needed, and the way I allowed him to question things—helped shape his ability to recognize when something doesn't feel right. But he also taught me something in return - that I didn't always allow him to struggle.

My instinct as a mother was to fix things. If my child came to me with a problem, my first thought was, “How can I make this better?” I protected, provided, solved, and sometimes buffered him from experiences he needed to navigate for himself.

It wasn't until he became an adult that I realized something: by fixing everything, I may have prevented him from learning that he was capable of fixing some things himself. He had to enter the real world and discover that the world wasn't going to cushion every fall. And that's when my mother's heart had to learn another lesson: Sometimes loving your child means letting them struggle just enough to discover their own strength. Not abandoning them. Not withholding help when help is truly needed. But knowing when to step back and let them spread their wings. That is something I would do differently if I had the opportunity to raise my children again. I would still love fiercely. I would still protect whole-heartedly. I would still provide totally, but I would allow a little more struggle.Because struggle builds character.

And now, at 33, my son doesn't need me to mother him in the same way I did when he was a boy. Sometimes he needs a mother. Sometimes he needs a confidant. Sometimes he needs someone to listen while he works something out for himself. And sometimes he just needs to vent without me trying to fix it. That has probably been one of the hardest lessons for me as a mother: learning that my job changes as my children grow. 

There was a time when I carried the responsibility of raising them on my shoulders. Today, I can put the mother hat down. I can take that weight off my shoulders and simply embrace the wonderful man and woman my children have become.

Do I get it right every time? Absolutely not. But I'm still learning. And perhaps that's the beautiful thing about raising children: we think we're teaching them how to become adults, only to discover that they are teaching us how to become better parents along the way.

My son taught me to listen. He taught me that having a voice matters. He taught me that being his mother doesn't mean I have to solve every problem. And he taught me that sometimes the greatest gift I can give him is the freedom to discover what he can do for himself.

He is still my son. But he is no longer the little boy I was responsible for guiding through every step.

He's a man. And I'm grateful that I get to know him as one. I'm just saying, I got issues. What about you? 🦋 

Read the original blog here. 

Why Do People Lie? A refreshed I Got Issues reflection

Back in 2012, I wrote this piece with a lot of fire. I still believe honesty matters. But now, after more years of watching people, including myself, I see it's a little more complicated. People lie for so many reasons. Fear, like fear of disappointing someone. Shame, like not wanting to be seen as weak or messy, and sometimes it's about control, steering how someone else reacts.

But the cost adds up. Lies strain trust, even small ones, and once that trust breaks,repair can be slow, sometimes impossible.repair can be slow, sometimes impossible. I'm just saying,  #igotissues, what about you? 🦋 

And if you'd like to revisit the original, revisit the old post here. 

Silence Isn't Quiet. Sometimes It’s Louder Than Noise.

I just got back from my fourth silent retreat, and once again I'm reminded why I believe people should experience something like this at least once because it can be life-changing.

Imagine stepping away from technology, people, responsibilities, the constant hustle and bustle. No phone, no social media, no television, no outside noise competing for your attention. Just you, nature, your thoughts, your breath, and your body. For those days, aren't checking your phone or rushing around. You begin noticing things. Sometimes, even the silence feels noisy. The amplified sounds of spoons knocking plates, chairs dragged across the floor, or the deep sigh of someone who can't speak. And in that quiet, mindfulness sneaks in. You start moving differently. Lifting the chair instead of dragging it. Handling your spoon gently, moving with more care. 

That awareness doesn't have to stay at a retreat. You can bring it home. More presence, more attention to the little things. And maybe that is the real lesson, sometimes we don't need more noise more conversations or more distractions.

Sometimes, we just need to be still long enough to hear. And that's an issue worth paying attention to. I'm just saying, I got issues. What about you? 🦋 

Merchants passing on 3.5% creditt card fees to patrons

So when did everything start coming with a fee? I swear, sometimes it feels like if somebody could figure out a way to charge us for breathing air, they would. But I know the world has always been about money. Lately, I've become more aware of just how many little fees are being added to things that used to be a, part of doing business. 

Sometimes those fees are so small you barely even notice. But they add up. I started noticing this years ago when I worked at an auto repair shop. The owner told me he wanted to start adding a percentage when customers paid with a credit card. Because he had seen other businesses do it. At the time, I thought, "hmm, okay." Then I started seeing it in more places. You go somewhere and there's a sign telling you that a 3.5 percentage will be added if you use your credit card. You buy tickets to an event and suddenly there's a "processing fee". You see a "convenience fee". You look at your receipt and there's another charge that you weren't expecting. And I'm thinking "Wait a minute. I'm already paying the bill. Why am I also paying your cost for accepting my payment?" 

My mom taught me something years ago that I've always tried to live by. "Pay your credit card bill in full and on time." Why? Because she didn't want the credit card company making money off of me through interest. So imagine my surprise when I realized that even when I pay my credit card off in full, I may still be paying an additional fee to the business simply because I chose to use my credit card. And here's the thing. I'm not saying don't use your credit card. I'm saying "Pay attention." Because once I became aware of these fees, I started making different choices. If I see that a business charges an additional fee for using a credit card. I might take out my checkbook. I might carry cash. I might ask whether there's a different price depending on how I pay. 

Today, I went somewhere to get an apostille seal on a document. There was a sign clearly posted letting customers know that using a credit card would result in an additional 3.5% charge. I was gonna use my credit card but after seeing the sign opted to pay cash instead. So happy it was just three dollars because I had it. So I paid the three dollars in cash and kept it moving. 

That little moment reminded me of something. Sometimes it's not about the amount. It's about having the information and making the choice. And that's why I'm writing this. I'm not telling anybody how they should pay their bills or what payment method they should use. I'm simply saying be informed. Look for signs and look at your receipts. You may see words like "credit card surcharge", "convenience fee", "service fee", "processing fee", but don't automatically assume they're all the same thing. Ask what the fee's for. If you're about to make a purchase, ask, "is there an additional fee for using my credit card?" If there is, then you can decide whether the convenience of using your card is worth the extra charge. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. But at least you know. And that's really my point. Because if we're not paying attention, we can swipe, tap, sign and walk away without realizing that we just paid an extra percentage on top of what we already owed. 

Here's another thing I've learned. Just because a fee is small doesn't mean it isn't money. 3 dollars here 5 dollars there a percentage over here, a processing fee over there. Before you know it, you've spent money you didn't have to simply because you weren't aware of the charge. So, the next time you're getting ready to tap that card take a second. Look for the sign. Ask the question. Check the receipt. And if there's another way to pay without the additional fee, then decide what makes sense for you. I'm not trying to tell anybody what to do. I'm just saying, "Know what you're paying for." Because, apparently, these days even paying your bill comes with a bill. I'm just saying, I got issues. What about you? 🦋 

What I know about relationships now that I didn't know then.

For a long time, I thought being a good partner meant making sure the other person was happy. I would focus on what they wanted to do, what made them happy, what they needed, and what I could do to make things work, even when the effort wasn't matched. 

What I didn't understand then is that I'm part of the relationship too. I have needs, I have wants, I have to matter too. A relationship shouldn't be one person constantly giving. There has to be balance. You should be willing to give but not lose yourself. And sometimes we're carrying old hurt into new situations. That's when self-reflection becomes important. What am I looking for in a relationship? What am I willing to give? What am I willing to accept? And maybe most importantly, what have I been accepting that I shouldn't have been? 

People aren't responsible for our happiness. Healthy relationships need space, boundaries, and individuality. I'm just saying, I got issues. What about you? 🦋 

When customer service becomes the problem

Have you ever called a company because you needed help, only to fight your way through the customer service system just to reach a human? Well, let me tell you what happened to me. 

I was dealing with a T-Mobile issue at the airport. I called expecting assistance, but got stuck, in what felt like an endless automated loop. 6 minutes turned into 53 minutes. I'm not talking about waiting comfortably. I mean fighting through prompts that don't lead to a person. Customer service shouldn't feel like a test of endurance. 

I'm sure I'm not the only one who's experienced this. What's the longest you've ever had to wait, or wrangle an automated system? I'm just saying, #igotissues.  What about you? 🦋 

I Don’t Want to Be Tolerated

For a very long time, I thought I needed a relationship to complete me. I thought being in a relationship meant I would feel valued, loved, and supported.

But what I learned was that I could be in a relationship and still feel completely alone.

I was still dealing with life's challenges on my own. When my car needed attention, I handled it. When it needed gas, maintenance, or washing, I handled it. When the grass needed cutting, I handled it. And while I was handling all of that, I was also cooking, cleaning, giving, nurturing, and catering to someone else's needs.

I was exhausting myself trying to be everything for somebody else, while wondering who was making sure I was okay.

And that realization changed something in me.

I don't want a relationship where I am constantly giving and carrying the load while the other person simply receives. I want a partner. Someone who understands that life is a two-way street. Someone who is willing to share the load, offer support, show up, and genuinely care about what I'm carrying too.

I want to feel appreciated, not tolerated.

I've also learned that attraction and chemistry are wonderful, but they aren't enough to build a lasting relationship. I want to know who you are beyond what you find physically attractive about me. What are your values? What matters to you? How do you communicate? How do you treat people? What do you bring to a relationship besides your physical presence?

And there is another thing I will not compromise: my core beliefs.

My spiritual understanding and consciousness have evolved through years of questioning, learning, experiencing, and having truths revealed to me along my journey. My relationship with God, the Universe, and my understanding of who I am are deeply important to me.

I don't expect another person to have every answer I have or to experience spirituality exactly the way I do. But I do need someone who can respect my beliefs, honor my consciousness, and allow me to walk my spiritual path without trying to pull me away from it.

I have worked too hard to find my peace and understand myself to compromise the very things that have helped me become the woman I am today.

And I'm not in a rush to jump into bed just because there is attraction.

I don't need to sleep with you to show you that I care about you. I want the opportunity to build something first. Let's talk. Let's spend time together. Let's learn each other. Let's see whether there is a foundation strong enough to support something meaningful.

It might take six months. It might take a year. Maybe longer. I'm not putting a deadline on getting to know someone. I'm putting value on the process.

For a long time, I neglected myself because I didn't know any better. I grew up learning to figure things out through experience, and some of those experiences taught me to give more than I received. Over time, my heart became guarded.

But now I'm learning something different.

I am learning to love myself. I'm learning to protect my peace. I'm learning that being single does not mean I'm incomplete, and being in a relationship does not automatically mean I'm loved.

I don't need someone to complete me.

I want someone who complements the woman I've already become.

Someone who can meet me where I am—not just physically, but emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.

Someone who understands that friendship is a two-way street. You don't get to say you're looking for a friend and then use that friendship as a place to dump all of your problems without ever asking how I'm doing.

I have peace in my life now, and I'm not willing to trade that peace for a relationship just because I don't want to be alone.

I'd rather be alone and whole than partnered and exhausted.

I'd rather wait for something meaningful than settle for something that only looks good on the surface.

Because I don't want to be tolerated.

I want to be loved. I want to be appreciated. I want to be supported. I want to be respected. And I want to be chosen just as intentionally as I choose.

I'm just saying, #Igotissues. What about you? 🦋

#Love #Relationships #SelfLove #Peace #PersonalGrowth #Dating #KnowYourWorth #HealthyRelationships #SpiritualGrowth #Consciousness #Igotissues