Calling All Selfie Queens! Get Featured in S.H.E for the December Issue!

Calling All Selfie Queens! Get Featured in S.H.E for the December Issue!

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You can add a link here on WordPress, join my group Sims of Color Stories on Facebook or submit a pic to my Tumblr Lolasimblr. Thanks!

Live To Tell: My Story of Domestic Violence

Live To Tell: My Story of Domestic Violence

Live To Tell: My Story of Domestic Violence

By Reagan Leeds-Powers

*Note, domestic violence can be committed by women and men.

When I was in my early twenties, I was physically abused by my boyfriend. It only happened that one time, but he had abused me throughout our relationship. Millions of people know my story and that my abuser was my ex, Rashin Dodge. Yes, the hip-hop mogul-legend, and businessman. I’ll never take away Ra’s contribution to hip-hop or his place as one of the greatest rappers in history. But there is an ugly side to the hip-hop culture; that invokes misogyny, promotes domestic violence, and sexual violence. The following is not a piece on the history of female degradation and abuse in the industry. I will save that for another time.

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I was a young up and coming model, fresh out of college, living in Starlight Shores. I had just signed with Nu Model Management. I was strutting on the hottest runways for the biggest names in fashion in New York, London, Paris, Milan, and Los Angeles. There was no shortage of designers and photographers who wanted to work with me. By the time I was 22 I had covered the pages of ELLE, Vogue, Glamour, and several others.

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At the height of my career, I could make up to fifty thousand dollars in a single day. My closet looked like a well-organized boutique on Robertson or 5th Avenue. I had every designer bag that was worth its salt in my closet. Sure, many of these purchases were made by me, but the bulk of it came courtesy of my boyfriend, Rashin.

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Let me go back in time and paint you a picture of my relationship. Ra was already the biggest rapper in the game when we met at an industry party in Starlight. Many of the haters, I like to call “fans” (because they stalked my every move) claimed I was thirst trapping and had my sights set on Ra. Nothing could’ve been further from the truth. Unlike the other dozens of women in the casino that night, I was chilling. I kept to myself and my small circle of friends.

All eyes were on me, something that wasn’t out of the norm. Why would it be any different when Ra was concerned? Maybe that sounds conceit, but it was the truth. Ra was curious about the young model that didn’t make a beeline for him as soon as he entered the room. He ended up approaching me, and I gave him my number, but only after he could see that I wasn’t impressed by his celebrity.

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Rashin wined and dined me, bought me clothes, jewelry, a luxury car, and gave me money. I didn’t want for anything. What Ra did was, try to control me. He also cheated on me throughout our relationship, and he belittled me to no end.

On the outside, I was the picture of confidence. No one could guess that a supermodel would have low self-esteem. I’d known from an early age that I was pretty and desirable. I used my appearance to my advantage (one of the few things I learned from my mother at a young age). By the time I got to high school, my looks were the only thing I relied on to give me confidence. The attention I received from boys made me dependent on male validation.

Many of my fans know my mother left us when I was in high school and of the rocky relationship I had with her growing up. Not having the love I needed from a mother or the confidence only another woman can give you left me depleted in the esteem and self-confidence department.

I had and still do have, a wonderful father who was encouraging, supportive, and loving. So how did I turn to such an abusive man like Rashin if I was raised by a man that was opposite? There were many reasons. But the primary one; I discovered years later was that I felt unloved and like I wasn’t worthy due to the lack of positive reinforcement of my mother’s love. I was never as smart and talented as my younger sister, Kennedey. She was the one, who skipped a grade, had a high IQ score, and painted masterpieces. All I had was my looks and diva persona that a lot of people took to. People had said for years; I was so much like my mother, a label I fiercely rejected.

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Ra was the king, and by default, I was his queen. He sought to control me because in the beginning, he was the big fish and I was still very much a small fish in comparison. Ra had a lot of women before me, and what I discovered later, women during our time together. People told me back then, that I shouldn’t be surprised, and I knew what I was signing up for, and that all rappers cheat. You see, those people didn’t know the “Reagan Leeds” because if they did, they would understand that wittingly allowing a man to cheat is something I would never agree to, I don’t care who the man is.

Rashin started to resent the attention I received in the media and online. He claimed that my work that took me overseas was the reason we didn’t spend a lot of time together. He didn’t consider the fifteen hour days he spends on his album or his frequent visits to the club had anything to do with it. It was always my fault. Because Ra blamed me for putting a strain on our relationship, he used that to justify his cheating. Not that I believed Ra ever really had a conscience, and he would have cheated anyway, but he used that excuse as a way to defend his fucked up attitude and antics toward me. He began to use methods of control, mental, emotional, and verbal abuse to break me down. It came to the point that I hated seeing my reflection in a mirror. Even throughout all the insults, the intimidation, and the yelling, I stayed. I was ashamed that I allowed any man to treat me in that manner, especially when I knew from my father’s example how a woman should be treated.

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During the hardest moments of our relationship, Ra began accusing me of the things he was guilty of such as cheating and me only being with him because of who he was. He became paranoid and convinced I was messing with his friends; which was a lie. He had threatened that if I “ever got out of line” with another man, that I would not like the “end result.” That was the first time I ever felt physically threatened by Ra. I should have heeded the warning signs long before then; especially at that moment, but I waited too long.

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Eventually, I found concrete proof that Ra was cheating on me with just about every girl, video vixen, model, stripper associated with the industry. I even discovered he had gotten some dancer pregnant. When I confronted him about it, he didn’t deny it, and he grew cocky saying there was nothing I could do about it. I told him I was breaking up with and wanted nothing else to do with him.

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He didn’t take the news very well and said that it wasn’t over until he said it was over. I remember as I screamed how much I hated him, being surprised at a painful blow to my face. It took me a moment to realize what had happened. It didn’t immediately register that my boyfriend, a man I felt I loved had just punched me in my face.

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I didn’t know what to do. I thought he would hit me again. His face was contorted in anger, and right after the moment, he hit me, a very calm and eerie expression rested on his face. Suddenly my instincts kicked in. It was fight or flight time. I was only in my underwear. Somehow, as I fled his bedroom in the middle of the night, I managed to grab my clothes and keys and drive home.

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The next twenty-four hours were the worst hours of my life at that point. I hadn’t registered what had happened. I didn’t understand how I could go from being supposedly in love with someone, being a part of a power couple to being curled up and crying on my bedroom floor.

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I felt embarrassed and ashamed like it was my fault somehow or like someone would find out and come point their finger at me, teasing me like kids on the playground. I’d hit rock bottom, and I didn’t know how I allowed myself to get there.

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I remember laying on the floor thinking about the morning we found out my mother had abandoned us. I equated that instance as being the first major time I had felt so low and unloved in my life to how I felt after being hit by Rashin. Those were the darkest moments of my life. Both involved something someone else had done to me, but I internalized it, and it manifested through how I looked at myself and my need for validation.

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I tried shielding Kennedey, but I couldn’t as we lived together. I was a protective older sister, and I was afraid of what seeing my bruised and beaten would do to her. Kennedey surprised me.

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She was so strong and supportive. She was understandably outraged, and she didn’t hold back on Ra when he called or came to the house to see me. Kennedey was now the protector, and she didn’t allow Ra to even breathe in my direction.

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It was a very long time after that fateful night that I even saw Rashin again. After I had met the man of my dreams, my now husband, and father of my children, Jaylen Powers. I am not going to go into a lot of detail on the night Rashin, and his crew had the audacity to show up to Jay’s club and their confrontation and how Jay paid Rashin back for what he did to me; I’ll let Jay tell you that. I had finally closed that chapter of my life and Ra experienced all the humiliation and consequences that was due him.

It was only in the months after experiencing physical abuse that I realized I had suffered from other kinds of abuse by Rashin. Unfortunately, I like many other people, do not recognize the severity of mental, verbal, and emotional abuse. What is important to understand is that these are all elements of domestic violence and often the non–physical abuse is a precursor to the later actual physical form.

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I was a rich and beautiful supermodel; a girl no one would think of as a domestic violence victim, but I was. I had a college degree, a beautiful home, friends, family, and great job. If I could be abused, any woman can be. No one is immune and no one should be ashamed to admit they were a victim. But it is crucial that you become a survivor. Spouses and boyfriends of women and girls kill far too many in domestic violence situations. The guy may have not intentionally killed his wife or girlfriend, but one wrong fall, punch, a hit could be fatal. You could think to yourself that your man would never want to kill, and maybe that is true, but do you want to take that chance? Don’t wait until it’s too late.

According to a recent study by the CDC, violence is one of the leading causes of death of women in the United States. Half of those are committed by romantic partners; whether current or former. Black and Native American women experience the highest rates. Think about that for a moment; half of these violent deaths can be prevented. It is never the woman’s fault, and you can’t believe that you can change a man by thinking therapy or your love is the cure for his violent ways. This, of course, applies to women who are abusers as well.  The abuser needs to do the work and get the help. You can not stand by and wait for them to do it. You can not risk becoming another statistic. You also need to realize some men just will not change and think what they are doing is wrong. That’s not for you to change their thinking. Just get out.

-Reagan Leeds-Powers
As a survivor of domestic violence, I have dedicated my life to educating women and girls about intimate partner violence and various forms of abuse. Through the Reagan and Jaylen Powers Foundation, we can provide domestic violence victims and their children, safe shelter, a new home, education, and support.

The National Domestic Violence Hotline

1-800-799-7233 1-800-787-3224 (TTY)

This article originally appeared in S.H.E magazine.

Author’s Note: Much of the information shared in this article was taken from Chapter 16 “You Will Learn” of Reagan Leeds: Run The World, printed in February 2014. You can read it here.

Check Out The Sims Stories Facebook Group. Open to All

Hey everyone, we have a writer’s Facebook Group that anyone is invited to join and share about their Sims. Sims of Color Stories was created to showcase the diversity in the Simming Community as well as provide a space for authors to meet readers, gain support, and meet new people.  It’s a drama-free and positive group where we all uplift each other. Come check it out! SOCS

socs

The Pleasure Principle and Stunna Collection!

The Pleasure Principle and 80s Stunna Collection!

Janet Slays

Hello everyone, we at S.H.E are happy to present the latest collection celebrating our special edition 80’s issue. The Pleasure Principle Collection is inspired by Janet Jackson’s iconic 1987 video and featured on the album Control in 1986. We remember watching the video as little kids back in the day and seeing our older sisters trying to copy Janet’s moves. Great memories!

The second part of the collection is a collaboration between supermodel legend and designer Reagan Leeds-Powers and her mother, the quintessential 80s Diva Queen, Apollonia De-Sai. Make sure to read Apollonia’s article on the Pleasure Principle video and what it was like moving from Trinidad and Tobago to Miami in 1986 here at S.H.E!

Make Sure to Scroll Down

 

More information on the collection:

1CRPGGRUNDMC

TS4

80s Stunna Collection

Pleasure Principle Crop Top Tee and Short Sleeved Tee. Pleasure Principle Pants w/ knee pads. This collection was inspired by Miss Jackson if you’re nasty’s outfit in the PP video.

Crop Top 2 Variants. T-shirt 2 Variants. Pants 3 Variants

Model is wearing an accessory jean jacket by Marigold, similar to what Janet wore in the video and the one that could fit over the mesh properly. You can get it on their blog here.


(Not all variants pictured)

Off Shoulder  Crop Top 17 Variants

Denim Skirt 12 Variants

Acc Jean Jacket 3 Variants (found in rings)

Panties 4 Variants

Leather Pants 11 Variants (City Living Needed for the Leather Pants)

Meshes Needed Marigold Crop Top T-shirtPuresims Ringer TeeSimpleSimmer Acc Jean JacketBlue8White CropTop

Thank you!

Some of the bracelets shown are part of the Jem and The Holograms Collection Found Here at S.H.E

The tube tops are part of the Dynasty Collection at Reign

Fishnets are also apart of the Jem Collection

Do not upload, or claim as your own. Link back with credit.

Download at S.H.E

Credit to EA for the mesh. Textures by me, edited by me.

Other cc used, newluxurioussims4, miss blue, and madlen, thank you!

 

THANK YOU, EVERYONE!

Love Your Body in 2018. Check out the all-new special edition of S.H.E Fit!

The Do’s and Don’ts of Contouring

TS4 Jem and The Holograms Collection I The Holograms vs The Misfits

TS4 Jem and The Holograms Collection I The Holograms vs The Misfits

TS4 Jem and The Holograms Collection I The Holograms vs The Misfits

I’m a true blue 80s kid and Jem and The Holograms is my all-time favorite cartoon. This is a project I personally wanted to do because as usual, I can only make content that I feel passionate about. The first ensemble in the collection is inspired by Aja of The Holograms but updated for a modern look. I’d previously made a collection for The Sims 3 several years ago and wanted to make a bigger and more expansive collection for TS4. As part of my special edition of S.H.E magazine, I am releasing more 80s inspired custom content in the coming weeks.

Check out the collection and download at S.H.E!

 

 

What No One Told a Lil’ Black ‘Ting About Depression and Suicide

via What No One Told a Lil’ Black ‘Ting About Depression and Suicide

By Apollonia De-Sai, contributor

I had grown up during a time that mental illness and suicide wasn’t thought of something that affected black people. I’m originally from Trinidad and Tobago and I have a thick West Indian skin. I don’t know what it was like for other young women growing up in the United States, but in TNT, if you complained about depression, you may be branded as crazy or that you needed to pray more.

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I didn’t know that I had started getting depression in my early 20s right after I gave birth back to back to my daughters, Reagan and Kennedey. My mistake was that I believed it started then, but really when I thought back to my teen years, there were times I felt immense sadness, but I often expressed myself through anger and intimidation.

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If someone would’ve told me that I was depressed, I would have laughed at them and told them to get the hell out of my face. I never thought of myself as being mentally weak. I believed depression and mental illness only affected pathetic people, losers, and quitters. My family knew me as hot-headed diva that was quick to anger and never held back when it was time for a fight or argument.

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My husband, Raymond received the worse of my wrath during our marriage. I blamed him for where I was in life; married with two babies, no job, and no degree. I got knocked up with my oldest, Reagan in college and had to drop. But not before I had to get married, as my father had demanded I do. I never wanted kids and I hated my life. Of course, I feel differently now and I love my girls and grandbabies more than anything.

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You would think that the first time I ended up in a mental hospital, that it would wake me up and push me to get my life together. This was in New York City and by this time, I had already run away and left my family. I didn’t think I’d miss my kids so much or that I would be such a failure at trying to start a dance career once I left Miami.

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One evening, I was very low; feeling down on myself. I didn’t “actively” make a plan to commit suicide that night. But I drank nearly a whole bottle of Vodka and popped my Oxycontin and Soma like candy. I kept on. I kept on. The details are still foggy in my head, but I remember going to the bathroom and getting sick. I don’t think the thought of committing suicide ever entered my mind. I never told anyone that I wanted to die, I never had any suicidal ideations. But there I was, on that particular night, whether it was conscious or sub-conscious, I consumed a lot of substances that surely could have killed me had my neighbor not found me passed out on my living room floor.

Reagan and Kennedey were extremely upset when I told them about this incident years later after we had reunited. Reagan was a bit skeptical that I had suffered from depression all those years while she was growing up. Like many people mistakenly believe that depressed persons are quiet and mostly withdrawn. Yes, there were many times I was withdrawn, but Reagan didn’t understand that one could have intense mood swings and fits of anger, especially if there are other underlying causes. It wrecked me to the core to think that my life should have ended that night. I never said to myself: Apollonia, you’re going to kill yourself. I just talked to God; I prayed that He let me not wake up the next day. Praying wasn’t something I often did; mostly because my mother was overzealous and tried to beat you down with her beliefs without ever really listening.

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The next thing I remembered was waking up in a behavioral health hospital the next day. I had officially sunk bottom at that point. Not because I was too good to end up in a mental hospital, but because I still refused to believe anything was wrong with me.

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I cursed the nurse out when she asked me if I had any “suicidal thoughts” that day or thoughts of self-harm. “Good morning, Apollonia. How are you feeling today? Any thoughts of harming yourself?” asked the Nurse  “Excuse me? What the fuck kind of question is that? You don’t know me!”  She looked confused and said they were required to ask those questions.  “Of course not! Why would you ask me that?”  I demanded to know at that time. “Well, Apollonia, we are required to ask the patients questions about their symptoms, what brought them here. You came in because you tried to harm yourself. Now, again, I need to know if you have any of those thoughts right now. Also, how is your depression and anxiety today?” she asked. I shook my head, still unable to understand what these questions could possibly have to do with me.

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I thought the doctor assigned to my case was an idiot as well. I hated him because he was the key to my freedom. He decided when I would get discharged.

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The entire experience of being in that hospital was awful. The group therapy sessions were no better. Some of the other patients there had mental illnesses I could not even fathom. When someone said they heard voices and cut themselves, I thought: What the fuck? I don’t belong here! I am not crazy!

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I cussed out the group leader too and told him I was not here for any American Psych 101 bullshit.

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I learned years later that no mental illness is better than the other. I was no better than anyone else at that hospital. We were all broke, we were all sick, and we all needed help. It just took me several years to recognize that. But I did. Eventually, I began seeing Dr. Ambrose, a very good psychiatrist. She helped me to understand why I felt so much anger towards my husband and father. They were both my head and ultimately controlled where my life ended up. I was not a wimpy woman nor was I submissive. But Raymond was the breadwinner, that meant his word was law.  My father is the one who demanded that Raymond and I get married once we told my parents I was pregnant. I couldn’t fight him on that and I agreed.

Screenshot-178 (2)

Dr. Ambrose also showed me that I could not continue blaming Raymond and my father for how my life turned out. I could not change the past nor could I change the fact that I left my girls and husband without a word and they knew nothing of my whereabouts. Through her training and analysis, I was able to find the courage to seek forgiveness and acceptance from Reagan and Kennedey, which I did. It was not an easy task my any means, but I had to see my kids and my new grandbaby, Marseille. It got to the point where it felt like I couldn’t breathe at times knowing my children were out there and I could not see them or talk to them.

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Eventually, that did change. I moved to Isla Paradiso and made amends with Reagan, Kennedey, and Raymond. We ended up getting divorced, which is something I still regret to this day, but I gained my family back, including my little grandbaby.

Depression has been a lifelong struggle for me. I wish I could tell you that it goes away, but for most of us, it doesn’t. It’s a real illness and you must treat it like any other and realize it takes care, understanding, proper treatment, and patience. Aside from running a chain of successful dance studios, I am a mental health advocate and I frequently go back to Trinidad and Tobago and talk to young girls about depression and other physiological issues. For anyone out there reading this article, I just want to say, please hold on. Don’t end your life because you haven’t found the right solution yet, believe me, it is out there; we just need to find it together.

Apollonia De-Sai

*Author’s Note: You can read Apollonia’s entire POV in chapter 39 of Reagan Leeds: Run The World. Although I used my Sim to tell this story, it comes from a very real place and many of my experiences with depression.

What No One Told a Lil’ Black ‘Ting About Depression and Suicide

What No One Told a Lil’ Black ‘Ting About Depression and Suicide

By Apollonia De-Sai, contributor

I had grown up during a time that mental illness and suicide wasn’t thought of something that affected black people. I’m originally from Trinidad and Tobago and I have a thick West Indian skin. I don’t know what it was like for other young women growing up in the United States, but in TNT, if you complained about depression, you may be branded as crazy or that you needed to pray more.

Screenshot-81 (2)

I didn’t know that I had started getting depression in my early 20s right after I gave birth back to back to my daughters, Reagan and Kennedey. My mistake was that I believed it started then, but really when I thought back to my teen years, there were times I felt immense sadness, but I often expressed myself through anger and intimidation.

Screenshot-110

If someone would’ve told me that I was depressed, I would have laughed at them and told them to get the hell out of my face. I never thought of myself as being mentally weak. I believed depression and mental illness only affected pathetic people, losers, and quitters. My family knew me as hot-headed diva that was quick to anger and never held back when it was time for a fight or argument.

Screenshot-132-vert

My husband, Raymond received the worse of my wrath during our marriage. I blamed him for where I was in life; married with two babies, no job, and no degree. I got knocked up with my oldest, Reagan in college and had to drop. But not before I had to get married, as my father had demanded I do. I never wanted kids and I hated my life. Of course, I feel differently now and I love my girls and grandbabies more than anything.

Screenshot-101

You would think that the first time I ended up in a mental hospital, that it would wake me up and push me to get my life together. This was in New York City and by this time, I had already run away and left my family. I didn’t think I’d miss my kids so much or that I would be such a failure at trying to start a dance career once I left Miami.

Screenshot-147

One evening, I was very low; feeling down on myself. I didn’t “actively” make a plan to commit suicide that night. But I drank nearly a whole bottle of Vodka and popped my Oxycontin and Soma like candy. I kept on. I kept on. The details are still foggy in my head, but I remember going to the bathroom and getting sick. I don’t think the thought of committing suicide ever entered my mind. I never told anyone that I wanted to die, I never had any suicidal ideations. But there I was, on that particular night, whether it was conscious or sub-conscious, I consumed a lot of substances that surely could have killed me had my neighbor not found me passed out on my living room floor.

Reagan and Kennedey were extremely upset when I told them about this incident years later after we had reunited. Reagan was a bit skeptical that I had suffered from depression all those years while she was growing up. Like many people mistakenly believe that depressed persons are quiet and mostly withdrawn. Yes, there were many times I was withdrawn, but Reagan didn’t understand that one could have intense mood swings and fits of anger, especially if there are other underlying causes. It wrecked me to the core to think that my life should have ended that night. I never said to myself: Apollonia, you’re going to kill yourself. I just talked to God; I prayed that He let me not wake up the next day. Praying wasn’t something I often did; mostly because my mother was overzealous and tried to beat you down with her beliefs without ever really listening.

Screenshot-87-vert (2)

The next thing I remembered was waking up in a behavioral health hospital the next day. I had officially sunk bottom at that point. Not because I was too good to end up in a mental hospital, but because I still refused to believe anything was wrong with me.

Screenshot-31

I cursed the nurse out when she asked me if I had any “suicidal thoughts” that day or thoughts of self-harm. “Good morning, Apollonia. How are you feeling today? Any thoughts of harming yourself?” asked the Nurse  “Excuse me? What the fuck kind of question is that? You don’t know me!”  She looked confused and said they were required to ask those questions.  “Of course not! Why would you ask me that?”  I demanded to know at that time. “Well, Apollonia, we are required to ask the patients questions about their symptoms, what brought them here. You came in because you tried to harm yourself. Now, again, I need to know if you have any of those thoughts right now. Also, how is your depression and anxiety today?” she asked. I shook my head, still unable to understand what these questions could possibly have to do with me.

Screenshot-25

I thought the doctor assigned to my case was an idiot as well. I hated him because he was the key to my freedom. He decided when I would get discharged.

Screenshot-47

The entire experience of being in that hospital was awful. The group therapy sessions were no better. Some of the other patients there had mental illnesses I could not even fathom. When someone said they heard voices and cut themselves, I thought: What the fuck? I don’t belong here! I am not crazy!

Screenshot-75

I cussed out the group leader too and told him I was not here for any American Psych 101 bullshit.

Screenshot-180 (2)

I learned years later that no mental illness is better than the other. I was no better than anyone else at that hospital. We were all broke, we were all sick, and we all needed help. It just took me several years to recognize that. But I did. Eventually, I began seeing Dr. Ambrose, a very good psychiatrist. She helped me to understand why I felt so much anger towards my husband and father. They were both my head and ultimately controlled where my life ended up. I was not a wimpy woman nor was I submissive. But Raymond was the breadwinner, that meant his word was law.  My father is the one who demanded that Raymond and I get married once we told my parents I was pregnant. I couldn’t fight him on that and I agreed.

Screenshot-178 (2)

Dr. Ambrose also showed me that I could not continue blaming Raymond and my father for how my life turned out. I could not change the past nor could I change the fact that I left my girls and husband without a word and they knew nothing of my whereabouts. Through her training and analysis, I was able to find the courage to seek forgiveness and acceptance from Reagan and Kennedey, which I did. It was not an easy task my any means, but I had to see my kids and my new grandbaby, Marseille. It got to the point where it felt like I couldn’t breathe at times knowing my children were out there and I could not see them or talk to them.

Screenshot-198

Eventually, that did change. I moved to Isla Paradiso and made amends with Reagan, Kennedey, and Raymond. We ended up getting divorced, which is something I still regret to this day, but I gained my family back, including my little grandbaby.

Depression has been a lifelong struggle for me. I wish I could tell you that it goes away, but for most of us, it doesn’t. It’s a real illness and you must treat it like any other and realize it takes care, understanding, proper treatment, and patience. Aside from running a chain of successful dance studios, I am a mental health advocate and I frequently go back to Trinidad and Tobago and talk to young girls about depression and other physiological issues. For anyone out there reading this article, I just want to say, please hold on. Don’t end your life because you haven’t found the right solution yet, believe me, it is out there; we just need to find it together.

Apollonia De-Sai

*Author’s Note: You can read Apollonia’s entire POV in chapter 39 of Reagan Leeds: Run The World. Although I used my Sim to tell this story, it comes from a very real place and many of my experiences with depression.

#No Rules for Socialites: An 80s Inspired Street Look

Musings on discouragement and the pragmatic approach

https://reaganleeds.wordpress.com/2017/11/03/musings-on-discouragement-and-the-pragmatic-approach/

You know when people are only interested in you when they can get something out of you. I deleted my old Tumblr account Livingcolorsims about a year ago, but I had long since stopped being active toward the end of Reagan’s story in 2015. There were so many times because of my depression, I didn’t want to go on with her story, especially when I knew that my blog initially got traffic because of my cc. Eventually, more people than not came to read her story and that’s nice. People still read about Reagan and this story is four years old.

As far as the more recent stuff, I am actively learning and creating a new Sims magazine (S.H.E) I initially started at the beginning of this year. I am putting in many hours and a lot of effort to build the magazine. I’ve always kinda done stuff that appeals to me, but largely that does not appeal to a lot of people. As I develop the upcoming story Reign: A Game of Power, I am looking beyond the Simming community once it gets published. One of the reasons it’s taking me so long to get it out is because I am formatting the story for the general public and not so much just aimed at Sims.  I’ve longed known that was best because my story will not appeal to the majority of Simmers.

I feel very passionate about the project and I am facing my fears as I develop characters who may not have any moral compass.  These are individuals who are all on some level trying to attain power by elevating themselves. What if anything, do we sacrifice to get what we want or need? What is extremely idealistic, more often than not doesn’t produce results. We have many characters who choose to take a pragmatic approach in order to get things done. Some of these characters are more ruthless than others. Sometimes we have to sit down, shut up, and eat the shit given to us in order to get ahead. Do the ends justify the means always? Maybe not, but what will you do to get what you need? How far would you go to gain power?

This is a game of power. The world’s a stage and we’re the players.

Musings on discouragement and the pragmatic approach

You know when people are only interested in you when they get something out of you. I deleted my old Tumblr account Livingcolorsims about a year ago, but I had long since been active toward the end of Reagan’s story in 2015. There were so many times because of my depression, I didn’t want to go on with her story, especially when I knew that my blog initially got traffic because of my cc. Eventually, more people than not came to read her story and that’s nice. People still read about Reagan and this story is four years old.

As far as the more recent stuff, I am actively learning and creating a new Sims magazine (S.H.E) I initially started at the beginning of this year. I am putting in many hours and a lot of effort to build the magazine. I’ve always kinda done stuff that appeals to me, but largely that does not appeal to a lot of people. As I develop the upcoming story Reign: A Game of Power, I am looking beyond the Simming community once it gets published. One of the reasons it’s taking me so long to get it out is because I am formatting the story for the general public and not so much just aimed at Sims.  I’ve longed known that was best because my story will not appeal to the majority of Simmers.

I feel very passionate about the project and I am facing my fears as I develop characters who may not have any moral compass.  These are individuals who are all on some level trying to attain power by elevating themselves. What if anything, do we sacrifice to get what we want or need? What is extremely idealistic, more often than not doesn’t produce results. We have many characters who choose to take a pragmatic approach in order to get things done. Some of these characters are more ruthless than others. Sometimes we have to sit down, shut up, and eat the shit given to us in order to get ahead. Do the ends justify the means always? Maybe not, but what will you do to get what you need? How far would you go to gain power?

This is a game of power. The world’s a stage and we’re the players.

The Classy Reviewer

Updated the format a bit.

Reagan Leeds: Run The World

The Classy Woman is now. The future is now. Class is something that never dies, nor ever goes out of style.

Source: The Classy Reviewer

NEW1103NewClassyReviewer

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S.H.E 80s Special Edition November Cover

This is my personal love letter to my favorite decade, the 80s. I am a true blue 80s kid and I loved everything about it. I’m in the middle of working on more pages for the November issue, including some special 80s inspired clothing I’m making. This issue was inspired by Madonna. Parminder is wearing blonde hair in a similar style Madonna wore back then. And of course, the styling of the title is all Miami Vice!

Happy Simming!

 

The Classy Reviewer

The Classy Woman is now. The future is now. Class is something that never dies, nor ever goes out of style.

Source: The Classy Reviewer

 

NEW1103NewClassyReviewer

Downloads

Source: Downloads

Updated downloads section for TS4 clothing

S.H.E Magazine is live!

Check out the relaunch of S.H.E featuring special guest Bell Petrov on the cover and her interview. Happy Simming!

 

J. A. Allen

Scribbles on Cocktail Napkins

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