Ovulation in my 30s is intense. See, I can be minding my business, on my phone sending audio messages, and the next minute I am craving chocolate, eggs with fish sauce, emotional intimacy, and somebody’s grown and sexy son all at the same time. 

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Let me say this plain, I am not broke in my mind, my spirit, or with my vision. I may be in a season where I must stretch, sacrifice, and move much more carefully. However, that is not the same thing as being stuck in a broke mindset. It means I am rebuilding. 

Listen… come over here and chill with me for a minute. I’m also not talking about the “oh, it looks like it’s about to rain outside, don’t it?” you say in passing at the store. I mean the real kind. The kind where you exhale first is as if you have been holding your breath so long you forgot what air felt like.

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Let me tell you, ‘Sha! There comes a moment that rolls in harder than a Louisiana summer thunderstorm. Also, it does not tiptoe in. What does it do? It storms through the front door. You look at your world. Your babies. Your fustrations. 

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