Is all of this really happening right now? I struggle to feel as if time is real and outside is happening. Human senses are experiencing a shift. A global grief, a tense and raw, maybe even primal reaction to the threats happening around us. As the human species, I am more convinced that we are beings that feel on a visceral and subconscious level when there is an unsettling of ways of balance. When there is a forceful disruption to harmony that causes pain on a cellular level.  I cannot remove the visions of scenes of raw pain and grief that we have seen because of social media giving us a visual lens into the ethnocide of the Indigenous people of Palestine. One nation who had a immense part of their own ethnic population decimated due to racist and ethnic hatred has repeated the history of their oppressors onto the Palestinian people. What an odd thing nations with power do. Destroy and dehumanize their subjects and plot to exterminate them.  I have also been listening to th...

 When there is no space For a pain one can't articulate There is no space For the healing that is needed When there is no help For the pain one can't articulate There is no holding That child in need When there is no space  For someone to see us There is no space For someone to know us Space Is Required For Love

My last blog post was two years ago. I tend to avoid writing when I'm trying to figure out my life. As life changes, we are forced to adapt and find ways to adjust to our new circumstances, and figure out what those changes mean for us. Near the very end of 2016, I separated and divorced my partner of almost 10 years. There aren't any ways that make "why?" either a black/white question, nor one that is owed to any outside party. Since then, I have grown leaps and bounds in my forward movement as an individual, and as a mother and community member. I have spent time defining and refining parts of my personal growth as a bi-ethnic woman of color, and studying how life in the past few years has really brought the invisibilized forces of oppression to the forefront for Black communities, as well as Native communities. Voices have grown, newer generations have began their activism using online platforms, hashtags, and language that both challenges and fits the progressin...

It is a sacred rite It is a sacred right It is a maddening career It is a controversial choosing It is an extension of your woman-hood It is a teaching of the totality of Life in too few semesters It is a heart-wrenching loss of control It is a seething curse of protective urges It is a withering of hope with age It is a longing for timelessness It is a longing for less time It is unsettling It is grounding It is everything It is separate It is pain It is grief It is light It is life It is love It is hurt It is silent It is deafening It is hard It is hardening It is softening It is soft It is. Mothering is mine. -Moni Padula copyright 2016

I created this space as a space to detach from the scrutiny of social media and to dissolve a little bit into the vast anonymity that is the Internet. Here, everyone writes, even things that aren't true, and everyone reads and discards continuously what they don't want to take in. This space was for me to have a journal of honest growth in the areas of my life, but I haven't been very honest for the past year of my life. For that I am sorry. Why haven't I been honest? In part, of fear. Okay, cut the crap, 99.9% out of fear. Fear of losing the respect of others, fear of what others would think about my put-together outward appearance. If others knew there were times I had doubts about my life, my personality, my marriage relationship, my family size, certainly they would see me as unstable and questionable and maybe two-faced. And that would be terrible, since I want nothing more than to be taken seriously. But part of those fear-driven secrets are just that...create...

I will be completely honest. So many people are attacked for their transparency, or as others may less sensitively call it, "telling all their business." I laugh at this because privacy is considered a virtue nowadays. Privacy about sexual relationships, about breastfeeding, about fights in marriage, about disagreements between family members. What does privacy really help if we are being honest? What creates more discomfort and more awkwardness and more fuel for change but to be confronted in a not-so-private way? At the same time, what causes more vulnerability, more lowering of our shields that yield us powerless where we most need safety and security, in our hearts? So as I said, I will be completely honest because I am at peace with where I am in my life. I don't find shame in the normal shaming society finds to be necessary, but I do find a yearning to confront and call out why we feel it is ok to provoke shameful feelings in others undeservedly because they are d...

A catch-up blog is necessary once in a while. Something that regroups and reconnects on a more formal level instead of the minute compulsive postings on social media. When you keep up with the P's, we Padulas manage to have something always going on. No, no new babies coming that we know of (although I'm not against the idea). Just a lot of the unknown looming ahead, with our choices being very important to the well`being of ourselves, our marriage, and our family. Being in Texas has been good for us as a family; I've been challenged to be a better mom, a better wife, a better me to myself. I have sharpened my ears and tried to keep the tone of my voice down. Tried to be good to myself and learn what I need to do to keep myself afloat creatively and in terms of passion. Most of the time, I talk with my peeps on social media. It helps keep me connected. Sometimes, I isolate myself for a very small amount of time to read or think or send catch-up texts to friends. Random ...

There was so much to say, but she really had no clue how to begin. Her mouth wouldn't begin to form the sounds her heart was bursting to relay. This was not a language she was skilled in speaking. As time continued to tick, she became more and more desperate to relay something... most of all, 'I'm sorry.' I'm sorry for disappointing you, although all I wanted to do was grow and be free to do so. I'm sorry for the pregnancy, but it turned out to be one of the most important events in my life. I'm sorry my past linked into my future and caused a threat to you and what had been only yours for so long. I'm sorry that I couldn't find a way to connect, and eventually stopped trying, allowing my hurt and disappointment and disgust to build up and create its own wall between us. I'm sorry so many years have passed by and continued the wedge between us. I feel time crashing down all around me and the passing of age, but I don't feel like there is ...

I feel like I owe you all some kind of written explanation of where I've been and what I've been doing since I disappeared off the face of the Earth in August. Actually, my family moved across the country, from the state of Michigan in which I was born, to Texas, an unknown land that I imagined to be full of desert, dry and hot. Hotter than I cared to suffer through. My husband received the promotion he's been waiting for for a long time. This past year, I've watched him switch to sales, something he's never done before in his life, and work his way to really learning the company, going to training, and finally being able to be offered a position as assistant manager of one of the company stores. The only catch is that we needed to move to get this opportunity. Which I was fine with. I was tired of Michigan (no offense, boo) and really have had a traveling and adventurous spirit since I was young. When I was in grade school, I would go to the library and pick ou...

Today I realized that I am loved and that I am blessed to be able to have children, watch them grow, and stay home mostly full-time to do so. My youngest son Kendrick, who just turned a year old a couple weeks ago, is now growing into his personality and it's such a treat to see. I love this part of child-rearing!  I really do believe the first five years of our babies' lives are the hardest because they are almost 1000% hands/ears/thoughts-ON. So much micromanaging, effort, strength, stress, and speculation goes into their care. From discipline to schooling choices to nutrition to personal energy stamina it's quite the tilt-a-whirl. Sometimes I feel for myself because of the hustle and bustle and energy required and expended and other times I feel grateful, mostly the latter. Especially during nap time. But those little moments-the laughs over shaking our heads "no" over eating pureed bananas, talking about butts inappropriately at the dinner table, heavin...

My mom always said, "Always tell the truth. Even if you think you're going to get in trouble. I need to be able to trust what you say, because one day you're going to need me to trust when it looks like you're lying." I never forgot that, and I began my truth-telling as a young lady. Even when I was telling the truth, I still sometimes was perceived as lying. But I held to that code of honor 99.9% of the time for the next years of my life up to this day. There were times I became defensive and eluded an honest view of myself and something wrong I had done, but I came around. The lie I most regret is the one to Mrs. Rabeler, ninth-grade algebra teacher. She was a very smart, sharply-dressed woman who taught at Lansing Christian High School. Man, was she brilliant at math. She wrote neatly on the overhead, and nobody even thought to disrespect her, I don't think. The one rule we all had is that we could NOT chew gum in school. We had a brand new school and e...

This reflection quickie is inspired by something I said to my son regarding food. Take a peek: Me: "What did you have for lunch at school today?" Son: "I didn't try it, I didn't think I would like it." Me: "Son, you're not always going to like everything that's placed before you. What if we didn't have any food at home and that's all you got to eat for a few hours, is what was offered at school? You'd be pretty hungry." **Deep breath to think of how to organize subsequent thoughts into preschool-friendly terms** Me: "...sometimes you can't think about the future, that you'll just eat when you get home. Think about the present, what's happening right now. You won't always like what's in the present, but sometimes you have to accept it whether you like it or not." Did you catch it? I immediately ingested my own words, and they're still digesting. I realized that the pain and hurt I mu...

The Good Woman woke up one day, and realized she no longer felt refreshed. She wiggled her toes, and felt a dull ache that resided all along the bottoms of her feet. She flexed her hands, in and out, in and out. The same ache. It took all the energy she could muster to swing her feet over the side of the bed and pull her creaking body upright, placing her hands on her legs and slowly bending into the squat that would propel her into a standing position. She had been to the doctor after her last baby, and had blood tests done. The tests showed that her thyroid was low, whatever that meant. She listened as her eyes glazed over, hearing the words "T4" and "thyroid stimulating hormone alerts the brain..." all the while wondering "When will I feel better? When will I get my life back?" She could only remember that earlier that week, her husband impatiently picked up around the house, throwing the dishes in the dishwasher, asking what was the plan for dinner. ...

A healing journal can be whatever you need it to be. For me, I need a place to share some of my soul. This journal takes place in Lansing and Kalamazoo, MI. I am not afraid to heal. There is no filter on this post, because my best work comes from a truly awesome and terrifying place. No cliches here, just me unexposed and in the raw. Because I'm not afraid. I have a cousin who I didn't know too well growing up, because she was older. I called her "Cousin Fran" because I was taught to give titles to adults, even family member adults. She was always sweet to me, and I was the flower girl in her wedding. I remember I got to wear lipstick, and my cousin kissed me to transfer some of her excess lipstick onto my lips. I felt like a goddess the rest of the day. This same cousin now has breast cancer. She is going to write a book soon. What will it be about? I don't know, but I know it will be real and raw and unafraid. I wrote on her Facebook the words "No...

A healing journal can be whatever you need it to be. For me, I need a place to share some of my soul. This journal takes place in Lansing and Kalamazoo, MI. I am not afraid to heal. It's like being chased Sooner than later it's going to catch up with you And if it doesn't kill you, the running will. It's like taking medicine to solve your tummyache And it won't stay down And you know the tummyache's gonna come back, over and over. It's like staring at your reflection And you make a face Yet your reflection doesn't move You walk away and it stays behind, still staring at where you were. It's like screaming and kicking and scratching at flesh And biting and growling and howling till hoarse While your mouth smiles and your eyes brighten Talking to someone you like It's like an insurmountable rage Surly and intensifying Crawling up your throat, which tightens uncomfortably And escapes as a tear or two That's what my p...

It's Saturday morning. I am sitting with my  coffee, apple, and bagel. I am content with my two children across the room playing computer games, and still high from the intimate lovemaking my husband and I shared last night. I am ready to be loved, and I embrace it. I am happy. Why share so much? I am satisfied with food in my belly. I see my babies playing contently. My husband and I are loving to each other. I feel satisfied. That's why I am ready to be loved and ready to embrace it. Daily, I must decide how much I will allow myself to be loved and by whom. Women are notorious for allowing relationships to frustrate and dwindle by placing impossible demands upon their partners for love. Not that women are impossible of being loved by others, or satisfyingly so... women forget that one must self-love to accept outer love. Remember how it felt when your best friend ran to you in school and whispered that someone liked you? You felt giddy, excited, powerful, noticed, and...

She exhaled a small sigh of sheer ecstasy at the ability to grab her laptop and sprawl out on the loveseat in front of the window to write. These small bits of time were precious to her, the times when her husband was working and the kids were at daycare. The moments of aloneness were welcomed and wished for often during the week, and when they finally came it was like a wish come true, almost too good to believe. She knew at any moment the phone would ring, it would be time to rush off to her evening's work, the oven timer would ring signalling that the food would soon start to burn if she continued to neglect it. Many a dinner had suffered at her hands, which were often busy tickling the keys of her laptop. Ah, moments just to sink into her thoughts and simply let them run wild across the screen. Sheer bliss. She thinks of the times before the kids and the marriage, when she was alone once again, wild, a bit selfish, but free. Able to do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted...

This is a cry for blog help! Does anyone know how to add pictures to blogs? Also I would love to know how to post links of specific blogs onto my other networking sites (fb, twitter, etc.). Does anyone have suggestions on how to help a novice become better at blogging? Luv you for taking time to read this! Moni

Happy Saturday to you lovelys! I have an obsession with hair. I can talk about hair all day! Maybe because I am fascinated by all the different textures of hair we all possess within our different cultures. Growing up, hair was a PAIN for me because I didn't know how to manage it. I am tri-racial (lol): Black, White, and Native American. I was adopted at a young age into a Black family, all of whom had Black hair. God bless my Mom, I know she truly tried, but I am convinced she had no clue how to take care of my hair. She tried using Black hair care products (like Blue Magic-AUGHGH!), which were always too heavy for my hair and made it greasy. She tried braiding my hair before, but it always started getting flyaways and coming loose after a couple days. And she NEVER used heat on my hair; I had to beg her to straighten my hair with the pressing comb or to curl it with the curling iron. In her defense, I had OODLES of hair...it was thick and all over the place, but it was beauti...

A great poet, Langston Hughes, once said: Hold fast to dreams for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams for if dreams go, life is a barren field, frozen with snow. This poem has been running through my mind lately. I have been thinking about the meaning of life. My purpose in life. As morbid as it sounds, people my age and younger pass away every day-car accidents, suicide, cancer, eating disorders, what have you. There are self help books I have read, such as Purpose- Driven Life (author?) and A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle, both spiritual books in their own right. The latter spoke more from a psychological point of view, and touched on anger, forgiveness, the "ego", identity, destructive habits, etc. It helped me achieve a new level of enlightenment. There's a verse in the Bible that says "a cheerful heart is like good medicine" and another verse that says "hope deferred makes the heart sick." (Proverbs)....