Living Room Cabinet Makeover
The thing about space is that too much of it invites the collection of things that should have long ago been purged.
Yet, too little of it forces the ridding of things that are hard to let go of—or, in my case, an accumulation of boxes, collecting dust in makeshift closets and corners that deserve to be more than mere cardboard decor.
Having moved many times, I’m no stranger to removing things that no longer serve me, nor losing things that I once held most dear. What has managed to stay over the years is a mix of memories and special moments carefully packed, sealed, and labeled with permanent markers. A lot of books, unsurprisingly. CDs and DVDs that I have recently discovered come in handy when technology (Wi-Fi) fails me. Printed pictures of loved ones and handwritten letters from my youth that from time to time I peek through as a reminder of how far I’ve come and who has remained with me along the way.
And, in smaller quantities, things collected in my efforts to make my house a home (I once discovered that the mini pumpkins that pop up at the grocery stores around September are actually real, and thus, not meant to be kept for longer than a couple of months. I had them for a year *face palms*).
What I appreciate about my new place of living is that there are plenty of nooks and crannies to neatly break open boxes and put items in a proper place. There are also endless opportunities to make the space my own. Though many people loved the formally lime green cabinets that flanked the fireplace in my living room, I found them to be a bit off-putting on the outside, and dilapidated behind the too-obvious DIY doors. I temporarily had them painted Limousine Leather when the fireplace wall got its makeover, but I always had a grander vision for the space.
shaker cabinets LAROYAL champagne bronze cabinet pulls FRANKLIN BRASS butcher block shelves HARDWOOD REFLECTIONS limousine leather cabinet paint (black) BEHR gold and glass wall sconces HOMARY
Aided by my mood boards, I had the confidence to move forward with ripping out the old in preparation for the new, which of course, was met with some surprises. Electric wiring that needed to be stuffed back into the walls. Even the light switch was installed upside down. In its place, bathroom vanities were wedged between uneven walls, floating shelves hammered into custom-sized mounting brackets, and swirls of white paint dripped and swooped through black epoxy for a less expensive marble countertop look.
Going in, I wasn’t quite sure how the end result would turn out. That’s the thing about designing with only your vision in mind— it requires a level of trust within oneself and the acceptance that if it turns out bad, that you’ll just simply have to start over. No biggie.
“I take time to ask myself occasionally whether the storage space I’ve set aside for them will make them happy. Storage, after all, is the sacred act of choosing a home for my belongings.”
“Caring for your possessions is the best way to motivate them to support you, their owner. When you treat your belongings well, they will always respond in kind . . . I take time to ask myself occasionally whether the storage space I’ve set aside for them will make them happy. Storage, after all, is the sacred act of choosing a home for my belongings.” - Marie Kondo
I think my possessions are smiling.
Write Spaces: Kimpton Sylvan Hotel
photography // KIAH MCBRIDE
Sometimes I take stillness for granted.
The constant noise outside of my four walls is often in competition with the noise from within. The chirp of the phone alerting me of a text message. The periodic soundtrack of rants and raves, laughter, and 15-second sound clips as I scroll through my timeline.
Even things that are meant to be silent are loud AF. A quiet prayer or moment of deep reflection turns into a rush of thoughts crescendoing to a point where I become overwhelmed. And thus, I find myself seeking to do simpler tasks— clean the dishes for the umpteenth time. Oh, it’s after twelve, time to get the mail! — in a feeble attempt to distract me from my own thoughts. And that’s just on the weekend.
During the week there’s an added layer of meetings, minute tasks, and project deadlines that pile in from my nine-to-five. And that’s in addition to the everyday burdens of life. And yet somehow, I’m still supposed to be creative after all of this. I’m supposed to sit down after a long day of pumping and dumping energy into every other facet of my life and create something brilliant that will make opening up apps worthwhile for those who choose to tune into my visual diary. Ironically, the very thing that I have the least time to focus on is what brings me the most joy. I’m not complaining though, I’m working on changing that last line. For I refuse to believe that turning CEOs into billionaires while the rest of us struggle to keep up with inflation is my destiny (seriously, the company I work for got acquired for $12 billion, of which those who toiled for years were given pennies). To do so comes with sacrifice. Saying no to things that don’t align with my future. Saying yes to opportunities that sometimes scare me.
And in the case of a day like today, it means embracing the fact that sometimes I simply need a change of environment. To leave the comfort of my home for places and spaces that inspire, but don’t distract. I’ve always found hotels to be a perfect match. So I hopped on Hotel Tonight to see if there were any deals in my area for a one-night staycation. A deal of the day for The Kimpton Sylvan Hotel had me spending $30 less than I would’ve if I had booked with the other discount brands (this isn’t an ad, but feel free to use my discount code: KMCBRIDE66 to save a little coin on your first stay). I packed just enough to feed my creativity, and committed a set time to write and work in between exploring the property.
I realize that I need more days like this. Whether it’s taking a day to play in my own backyard or hopping on a plane and wandering elsewhere, I need to leave behind the mundane and get that little taste of magic that keeps me going. Or at the very least, keeps me from falling victim to my own diversions.
Featured Location // The Kimpton Sylvan Hotel // Get $25 off when you book your stay with Hotel Tonight with code: KMCBRIDE66.
For the Love of Friends
It’s been a couple of weeks since I celebrated my 32nd trip around the sun, and I’m still in a state of gratitude.
I didn’t jet set in search of warmer climates like I normally do. Instead, I kept it cool in the cold temperatures of Atlanta. And yet my heart still remains warm. In the simplicity of dinner dates and conversations over cocktails, I found that this year, I needed nothing more than to be surrounded by love.
My girl gang ranges from best friends who’ve been rocking with me for over 20 years, to new ones who’ve come into my life within the last two. I’ve never been the one to hold onto the mantra of “no new…”, for I believe every person has a purpose on the path to our destiny, whether it’s to teach us about ourselves, elevate us to the next level, reveal the unknown or the unaddressed, or simply just be confidants in which we confide our deepest feelings and fears because our connection is just that natural and real.
Each one brings something beautiful to my life simply by being who they are.
And while only time will tell who remains and who’s pulled away, I cherish the moments that we have together in the here and now. For that’s the beauty of people, you can’t hold onto them or hold them back from where they’re inevitably meant to be, but you can appreciate the time in which they choose to be where you are.
Featured Locations // High Museum of Art (The Obama Portraits Exhibit) // Rock Steady // Toast on Lenox // Jojo’s Beloved Cocktail Lounge // Saints + Council
Next Stop: Chateau Elan
The older I get, the more I desire occasional moments of celebrating myself, by myself, which may seem contradictory given that I spent the last week surrounded by lots of love, laughter, and beautiful ladies.
“What are you doing for your actual birthday?” seemed to be the question of the month.
Kind of a bittersweet topic given that I had actually planned to hop on a plane to Puerto Rico. But undesirable circumstances had me cancelling flights and a hotel stay, and opting for a solo retreat instead.
Chateau Elan had been on my bucket list for some time now, yet despite many discussions of spa days and girl’s getaways, nobody pulled the trigger on traveling to the destination that lies just 40 minutes up the road. It’s honestly a characteristic I’m personally not proud of— always saying what I want to do and finding excuses not to do it. Many beautiful experiences are missed waiting on someone else to plan them. So I decided that at 32, I was no longer holding myself hostage to anyone’s uncertainties. Besides, I value my alone time, and what better way to ring in thirty-new than in quiet solitude while living in the lap of luxury?
And so, the morning of my birthday I found myself praising God for blessing me with another year of life as I drove out of the city and through the wrought iron gates of the resort property. I brunched at the Fleur de Lis before catching a shuttle ride up to the winery for a tour and tasting.
Though I was the only solo person in the group, I somehow found myself embraced by a squad of girls celebrating their own birthdays. The energy magnetic, it was no surprise that a few glasses of wine later, the remaining ladies on the tour left their husband’s sides to come vibe with us. It’s a known fact that Aquarians tend to be the life of the party (I’ve found myself in the middle of dance floors more than I care to mention lol). But I wasn’t there to be social, I was there to relax and give myself a much-needed break from energies outside of my own.
Back at the spa, I checked into my loft-style room, sipped the last of my champagne (they really know how to treat a girl), and lived my best bourgeois life in the hot tub where I met yet another birthday babe who was also enjoying a solo stay.
A morning latte and Swedish massage had me feeling good the next day, but as we know, all good things must come to an end—at least in time for new beginnings. So as I bid farewell to the villas and vineyards, I left knowing that this was just the start of a life I’ve always felt destined to live. No longer was I idly waiting to get everything I deserve.
Up Close & Personal
photography // Coco Dandridge
It’s cool outside, but the warmth from the sunlight spills in from the floor-to-ceiling windows.
It feels crazy to even say that, because around this time last year I was just moving into my new home, moving up rather from a place where train and traffic noises were my daily soundtrack.
Moving here was a leap of faith. The rent was a little higher than I wanted it to be, but I told myself that the sacrifice would be worth the reward. That everything would work out once I took the first step. God is my provider, and while I believe in utilizing the gift of wisdom, I couldn’t help but feel like my belief in His capabilities was limited by my fear of fully trusting Him. The only thing I had to lose was my sanity by staying in a place that no longer served me.
Since breaking my lease and breaking up with fear, I’ve elevated in a way that even I sometimes find hard to believe. Over the last few months, I’ve paid off all of my debt, bought my first car in cash, got my business together, all while sleeping soundly through the night, which was once a luxury for me.
I also continued to explore the depths of who I am, allowing myself to dive into the world of dating, but this time from a healthy place. Thus, I dated differently. Not with desperation or false hope, but with clarity and a clear mind to walk away from anything that didn’t feel right, or that was less than I deserved. A woman is most dangerous when she knows her worth. And with each experience, I grew more confident in the person that I had spent years making whole. This is who I always imagined myself being.
I was no longer becoming.
I was her.
I am.
As warm weather transitions to cool winds, I’ve gladly settled into a place of stillness. I’ve shifted my thoughts from fun and to a place of freedom. I desire to live how I want, go where I want, do the work that I want, with who I want without limitations or worry. Which, in and of itself, is a luxury. These last few months have been about me mapping out that plan, and quietly executing on that vision. It’s requiring me to shift the way I think and embrace the unknown.
But honestly, I’ve always loved a good adventure. I tend to thrive best in places of uncertainty.
Next Stop: The Big Island (Kailua-Kona, Hawaii)
photography // Kiah McBride
I spent the entire year working towards this one week where I could finally just relax.
We often don’t grant ourselves enough time to just be.
Be still.
Be present.
Be free.
And while I captured a camera full of footage, I purposefully chose not to post to social media until I was well settled into my trip.
Even now, I can’t bring myself to post much. I’m still recovering from another year of juggling day jobs and dooming headlines. For months I kept a close watch on pandemic news, specifically in regards to traveling to see what requirements were going to be in place in order to get to my destination. In all honesty, I was prepared to cancel my trip and save my coins for a staycation if need be. Though that wasn’t my preference. I needed to travel. To get back to the very thing that fuels me and my creativity. I’m a shell of myself when trapped in the confinements of one city for too long.
Thankfully, two plane rides and tired eyes later, I was shrugging out of my chinchilla (my furry teddy coat) as I exchanged 50-degree weather for the warm and sticky 70s of Kailua-Kona. The quiet outdoor airport was surrounded by volcanic hills in the distance, which seemed to follow us as we drove around the island with ocean views flanking us on the other side.
This was my first time in Hawaii, so I can’t personally compare one island to another, but I can say that I appreciated the small-town feel of the Big Island (our volcano tour guide would, later on, confirm that Kona is more country and less city than most of the other islands). I also appreciated that though we were still in the U.S., which meant that we had access to many of the same stores and restaurants from back home, it felt like we were in another country. The best of both worlds, as I was determined to spend most of my days in sand and sun without having to navigate the struggle of international travel.
The first half of the week we were explorers. We hit the Kailua Village Farmers Market for local fruits and vegetables. We graciously sipped water from a freshly cut coconut thanks to Jai, our Belizean savior merchant who hunted down a knife so we could get a taste of the first batch before locals arrived for the pending festival.
He let us in on a little secret, too— that native Hawaiians were actually African *gasps*. “If you see their skin and facial features, they look just like us.” A quick search seemingly confirms that he told us no tales. Organizations like The Pōpolo Project document the true origin story. And ironically a couple of weeks later I’d find Hawaiian Journey on my grandma’s bookshelf.
Back in present-day Hawaii, we indulged in margaritas across from the ocean at Island Lava Java, hit Magic Sands Beach for a little R&R, and when not at one of the many beaches on the island, slipped into the swimming pool at Wyndham Royal Sea Cliff resort.
On our self-driving tour to the south side of the island, we were quieted by breathtaking views at various stopping points along the way. There’s no desire to bicker when you’re sinking your toes into black sand or waiting for brave tourists to jump off a very high cliff and into the southernmost waters of the U.S. Or maybe it was the sweet malasadas that we scooped up from Punalu’u Bakery that kept our mouths occupied. I’m still trying to figure out how I came back having not gained a pound. The vegan food was top notch and with the exception of wading in the water and climbing up active volcanoes, I did little exercise.
Especially once we got to Kings’ Land, where I admittedly felt like a queen because how can you not when watching sunsets over the golf course, literally sliding into one of three pools, and staring at the night sky from the warmth of a bubbling hot tub? I didn’t want to leave to be honest. But all good things must come to an end. So after a final lap around the other half of the island with our very fun tour guide Scott, we bid Hawaii “Aloha,” at least for now.
Next Stop: A Quick Hollywood (Florida) Getaway
photography // Kiah McBride
Usually when I jetset to South Florida,
my first instinct is to post up in Miami.
Anybody who’s traveled there knows it’s just a vibe, with everything you desire from beaches to brunches just footsteps away.
But this last trip led me to a different part of the coastline into Hollywood. Much different than the Hollywood (California) I landed in just a few years ago, this city is quieter and less pretentious. Perfect for a quick, relaxing stay. Its proximity to bigger cities like Ft. Lauderdale and about a 40-minute ride to Miami made it a good contender for a short stay. It was also a great place to test out Sonder— a company that specializes in boutique apartments and hotel-style accommodations.
I had first learned about Sonder a few years ago while looking up alternatives to hotels and AirBnb’s. After browsing through some of their listings in various cities, I quickly bookmarked the site due to the uniqueness and perceived quality of their rentals. In the words of Forbes, it offers “nightly rentals that (feel) like apartments but (have) the consistency and quality of a hotel.” Perfect for someone who takes their travel accommodations seriously. The downside is that their locations are limited, and sometimes I’m not the one in charge of travel plans. So it would be years before I would get to test them out for myself.
Since my trip was short and the other options a bit expensive, I figured now was a good time to take a leap of faith— sometimes where you stay can be a gamble when traveling. I narrowed down the options to Circ Hotel due to its aesthetic and low cost (we spent $333 total for a two-night stay).
They have an easy-to-use app that provides you with everything from check-in details to recommendations for food, grocery, and more. They also provide customer service, who were quick to get back to me when I was trying to see about early check-in (there’s also an early check-in / later check-out feature built into the app, but it’s not guaranteed that they can accommodate your request).
Finding the place was a breeze, and though we were initially told that we couldn’t check in early, they had a luggage room behind the front desk that allowed us to store our stuff while we went exploring around the area for something to eat (the on-site restaurant wouldn’t open until dinner). Dodging raindrops and deepening puddles, we landed at The Tipsy Boar, which was about a five-minute walk from our room. The music was loud, the drinks just the right mix of flavor with the promise of fun. And within minutes I received a notification that we could check in early.
Back at the hotel, I punched in our code to the room and was surprised that it was actually much nicer than the pictures showed. We had a decent view of the city, and everything was simple, yet clean. The bathroom was really the highlight with a modern luxe aesthetic. A nap was calling me, but laying down meant that I couldn’t promise to get back up before morning. So instead, I flipped open my suitcase and debated which outfit was worthy of warm but wet weather. And although the rain kept us from being able to visit the beach and boardwalk area, we did at least get to see some water via the rooftop pool, which, unfortunately, the rain kept us from enjoying that as well.
I won’t say we were there long enough to get the full experience of what they had to offer, but the first night we went out it looked like the on-site restaurant was packed. The next night we got in pretty late as well, but that morning we sipped oat milk lattes and munched on empanadas (mine a vegan Impossible one) in the little café before heading out to celebrate with some college friends (#HU, You Know!). And from what my friend said the late-night rooftop situation later that evening was lit and bustling with activity. None of which disturbed our sleep.
For a quick getaway, this was definitely one of the better experiences I’ve had with hotels. And I would even come back here again. Hopefully on a sunnier weekend, where I can escape to the beach for some true R&R.
Our Hollywood Itinerary:
Friday
The Tipsy Boar: Lunch & Drinks
The Lobby Bar (Seminole Hard Rock Casino): Drinks
Hard Rock Cafe Hollywood: Dinner
Saturday
Roasted Been Cafe: Breakfast
The Wharf Ft. Lauderdale: Night Life
Joy’s Roti Delight: Late Night Snack & Drinks
Write Spaces: The James Room
photography // Coco Dandridge
It’s interesting that the foundation of who we are remains with us even as we go to the next level.
Take my love for coffee shops, for instance. I confess that I have a slight addiction. Not even for the oat milk lattes that come in various flavors, but for the vibes that come from being in a place where coffee lovers and creatives come together. My preference is local coffee shops (no shade to the big chains). There’s a sense of community that comes from a neighborhood watering hole, and I love that when I walk in the baristas already know my name and order. And lowkey, the coffee is usually better.
But more importantly, these are the spaces where I plot and put in work for my next moves. When I lived in LA, I would trek down the hill from my tiny studio apartment to Solar de Cahuenga where I’d post up on the back patio with a goat cheese salad and a chai tea latte. I’d slip on my headphones, exhale, open my laptop and proceed to research, transcribe and pen profiles on celebrities and girl bosses, which would eventually carry me into rooms with the likes of Oprah, attend events like the BET Awards, and get me a seat at the table at Google.
Even as I went deeper into debt (my fellow freelance writers know the struggle), I found peace in operating in my purpose. And whenever I typed out the final line of an article and hit submit, I would transition my mind to planning how I, too, was one day going to be someone worthy of interviewing. I knew in my heart that I was destined for more even when I had less, and being in a beautiful environment where I never knew if I was going to run into a producer, entrepreneur, or fellow creative was just the energy that I needed to be around.
When I moved back to Atlanta, coffee shops were once again my creative safe haven. After a full day of work, I’d escape from my noisy apartment and walk the streets of Old Fourth Ward to my favorite cafés such as The James Room— a perfect European vibe for a travel lover like myself. Where the café lacks in space it makes up for in aesthetic, with delicious bites and a mean lavender sea salt oat milk latte, or a rosemary oat milk latte if you’re feeling adventurous. And on a beautiful fall day, the patio offers serene views of passersby on the beltline as you type away on your computer. Not to mention their music playlist? A1.
“I knew in my heart that I was destined for more even when I had less.”
For hours I would work on freelance projects for clients or ideas for my brand until they closed up shop. It was in these spaces that I rebirthed my blog with the help and support of my amazing photographers Coco and Shah. It was here that I’d continue to dream, even when my circumstances were depleting the desire to do more.
Since becoming debt free, that fire has been reignited. At the top of the year, I moved out of my old space and moved up into a better one— a fresh start in a sense, even though it’s just a few miles down the road. With it came new coffee shops to explore, and baristas who speak my name as soon as I walk through the door.
But this time when I open my laptop I’m not working on celebrity profiles or freelance work. I’m focused on building towards my future as an author and a storyteller. The spaces that inspire me have remained the same, but the vision has only gotten bigger. And I love that for me.
The Write Spaces series is a collection of places and destinations that inspire me to write.
How I Paid Off $46K of Debt
photography // Coco Dandridge
I prayed for this. I worked for this. I sacrificed for this.
The moment when I could call up the bank rep, and confirm my final credit card payment. $1,884.28. That’s what she told me after I said this would be the last payment that would make me debt-free. I would’ve paid it online, I think hitting a send button would’ve been a bit more fulfilling. But I wanted to make sure that the last of the interest was accounted for— I wanted to see that account balance at zero when it was all said and done. I wanted to truly be free.
Over the last three years, I paid off a total of $46,217.24 ($37,355.00 if you don’t count interest). Eight credit cards. One personal loan. And a pesky bill from the dentist, from when after two years of not having health insurance I finally caved in and paid to get my teeth cleaned. But this isn’t a story about money, it’s about the journey it took to get here. The setbacks I overcame, the mental and emotional roadblocks I surpassed. The many lessons I learned along the way. Because the truth about money is that it’s more of a mental game than anything. You have to believe you deserve better, and that you’re capable of living a life that others only dream about. And then you have to put in the work to actually bring that dream to fruition. Because no matter how much you pray for it, vision board it, manifest it, or post an affirmation on your timeline, the reality is “..faith without works is dead...” (James 2:26).
The First Attempt
My journey actually began in October 2017. I was sitting in my bedroom— a space no bigger than 50 square feet, in a house shared with six strangers of varying ages and ethnicities. After months of drowning I was finally coming up for air, but only after sacrificing having my own space at $1,400 for a room at $600. I was juggling multiple jobs— catering, freelance writing and editing, dog sitting, the occasional background acting gig— and occasionally I would revisit one of my creative projects. But I knew something had to give. I didn’t move all the way across the country to settle for a life where the only time I lived my dreams was when my eyes were closed. So I went searching for an answer. I had tried to get out of debt on my own before. I even succeeded once, when I decided to break my lease in Atlanta and move back home with my mom. But that was only after not going out, not seeing friends, and working 12-hour days, six days a week. I knew this time that I needed a real strategy, one that wouldn’t completely rob me of my sanity. My search led me to Dave Ramsey’s book The Total Money Makeover. I had heard of the financial guru before, so I figured it was worth reading since his name was coming up again. That day I went online and placed a hold for the book at my local library, then drove a mile down the road to pick it up. Free knowledge.
Following his “baby steps,” I quickly saved $1,000 (the most money I’d ever saved) then started tackling my debt in order from the least amount to the greatest. I finally felt like I was making progress. With each small payment, I felt like I was getting closer to freedom.
Then the unexpected happened. Winter was coming and catering gigs were drying up. I couldn’t afford to go home for the holidays, and the last gigs for the season offered time and a half plus tips to work the days that nobody else wanted to. So Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and New Year’s Eve I found myself serving up meals in the homes of wealthy people and their families and friends. The money was good and the food tasty, but it was nothing like being home with my family with the aroma of home-cooked meals and a house filled with love and laughter. I cried. This wasn’t the life that I wanted for myself, and I knew I was the only one who could change it.
Over the next month, I applied for a bunch of jobs, only to receive rejection after rejection despite having a resume filled with solid work experience. I wasn’t making money in LA, one of the most expensive cities in the country. So it only made sense to move back to Atlanta where I could keep my costs low and still live a decent life. So with the little bit of money that I had saved, I paused my debt-free journey, packed up my car with whatever I could fit in it, and recruited a friend to help me journey back across the country.
“The truth about money is that it’s more of a mental game than anything. You have to believe you deserve better, and that you’re capable of living a life that others only dream about. ”
Back to the A
Those next few months were a whirlwind. An emotional rollercoaster filled with losing the last of my savings, spending months of being unemployed, not having enough money to pay my bills, and surviving off of the generosity of my grandparents. My saving grace was finally getting a call from my current employer, in which I promptly packed up my car again and moved back to Atlanta. But by then I had racked up so much debt and was starting to get calls from credit card companies. I also underestimated how expensive Atlanta had become. The first month I slept on an air mattress until a friend was kind enough to give me a free bed.
Although I was making a decent salary, it wasn’t even enough to cover all of my expenses. My job would often have free food and snacks that I would pack up and take home for dinner, which helped my bank account a little, though not my waistline (I would gain 20 lbs in the first few months of working there). But once again I found myself feeling like I was suffocating. I was still listening to The Dave Ramsey Show podcast, the debt-free screams were my motivation and the financial information was equipping me with the tools to thrive long beyond getting out of debt. So after making my last credit purchase (I bought my couch on a 0% Rooms to Go credit card), I decided it was time to get rid of the debt once and for all.
The Road to Freedom
In July 2018 I officially began my debt-free journey. I signed up for UberEats and would drive 3 hours after work, 5 days a week. A few months later I started picking up regular freelance clients. Each work bonus would get chucked at my debt. I stopped getting my hair done, except for the occasional touch-up for special occasions. I didn’t get my nails done. I really did nothing for my personal care. I thrifted or occasionally shopped from stores with low prices. I turned down many trips, including ones with family. I limited how much I ate out. I stuck to a tight budget.
This went on for the next couple of years, with the exception of UberEats which ended when I sold my leased car in April 2019. I lived within walking distance from work and a cheap Uber ride from the city, so paying over $400 in a car payment, gas, and insurance for a car that I’d then have to turn around and purchase again at the end of the lease (or find a new one) didn’t appeal to me, and would only prolong my debt-free journey. I replaced that income loss with better-paying clients. I preferred doing 3 hours of extra work from home than 3 hours of driving around the city and being harassed by men anyway.
Physically I was making progress, and mentally I was also checking off my wins. A $200 card gone here, a $5,000 loan there. But as I got closer to the card with bigger balances I could feel my momentum slowing down. I was tired and overworked. While I had a lot of support from friends and family, it didn’t come without the occasional suggestion to essentially take on more debt, just for my comfort. And uncomfortable I certainly was. I was in an apartment with noise outside my window so loud that it was a luxury to get a full night’s sleep. Since I moved in on a lower rent special, I couldn’t move anywhere within the city without increasing my rent. And I didn’t have a car to move further outside of the city, and getting one would drastically increase my debt. So I sucked it up and trudged on— feeling alone and isolated as I watched friends and family take trips on credit and live a seemingly luxurious life that some of them couldn’t really afford.
I often had to remind myself that the short-term fun wasn’t worth the long-term strain. That I wanted a life where I could buy things and go places without worrying about a bill waiting for me when the dust settled. I wanted to have the freedom to do work that I actually cared about, without worrying about how quickly the money would come back to me. I wanted to be able to take care of my parents and grandparents— pay off their homes and ensure they have the best care so that they could actually enjoy their later years. I wanted to build wealth for myself and my future family so that one day my kids could live a life and choose careers that they really wanted, and not just for a paycheck. I wanted to be able to give and invest without wondering how I was going to be able to provide for myself, to support my church, my people, and my community. In short, I wanted to live a life that many people never live. And I didn’t want to wait until I was near my 70s and retiring to live it.
“I wanted to live a life that many people never live. ”
The Final Sprint
In the final six months, I decided to loosen the reins a bit. In fact, I probably would’ve been out of debt sooner had I continued to make deeper sacrifices. But at that point, my sanity was at stake, so I broke my lease and moved into a better apartment. I was finally making a pretty good income at work, so at the top of my year, I made the decision to no longer take on freelance clients or do work that didn’t bring me joy. I took a couple of trips (paid in cash of course) and started adding back in some of the little luxuries I had given up for the first couple of years. Nothing crazy, but just enough to encourage me to keep going— soon I wouldn’t think twice about doing any of these things. I still continued to stay on a budget. Instead of using my tax returns and stimulus checks to splurge, I put them towards my debt. I could finally see the finish line, so I used the last bit of my energy to sprint towards it. And on July 15th, I crossed as a champion.
As I reflect back a few months later, I can’t help but get choked up a little. The words here can’t quite articulate how I feel right now, how emotional this journey was. Of course, there were some setbacks along the way. One month, my grandmother got so sick that I took a last-minute flight to go see her, in case it was our last time together. Another month I had a medical emergency that cost me $1,000 out of pocket. In fact, there were a handful of unexpected medical expenses that popped up along the way. But I thank God for being my provider. I continued to tithe throughout this entire journey, and I believe that many of my blessings both financial and otherwise came from my obedience, because there were some things that came my way that I didn’t even work for or expect to get.
“Stay prayed up. Stay focused. Surround yourself with people who support you and don’t drain you. ”
Recently I was asked for my advice to someone who is on a similar journey. My answer: Stay prayed up. Stay focused. Surround yourself with people who support you and don’t drain you. And if you don’t have anyone, find them in other communities— your church, Facebook groups, YouTube, etc. Know that you’re not alone on your journey. And when times really get hard, remember why you started. You’ll be grateful that you didn’t quit once you’re on the other side.
Limitless
photography // Shah Ali
Lately, I've been thinking about the idea of being limitless.
I've been getting questions about why I have to be the one in the photos for my blog—emphasis on MY blog—and I admit that for a brief moment, it stirs up a few insecurities from the past. Because for so long, I've battled with accepting what I look like at various stages of my life.
When I was eight, it was the fact that I had breasts, which sparked the nickname "Milk Jugs" before I even had a chance to understand my own body. So I wore oversized shirts.
At 11, it was the scars on my legs from my days of playing basketball, soccer, cheerleading, dance, and climbing fences to get to secret apple orchards in the suburbs of Ohio. So I stopped showing my legs.
At 15, it was the realization that my hair would never be silky or curly, that my edges puffed at the roots and refused to be tamed. So I covered it with thick, white cream that left behind a burning sensation (and sometimes scabs), signaling that my strands were straight enough to run my fingers through it without catching. Or I let the sticky, black glue bond to the tracks of 12” Brazilian bundles and attached them to my scalp, which admittedly ruined many rat tail combs when I tried to comb it out.
I grew out of many of those phases, soon embracing v-cut shirts, sliding into coochie cutters, and eventually loving the fact that my fingers would catch in my natural, puffy (and later loc’d) hair. I accepted that I was never going to grow beyond 5”3, thus retiring the dream of being able to say I was 5”5 with brown eyes—in my Claudette from City High voice—and that I would never look like the models in the magazines that I so dearly loved—even the Black ones.
And even though we’ve made “progress” by showing more women of color in various shapes, sizes and hairdos, none of that inspired me to feel comfortable in my own skin, because at the end of the day, I still didn’t see women like myself—women with stubby fingers, fat toes, and short, apple-shaped frames—featured in ad campaigns and TV shows. Brands meet diversity quotas by featuring a narrow spectrum of brown-skinned beauties with perfectly curly coils that I’ve never had, or 70s inspired afro puffs, which I also never had. And those with locs are often portrayed as Afrocentric sistahs or wild-child Bohemian types, neither of which I claim to be.
And so, my journey to loving myself without the inspiration or influence of another continues. It’s not that I aspire to be a model, and quite frankly I’d rather be quietly writing on a beach than in front of a camera. It’s the fact that I’m tired of not seeing women like me, as if the narrative begins and ends with someone else’s idea of what’s acceptable and picture-worthy, and instead of complaining about it, true to my nature, I chose to do something about it.
I think about all of the opportunities that I’ve had the chance of experiencing, and know that had I listened to the world around me, or even to my own fear at times, I would be confined to a small portion of my potential. I wouldn’t be able to say that I truly lived, that I fearlessly embraced the unknown, that I did everything that ever crossed my mind to do, or tried things that I never imagined doing. In short, I would look back one day with a knot at the pit of my stomach, with what could only be described as regret.
It’s a constant challenge to push beyond my comfort zone and be the person that I desire to see. Each photo is the epitome of transformation, and it’s happening right before your eyes. So, with every story told on here, even if it’s not specifically about me, I choose to visually place myself in the narrative. Not out of vanity, but with the humility of admitting that at one point, I didn’t feel confident enough to even show my skin.
After all, it’s my blog, so I will do whatever the hell that I want to, whether you understand it or not.
29 Years, 29 Lessons
photography // Coco Dandridge
creative direction // Kiah McBride
Twenty-nine is an interesting age. You’re still young enough to make mistakes, yet old enough to do better than you’ve done in the past. When I was younger, I imagined that being shy of thirty would feel a bit different. I imagined I’d be more accomplished, in a thriving relationship, maybe with a baby bouncing on my hip. But as the clock strikes midnight, announcing the grand finale of my 20s, I find that I have none of those things. And yet, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.
I spent my early 20s trying to love someone when I didn’t even truly know what love was. I spent my mid-20s trying to figure out who I was, and who I desired to be, and I’ve spent the last few years digging deep within myself and discarding the parts of me that don’t align with who I am, and where I’m going. I’m stronger, more confident, and less willing to put up with bullshit. And yet I’m softer, more patient, and more loving than ever.
I’m not yet at a place to claim to be wise, for wisdom is something gained through repeated experiences, and I’m just really getting started on this journey of life. But I have picked up a few gems thus far, and it would be a disservice to you if I didn’t share them.
So cheers to 29 years, and the lessons that have cultivated me into a woman that I’m proud to say I’ve become. I’m sipping wine, grown woman style. I encourage you to do the same. Enjoy.
LOVE
1. Never let another treat you like you’re average: Too many times I traded in self-love for situationships. I lost myself. I allowed things that happened and words that were spoken to define who I was, instead of speaking life into myself. The more that I realized that how people treat you is really a reflection of how they feel about themselves, the more I was able to shift my own narrative, and walk with my head held high.
2. Get right before you get locked down: If I had known in my younger years what I know now, I would’ve never gotten into relationships without being whole and clear on who I was. It would’ve saved everyone time and heartache. We’re always in such a rush to get into situations in fear of missing out. What’s meant for you will be there when it’s time for you to have it. In the meantime, make sure you’re the best version of you before attempting to give yourself to another.
3. Love, anyway. The hardest lesson was learning to love even when I was hurting, or didn’t feel like the other person deserved it. I found that true love exists in the unconditional.
4. God’s love is the only example. The more I dived into the word, the more I learned how selfish my version of love was. In fact, it wasn’t love at all. When you study how God loves us, despite our flaws, our rejection of Him, and our self-centeredness, you find that love isn’t just a four-letter word, it’s a choice—a lifestyle. It’s dying to yourself daily. So whenever I get in my feelings, I re-read 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 to remind myself that if I want to receive the love I desire from another, I have to first become it.
5. Focus on You. Nothing ever gets resolved by pointing fingers. We can blame people for everything under the sun, but at the end of the day your life and your circumstances is a reflection of your daily decisions and how you feel about yourself. If you want things to change, focus on the one thing that you can control—you.
6. Stop complaining and love yours. All complaining shows is how much you lack appreciation for what you have. The grass ain’t greener on the other side, you just stopped watering yours.
7. Learn your roots. The last year or two I’ve focused a lot on learning about my family. There are things that I didn’t understand about myself because I didn’t know my history. There are things that I held onto because I didn’t know what other’s had been through. When you learn who you are and where you come from, you can unlearn the cycles of dysfunction that may have been passed down to you.
8. Ignore the comments and the clock. I’m at the age where family members wonder why I’m single and make comments about me never marrying or having children. It can be disheartening, but then I remember that one, they don’t determine the direction of my life, God does and two, that everything I’ve been working on in my 20s will set me up for success in my 30s. Had I rushed into marriage or motherhood, I would’ve just been passing down toxic habits and mindsets to my children. I may not have had the healthiest relationships, and may have chosen something that wasn’t right for me out of fear of being alone. I’m thankful that I didn’t rush, that I didn’t listen to what everyone else was saying or feel the need to do what everyone else is doing. I’m confident that it’s all going to end up better than I can even imagine.
LIFE
9. Health is wealth. It’s cliché, but it’s true. These past few years I’ve been sick more times than I care to have been. I’ve pushed myself to limits, binged through my emotions, went through unhealthy cycles, and truth be told, I’m still in recovery. But in the midst of that I’ve also learned how to nourish my body and my soul. My lifestyle in my early 20s is completely opposite of what it is now. I’m more aware of how I treat my mind, body and spirit , and make every effort to only fill them with nourishing things. I’m not perfect, but I am conscious. And that’s the key to change.
10. Lose control. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stressed myself out over things that were out of my control. From jobs to relationships, I found myself in constant chaos trying to dictate every aspect of my life. I became the most free when I released expectations.
11. Release the past. For years I thought about going to therapy, and thanks to good health care I finally was able to go this past year. While I’ve done a lot of work on my own time, having someone who doesn’t know me and can speak from an unbiased place has been very helpful in closing doors and allowing me to get back to the essence of who I am. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, we all have problems that we rather not discuss. But to hold it in and never speak on them is like slowly sipping poison. You’ll die within and forfeit a life of joy and freedom holding onto pain and hurt.
12. Celebrate yourself. I’m still learning how to clap for me. I’m so used to doing and moving on to the next, that sometimes I forget to be still long enough to celebrate my own wins. It’s something that I think is vital, especially in a time where we see everyone else’s wins and question why we’re not winning. We all win at different levels and in different areas of life. What may seem inconsequential to one person, is an accomplishment to another.
13. Building generational wealth begins with the foundation. It’s difficult to build wealth when your foundation isn’t solid. Debt, financial illiteracy, keeping up with the Jones’—they’re all things that prevent us from creating a life for ourselves and our families that will last for generations to come. I’m doing the work now to change habits and undo poor decisions, but I certainly wish I had started sooner, as I’d be much farther ahead.
14. Cherish those who cherish you. Sometimes we get so caught up on who’s not there, that we lose sight of who is. I’ve gained so many friends and extended family that admittedly I probably overlooked at one time or another. I would sometimes complain about the lack of support and love around me, and had I continued with that mindset, I’d be truly alone.
15. Find happiness in little things. It amazes me how so many people are depressed or battling with anxiety. I think one of the things that keeps my head above water is the fact that I find happiness in the little things. It can be as simple as having my own place that I can sleep and relax in, to having a job that allows me the freedom to be me. If you put into practice to find something that brings you joy everyday, you’ll realize that life isn’t as bad and hopeless as the world may want you to believe.
CAREER
16. Know Yourself, Know your worth: The bag only multiplies when you’re not afraid to ask for it. Instead of asking yourself are you enough, ask if they can afford you. That shift in mindset puts you on a whole other level.
17. It’s a marathon, not a race: So many times I chanted “by 25”, thinking that I’d have everything together and that the dreams that I had for myself would all come to fruition in a short amount of time. I’m thankful that they didn’t, because now I can truly say that I’m on the right path and not doing things just for money, clout, or to boost my ego. And I’m much more content with the idea of being memorable instead of a being a memory.
18. Try. Fail. Try Again. My career journey hasn’t been one straight line, it’s a bunch of crooked paths and detours that I had no intention of going on. But one thing I can say is that I don’t have any regrets. Whatever I had interest in I did, and if it didn’t appeal to my long-term goals, I got rid of it and moved onto the next. I wasn’t always successful. I wasn’t always prepared. I didn’t always know what I was doing. But I managed to rise every time that I fell, and that process of falling down and getting back up has made me stronger.
19. Learn your purpose. This is a little harder because we can easily spend our entire lives doing something that may not align with our purpose, but that fits our level of comfort. Too many of us settle and then wonder why we lack fulfillment. But understanding your gifts and your mission is key to walking in the fullness of life, and impacts everything from the opportunities you partake in to the person you choose to be with for the rest of your life.
20. Be a servant. While I’m confident in my abilities and my talent, I can’t pretend that everything that I’ve accomplished or every opportunity that came my way was because of how great I am. One thing I’ve learned is the true value of relationships. I used to battle with taking a backseat, especially as someone with so many creative ideas and talents. But serving others has been extremely rewarding and has open doors that I didn’t even know existed. Long story short, it’s not all about you. And if you think it is, you’ll never truly be successful.
21. Be valuable. Whenever I left a job, one thing that was often said about me was how much value I brought to the table. Even if it was a job I wasn’t particularly passionate about, I always did my best to leave the position better than when I arrived, and to set the standard for the next person behind me. It’s the reason, I believe, that I’m able to reach out to old bosses and still get positive recommendations. People remember your work and how you made them feel.
22. Put action behind your dream. Over the years I’ve run into a lot of people who talked about what they “wanted” to do, but weren’t putting in the work to achieve the dream they talked about. Where they do that at? I’m not quite sure. And there’s a deeper conversation at hand as to why people give up on their goals and dreams, but for now, understand that everything you desire takes work. Sometimes it’s months of work, sometimes it’s decades. But if you don’t give up before the finish line, you’ll still be a winner—even if it’s in a way that you didn’t imagine.
TRAVEL
23. Every place is a destination: As an avid traveler, I always felt the need to go big or go home, sometimes forgetting that some of the best destinations are in my own backyard. Every city has a story—a new place to explore—it doesn’t have to cost thousands to be worth your time.
24. Stop waiting on others: Many times I’d plan a trip keeping others in mind, only for them to back out or not pay on time, which often resulted in me not taking a trip at all. Now I’d gladly take a trip solo if necessary. Never allow waiting on others to hold you back.
25. Spend money on experiences. Traveling is the one thing that when you spend money on, you’ll have no regrets about later.
26. Embrace other cultures. One of my favorite things about traveling is seeing cultures different from my own. There’s something of value to take from people of various backgrounds. Some cultures place emphasis on family, while others are centered around respect. Regardless, just like the places you go, the people you encounter have something worth sharing.
27. We’re all humans. The beauty of traveling is that you quickly learn that as much as we’re different, we’re all very much alike. It makes you empathetic to people because you learn at our core, we all want love, acceptance and peace.
28. Pack light. I haven’t mastered this yet. Whenever I travel my bag is stuffed to the brim, and my shoulder aches because I’ve failed to upgrade to a rolling carry on. Only to get somewhere and realize most of the clothes I brought I have no desire to wear. Going forward I want to travel only with necessities so that I can reduce the stress of traveling.
29. Go far with friends. While I’m more than willing to travel alone, I have to admit that traveling ain’t the same without my girls. We laugh, we love, and we make the most of every moment. It truly takes the experience to the next level. And maybe my next big trip, I’ll be traveling with bae. ;)
F*ck New Year's Resolutions
photography + creative direction // Kiah McBride
I’m tired of New Year’s Resolutions.
There’s something about them that insinuates a bit of laziness. It’s spoken words and written reminders without thought of how they’re going to get accomplished. They sound nice when you say them, but then when the end of the year rolls around, the results are unforeseen. A resolution isn’t a solution for passivity.
Nor is it a panacea to the problems of which the roots have yet to be defined. The things that you want to change require more than a flittering thought that you post up on social media. It’s more than “new year, new me,” it’s learning the answer to the question, what about your current self allows you to continuously fall into patterns of failure? If you’re still saying the same “resolutions” as years prior, then that’s evidence that you’re insane—repeating the same cycles yet expecting different results.
The key to success isn’t what
you say you’re going to do.
It’s the actions and habits that you change in order to actually achieve your goals.
Case and point, I said last year that I was going to be debt-free. Great. Beautiful goal. It’s something that’s been on my mind religiously, especially when less than two years prior I pulled up in LA with less than $1,500 left to clear my name off the creditors list. Yet, the entire year I continued to dig myself into a deeper hole. And I couldn’t understand why. I had the desire to accomplish the dream; that was the whole point of the resolution, right? To speak it into existence?
Nah, fuck that. I needed a plan. I needed to get to the root of why I was running in circles, and why, even when I almost made it, I instead found myself going backwards. I did the work instead of talking about it. I identified the roots of my financial dysfunction as having a disillusionment that I deserved the lifestyle that I wanted. I focused on the here and now, not wanting to miss out on opportunities or purchasing comfort with the thought that it would be beneficial to me in the long run. In short, I was privileged and being straight up bourgeois—Champagne tastes on a Kool-Aid budget.
Identifying the roots and getting real with myself allowed me to fix the mentality that was holding me back year after year, and slowly I started making the changes that would ultimately lead to me accomplishing my goal. I left my dope ass one-bedroom guest home and moved in with six strangers. I picked up extra catering shifts while still juggling my freelance assignments. I let it be known to my group of peers that if it wasn’t free, they wouldn’t see me. I started to become a woman, not a little girl who threw temper tantrums at the fact that I couldn’t have it my way.
And you know what, abundance started to follow me. Even in the midst of unemployment, I’ve managed to secure the bag at a bigger and better job. It wouldn’t have come if I were still spitting resolutions instead of implementing lifestyle changes.
So that “new year, new me” shit? That’s for the birds. Those of us who are actually accomplishing our goals are too busy doing the work instead of reciting catchy phrases.
Next Stop: Hilton Head Island
photography // MIRACLE LILLEY
creative direction // KIAH MCBRIDE
location // HILTON HEAD ISLAND, SOUTH CAROLINA
I thought of a hundred reasons why I shouldn’t go.
Too busy. Too tired. Too broke. Too far of a drive. A million and one excuses flipping through my head like a sizzle reel. Yet all it took was for me to find that one reason for me to go—a much-needed weekend getaway with my best friend and her family, one that was sure to be filled with good laughs, good food, and good stories to tell.
Sold.
A couple of weeks later I was flying down I-75 towards the Carolina coast. As a North Carolina native, I’m no stranger to South Carolina beaches. But while Myrtle Beach was a regular destination in my youth, Hilton Head Island has remained a foreign place to me. Though it ain’t quite the same as jetsetting across the globe, I’ve found that the most beautiful places exist in our own backyards, or in this case, a four-hour drive south of Atlanta.
The most beautiful places exist in our own backyards.
I watched as sugar maples transformed into live oak trees dripped in Spanish moss—a sight so intriguing yet simultaneously creepy as I recounted ghost stories told from Savannah graves less than an hour away. Some centuries ago my ancestors died for me to walk barefoot on these sandy white beaches.
Before vacationers flocked to the island every summer, free Gullah families (descendents of West African slaves from the Gula tribe of Liberia and Sierra Leone)
settled on the island and held their own.
They were the first ex-slaves to earn wages in exchange for their labor. They owned land and fished to feed their families; probably not much different than the crabbing we did from the Harbour Town pier.
Back then they gathered in 396 square foot homes on a quarter acre of land. On this particular weekend we spread ourselves across a 3,600 square foot vacation home. Their history is so rich that they afforded us this luxury.
And I can’t help but wonder if, some time ago, they too were shooting the shit over a game of Spades and bowls of Goulash and Jambalaya. Knowing that this was the place that Gullah Gullah Island was based off of makes me appreciate the show of my childhood more. I still sing the theme song in my head.
Lets all go to Gullah, Gullah Island,
Gullah, Gullah, Gullah, Gullah!
Two days wasn’t enough time for a true vacation, but it was just enough time for me to reconsider living inland. I’m a child of the water, I come alive when I’m just footsteps away from it. It’s hypnotic, a reminder of the ebbs and flows of life. That tides do turn, and in my case, hopefully for the better.
And because of that, it’s imperative for me to leave. Because unlike the Gullahs, who bury their dead along waterways so that their spirits can be carried back to the motherland with which they were stolen from, I’m not ready to go home. I have too much to do, too much to accomplish, too much purpose—I have my own history to make.
Money Bags
photography // Coco Dandridge
creative direction // Kiah McBride
I TRADED IN COACH BAGS FOR COACH TICKETS
because that’s the kind of fly that I prefer to be.
And I stopped getting caught up on social media posts of peers settling into the American dream of new cars and white picket fences once I realized that they conveniently forgot to post how their mortgage and fancy car payments were half of their paychecks.
Shit, that can’t be me.
See, I too, once flauged like I was more than what I am, when I really had less then what it seemed. Champagne tastes, I’ve always gravitated towards the finer things. I wanted marble countertops, nice threads and lavish vacations overseas. But there’s nothing fine about a woman who lives in a false reality.
There’s nothing cute about being broke, and nothing wifey about bumming off another. I was a straight up hypocrite shouting to the top of my lungs that I deserved a wedding ring when I hadn’t even mastered discipline or learned to manage money properly. Silly little girl with a backwards mentality.
I blended into a city of Chanel bags and empty wallets—Atlanta has always been known for housing the flyest of the fly who live in the cars they can’t afford. And while I certainly wasn’t flossing I perpetrated like I had more money than I really had.
Going out. Credit.
Dinner. Credit.
Dessert? Card maxed out. Forget it.
Debt was just as much of a lifestyle as my weekly jaunts to the club. The way I saw it, I’d eventually pay it off within the time frame allotted on my monthly statements—three years and thousands of dollars in interest later. Shit, as long as I could still step in the club looking like a snack, I was cool with that.
Work. Spend money.
Work. Spend money.
A slave mentality at its finest.
Yet ironically I’ve always had this thing for freedom. Free to live. Free to be me. Freedom from chains, shackles, anything holding me down or pulling me back. The concept of freedom seems foreign to people who were brought over here in bondage. But I thirsted for it, parched lips parting just wide enough to speak words of affirmation over my life. But affirmations mean nothing if your mindset stays the same. Not much different from the homeless, I too, begged for change.
I was tired of putting dreams on the backburner because I couldn’t afford to pursue them. I was tired of taking leaps of faith only to end up crawling back to a “good” job with fully paid benefits—not out of passion but out of desperation. The worst way to be.
My search for something more began with searching within. I got real and asked myself the hard questions. Why am I not where I want to be financially? Why am I, who have worked legally since the age of 14 pushing the same flat patties wrapped in yellow paper that I no longer allow myself to consume, at a significantly higher income still see paychecks come and go like seasonal relationships?
And when I prayed for an answer, God unsurprisingly turned the mirror towards me.
He showed me who I would be if I didn’t change my mentality. Nails did, hair did, everything did. Just another “she cute, but she broke” chick blaming the world for not being further ahead than she could be. I knew He wouldn’t bless me with more until I proved that I could handle less. See, money is a God-given gift often taken for granted.
We often pray for blessings that once received, we don’t know what to do with.
I wanted better. I wanted different. I watched family retire and struggle under the weight of their luxuries, witnessed industry folk who looked good on the outside but were crumbling within. So I flipped open a copy of Total Money Makeover and started envisioning a different life for my family and myself.
I didn’t want the dreams of my offspring to be optional because of their financial burdens. And after experiencing what lack of money does to relationships, I didn’t want to have toxic arguments over why I was still going into debt despite being given grocery money ever again. Nor did I want to have to decide between doing what I love and doing what I had to do to survive.
It’s bigger than me.
The idea of financial freedom was no longer a selfish desire, now it was about my legacy. What would I leave behind for the world and for my kids’ kids? How would I break the cycle of excess and distress? I grabbed my credit cards, cut them in half, and began studying those who walked in success. I settled into the idea of temporary sacrifice for long-term gain.
Admittedly, I’ve always felt a little guilty about wanting money. But greed and abundance aren’t one in the same, and wealth and wisdom go hand in hand. The key? Don’t get enticed by the paper. False idols always lead to a real downfall.
A true Queen doesn’t just secure the bag, she multiplies it. Soon I’ll tell the story of how I was broke all my life but learned what to do with the racks God gave.
Next Stop: Boston
photography // KIAH MCBRIDE
location // BOSTON
I travel because I thirst for experiences. A certified nomad I don’t know how to sit still, I just know how to get up and go--no fear, nothing holding me back. In fact, I’m the most free when I’m not being confined to one city. I like going places I don’t normally go. No bucket list, I want to see it all. I don’t believe in limitations, you never know what you’ll get from traveling to the unexpected and exploring the unknown. A life mantra.
I touched down in Boston on an early afternoon. After a three-hour plane ride to the melody of a screaming baby I was more than ready to hit the ground running. I didn’t exactly grow up watching baseball, so the Red Sox was of minor interest to me. And the Celtics weren’t my chosen team, but thanks to grandpa I knew the names of Bill Russell, Larry Bird and Kevin Garnett.
Boston wasn’t on my top destinations list either, but one thing I’ve learned about life is that every place has something to show you—either about its history, its culture, or simply yourself. It’s rare that I ever leave a city less knowledgeable than I arrived, and conversations with locals rarely fail to be interesting.
Especially ones with rideshare drivers. As an UberEats driver myself (don’t judge me), I know that the average driver isn’t simply there just for shits and giggles. They’re either seeking something, running towards something, or running away from something--and the entrepreneur-esque lifestyle is the perfect vehicle to get wherever they’re going.
My first driver, Sami, shared his story of transition from LA to colder territories. He hated the lack of diversity of the city (“too white,” he said while pushing a pale hand through dark hair), and felt guilty about not wanting to get out of bed at 6AM to hit the running trails that is characteristic of Bostonians.
“I hate waking up early.” Me too.
I pointed out that at least he’s near the water. Something that I truly miss about my time in LA. Despite my couple of years of being a 30-minute drive away I didn’t hit the beach for Instagram-worthy thirst trap shots as much as I said I would, or visit the coastal cities that sprinkled the western coast—a reminder that we often take the smallest things for granted. Instead I traded in salt water for hot and sticky summers where sweat trickled down my spine before 9AM. Being in the south has its perks, but relaxing summers isn’t one of them.
A short ride later we pulled up to the Boston Park Plaza.
“Oh you’re in a good area. You’ll love it,” Sami said, plopping my suitcase on the sidewalk.
The hotel has this grandeur about it. An elegance that appeals to my inner bourgeois. And though the lobby is more spectacular than the room I had, there was a softness about it. Besides, just a few months ago I was unemployed and unable to afford my own room, nor was I actually paying for this trip (perks of my job). I was Issa, not Molly. I wasn’t in a position to be picky.
Plus my brick wall and across-the-street-office-building view made stripteasing and twerking to trap music in front of open blinds more enticing. I have a thing for natural light. Hopefully, a Kim Kardashian photo of my naturally light-skinned breasts won’t end up somewhere on the Internet. (But if you see them, pass them my way. They way my bank account is set up I need to collect a royalty check, please and thank you.)
I wanted to nap, but my grumbling stomach said otherwise. Legal Sea Foods seemed to be the best option a short walking distance away. Ironically I would end up at the same restaurant, three times in three different locations throughout my trip. It’s funny how we’re creatures of habit, comfortable in our cycles, even when we don’t intend to be.
“It’s funny how we’re creatures of habit, comfortable in our cycles.”
The daytime hours of my three-night stay were primarily spent attending a conference. At night I joined my newly-made acquaintances of ranging brown hues. Even in a strange land we formed a community (waddup #BlackAtInbound!)--clinking sangria, margarita and glasses of Hennessey as if we were old friends, discussing our shock over Janet Jackson and Bobby (the two-part BET Bobby Brown series came on during our stay) and diving deeper into other cultural discussions over warm bread and, you guessed it, food.
I did duck off for a few hours at one point. I didn’t come to New England just to travel back and forth to a convention center. I craved exploration. And while I didn’t get a chance to take a river cruise or find me a sugar daddy in Martha’s Vineyard, I did get yelled at by an older white man as I attempted to snap photos in the famed cobblestone Acorn Street (so much for the sugar daddy). I skimmed past brick brownstones typically characteristic of New York boroughs as I quickly navigated my way out of the obviously-expensive neighborhood. A black girl with locs and a DSLR camera slung over her shoulder didn’t belong there.
But I did belong in the library, which is where I was eagerly headed when a voice begging for money called out, grinding me to a halt. Okay so I did speed-walk past said voice the first time, pretending not to hear his cries for food. I, too, was hungry--and not exactly in a financial position to give. But then again, when you have more than the next you’re always the person of abundance. And if I got it, I’ll give it. So I backtracked to the grungy character, who at six-feet towered above me with straggly gray strands, pale skin and tattered clothes.
“You got any money? I’d like to eat and nobody will stop.”
“How about Panera Bread? I can get you some food. I don’t think I have any cash.” I was ready to whip out my debit card. I prefer to feed someone knowing that the money is going to a good place as opposed to feeding a bad habit.
He shifted on the balls of his feet. “I can’t really eat real meals, only snacks. Whenever I eat a meal it makes my stomach hurt.”
“Maybe you just need something healthier,” I said, starting down my usual path of preaching nourishing cuisine, then stopped myself. This man didn’t need a lecture; he needed someone who cared.
I stopped glancing around for a place to get snacks and pulled out my purse, not quite sure of what I had, if anything since money seems to leave my wallet quicker than Sallie Mae comes after her loans. But I did have something. A handful of dollar bills that I had pulled out earlier that week, thinking that I would be able to wash my car before leaving town. Luxury.
I started to pull out a couple of singles, but glanced at the man again and pulled out the whole stack ($6), folding it into his hands.
“Don’t do nothing bad with it, okay?” I said, looking him adamantly in the eye.
“Oh no, I won’t, I promise,” he said with a toothy smile. He thanked me, and as I started to walk away shouted, “I love your hair. You girls do so much cool stuff with your hair nowadays. I wish I could do that.”
I smiled and waved goodbye, silently happy that I was able to help, even if only a little bit.
Air-conditioner blasting, the library was cool and a nice break from the heat, its centuries-old books smelling like rich history and must--a welcoming scent. I quietly captured the iconic Bates Hall with its seemingly endless row of green lamps, and slipped into the Abbey Room before stepping out into the warm afternoon air. I walked back to my hotel to change (in front of open window) before catching a ride to meet up with my newfound conference crew.
This time I climbed in the car with Sabir--a young Brazilian immigrant who came to the country eight months prior after finding out his fiancé cheated on him with his best friend. Shit. America was his escape from a drug addiction that he picked up in the midst of his emotional downward spiral. And now he was picking people for a living as a part of his recovery process.
“I didn’t speak any English when I first came here,” he said in a thick accent. “I went to Las Vegas first and couldn’t get any work, then came here and started driving Lyft. I still didn’t know much English. I would have my riders teach me little words here and there like door and mirror, and learned along the way.”
“I didn’t even know who the Patriots were. I had a scarf that someone had given me laying across here,” he gestured his hand across the dashboard. “I just liked the colors, but people kept asking me about the Patriots, and so finally I said who are these Patriots?!” We both laughed, me more so because I hardly knew myself.
“Anyway, English is a beautiful language, but I still struggle with it. I’m going to school to learn so I can talk better with my customers.”
I told him he spoke wonderfully and that I wished I could learn his language instead. And I meant it. I always feel a bit ashamed of not being multilingual (I do speak some Spanish), as if I think I’m too good to humble myself and learn a language beyond my own, especially when in another country, or shoot when in America, another neighborhood.
We pulled up to my destination, and as I got out I wished him luck with finding the right woman. He smiled hopefully. We all need someone who genuinely loves us.
“We all share this desire for love, for acceptance, and for community. ”
That’s one thing I love about traveling. With every conversation--no matter the destination or differences in racial ethnicities or environmental backgrounds--I’m reminded that we all desire the same basic human necessities--not just physically, but emotionally. We all share this desire for love, for acceptance, and for community. We’re all wanting to be seen or heard, to know that we matter. And despite language and cultural barriers, we’re all divinely connected. And that’s something not to be taken for granted.
Staycation
photography // KIAH MCBRIDE
location // TOPANGA, CALIFORNIA
It started out with one simple thought: I need a vacation.
Which may sound weird considering I live in sunny L.A. I’m less than an hour from beautiful beaches, a drive through the mountains towards Vegas, a couple of hours from a desert oasis, and yet still I felt this need to escape, to go somewhere different.
But despite not having the funds, I knew I that if I didn’t at least get one day where I wasn’t surrounded by the temptation of work and play that I was going to lose it. But despite not having the funds, I knew I that if I didn’t at least get one day where I wasn’t surrounded by the temptation of work and play that I was going to lose it. But despite not having the funds, I knew I that if I didn’t at least get one day where I wasn’t surrounded by the temptation of work and play that I was going to lose it.
But despite not having the funds, I knew I that if I didn’t at least get one day where I wasn’t surrounded by the temptation of work and play that I was going to lose it. But despite not having the funds, I knew I that if I didn’t at least get one day where I wasn’t surrounded by the temptation of work and play that I was going to lose it.But despite not having the funds, I knew I that if I didn’t at least get one day where I wasn’t surrounded by the temptation of work and play that I was going to lose it.
But I could see my bank account flashing red at the thought of me spending another dime on something more extravagant like Hawaii or the Caribbean. My splurges are occasional these days, because when you’re chasing a life filled with purpose, it often comes at the sacrifice of comfortable living, big paychecks, and the certainty that comes from settling—at least at first.
But despite not having the funds, I knew I that if I didn’t at least get one day where I wasn’t surrounded by the temptation of work and play that I was going to lose it.
I needed to be somewhere quiet. I needed to get away from the world. But I needed to do so on a budget, which meant staying close to home.
Remembering the credit that I had accumulated I logged into my Airbnb account and began searching for a spot close by that fit the vibe I was going for—relaxed, peaceful, a beautifully designed fuck-you to the real world that continuously pulled me into its daily shenanigans of the passionless and the pseudo-political. I had a small credit that I had accumulated on my cross-country jaunt to L.A just the year prior, so with a strict budget in mind I began my search, and I found the perfect spot.
It was only 20 minutes away, nestled in the hills of Topanga Canyon. The reviews were raving, the vibe said “come chill out,” and the promise of having my chakras taken care of made me a tad bit curious. Not to mention that my muscles had already started relaxing at the thought of soaking in the deep tub that has become such a luxury after living in a place with no A/C that forced me to leave windows open, allowing a constant layer of dirt to settle around the tub of my own place. So I booked the spot and packed my bags just a week later.
To do a staycation right—if not in your home, you have to make it feel like home. I slipped my favorite candle into to my bag along with bath salts, bubble bath, and a loofah. My slippers couldn’t be left behind, nor could my essential oils.
I arrived at what the owner deemed the “White Rose House” in the early afternoon when the sun was on its descent to the other side of the earth. She wasn’t home at first, but the gate was cracked so I let myself in to the little guest room that was just off of the main house. I silently exclaimed a “hell yeah” as I opened the door to the bright white room—it was just as describe—serene, peaceful, and begging for someone to partake into me-time.
The owner arrived shortly thereafter, offering cookies and informing me that I was open to the backyard and her home at any time. I thanked her and ducked back into my temporary oasis, eager for some time away from people.
I quickly made the spot my home, pulling out my laptop, journal, and book that I would be diving into for the first time in months, because, distractions. When night time came, I ran the bath water, lit my candles, and turned on my Staycation playlist to set the mood.
I relaxed.
I indulged.
I released everything that wasn’t contributing to my progression—doubtful thoughts, draining people, and energies that were keeping me off my path of purpose. Before I left in the morning the owner offered me an Angelic cleanse, it was different, but added to the uniqueness of the experience.
My staycation was brief, but it was just enough to get me back focused. That’s the great thing about getting away, even just for a moment, you realign yourself with what truly matters and disconnect from what doesn’t. You find that peace comes from within, it’s the outside influences that you allow into your life that push you into a chaotic place. Sometimes you just need to dip off for a minute and clear your head in order to get back in the game.
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