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I get on my own nerves.

It’s like I know what I have to do, but I haven’t made a move to do it. I haven’t thought about it, initiated any movement on my calendars, or just stopped. I continuously push the line, which leads me to how I feel at this moment, which is burnout. Running SistahCare Alliance alone has my body paying the price: lack of sleep, back pain flare-ups, and not having a desire to eat anything have left me with migraines, anxiety, and worry. Not having enough energy to do the things I enjoy, like writing and creating.

In the past few weeks, I’ve been in a cycle of meetings, promoting, Substack lives, recaps, and social media; when it comes time to focus on a thought I had or an observation I’ve noticed, my mind is dead. I don’t want to hear another key on my keyboard or to form a sentence that makes sense. I hate that I’ve neglected LeShea’s Garden; before there was SistahCare Alliance, it was LeShea’s Garden, previously named Three Minutes of Your Time.

I want to get back to that, and unfortunately it’s something that I have to plan like everything else, so from September 7-25 I’ve decided to take three steps back from all platforms and just breathe a little. Many would say San Diego is such a vacation city; why would you want a vacation? Well, maybe not from the city, a vacation from routine, but a margarita with an umbrella in it isn’t such a bad idea. I haven’t had a chance to find joy or appreciate the Summer eventhough I hate Summer.

Although I have nothing planned for my 40th, I’m still choosing not to work to fill the void. I would’ve loved to have some extra cash for a staycation or a train ride to LA, but as of right now I will leave that door open; a lot can happen in the next 30+ days. While I’m on this break, I will still have Substack Lives because those have been scheduled. I also will use that time to finally finish books I’ve started and write for the sake of writing.

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It’s one of those things where you have momentum, and you feel anxious that change for the better will happen, so you keep going because you don’t want to lose the feeling or the moment. But that’s running me to the ground. If the momentum is supposed to stick around, then I will pick up where I left off; that’s my definition of what burnout means to me, which is not giving up the momentum. I pray that I get to a space where some of these projects can run themselves and not have to be so technical.

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40th Birthday

In honor of turning the big 4-0 I decided to have my newsletter be 40% off. Which means that as long as you are a paid subscriber you will forever pay that price.

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If a long-term committment isn’t your thing and you want to causually date you can always send what you can through Cash App $Lashay764.

As always I appreciate your patience and your kind words I always say I’m living, learning and healing in real-time.

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If you were to ask me if I’m excited about turning forty, I would look you square in the eye and say no. I wasn’t excited on January 1, 2026, and I probably won’t be excited on September 20th, my actual birthday. I don’t have plans, and I don’t have friends, so there’s that. I wouldn’t know what to do or where to go. Maybe if my circumstances were better, I could have a different outlook. Month-to-month, it feels like I’m holding on by a thread.

I’ve trained my brain to take what I need and leave what I don’t. There’s no room for “extra.” Even if I had a list of gift ideas, I couldn’t provide them because, in my current state, most things I enjoy wouldn’t provide long-term value. Enjoying things because it’s “pretty” or something I want for the sake of wanting is instant gratification. I’ve been down that road, and the road to recovery is deep. If I can’t invest it to at least allow me to breathe towards the following month, then I don’t want it.

I’m that kid on Christmas who asks for a particular gift, I finally get the gift, and become unamused after the first hour. Their joy is the anticipation of a gift, it’s not the gift itself. Every year, I provide my family with a fun Amazon wishlist with a few items. Last year, I felt the need to create one because I was being asked what I wanted for my birthday. I have a list this year, and as I stare at it, I don’t want any of it. Amazon can keep it. I shop on Amazon for the essentials and basic needs because sometimes my everyday needs are cheaper than at the store.

Mental Blockage

The problem is that who I envisioned I would be at forty has not happened. All of the hard work I put into being happy at forty has done the complete opposite. It’s messing with my head, and I don’t think any amount of life lived so far can prepare you for a new phase of your life. I know the wisdom will be loud and proud, but that’s nothing new. I’ve been deemed an old soul for years. My heart aches that I haven’t had many adventures or excursions as I once hoped. Right now, I have a passport with no stamps and a bank account that should be closed at this point out of embarrassment.

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The pivot I’m currently in is taking longer than I expected. It’s coming to a point where I no longer know what to do with my time. The questions I ask myself throughout the day don’t help sometimes. I think my work ethic does more harm than good. Working hard sometimes won’t get you the results you ask for. I think working hard gives you the illusion of purpose, drive, and a dash of hope. It’s a drug that many of us are addicted to but don’t know it yet.

The space I’m currently sitting in is uncomfortable, and no matter how many times I adjust my seat, it will remain uncomfortable. My mind has reached capacity attempting to “deal with it” because I’m at a point where I don’t want to do that anymore. Nobody should be forced to deal with circumstances they can’t control. It sucks that many others and I feel like we have to carry that weight.

My current outlook on life is not about having a lot of things. I’m not sure if the trauma of the past caused this ephiphany or maturity. I will never know.

How Can I Help You Celebrate?

I’m sure as the days get closer, I can be more excited, although I feel down in the dumps, I’m still willing to make the best of it. If I had to choose a gift, it would be to lower my credit card debt. As someone who had a great credit score, it’s heartbreaking to see it plummet the way it has. I’m sure many of you read my Substack Note about my interaction with Chase.

I still laugh about this interaction, and they’re still calling, and I’m still not answering. It would be appreciated if you all could help with that. Doing so would stop the calls, keep my anxiety at bay, and provide some relief. The interest has allowed the amount to crawl past $5k. If you’re interested in helping me celebrate my birthday in that way, you can donate using the link below. Any amount is appreciated.

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I have so many ideas I want to share with my paid subscribers, but I don’t have enough paid subscribers to share the news with. I would love to plan more intimate Substack Lives for paid members. If you’re interested, you can obtain my 40% off your paid subscription. The great thing about it is that this 40% lasts forever. Once it’s obtained, you will pay at a discounted rate until you choose not to anymore.

40% Discount Forever

Harvest With Me

One of the newest sections I have in my newsletter is called The Harvest, which is the simple things that I enjoy. These are my everyday go-to items. Each link provided within this section of the newsletter is an affiliate link. Any purchases you make, I earn a small commission.

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Rock Steady

As a prideful person, I don’t like to beg or ask for help; that version of me has never been me, but desperate times call for desperate measures. To prevent these financial struggles from happening again, I would appreciate it if you all referred my other newsletter, SistahCare Alliance, to as many people as possible.

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Forwarding my advocacy newsletter is more helpful than you know, and all that took was a few seconds of your time.

Encouraging your friends, aunts, co-workers, grandparents, and mentors to schedule a SistahCare Appointment Prep meeting would keep me steady throughout the week. A few calls a day would bring me joy and satisfaction. We all have to see the doctor this year, sometimes more than once. Why not show up prepared with questions and ways to advocate for yourself during that visit?

The reason why I decided to share this early is that it gives you all the time to give what you can when you can. Maybe you had every intention of helping me out for my birthday, but you found yourself in some financial trouble. Showcasing it early allows you to donate and support as many times as you like.

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More thought dumping to come.

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The title of this newsletter is the question that I asked myself this morning. A simple question with a simple answer that is also complicated. The simple answer to the question is yes, the phone I have is mine from the lockscreen, layout, and pin; it’s my phone.

As I open the phone, browsing through different emails and photos, I don’t feel like I own what’s supposed to be mine.

This isn’t a brain teaser. Stay with me.

My phone consists of people, places, or things that aren’t me. It’s filled with a gallery of photos, with 70% of them being of myself or the things I enjoy. It’s apps filled with opinions from people I don’t know and don’t care to know. It’s filled with memes of celebrities I’ve never met, and it’s endless family photos. As a proud aunt of three, I have 1,155 photos of them. Don’t get me wrong, I love my niece and nephew, but if a stranger looked through my gallery, they would think these are my children.

Screenshots of recipes I’d probably never make, information I’ll probably forget I needed, “selfies” of me being in the same pose a million and one times. Downloaded documents that require a signature of some sort. Videos that I’ve never gone back and watched, and also need to upload.

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My gallery alone doesn’t reflect me at all; it’s images of other people, places, and things. Does that mean my phone is still mine? I can hold it and locate any file, photo, and bookmark, but is it really mine?

A call log longer than a CVS receipt of people I haven’t talked to in years or decades. It’s a lot of “I didn’t know I had their number, and is this number still theirs?” As someone who doesn’t talk to many people, I’m surprised that my call log holds this much weight. Since I don’t talk to half of these people, is the phone still mine?

My lockscreen screensaver is of Beyoncé, sis couldn’t pick me out of a crowd even if I had a shirt that said hello, my name is Teisha. But she did say my name (pun intended)

It’s full of music I didn’t create, videos I didn’t edit, books and essays I didn’t write. The phone is mine, but it doesn’t feel like mine.

I say all of this to say you can’t clean your home without cleaning your phone. Let’s declutter the mess.

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Up until this very moment, I question everything I was told and knew to be true. The values and morals of yesterday no longer exist in today's reality. As I approach forty, it feels like I missed my “window,” you know, the era of shallowness and croptops. Setting trends and being allergic to following others, a stand-alone who has created unwritten rules for how this shit is gonna work.

I lacked confidence, but brain power makes me look like our favorite 90s girl. The advice is simple: “Looks fade, and all you have left is your brain. Men don’t like a dumb woman.” Fast-forward to now, a lot of dumb women are living lives I daydream about—expensive trips and fancy restaurants just by saying nothing and posing for a flick.

Here I am, young, bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed, waiting to prove my smarts, the long hours of studying, the nervousness to present a project, forcing myself to read assigned books that didn’t inspire. There is a woman online now who gave up her daughter for adoption, has tons of followers, and recently announced getting work done while also admitting that the attention she gets is because she bought it. She bought her look from the perky breasts, balanced face, clear skin, and flat stomach; none of that was God-given.

She admitted that she’s always had this personality, and people are just now realizing it because she’s “pretty.” Her rawness has always been present, but the way she looked foreshadowed her “personality.” Treating content like a 9-5 is easy work. No submission of 100+ resumes and 50 rejections, no student loan debt or trying to make a dollar out of fifteen cents; all you need is a camera, good lighting, and selling a fantasy you’re in, like swimwear.

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You can write in 1000+ words how negative privilege is, but if awarded the opportunity, you’d be first in line. Why? because you’re smart enough to seize that opportunity. Looking cute gets you paid? What? Knowing what I know now, if I were awarded the “pretty privilege” award, I wouldn’t spend it on expensive bags. You have a few signature pieces, but I’m saving every penny awarded to me and investing it in a future that couldn’t be accessible. One thing about this pretty privileged life is that someone will be prettier than you and take your spot. While you have a spot to stand on, take advantage of it, I mean, they are taking advantage of you, right? It ain't romance, it’s bidness.

I would treat it like a hustle, and many of you pretty privileged heffas are doing it wrong. You have a small amount of time to stack money and network you’ve been afforded to enter different rooms and talk to different people. I was so unicorns-and-rainbows in my twenties; I wanted love, peace, and harmony. I didn’t bet on myself enough to have the confidence to enter any room, even the rooms I have no business in.

As an elder millennial, I had front-row seats to how the game would play out. Back then, it was based on numbers and follower count; now it’s about brand deals and partnerships. Why not promote a skin care line or supplements that make my stomach as flat as a board?

No matter how many times you may call me pretty, I have not benefited from any pretty privilege. Many would argue that it’s a “price” to be paid, you have to give up something to get something, and I agree. You had to give up having good credit to be in student loan debt for a piece of paper hanging on your wall. We all have to give up something to get something. You have to make sure what you’re giving up is something you can live with.

Survival isn’t about love or lust; it’s about whether you have it or you don’t. I wish it were easy to come on camera and talk about SistahCare Appointment Prep without “selling” it to you. In my crazy mind, I think I wouldn’t have to work this hard if I were the beauty standard. Don’t you believe me? Bet!! There is a “doctor” on social media now with over 4 million followers, selling books and dreams. Most of the public doesn’t give a damn if she’s qualified or not; the majority thinks she’s attractive, and that’s the bottom line.

As much as you want to tell yourself that it isn’t true, you’re straight-up lying. You see it, and I see it. Doesn’t anybody give a damn how “smart” you are? Do you look good in a bikini? And can you convince your followers to buy this powder substance that can make you look twenty?

Being caught up in doing things one way cost me, yes, I’ve earned wisdom and lessons learned, but all of that still leaves me poor. Respecting people, getting good grades, not dating a plethora of boys/men, and not getting pregnant at an early age has left me poor, not in spirit but in money. Wisdom can’t pay your rent or pay off credit card debt. We live in a shallow society, and we have to start admitting that more. I’ve never had a man tell me they liked me because I’m smart, it’s usually “you fine” or “you cute,” and even then my pretty wasn’t enough to make shit move for myself.

So what now?

Shit, I don’t know. I have to sit with this alternate reality for a while longer. All I know is that at this point, it feels like I played the game wrong.

When I wrote on Medium, I shared a series of random thoughts with my audience. If a thought lingers in my mind long enough, I have to write about it for it to disappear. Holding thoughts and opinions clutters my already fast-paced mind, so taking a few moments to give my thoughts the attention they need usually solves …

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If you didn’t get the news that Kendrick Lamar and SZA dropped the video for Luther, you're living under a rock. The video currently has 9.2 million views in the past three days.

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Now and again, I love to go back and re-watch movies that I enjoyed in the ‘90s. Not only is it nostalgic, but it also makes me realize how far I’ve grown and how my perception has changed. Love Jones is one of those films that I can watch twenty times in a row and still feel the same way each time.

I first saw this movie at the age of eleven, and I knew then that something was unique about it. I wasn’t mature enough to put it into words, but I enjoyed watching. I tend to gravitate toward this movie whenever it rains in California. This past weekend was no different; outside looked like Florida during hurricane season.

Towards the end of the night, I wanted to unwind and watch the movie again for the two-hundredth time. As I watched the film as a thirty-something-year-old woman, I questioned if this type of love would ever exist in 2026. With social media, text messages, dating apps, and a short attention span, people don’t have the patience. Here are three reasons why that love would never work in *2026.

Small Talk

When Darius first met Nina at the bar, you could automatically see the sexual tension. They hid it with small talk. They would rather talk for a few more minutes than to outright say, “I want to have sex.” Saying the unknown was the peak of their sexual tension. He was awkward and suave, and Nina stonewalled but still gave the impression that she was interested. 
 
Nina didn’t know that the small talk would lead to an overly sexual poem Darius recited moments later, “A Brother To The Night (A Blues for Nina),” although he changed the name, the poem exhibited what he couldn’t say moments prior. Was Nina impressed? Yes. But again, her facial expression indicated that she wasn’t as interested as he thought she should be. Professing his desire for her left him empty-handed without her number.

“I just wanna give you injections, of sublime erections
And get you to dance to my rhythm…”- “A Brother To The Night (A Blue For Nina)”

Darius remained persistent. He didn’t have anything else to go off on besides the hope of running into her again. They both ended up at the same record store (do those still exist?) and shared a love of the same kind of music. He came up empty-handed because he didn’t even get her number. If it weren’t for his friend who worked at the record store giving him her address located on a check (do people still use those?), he would’ve remained empty-handed.

He made the bold choice to show up at her place unannounced. He wanted to make the last time count. I don’t suggest men show up unannounced. After all, women carry firearms more these days. Once the opportunity presented itself, he still wasn’t anxious. He nevertheless led the conversation with small talk and paid attention to detail, asking what she does for a living and what her interests are. Once he found that she was a photographer, he enlightened her about what he knew and his favorite photographer. Was it cocky? Absolutely. Cockiness mixed with charm helped him in this situation. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome, so he asked her out on a date. She finally caved in and said yes.

Technology

They relied on home phones and love letters. They used the community, in this case, Chicago, to entertain them. Whether it’s spoken word, record stores, bookstores, friends just hanging out with food, drinks, laughs, dance clubs, etc. In recent years, technology has created a barrier to what it truly means to have fun and enjoy each other’s company. They relied on their memory and how they made each other feel rather than liking social media posts.

Since Nina is a photographer, she used a camera to capture their first encounter at his place. It kept the relationship suspenseful, leaving the other person's arrival or departure in doubt, creating a cat-and-mouse game. The only rule was to show up, which is a clear indicator that someone wants to move things along.

Technology has become a scapegoat to avoid each other and cause inconvenience. Being left on read, blocking each other on social media, or not responding to text messages has made it difficult for people to communicate, or has led to a lack of communication, and has created a disposable attitude toward other human beings.

Patience

We’ve become a one-and-done culture. It’s a selfish tactic that must be corrected. I can make mistakes, but the other person cannot. We don’t use conflict resolution as we should. It’s an automatic block or not returning phone calls. The saying “don’t waste my time” is announced before two people can spend time together.

Having a pessimistic attitude will lead you to have a negative relationship. Past relationships and unhealed wounds put people on edge. To avoid ever getting hurt again, we self-sabotage and end things quickly. A few phone calls and text messages don’t equate to knowing a person. Most of us have skipped the essential questions and automatically claim that we’re in a relationship with someone.

We live in a fast-paced society, and everyone is fearful of time. Sometimes it’s best actually to stop and take a break. The majority of our relationship encounters are with people you shouldn’t be with; our shallowness runs the show. The way we subconsciously mimic the next person's relationship takes away the authenticity and vulnerability. It takes time to get to know someone.

Why Am I Saying This?

The most basic human interaction has now become the most difficult. The dynamics between men and women have significantly shifted. More women are becoming leaders, taking over Fortune 500 companies, and men are having a tough time catching up. We live in a fast-paced world, and sometimes we don’t pay attention to those we are interested in or to those who are interested in us; by the time we finally sit down and ask ourselves what our needs are, it’s too late. We’re flicking through Netflix with a pint of cookies and cream. If we stop for a few extra minutes, our Darius Lovehalls will find us to have a Love Jones of our own.

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