Tag Archives: Kimberly Batchelor Davis

When Trouble Comes


When the troubles of life come how do you handle it? I can’t always say that I’ve handled it well. Life can be brutal, yet joyful and sad and confusing all at the same time.

I co-wrote and produced a play and let me tell you the devil was busy trying to stop this production. Before you say everything is not just evil, you’re correct, however, money problems aside I’ve definitely been tested. First off, my stove conked out and so did my furnace both at critical times with finances very low for an extended period of time. My furnace simply went kaput when the weather turned cold. This may not seem like a huge issue, but when its cold a space heater doesn’t necessarily cover it. Secondly, my husband and I stressed each other out a lot, especially me trying to get this project off of the ground. Thirdly, my husband was accosted by the police wrongfully for looking like a person of interest as he was told. Two undercover officers barrelled up on him literally with guns out while he walked back from Sinai Grace hospital back to his office where he works because he carried a backpack and he was considered a suspect in a robbery. No probable cause outside of a shaky description. His personal effects, which included his bag of M&M’s, a boiled egg and some paperwork for his office were scattered and tossed carelessly onto the street by these two police officers. Once they got another call that the suspect was in custody, they took off. No apology, no nothing. So after two officers pulled a gun on him and one of them put the gun to the back of his head, my husband stood there shaken. After a couple of minutes, he quietly gathered his items and stood there still shaken on the street. Afterwards, he called me and all I could think about was that he could have been killed and we’d never know what really happened or even why it happened. I’ve had people try to throw dirt on me in regards to this production and others who tried to stop the production. It’s been an eye-opener for real.

This has been an amazing journey, yet humbling because through everything God has remained faithful and blessed this production. We got another stove from friends who had an extra in storage and we were able to buy another furnace again with the help of friends. They know who they are and words can never express how grateful I am to them. Through it, all my husband shouldered it so I could keep my focus on the production. All I can say after everything was said and done, I’m extremely grateful and thankful to all that supported me through this process. I’m reminded that doing the right things are never easy and that if they were, everyone would do it.

I’m exhausted, yet excited for what’s coming next. Escape to Paradise: Book 3, two new stage plays for 2018, yes, I’m ambitious. And although I’d love to be on an exotic beach right now, I have work to do. This grind process won’t manage itself. It takes dedication and commitment. The bible says, “Weeping may endureth through the night, but joy cometh in the morning.” My joy has been restored. I am grateful and thankful for the blessings and the trials. God has shown me what’s possible and no matter what troubles come and they will that’s life, my focus has to remain on God and his promise. People talk a lot about how you respond to life’s troubles or how you carry your load. Yes, I must remain positive and it’s all true that does determine how successful you are in handling something, but it’s not always the reality. Trust me I know.  Because I could feel the darkness creeping back in on me, but Praise God he blessed me to fight back and rebuke that terrible, dark spirit. 2 Chronicles 20:15″And he said, Hearken ye, all Judah, and ye inhabitants of Jerusalem, and thou king Jehoshaphat, Thus saith the Lord unto you, Be not afraid nor dismayed by reason of this great multitude; for the battle is not yours, but God’s.”

If you’re struggling to move forward or trying to figure out if something is supposed to be – just listen to God’s voice and he will direct you. He directed my steps and he can direct yours. All you can do is put one foot in front of the other and walk forward, speak a kind word to yourself and remember your blessings. God is ever faithful and will keep you. If you look back over your life at times when he brought you out of something just remember he did it once and he’ll do it again. Be blessed, my friends.

Kimberly Batchelor Davis Mission Statement


Mission Statement

To create content that empowers, empathizes and embraces the struggles of women, writers and motherhood while fostering an environment that can celebrate, inspire and provide a safe place to discuss those issues that concern women, writers and mothers.

Why I went back to work


Why I went back to work is a question I’m asked a lot. I took a job because staying at home with my kids was not mentally engaging me. What I mean is that although I have two little chatterboxes who are very active, there is no opportunity for mental stimulation for me. No participatory conversation that stimulated my linguistic skills, challenged my thought process, or helped to keep my memory sharp. The routine of my kids was lulling me into a lazy state of ambiguity. Kids wake up, feed them, pop in a movie, read a book or play a game it was all the same to me. The monotony of it all began to wear thin on me. I love my children, but I needed something more for me.
Although I would work from home at times, it was always difficult because conference calls would hastily be moved to the bathroom for quiet and working on a computer, I had to balance a laptop and a toddler at the same time. In the beginning it seemed a viable alternative, however the stress of multi-tasking and organizing family and business in the same area just didn’t work anymore.
I found myself dreading the day and looking forward to the time when my children would be asleep. That meant I could work uninterrupted, despite the fact that I was cutting into my precious sleep time. My sleep bank grew more and more depleted each day. Between the battles to get my children to sleep and trying to accomplish my projects—I was simply spent. An outside work environment seemed to be the best option and something crossed my desk that I thought that I would be interested in. It was an industry that I was familiar with. Unfortunately, the position that I desired, I did not get, but I received another offer for another position.
I was elated that I’d be able to leave my house and have adult stimulating conversations. I convinced myself that I’d still be able to come home and give my children their much needed time. For the most part I do give them their time, however the position turned out to not be what I expected. Can you say Boring, uneventful, and totally the opposite of stimulating to say the least, nevertheless, I’m sticking it out until I finish my books and can move on to something better.
I struggle to come home, cook and entertain my family. A mother’s job is never done, no matter if she works in the home or outside of it. Mother’s wear so many hats and balance many plates. No holiday can make up for what Moms give to their families. Although most Mom’s say they just want time for themselves, I believe that’s true, however I believe that we all want a choice in what we do. There should be no pigeon holing in telling a mother to stay at home or go back to work. Whatever you decide to do, soar in your goals. Your children will thrive because you do. My children are doing well now that I’ve gone back to work and that’s a beautiful thing.

A Mother’s Responsibility


As a mother, one of your main responsibilities is to protect your children at all costs. You teach your children manners, the difference between right and wrong, and how to be respectful of others. What do you do when the color of your child’s skin puts them in harm’s way? With the senseless shootings, violence and general racist sentiments ramping up I’m forced to confront a deep seated fear, that my child could be harmed. It will not matter that he comes from a respectable family, that he’s well mannered, Christian or any of the other self-ascriptions that I give him. He’ll simply be seen as black and dangerous.

He’s above average in height, one could describe him as a man child already at the age of 6. He’s extremely goofy. He believes that farts and belches are funny, loves super heroes and is mischievous like a normal 6 year old. He holds my hands when we cross the street and kisses me goodnight. He has no understanding of violent culture.

If people are cursing or fighting he says, “OOOOh Mommy, they said a bad word.” He’s focused on trying not to lie because he’s been taught that God does not like lying. He knows stealing is bad and that you should always ask first and say thank you. He also knows that people should keep their hands to themselves. But what happens if my child is somewhere and someone is threatened because he looks bigger and older than he really is? Add to that being black and you have a dangerous mix brewing that will eventually lead to horrible consequences for someone.

I watched the video of the pool party in Texas where the police were cursing and swearing at the black kids, “Get your asses’ home.” but the white kids were told “Get your butts home.” Now this may not seem like a big deal, but if you respect a population then you’ll treat them with a modicum of decency. This was definitely not the case in the interaction with the black kids. When the young girl is thrown to the ground and made to lay on her face while she’s in a bikini with the officer’s knees in her back, my blood boiled. What if that was my child? Where was the adult supervision? Who’s advocating for these children?

That’s my big concern in relation to this incident like so many others that we see and hear about on a daily basis. If my kid is at your house then there should be supervision. Even in the supposed gated communities stuff still happens. Remember, Trayvon Martin. An adult should’ve made sure that the kids stayed contained in a specific area. From the video, it looked like there was a lot of chaos. I’m not sure how much adult control was directed, but I do know that as a parent it is my job to protect my children as well as, any guests that may be over for a visit. Long gone are the days when a child can be dismissed to walk home alone, in some places that’s considered child neglect.

A Fla. Couple was investigated for allowing their teenage son to stay at home by himself because he was locked out. He had access to water, played basketball in his own yard, but the authorities were summoned because the young man was outside playing alone for 90 minutes. It’s absurd. What’s even more disturbing is the trend of free range parents, where children are allowed to roam to parks, playgrounds, etc. without supervision.

Each and every parent has the right to decide how to parent. But unfortunately for parents of black children our rights are limited because of the stereotypes associated with our children. I don’t have the luxury to be a free range parent. I have to know where he is and who he’s with all the time. I have to instruct my sons on behavior that although is normal for everyone, the same behavior will get them killed, wearing a hoodie, running with a group of kids or being in a car with three other boys. It saddens me that the simple joys of being silly and goofy have to be measured by surroundings and attitudes. My sons are my joy and life. No one has the right to harm them, but I have to prepare them for the day when something might happen. Although this saddens me—it is necessary so that he can survive.

Weirdly Delicious


Academy Award Winner, Graham Moore last night spoke about his suicide attempt at the age of 16 and always feeling different. I nodded my head in acknowledgement. There were lots of head nods and clapping last night. Many people agreed with him and understood him. What I wonder is how many people have really felt rejected and misunderstood?

Now, I won’t sit here and say that I’ve been ostracized, but many times I’ve not felt acknowledged. This feeling dates back to when I was a child. I grew up in a home where children were seen and not heard. I know this is one of the reasons that I struggle as a parent. My children are seen and definitely heard. I didn’t develop my voice until I was an adult.

I was never the prettiest, nor the smartest or even the sturdiest. I was clumsy, shy and lacked confidence. I didn’t have many girl friends growing up because there was always some drama. You know get a group of women together and something’s going to get started. I always hung out with guys. Men are easy. They either liked me, not necessarily as a girlfriend, more like a little sister or they didn’t. I was always the fifth wheel when I hung out with my girl cousins. My fashion wasn’t quite right, my hair was never right. I have long hair, always have and every woman who has ever met me or been my friend has always had something negative to say about it. I learned it comes with the territory.

I’ve never been hip, it’s always like the person who tries to hard. I gave up. I don’t have swag, sex appeal or any of those things that my friends have. What I do have is a large vocabulary that I like to flex regularly. However, it always seems to escape me that I’ve missed some cultural anthem that everyone is fixated on. Words, songs, clothes, dances you name it, I’ve probably missed it.

In reality, Graham Moore is right. It’s okay to be different, to celebrate who you are through your individual expressionist means. There are those that like colorful hairstyles, tattoos or body modifications. None of that works for me because as a professional I would never be hired. However, my quirkiness is expressed through the things I care about, such as causes and issues. I’ve been ridiculed and called  a bleeding heart liberal as if it’s some sort of cancer that needs to be eradicated off the planet. Whatever, I always say. Although, its difficult to walk a lonely path, however if my heart tells me its the right one, I’d rather be alone.

As a writer I spend lots of time alone creating worlds and situations that spring forth from my brain. No one understands my passion for writing, why I love Politics the way that I do or volunteer as much as I do. Graham Moore reminded me that I am special, no matter how weird, different or lonely that I feel. It’s okay because people like us bring dimensions, color and variety to the world. To all who’ve felt odd or off there’s a place for you. Seek it out and claim your space.

Ignorance is Bliss


My mini rant for the day. Winter Break, Easter Break and snow days are tools of the devil that torment parents. Too much time, over stimulated kids, too much energy in my children all contribute to my breakdown. With the cold, snow and my to do list, it’s been hard to keep up with my kids. It’d be different, if I could send them outside to play, not, it’s too cold. Can’t go to the library, it’s closed. My to do list today is long and has two meetings on it. So what is a Momma to do? I’m throwing my arms up because no matter what I do, my children don’t listen.

Case in point, the other night I tossed and turned in numerous attempts to get some sleep. My husband slept soundly beside me. Every five minutes some little person kept shouting out Mommy to annoy me. At first it was Daddy, but Daddy ignored them and slept soundly. I on the other hand heard every sound emanating from their room. After several attempts to get them to quiet down, I gave up. There’s only so much energy that I can expend.

Last night, it was Deja Vu all I heard was the TV. Suffice it to say, I’m tired and still busy. With the weather it’s been hard to take the kids places because its been so frigid. Prayerfully, things will get better later this week. Originally, I had some things planned for the kids, however my plans didn’t work out. There are still three more days left in the week. I have to get it together. My husband says “Take it one day at a time and learn to ignore them. They’re fine.”

My girlfriend yesterday reiterated the same message. That I have to learn to ignore and get my discipline game face on. She watched me struggle with my oldest yesterday and become completely flustered by him. It wasn’t pretty, however its my reality.

My reality, my problem, I’ll have to learn how to deal with this. Maybe once I figure it out, I’ll be able to write a book disclosing all my secrets. People say how this is such a wonderful time and that I should just enjoy it. That may all be true, however no one ever talks about how difficult and frustrating being a parent can be. Ignorance is bliss when you don’t know.

The Not So Sexy Side of Motherhood


Jogging pants, yoga pants, large t-shirts and robes are a mother’s best couture staples. Ponytails are also a staple. For me it was always  bun, now its a wrapped scarf. No dirt, food, snot, poop or pee can damage them. All new mothers learn very quickly that whatever is most comfortable for you to wear, you literally begin to live in that. Forget showers and grooming, kids take away time. Every mother adjusts, however most will say showers are a luxury. For me showers are a necessity even if I have to shower in front of an audience, like I’m a peep show exhibit in Amsterdam.

My couture staple is extra-large jogging pants with a big shirt and sweatshirt over it. I substituted my big blue fluffy robe because my husband complained. Now he groans about the sweatshirt, I just ignore him. A woman can only take so much. I’m sleep deprived and for me to really look nice, it takes an effort. I need a corset, moisturizer, make-up to cover up my under eye bags, a long hot shower, comfortable loose-fitting clothing and accessories to even get a semblance of the appearance of nice.

Being a Mom has taken away all my glamour. Often when I get glammed up, I’m usually exhausted  by the time I’m dressed. And I always wear the same thing, something dark. I have several white suits, which beckon me, however I will not wear them for fear that a little person will muck them up before I get to where I’m going.

It would be great if some designer would invent sexy yoga and jogging pants. The problem is once you’ve had a kid everything sags, hangs and has moved. It’s hard to know where or how you used to be when you were cute. Pregnancy is hard on boobs, butt, and you’re midsection. Then add multiple pregnancies and everything deteriorates so much quicker.

My problem is that I’m tired and rushing, which is often. Jogging pants and a shirt are so easy to do. In the summer i have my go to sandals. In the winter it’s more work because I have to put on boots, however layering in my sweats is so comfy.

I know that I should take time and dress up, but it’s so darn hard. There’s only so much time in the day. And everyone always needs something. I’m trying to do better, especially adding my jewelry back into the mix. Since my children are not so much into the grabbing phase, I can wear some jewelry again. Baby steps, I have to remind myself. So the next time you see a mother in very casual clothes, don’t judge. Support her by giving her a compliment, it’s probably been a while since she received one.  And if you see a mother dressed up, compliment her because you never know when she might do that again.

Filled with Fear


The last few months have been pretty busy for me so much so, that I’ve not kept up on what’s happening in the world like I should. Two weeks ago on my way back home from Cedar Point, after having spent a great day with the family, we stopped at a rest stop. I decided to check my email while I waited for the rest of the family to finish their bathroom break. An alert crossed my phone alerting me to the unfolding riotous scene happening in Ferguson, MO. My mouth fell open and an uneasiness filled me with dread.

I had been unaware of what was happening because watching my local news had become a depressive chore, which fueled my obsession with issues of safety personally for me, my husband and for my children. I stopped watching because I was simply scaring myself silly.
Now my interest was piqued and my obsession needed to be fed. I mentioned it to my husband. He mumbled, “Yeah I heard something, but really not sure what’s happening there.”
We continued on our drive home. I didn’t give much more thought about Ferguson, MO until I was home, comfortable on my couch, with the television on. I saw the rage, heard the sound bites of the accounts of what allegedly happened. Then a day or two later the autopsy report was released and my anger, mistrust and fear grew. When will these senseless killings stop.
Why did Mike Brown, Trayvon Martin, Eric Gartner all die at the hands of a crazed cop or wanna be cop. Is there something in the very nature of police officers that makes them this way? My father early in his career before he became an attorney was a local Sheriff in our county. Sheriff’s here operate like local law enforcement, they are simply based through the county that you reside, instead of the city in which you live in.
I have cousins and friends who are police officers and none of them has ever shot a person based on how they look outside of a suspect profile’s description. I have friends of all nationalities and pride myself on being a pretty open person to other cultures. I’ve raised my children to be tolerant, respectful and follow the moral foundation that we’re building.
What worries me is when they grow, mature and become teenagers and encounter people who would do harm to them simply based on the fact that they are black males. My children are going to be very tall, big men. But my five-year old, who is currently the size of an eight year old is a gentle soul. He’s innocent, silly, goofy and mischievous. All the things that make up a precious little boy. I’m struggling with giving him some independence as he grows and not just shelter him from everything, but its sad to feel like I have to prepare my child for battle with society. I knew he had to be well-educated, mannered, respectful and law-abiding, but now even more careful because the police or some macho wanna be doesn’t like the way he looks, or he’s someplace he shouldn’t be(which right now can be anywhere),or somebody has an axe to grind for some reason against folks of color.
A straight answer can’t be gleaned through the media, too many special interests and corporations controlling what’s being said, how its being communicated and by whom. Cell phone video and eyewitness accounts have provided another unsettling view of what happened. My conclusion is Mike Brown was at the wrong place, wrong time he ran into the wrong cop. Whether the stories of the cop being beaten are true or false, it doesn’t really matter. The autopsy shows the path of the bullets and bullets don’t lie. This case will be solved through forensic investigation and eyewitness testimony, if the witnesses are reliable.
If my father were here he would remind me that no matter how heinous of a crime or deplorable of a situation every person accused has the right to a fair trial. Unfortunately in this day and age crime is political like everything else. Don’t believe me, look at the incarceration rates for young black men. Documentaries like Afraid of the Dark, PBS documentary on Riker’s Island highlight the issue, but ultimately the causes, I believe are the same. Poverty, disenchantment with the American System, lack of education and a degradation in morals and values.
If this is true then how do upstanding, honest, respectful, law-abiding young black males make it, by being cooperative with police and addressing it in court later. I’m not saying its fair, it’s the reality. I’ve seen firsthand the harassment that my husband, male friends and others have faced. Its sad the state that we live in.
I personally believe in the system. I believe in the law and elected officials to make a difference, but not once during this time did any of the elected officials bother to make a statement until the governor was pressured to do so. A dearth of leadership failed the community and continues to fail us when true leadership is really needed. Instead despotic leadership rears its ugly head working for its own angle instead of the cause or the group mainly affected.
So where does that leave us, namely me and my family. The answer is alone. As a believer and supporter of community organizers change can be had. if people will work together. Therein lies the problem, people don’t work together because of their own issues. My solution is until the day that we all come together in a glorious Kumbaya moment do what you can in your own community, neighborhood and home. That’s where change starts. In the meantime I will be arming my children with the tools that they need, reminding them of our history, ceaselessly praying for them and keeping them as close as possible. I fear there will be more Mike Browns and as much as my husband and I continue to do for the community many days it feels like a waste of time. However, I know that I am setting an example for my sons to follow just as my family did for me. Prayerfully, my children will become responsible, God fearing, successful in whatever they choose to do, community active folks who will continue to set the standard for what should be instead of what is.

The Motherhood Experience


Motherhood is a journey, not a destination. It is an individualized path, an experience that will be as unique to the mother as fingerprints are to humans. This is an experience that should be shared, embraced and celebrated. No mother should ever feel alone on this journey no matter the circumstances, whether rich or poor, having a husband, boyfriend, partner, family support or the lack there of.  But many women suffer in silence each and every day with depression, stress, violence and simply no help.

No woman should have to face motherhood or life alone. As women, we can support each other in positive, pro-active ways. I write this because in the last few months, its been very difficult for me, although I have a husband and friends. Two weeks ago, a very talented musician, whom I didn’t know, but many of my friends did know committed suicide leaving our community in shock and disbelief. Several asked, “How could this happen? Why didn’t anyone know?” The answer is simple he suffered in silence. On Facebook, friends shared their shock, prayers for the family, and reasons why people should never resort to this last course of action. I admitted in the same conversation stream that I had been suffering quietly for a year and a half with postpartum depression.

Another person quickly chimed in that she had experienced depression and had put the mask on trying to fake it until things get better. I reiterated that I did that all the time. Its my coping mechanism, although it’s not the most effective emotional management tool, it gets me through.

However, after having almost lost my house, and nearly pushing my husband and my children away, almost losing my sanity I have decided that a new approach is best. Besides at my lowest point, the only force that could help me was God,whether, you believe in him or not, that’s who saved me. I thought I understood what people meant by going through trials and tribulations, having a testimony or going through something, but I really didn’t understand it fully until I went through something. Those who’ve experienced a time in their life that changed them understand this better than most.

What I realize more than anything is that I should not be dealing with my feelings and emotions all by myself. Therapy, prayer, time with girlfriends is well spent to help me recover and get back on track. I have great friends, who unfortunately I didn’t turn to because I felt like I could solve my problems on my own or their problems were bigger than mine. Many people who suffer through depression feel this way, especially mothers who have to battle “The kids are a blessing…you just need to get over it” mindset.

I– like others I’m sure battled the same personal demons–there’s something wrong with me because I’m not happy with my kids, but I believe that the problem lies not in the children, but in the notion of what motherhood is. If people are honest about it Motherhood is not for the faint of heart, its difficult, time consuming, exhausting, but so very rewarding and there are no easy or right answers to many situations.

You learn and earn your warrior mother stripes with children. When I first became a Mom, I envisioned battling mythical threats (intruders, robbers, killers) to protect my son. Praise God nothing ever happened, but immediately I became a protective tigress over my baby cub. No one tells you that about becoming a Mom. I thought I was a weirdo because I have a such a vivid imagination. Who knew.

My female friends have been very supportive in sharing information, their struggles, their triumphs and their fears with me. I am now doing the same and finding out we are all experiencing the same amount of angst in varied degrees. My mission is now to form a support group for mothers who are suffering through depression and share my story of hurt, fear, anger and triumph. Prayerfully, someone can be reached through the sharing of information and not continue to suffer in silence anymore.

Motherhood its a journey. You get there when you get there, whatever way you travel.

 

 

The Fear of Motherhood


Motherhood is a revered institution. The hospital staff is usually great about giving instruction, but you’ve just given birth and are probably exhausted, overjoyed and overwhelmed all at the same time. When a woman becomes a mother many women report feeling alone, scared, helpless and uncertain of how to care for a tiny, helpless little human. The first few days people step into help, especially if you have a significant other and/or spouse, which is great until the day comes when you are left to fend for yourself.

But what happens after those first few days blend together in a hazy fog of sleep deprivation, hormonal shifts, intense love and absolute terror and fear over something happening to your baby? I don’t know about you, but for me it’s been a heck of a ride and many days I’ve been left feeling like I went twelve rounds with Laila Ali and I got clobbered.

I mentioned to someone a couple of weeks ago that my memory is completely shot. After two kids I no longer remember my phone number, my schedule or important dates, but I do know where the random socks, toys and who my son’s classmates are. Everything has to be written down or it just misses my brain completely. The other day Miles asked me where his shoes were and somewhere buried in the folds of my wrinkled brain were stored “It’s under the bed next to your Spiderman toy”. I caught myself because I couldn’t believe that I knew that piece of information. Later at a meeting, I couldn’t remember if I had scheduled a meeting with someone who I had just met with an hour before. I had to look it up. Can we say dementia already…I’m not claiming it, but it feels like everything creeps up on me. I’m always running around like “Oh s%it” I forgot…It’s almost comical until I miss an important deadline.

For many women fear can be loss of a career, loss of freedom, or loss of identity. I fear all of those. A confirmation of loss of career was that for the last few months all I’ve heard is “Wow, you’re back. You were gone for so long” In my head I didn’t believe that I had gone anywhere, but in community work out of sight equals out of mind. Now I feel like I have to give some long and complicated reason as to why it seems I dropped off the map. Truth be told my priorities shifted. My first son was my whole world and I did indeed lose a piece of myself. When my second son came I was trying to reclaim my identity, but it felt harder than ever with more demands being placed upon me.

The feelings of inadequacy sounded loudly in my head. The self doubting voices came back and I became paralyzed with an inability to move forward or make decisions. I began to openly wonder who is this person in the mirror? Because the person that I know can make decisions, make things happen and usually directs others toward action. Kimberly Batchelor Davis no longer existed it was just Miles and Aiden’s mom. For some that would seem like a wonderful thing, but for me I was extremely fearful that my life was over. The only thing left for me to do was chauffeur the boys to different places, cook and clean for them and make sure homework is done. Depression has overtaken me, but after really trying to figure out what I need (because no one else will do it) I decided I had to figure out to have an enjoyable life and be a mother.

I think I’m getting closer to the answer of what works for me, but its stressful and difficult because everyday there is something that seems to pull me away from my personal mission. But I’m not giving up although I have my moments. I schedule time to write, even though many times the schedule gets changed to accommodate something for my family, but I’m determined to figure it out. I know there’s a reason, God put me on this path, I’m not sure what it is, but I guess I can keep writing about it. And for me that’s what is important to me.