Haters only make me want to dig my feet deeper in the sand

It’s heartbreaking that family/friends can be the very ones to be so cruel. You wld think it wld be strangers to hate on what you are doing, but they can be your biggest supporters. The minute those close to you see you are in the midst of a breakthrough, they will purposely set you up to sabotage your dreams, goal, ultimately your destiny.

Its like they will sift through sand hoping to find a rock to throw at you, not knowing that the sand was once a rock that crumbled from the weight of the pressure giving you a soft surface to sink your toes in after your long long painful walk over rocks. They are mad cuz you are comfortable, free and hopeful with your feet in the sand sitting by the ocean. They get so mad at your current state of peacefulness that they are willing to risk there lives to get rocks/shells from out of the ocean to place in your path only to surface from the ocean to see your footprints leading off the beach. That pisses them off, to know that you have grown, but they still continue to plot against you.

I sometime wonder why I have so many strangers who support my brand, follow my blog, share my post and take time out their day to tell me they are praying for me. Don’t get me wrong I have family and friends who support me, but also I have those who do not and they’re in that group of people looking for rocks in my sand.

I have a big family with so many cousins I do not know all of them by name only faces and some not even that. At 40+ years old I’m still meeting cousins. “Oh, hey cousin, yes you my cousin, cousin.”

Having a family this big and being in the public, I wouldn’t need to outside people to support me. Seriously, we can have our own lil social media world. In learning about social media influences, stats, likes, engagement and making income from it, I went in knowing I would for sure be successful just from the support of my family and friends, but that wasn’t the case. I can barely get a like from them, but I they certainly will take the time to write a negative comment, like ” You think you Ms.Facebook, Why you showing off where you go, You say Ummm too much” and the list goes on.

Of the thousands of social media friends I have a 30-40% of them are my family. I can honestly name my main family supporters with my two hands, my toes are left to wiggle in the sand. It’s a sad painful reality that I deal with daily. I find myself wondering why, wishing they would come on my Live, come to the studio or an event I recommend. I am a traditional person, big on family and togetherness, I have been hurt by many, but choose to forgive and move on. I honestly can say I haven’t dished out a fraction of the pain I have endured, so I do not understand why.

I do not understand why a family/friend can intentionally come into my life, my professional world perpetrating as if they are here to support and left me up, but instead of getting a needed huge of ” You got this, I’m here to make sure you do” I get blindsided by the surprising pain of the blade in my back piercing my heart. I some how manage to recover, still trusting and possibly setting myself up for the next blow, but I choose too. Why? Because, when my moment comes I really want to share it with my family anf friends.

All my life and matters of business and money making, I have included my family and friends. I have been stabbed in the back then, but I feel the overwhelming need to share my pie, I can’t sit at the table and eat alone, but it has come to the point where I can’t partake of a delicious fulfilling spread with those who consider themselves ny enemies. My hope is to not only change my seating arrangements, but to invite some like minded loving people to my table. Right now, we can nibble off the bread and butter that’s sat out for us, but please don’t get full off it, because we have an culinary specialty awaiting for us to celebrate the special occasion and for dessert we will Eat Cake, yes I’m ready to have my cake and eat it too and I have a big piece waiting for you.

To those of my family members who love me, support me, encourage me, corrects me in a nonjudgemental manner and want the best for me, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Yall have believed in me, saw my vision and supported me, pushed me, prayed for me and showed me off in your own circles. You not only told me you loved & cared, but you proved it in your actions.

Yall, did all this without thinking of this Nola Chic stuff may really pay off let me jump on, no yall support me from unconditionally with no thought of financial gain.

I thank all of you for being true fans of not NOLA Chic, but Dee. I hope I can continue to make yall proud. A special thanks to my sister Dionne, my Bro Des, my cousins Eric & Shana, my BFF Melanie & Jay, my good friend Monica, Keshondamarie & Reuben Detiege and all of you out there in social media world. Thank you so much, NOLA Chic ⚜🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡⚜

A native of New Orleans, who left her beloved New Orleans to spend twenty years of living in the land of Minnesota Not So Nice. Minnesota was full of opportunities but would learn that the soul of the state and the people who made it was just as icy cold as the temperatures. After the years and my 40th birthday flew by, I decided it was time to pack up my youngest child and come back to my roots, my birthplace the city that not only birthed me but gave me life. I would not be who I am without my New Orleans beginnings. I am all things that would challenge the belief of growing up in New Orleans. I was a 16yr old teen mother of a premature baby born with a severe medical disability. And only With the help of my mother, was it possible for me to BE! I was able to endure and survive the obstacles laid before my child and me. In a city that was built by my family, but did not allow for us to reap the benefits I overcame. Charity Hospital was my second home — a building filled with miracle workers who made it possible for my daughter to have life. I have lived a life of rainy days with peeks of sunshine, that are my children, including those not of my womb. I'm the proud mother of three and a grandmother of three. My dream was to live the life of the nursery rhyme of ”The Old Lady Who lived in a shoe,” and for the most part, I did. I cared for several children over the years as a special needs foster parent. I would learn that my love was not enough for some children, but I loved them through their pain. I'm not sure if I ever had a case of true love or came close to what love looks like on television, but I had my share of men and the mirage of love. I survived two abusive marriages. Though I longed to return to New Orleans on a daily bases, I must admit my move was one of the best decisions made for me. I am a college graduate; I was a successful entrepreneur. I coowned a soul food restaurant and catering company in Minnesota for 12 years. I developed the talent of creating custom cakes after the murder of my beloved cousin Melvin Paul. He survived Katrina only to go to Minneapolis six months later to be murdered over a parking spot dispute. But with the challenge of creating a simple wedding cake, I was able to find healing. I created the House of Cakes in honor of him. Minnesota life had me pretty materialistic. I worked to the point I do not remember much, but work and handing my children love money. I thought by having the big house on the hill, a husband, having a family, the ultimate provider and being involved in all things that matter, plus having the funds to match would cure me of what I was told was a generational curse of lack of everything from money, love to even self-love. But for the most part, that life poisoned my heart and soul. I was blinded by visions fed to me by the media. I was told I wasn't anything unless I was better than the Jones's. I lived being ok with a broken, bleeding heart. Life like this did not exist in my family while living in New Orleans from what I viewed with my eyes and soul. We may not have had all the things I acquired over the years, but we were happy, we were together. Family outside of New Orleans wasn't family anymore. We lived separate lives and had awkward moments when we bumped into each other in public. I hated living in Minnesota even though life their helped me in so many ways. I felt deep down the only way to repair it was to get back to my roots, my soul, my home, myself, my New Orleans. I'm here, and I love it. Even being in the so-called Blighted Area of New Orleans and not having all the financial and material security, I'm happy. I am determined that She, yes, New Orleans is a woman is just like me; together, we will overcome and will rise from all that tried to kill our spirit. Nothing like starting from the bottom and making your way back up!. I just know in my heart that New Orleans will provide for me. There's a bank account with funds in it owed to me by way of back pay for my ancestors. And I will receive my inheritance, and I will continue the traditions and customs of the old to keep the heartbeat of New Orleans beating. I'm down in the boot, living the life that feels right to me awaiting my destiny...

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