Made ya click!

I knew before marrying Rico we would encounter our own unique versions of marital issues. What I didn’t know is that I would have to learn to differentiate what was an marital issue and just a “me” issue.


Post-marital counseling has done an excellent job in making it crystal clear that ya girl has an abundance of them. In fact, selfishness is sitting real pretty at the top these days. And this is an issue (along with others) I have thrust upon my marriage as if its our flaw or our responsibility to fix.

The sad thing is that these are issues I’ve always been okay with. And now even though I may be okay with them still (sometimes I thoroughly enjoy not considering others), someone is at risk because of it.

So, the next time you are having a disagreement with someone, especially ya manz, I say govern yourself first. Give yourself time to not only analyze the disagreement, but analyze whats going on with you. If it is a “you” issue, humble yourself and admit it. Not just to Jesus, but your partner as well, which is no easy task.  And then begin to take the necessary steps to allow yourself time to gaaahhrroooww through it.

Growth isn’t some one stop shop, like “I came. I saw. I conquered”. No. You’re always coming, you’re always seeing and you will forever be conquering. The amazing thing about growing in marriage as an individual, is that you have someone who is there to be gracious with you through the process.

Today, I am still selfish. Just less selfish than what I was yesterday. My husband hooked me up by giving me examples of ways I display my selfishness and provided suggestions on how to show my considerations. One example, really small but good. Whenever I start the car, I would only turn my seat warmer on and not his. He expressed how much he disliked it  and didn’t understand why I wouldn’t just turn his on as well.

Guess what I do now?








Unwavering Espresso


What is a morning without coffee? Most days I can’t function without it…twice. I’m pretty sure I’m not human until the taste of espresso runs through my veins. Daily I witness the resurrection of the dead. Coffee is the miracles, signs and wonders we’ve been looking for.

Since I started my 4 AM workouts, stopping at my favorite Starbucks in Hipsterville, USA (Uptown, Minneapolis) quickly became an inconvenience. I had two options; I could either end my workouts early or accrue daily occurrences for my tardiness and eventually lose my job. I was unwilling to sacrifice Baby Serena (the name of my dream body) and my coins. So I opted for a new pusher.

Conveniently they were located inside my job and advertised they sold Starbucks product. How bad could it be?

Day 1 – Coffee-ish

I approached the register managing to show off all 42 — no wait 32, however many teeth I’m supposed to have, only to be greeted with silence. I clinched my pearls and my panties began to bunch. “Can I have almond milk chai latte with 2 shots of my espresso?” I patiently awaited him to say “Oh! You want it extra dirty?” that was the Starbucks way. Again, nothing. He stated my total. As he returned my card I noticed right away his hand-eye coordination was impaired because he completely missed my hand and dropped it on the counter instead.

My pearls have now broken and what was once briefs, turned cheeky. I was dumbfounded by his rudeness. I immediately put Don Miguel Ruiz “Four Agreements” into practice. Don’t take anything personally – he treats everyone like this. Don’t make assumptions – maybe this guy is having a bad day. Always do your best and be impeccable with your words – as I picked my card up “thank you”.

Finally my fix arrived. I grabbed the cup with both hands and naturally my shoulder met my ears as I inhaled an aroma that should have been pure perfection.

This was not the good stuff.

My eyes didn’t begin to roll in the back of my head and I didn’t turn into another person. I got a little hit, but not a HIT HIT. What could I do? After all, he had what I needed and I banked on this encounter daily.

Day 2 and Beyond

Every day was like the day before. Greeted with his muted RBF. Instead of providing what I ordered, I got what he wanted me to have. Most days I knocked on the doors of death as he decided when my drinks should contain dairy. Who cares that I asked for non-dairy or that I’m highly allergic? And whenever I complained “I guess I can start completely over” he would say, as if I was inconveniencing him.

This man was undefeated.

No one could break him. He didn’t care who you were, his rudeness had no respect of persons. His position never changed, not even on Fridays. While many reverted to other forms of caffeine as their new defibrillator. I looked forward to seeing him.

I was a fan.

Eventually, it was no longer about the coffee. This antagonist was mesmerizing. I thought I caught a smile once, I’m relieved it wasn’t. It probably would have pained his muscles to actually smile. I was betting on him to go all the way. In my world where everything seemed so flighty, he was consistent.

In my weird-psychological-twisted admiration, I questioned if I had the ability to follow suite. Could I have one disposition? Especially being someone who is often a prisoner to their emotions. I definitely didn’t want be angry like him, I personally knew the energy it required. Maybe I’ll be unwavering. The type of unwavering where you are so fixated on what you know, it’s impossible to be shaken, to be moved. The essence of who he was, I was jealous I lacked. His consistency.

As espresso often aids in my ability to adult for the day, this encounter helped me recognize the other fixes I’m dependent on. They can easily be exposed as excuses, emotions and current circumstances. They have become my personal aid in how I choose to endure my day and how I treat people. It’s crazy how I’ve selected to be subject to vain imaginations, when freedom is there and always will be there eagerly awaiting to be selected.

How dope would it be to be so steadfast in what you believe, that people check in frequently due to their disbelief to see if you have broken ONLY to find out that you haven’t? Our disposition in life is always a choice. Which one will you choose today?



Unblock Yourself, Stupid | Pt. 1

2018 I witnessed much success! It’s crazy to see how far I’ve come.

1. I’ve successfully slept on myself.

2. I’ve successfully counted myself out before I was even in.

3. I’ve successfully had THE dopest “woe is me” party that went hard for about 2400 hours straight. Some days, still in counting. For all my math geniuses, that’s 100 days.

Three hundred and forty-two days of success! *insert major eye roll*

This year I felt BLIZZ-OCKED. That’s culturally relevant for “blocked”. While I’m mentally trying to *69 who it is that swiper no swiping every blessing God had —

[PAUSE] Let’s take a moment to shout out the fact that clearly, my mind is not with the current times that I’m mentally *69-ing a fake number. [FLIP THAT THING AND REVERSE IT] dah doG gnisselb yreve gnipiws on repiws taht si ti ohw 96* [PLAY] While I’m mentally trying to *69 who it is that swiper no swiping every blessing God had for me, finally I get a voicemail.

“Hey! You’ve reached TYAIRA–“.


I don’t cuss, out loud. In my mind, I said the word that starts with the letter B and ends with an -itch! *insert hooked on phonics skills here*

I should have known though. Most of my life-altering epiphanies tend to start AND end with me. Yet it still gets me every single time. Isn’t that like the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over expecting different results? Before you think “yeah! I think it is”, I’ve read various controversial articles denoting this definition. BUT I AGREE, THIS ONE IS SO MUCH MORE BEFITTING!

Why can’t it be someone’s fault?

I figured it out! That’s what I want for Christmas. I want it to be someone’s else’s fault. I want it to be their fault so I can be relieved of taking ownership and accountability for myself. DARN YOU MAN IN THE MIRROR! Always working to be better and stuff. Since Santa is still fat, lazy and denying request of anyone six and over, I am forced to deal with the realities of life. This harsh reality. Unblocking myself. PERIODT.


Intentional efforts in any relationship was something I was greatly unfamiliar with. Every friendship I fostered, both male and female had always been effortless.

The first four months of my marriage I forfeited due to the comparisons. I singlehandedly robbed us of our honeymoon phase because I believed that friendship could only come in one form, easy. I measured the authenticity of who we were by the standards of my previous relationships.

Naturally, Rico and I are very different. While I am a woman that has never had a shortage of words. Rico is a man who chooses his wisely. I’m often conflicted between Jesus and Trap, he’s the human Shazam for your favorite baptist spirituals.

I punished him for being himself. I punished us because this was a friend I had to actually learn. The survival of this friendship required being intentional. I didn’t have the luxury of having the “what’s understood doesn’t need to be explained” mentality. Assumptions would have driven and killed our relationship.

My dad one day shared with me “what you feast your eyes on, you will soon gravitate to”. My eyes were steadfast on everything I disliked about him, me and us. And it was true, those things became like a magnetic force. The things I wasn’t even looking for, began to look for me. If we had any chance of making it our first year my eyes needed a new focus and it needed to be him.

I had to neglect this code of effortlessness I swore by and simply become a student. I needed to feast my eyes on the things that I loved and appreciated about him because those things were true. Regardless of how I felt, how he made me feel or what I lacked in feelings; I couldn’t discredit who he was or what we had because it was different. Not bad. Just different.

So I started. Every day. I texted him one thing I appreciated about him and one thing I liked. Some days it was deep and other days I struggled to find something cause he had made me mad. But those things became my target. While I was looking for perhaps a change in Rico, I immediately begin to see a change in me. I found myself just really liking dude and developing the tools I needed to foster this relationship, patience.

It’s a shame to think of what I could have jeopardized if I continued to allow familiarity to dictate my judgment. It goes to show, how it’s been doesn’t have to be what it is.

Here’s to kissing “how I think it’s s’pose to be” goodbye!

Kissing My Miss Goodbye

Beyond the adjustment of being married, I had difficulty trying to intertwine who I was with who I was becoming. Subconsciously I was attempting to navigate being married without dying to myself.” 

I wish I could say that “now you may kiss the bride” is the moment I went from Miss to Mrs. I mean, yes legally I did. However, I have learned quickly that marriage isn’t some fairy dust that turns you into something that you are not already or willing to be.

I guess I always knew that I was wifey material. But I thought being a wife was a role that I would take on once I was little older and a little broken by life. I was much obliged by the idea of being someone’s fine auntie that wore fur coats in the summer and had a long distance boyfriend. I was much more interested in companionship than commitment.

So when I got married it took everyone by surprise. Including me. Something that I knew one day would happen, was happening sooner than I thought. I was more taken back by the peace I felt as I was prepping to embark on the biggest faith decision I have ever made.


A little about my mmaannnz and I. We never dated. We just married. Granted we were friends for five years. I could honestly say that I spent more of that time friend zoning him. Oops! Although we made the decision to marry one another, it almost felt like it was arranged. Our marriage was a strategic decision inspired by the peace of God. We knew enough going in (i.e. financial stability, religious beliefs, family history, life goals and aspirations), but not a lot compared to other relationships. We were not influenced by craze butterflies in the pit of our stomach or false social media depictions of #RelationshipGoals. Just a… “We’re going to get married” and an “okay”, followed by a ten minute drive to the nearest Jared. About a month later we hi-jacked my parent’s church service with an impromptu wedding. And boom! We’re married.

It humors me to reflect on the thought that I wasn’t broken. And how I potentially needed more time to become broken. Marriage has revealed how broken I was really was, or am. For the first time I’d been exposed. And this time, there was no running.

Marriage for me has been more humiliating than I thought and has left me vulnerable. Our first five months I toyed with the thought of if I wanted to stay or not. Beyond the adjustment of simply being married, I had difficulty trying to intertwine who I was with who I was becoming. Subconsciously I was attempting to navigate being married without dying to myself. I came to a harsh reality that I could not and that I had to choose.

I wish I could say that “now you may kiss the bride” is the moment I went from Miss to Mrs. I mean, yeah! Legally I did. But the lifting of my Vera Wang cathedral veil was just the first kiss to kissing my miss (and some other stuff) goodbye!

Dying to yourself is a *BEEP*