me and mommy

From Issue 4 ” The Marketing, Social Media & PR Holy Grail” 

by: Kristi L. Jackson 


I used to think my limitations could only be unlocked when I became worthy. That there was some status, some position that I’d one day attain, when I had developed enough skills, the right contacts, the proper look, confidence, and had gotten permission. 


I put many of my ideas, my thoughts, my dreams on hold, but articulated them nicely in a journal of things I wrote but never thought I’d actually attempt and tucked them neatly in my drawer. I made sure to never add dates or names, and wrote in cryptic code because even in my private moments, my most intimate thoughts, in my being, I didn’t want to be exposed as a failure or reminded of what I didn’t achieve. 

 I didn’t cry for years, like 10. I thought this made me strong. I hid behind a proper, perfect mask. I hid everything I actually wanted.  

Coloring well within the lines, I keep my dreams, my goals quiet, attainable, non-ambitious, comfortable to my friends, my family, to myself. I never expanded, walked on the edge or even looked at the edge. 


 My world changed in April 2008. It’s almost an anniversary. I can’t say what, but I can say how, my life, my desire, my ambition changed metaphorically. 


My family has always been the center of my world, and at a moment, I was faced with the reality of possibly losing my most loved, most trusted, consistent, cherished, confident, friend, my deepest love. 


My “Right now”, my future was staring me directly in the face. Life was as fragile as a feather and could be blown away in seconds. Why exactly had I been holding back? Why wasn’t I living my future now? Who exactly was I awaiting permission from? Whose approval did I need? 


I had all of the tools, the resources, the knowledge needed. What I was waiting on was “a go”. I thought I needed someone to say it was ok. What I really needed was to be presented with the lack of time to realize that it was imperative to make important use of my valuable present. 

I didn’t need to be given an opportunity, a committee, applause, permission or to be given a platform. 

I needed to create my own platform. My opportunities rested in the palm of my hand. All that was required was giving myself permission to say yes to the passions and the purpose that had been burning and residing deep within my belly. 

I needed to make my family, my mother proud of me now, not later. 

My 2008 was difficult. I have never experienced such a tragedy and a blessing within the same lesson. I am so appreciative of the clearance of trees, the sense of clarity, the recognition of urgency, and finding the why to my purpose. 

I have to remind myself as I write this, that it’s ok to cry. It’s ok to admit that in the past, you gave more credit to your excuses than credence to your opportunities. It’s ok to recognize your lack of effort especially if it’s a precursor to your abundance of tenacity, your feelings of limitless possibilities and your uncontainable happiness and appreciation of life, of family and in discovery and acceptance of your talents. 

For the last 3 years, I have been living my journal, entry by entry, not without fear, but with an absence of excuses. With my mother looking on, hoping that she understands my deepest desire is to make her proud of me, but knowing that even if she is not, hoping that she respects and somehow admires that even though I’m not using my degrees, not doing the job she expected or giving her beautiful grandchildren, that I’ve finally found my passion and want to help, educate, and encourage women in the world, for the rest of my life. 

My only hope is that in opening up to you ladies, that in sharing one of my deepest most intimate lessons, my urgency, my “why”, that I encourage and inspire you to pause, to unlock your own chains, to deeply reflect and start living your passions now. 

Ladies, if you were waiting for the right time, waiting for a sign, if you needed someone to tell you this……I finally found my “go” , now I give it to you. 


With Great Expectations,