Dear God,
I went to bed at 8:16am and woke up at 3:15am… not too shabby. Thank You.
You know that scene where Whoopi Goldberg tells Lauryn Hill, “If you wake up singing, you supposed to be a singer, baby”?
That’s me. I woke up singing the song I wrote in the studio with Troy. I believe that song might be my breakthrough hit.
I need to believe in my writing. My writing is fabulous—like seriously good. Like toot toot, beep beep good. Thank You for blessing me with the ability to write. I really want to hit a whistle note on this song—an F note somewhere in there. I know it’s possible.
I just wanted to say thank You.
I don’t know how I’m going to study everything for flight training school, though. It’s too early to be awake. I’m going to try to sleep a little more… or maybe study and then sleep. Wear my chin strap, look over words—I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.
I just finished listening to Fergie’s Glamorous song, then saw her doing cartwheels on stage on The Today Show…..
HOURS HAVE PASSED. IT’S NOW THE END OF THE DAY.
Wow. What a day. God, where do I even start?
I want to recap everything, but You’ve been with me the whole time. I try not to wonder how You exist or how You hear me—but I know it’s because of You that my successes are happening. I’ve been trying my whole life to make it, but it wasn’t until I started talking to You more and trying to do the right things that my dreams began coming true.
I admit, I analyze things. I wonder—did You really help my career, or is it just years and years of hard work finally paying off? But I know it’s You. I remember a very specific prayer I said about wanting to make it and be surrounded by good people. I remember saying that if my dreams ever came true, I would know it was You—because at that exact moment, I felt deep inside that uploading music for free wasn’t working anymore. I told You that if my prayers were actually answered, there would be no doubt it was You.
Before that prayer, I had been doing music for over ten years and nothing was happening.
I hate to admit it, but after meeting a four-time Grammy-winning producer, I wanted to celebrate by smoking again. Then my mom called and prayed with me. I told her I wanted to smoke just here and there. She prayed the feeling away—and it worked.
She said something that really resonated with me. My mom has been trying for years not to rely on sleep medication. I don’t think medication is bad, but over time it can have serious health effects. My mom and I are extremely alike, which is why I forgive her so much. She’s mean to me a lot—but I understand where she came from. A house full of trauma. She lost her dad early, then her favorite sister, then her jealous sister kept her away from her own mother’s funeral. And yet my mom is still so strong. She’s only mean to me when she wants my dad all to herself.
Now it’s the next night, right before bed.
It happened again. I called my mom and she sounded happy at first. Then my dad started to walk away to another room. She asked him to stay in the room while she talked to me. Then she rushed me off the phone because she didn’t want him to leave. My dad insisted he’d be right back and told her to spend time talking to me. She reacted like he asked her to stick needles under her nail beds.
My mom never likes talking to me on the phone—unless she’s talking about herself, to the point where she forgets why I called and ends our call. She can talk to everyone else for long periods of time, but something about me… she just doesn’t like it. I’ve asked her about this before, and she says she doesn’t like talking on the phone—but I’ve witnessed the opposite many times. Oh well. Maybe my mom just doesn’t like talking to me. She did mention my sister doesn’t like talking to me on the phone because I’m a “negative person”. It’s so bad she even rushes my dad off the phone when I call to talk to him.
Sometimes I think my protection is from my mom. She can be very mean. But her upbringing shaped her. She always tells me how lucky I am that she was good to me despite what she went through—and she’s right. She provided for me and loved me deeply until I was about 15. Then her love became distant. Only in the last two years has she softened again.
I had a role in that distance. My smoking. Sneaking out. Staying out past curfew sometimes.
Hey—no one’s perfect.
But I think my biggest resentment is that once I left for college at 18, I was on my own. I wish most parents wouldn’t abandon their kids at that age. I’ve been fending for myself ever since. Not even my very successful siblings helped. These days my dad sneaks me money sometimes, which truly helps. He’s always made sure I don’t go hungry. And that’s okay—it just means I don’t owe anyone anything.
I’m about to go to sleep now so I can get at least seven hours. Tomorrow I go to Vegas to meet Mike Tyson’s hypnotherapist. I want to learn how to have a money-making mindset—especially with all these prices I’m paying:
$2,300 for Eddie.
$2,500 for Troy.
$3,500 for another four-time Grammy-winning producer.
$2,500 just to go through my YouTube videos by a social media manager named Christopher.
You know what I’ve learned? These people talk about you behind your back. They live to tell stories about the celebrities they know. I heard some bad stories about Ariana Grande—and learned what not to do. Then I heard beautiful things about Tori Kelly—and learned I need to step my preparation game all the way up.
Usually I figure out my melodies, riffs, and everything in the studio. I need to learn how to do this on my own. I have to. Because producers could say I take too long, or that I get too high, or that I bring weird people with me.
And yes—I do bring weirdos. It makes it fun. I don’t like being around serious people. Some of my favorite people in the world are autistic or on the spectrum—their truth is unmatched. Pure magic.
One time I sang a Mariah Carey song to my friend Gary. He paused and said, “You know only Mariah Carey can sing that song right? If you don’t sound like her, don’t sing it.”
It was so rude—and so funny—that I made sure to bring that memory with me when I sang that song in front of 3,000 people at the Water Lantern Festival.
Truth is, I want that said about me. I want my voice to be so unmistakable that it’s hard to cover. And if someone does cover my song, it still won’t be easy to do it better—because my voice leaves an imprint that can’t be replicated. And yet, I still want millions… even billions of people to sing my songs.
I just need Your help.
Help me leave weed alone for good—even though I don’t fully want to yet.
Help me not steal. I’ve mostly stopped, but it creeps up sometimes. I’m not a klepto—I’m just a girl who wishes she could afford anything she wanted. I’ll change. I would never steal anything major. It’s usually something small—a kid’s banana from a lunchbox, or something left behind. I’d turn in a wallet… after taking the money as my reward. That’s just the little thug in me.
Help me with my vices, Lord.
Help me sleep properly tonight.
Help me get to the airport on time.
Guide my steps through Vegas tomorrow.
Help me, in Jesus’ name.
Amen.
Loading comments...