Nola Chic- I’m not Superwoman

Before I go to bed I would like to thank all of you for praying for me especially Sister Dionne; she opened my eyes to my state of denial and pretending that I am ok. She’s my one and only little sister, but for years my BFF has called her my Big Lil Sister because of how protective she is of me and calls me on my BS.

Opening my life, my world to you all is relatively easy, but it’s one thing to talk about the past hurts and surviving those storms, its also easy to get dressed, paint on a smile and pretend to be happy and show Y’all My NOLA. But going home and get in the bed till the next event and dealing with my present feelings of sadness is difficult to share. I do not want a pity party, but I do not want to be Superwoman anymore…I’m tired and broken..

I have been a caretaker all my life and these few months away from my immediate family has been hard. Since they aren’t here, I’ll go out and find someone to help to get my mind off me. I found that this caretaking the loving spirit of mines leaves me heartbroken and feeling as if I’m insane for having the heart I have. I expect people to mirror what I show them, who I am to them and most times I don’t get it back.

I remembered one cold Minnesota morning driving from by Shana house and there was a lost lil dog roaming the street, it was below zero. So I pulled over and the dog just jumped in the truck and I drove around with this one-eyed three-legged mini Doberman with tags. Her eye and leg were surgically removed, she looks to be well groomed and drove around. After driving around for a mile or so with no luck I decided to bring the dog home thinking my dog, a pug named Chance could have a friend until we found the owner.

The dog was named “Demon Dog” by my sister and we would be ready to attack everyone who came around me even my own dog. She had some really sharp teeth too and poor Chance stayed hidden for the days she was there. As usual, it would be my sister who would come in and remove the strays I brought into my life and house. I can see her face right now saying “Only you would stop and help one eye 3 legged Demon Dog, who won’t you try to save”… But that’s been my life but at least the dog liked me but she did snap on me when I put her out my bed. I had no choice but to let her sleep with me. To say that I didn’t put a fuss to keep the dog, though I did wonder what the SPCA would do to her.. The Demon Dog reminded me of people in my life most were removed by the means of someone as well.

Going through the grief process, which I’m up and down with accepting. I prefer to believe that she is missing, getting her affairs in order to send for her kids can be challenging but it helps with coping. We recently lost another family member to murder months prior to her and my Momo died months before he was killed and all the other loss prior to that… It has me like begging for a moment to breathe. I can’t evrn cry for one loved one at a time, but this is life.

I don’t speak much on my kids, but now and then I’ll post pictures. With the recent tragedy in my family, I haven’t been as transparent as I am, because it involved my adopted child. Out of concern for healing after being brutally assaulted I felt it was necessary to push the behaviors prior to the incident away. What I didn’t realize is that by ignoring the issues only fueled the fire.

It hasn’t been easy adopting older children, there was an older sister I adopted with my 16yr old and the judge basically told me to open my eyes and ears to what the teen was doing and granted me a good faith termination of adoption for my safety… If you ever saw the movie The Purge I was on this list if she didn’t get to be back with biomom. Not only did I go through a lot but my family went through a lot helping me fulfill what, idk avoid the need to help?? But my sister reminds me that I put everyone at risk is a special needs foster parent…

Not sure if any of you are foster or adoptive parents and understand the feeling of betrayed by a child by way of their parents, you may understand. But then you think I had this child for 5yrs, they are now teens and even young kids know right from wrong so you hold them accountable and you feel betrayed by the child and you do not know how to forgive, move on cuz you can’t trust a kid??

Once again I’m at that point of betrayal after letting my 16yr old has her “Power, make some of her own decisions ” more than ever now because of the crime, this is what MN therapist suggested and I agreed. We made arrangements for her to stay with my family, then I let her pick and neither of these worked to her satisfaction because of rules… I get a call from MN CPS and they tell she has been living with bio mom whom I gave legal custody to 5 days prior… This same biomom whom she hasn’t lived with since the age of 2 and 7 foster care placements before being placed with me.

This bio mom beat up both her biological girls whom she hasn’t seen in years after they both hv this “Power & Freedom” to do as they please, well one is over 18yrs, but just hearing their biomom’s name brought up old wounds and pains. I understand just about all adopted kids who know their bio parents and some who don’t desire to be with the bio parents, but when you parent or anyone makes you lie and use people who are in your life to help you and you stab them in the back again and again.

This incident happened almost a month ago but it broke me and shined a light how I go out my way to love even to the point of being a used up rag, a doormat for people to wipe their dirty feet on leaving my soul crushed. I’m not sure how to forgive them, family and others. I literally have been feeling afraid after looking over how many times I forgave and was offended again. It makes me wonder if this is some type of insanity.

After the incident with my aunt, a woman I befriended, the hell date, grieving, the issues with the girls and their biomom… I fell to pieces, it’s literally too much. My blood pressure was so high that I fainted and ended up admitted into the hospital. I was told I could have had a stroke, but God has me covered and I’m on blood pressure medication and a mild anti-depressant and I feel better. The hospital admission left me thinking about it all and how I bottle things in and I refuse to let stress send me to my grave.

This Nola Chic thing, I read my own bio questioning myself as to what I am doing. In my words I state I’m sharing my life not just fun New Orleans lifestyle, then I read a few comments on my website and this Pastor somewhere in Virginia who is a loyal reader of mines as well as a published author, his tag is “Old White Grandpa”. He has hundreds of thousands of readers himself and I was so surprised to see him liking my writing no less in my inbox offering encouragement and wisdom. He told me I’m writing my memoir and I’m like what?? And he said yes, “you are writing your memoir and nonfiction, but you are grabbing readers by your life story and I suggest you stick with it and you will get better as you write.”

So, I apologize to those of you who I need to put the mask on for, smile while I’m hurting, and cry behind the curtain. This is my life and I’m hoping by being open I can heal and help others heal. I wrote a blog about removing my veil and I didn’t realize until now that I haven’t removed my own… I wore it still but didn’t realize it was tossed to the back of my head so I can pull over my face to hide my tear stained face… Dee, The 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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