Blessed Little Lessons & Laughs with Bran

Note to My Blessed Little Lessons Family Hey🙋🏾‍♀️  I know I haven’t posted in a while, and I wanted to make sure I shared something before May ended. It’s been almost two whole months since we brought Moon earthside, and this felt like the right moment to check in. Now that I’m back to brushing my teeth regularly, I figure I kind of have time to blog. I’ve been reflecting deeply on motherhood, marriage, healing, and joy. I hope this post finds you well and feeling seen, especially if you're a new mom. Jackson Family Chaos & Small Joys I fall asleep and wake up to Yo Gabba Gabba and the Teletubbies. My days revolve around cereal, animal crackers, Pampers, juice, bottles, and endless milk, accompanied by a nonstop remix of “mom” and baby babble. If I’ve eaten three decent meals, slept in my actual bed, showered, and had even one hour without a baby crying, I count that as a win. Most days are a blur of my son literally riding my back, mindlessly picking up and putting my daugh...

The Power of Prayer & Waiting on God I’ve learned the power of praying consistently and waiting on God—whether for an answer, direction, or sometimes both. Hearing from Him concerning the desires of your heart is an experience like no other, a reminder that you are directly connected to Him. Processing Mario’s Diagnosis Lately, we’ve been processing the news of Mario’s Bipolar 1 and ADD diagnosis. When I first heard, I immediately felt a new sense of clarity in our relationship. While the diagnosis wasn’t obvious before, it now explains so much—things that once felt drastic now make sense. I am constantly in awe of my husband. Before knowing this about himself, he simply was—navigating life, wondering what was “wrong,” yet remaining steadfast. His unwavering desire to care for me and our family, despite what he’s been battling internally, is a testament to his strength and trust in God. Nothing about this news has made him unlovable. He has taken full control of getting the help he...

For a long time, I was embarrassed to admit that I had attended four different colleges and universities without earning a degree. It wasn’t until I attended Bidwell Training Center for culinary school that I finally graduated with honors—a 4.0 student, no less. But years ago, I wouldn’t have celebrated that. Instead, I saw my college history as a series of failures. Growing up, my mother was the embodiment of academic excellence. A lifelong educator who earned her doctorate, she made pursuing education seem effortless. In contrast, my own path was anything but smooth. College wasn’t just difficult—it was something I struggled to complete, and for a long time, I suppressed the emotions tied to that experience. It took a recent conversation with my therapist to admit the truth: I had self-sabotaged my academic journey. And until now, I had never really allowed myself to grieve that. Geneva College: A Step I Wasn’t Ready For I started at Geneva College right out of high school, but not b...

Trigger Warning: this post contains photos of messages that were sent to me that maybe distressing and vulgar to some readers. Please take caution while reading, and feel free to skip past those pictures. Last year, I heard God very clearly in my spirit, telling me I was entering a season of privacy—to remain in Him. It began with my first pregnancy. I’ve mentioned it in previous blogs, but I’ve watched Him cover and keep my family like never before. And believe me, we’ve been through some things. One thing I know about keeping your peace is that the enemy will always try to destroy it. That’s his job—to kill, steal, and destroy. My Dad rapped about it often, and my Husband reminds me of it every time we hit a snare. Yet somehow, when I’m in these seasons, I forget just how strong the enemy’s attacks can be. The Isolation & Transformation Isolation has been both a refuge and a challenge. There were times I felt the urge to explain myself, check in, or prove something—but I knew fro...

Today—I called my mom to say my final goodbyes to my grandma (Dad’s side). As I stood in the bathroom, my eyes landed on my prescription glasses on the floor, courtesy of my little traveler. I was saddened by the news of her transition, and in the midst of crying, I found myself chuckling. In a way that felt straight out of a movie, I whispered to myself: This is life. My husband and my baby boy wouldn’t let me sit in sadness for too long, and for that, I’m thankful. I exchanged pleasantries with my little brother, had a brief conversation with my mom, and truly—for me—life goes on. I’ve stopped volunteering and overcommitting to things I genuinely don’t want to do no matter the circumstance. I know my family knows how I feel, and even if they don’t, I’ve found value in my peace. While I’ve never been one to mince words, I’ve learned the importance of not speaking on people who don’t bring positivity into my life. I will miss my grandma. So many things about her reminded me of my dad. ...

Healing is so spiritual—at least for me. One thing I’ve repeated as we step into this New Year is: “I’m operating differently so that things can happen differently for me.” I’m trusting and believing that God will seal that promise for me this year, and I’ve already begun to see my manifestations unfold. For me, this means intentionally doing the opposite of what I’ve always done to create the results I truly want. It reminds me of something my Dad used to say in his Mental Makeover group: “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.” Google will tell you insanity is being mentally ill, foolish, or irrational, and I can’t lie—I’ve lived in that space for far too long. I spent years pointing fingers outward, avoiding the tough truths, but as I mentioned in my last blog, therapy changed that. It was the step that made me turn inward, hold myself accountable, and really begin the hard, messy, beautiful process of healing. Media makes healing look...