Prayers. Nature. Nurture.


I sit here in bed. On this overcast ass Saturday morning. Broke my “no socials before 10am” boundary & hopped on twitter.

There was this video. I’ll post the video at the end of this. But watching it reminded me of a story that my mum tells people (not like a brag-well, maybe, low key? 🥴) whenever fellow like minded Bahamians get together and speak on how they disciplined…aka beat the shit outta their children in order to “teach them a lesson.”

As I recite this anecdote word for word, I’ll tell you after what my mum (Taurus sun) taught me.

Ok so. I’m about 3-4 years old. We are all in my great uncles infamous church in Eight Mile Rock.

I’m 3. I’m restless. & I start to get fidgety. So. My mum does her best to contain me in my seat and in the midst of her attempting to do so-my 3 year old brain thinks that yes, finally some fun. We are playing. This is a game. & I start playing and end up smacking her face in the midst of what I thought was playtime.

She. The somewhat public figure. She, a Taurus woman with so much pride and image to maintain, takes my 3 year old slap, as a personal slight and attack against her. & “in front of all these people.” As her pressure rises (her words) she grabs me, pulls me out of the church and takes me outside and “wails on me”

Again, her words. I remember the last time this conversation came up, she was talking to some other family members about disciplining children. They, of course (products of thier own environment/upbringing) chuckled and agreed that was the best course of action…for a child. Doing what children do: playing.

Gyalll lemme tell you. I put sum on her behind. I beat the shit outta her.

-my Mum telling people about the ass whoopin she gave me, outside of church.

Now. Please don’t misconstrue or attempt to make it into anything other/more than what I am saying. It was never to the point of me having broken bones, dislocated anything, no fists (a slipper or switch worked for her, lol) no blood, no injuries none of that. I don’t want to ever portray something that never was. I was never a punching bag. Perhaps…maybe a scapegoat for misplaced/misdirected anger at times. but it wasn’t all the time/frequent (bc I’m a fast learner and learned VERY early not to fuck with this woman-I knew the consequences) so it wasn’t an every day or even every week thing. Nah.

But. When it did happen…it was always world shattering to me. Because. That’s where I learned that I could never feel safe, or trust the ONE person in the world, that I wanted and needed that from.

And kids need safety. They need to feel like their parents and primary caregivers will protect them, not the opposite.

So. After Alllllll these years, I still don’t feel safe with her. I’m talking emotionally and psychologically (this phenomenal woman also has an undergrad in Psychology 💀)

But. I never trust her with my feelings or my self. Because. That’s what I was shown. That’s what I learned.

My trust issues…began early.

give thanks

Here is the video that moved me to write this:

And next, here is the video and song from the artist, Prayers Aka, Leafar Seyer “Trust Issues”

It’s good to be able to say the words and articulate the things that I couldn’t growing up. To, as an adult, realize, understand and accept that…no one deserves “discipline” in the form of violence. & also, that some people that we love/love us the most…have harmed us the most. &. Completely unintentionally. What they grew up learning as discipline…was all that they knew. I’m grateful to be able to accept that. Was it right? Absolutely not. But, it was their way. I’m also grateful to know better, so I can be and do better (big up to Ancestor Angelou) and share this with mine and future generations. There are healthier ways. Give thanks.

4 thoughts on “Prayers. Nature. Nurture.

  1. I feel you. I think about my childhood a lot (what i can remember). What i have discovered is that my mind creates fillers for empty slots in my memory. I used to think my mom and i spent so much time together, but the reality was that she worked a lot and i was a latch key kid very young.
    She was very protective, yet my rapist was my sibling.
    I was/am super smart and got many awards, but she was never there to see them cuz work.
    I’m so conflicted about what i think i know about my mom and what reality imposes on my fairytale false memories.
    I digress and thank you for sharing. I love reading your thoughts fam. 🖤👑🖤

    1. Wow. It’s wild to me how so many of our childhood experiences mirror one another. Sending you infinite love, strength to you. Thank you for sharing with me/us. For being who you are and always keeping it 💯 Thank you for being here with me in this journey, fam. Blessings & Peace to you.

  2. First, I am so sorry you experienced this. I empathize because my mom is the same exact way worth me. No degree in psychology but definitely a degree in misery and narcissism with me as her scapegoat and emotional punching back. Critical af and no matter my achievements nothing is good enough. Having gone through this really makes me appreciate love and support now as an adult. It’s so scared and precious to me, when it’s genuine and authentic. Because it’s a rare find amongst the human junk out there. Trying to reparent myself as an adult has helped me heal. Sometimes I soul needs the lessons I guess. If we do t know what the opposite of love is how will we appreciate love? But now it’s time to learn with ease and flow.. you deserve that! You’ve done so much inner work I’m proud of you! ❤️

    1. You nailed it, Kat. It makes you appreciate the people who show up for you. See you, fuck wit you genuinely and support you in this living endeavor as a human. I’m grateful that on your own journey you have transmuted that energy and understand the value of solid ass folx. & having to fill that emotional deficit, heal wounds that you never signed up for…shit is wild.

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