ToniRay Writes

Tonight, the house feels quiet. I can hear the insects outside, the steady hum of the ceiling fan, and the faint drip of the ice maker—sounds I usually overlook. The silence seems to have a voice, yet my thoughts echo louder, asking questions I’m unsure I’m ready to face. Is this truly what I want? I recall the times I was told I’d end up alone if I didn’t change my attitude, and now I wonder if that’s happening. My children are nearly grown, and much of my life has revolved around serving others. Now that it’s truly quiet, I see how little I do for myself. I sit amidst the soft sounds of a house that once felt full but now feels empty. The silence reminds me that, for the first time in a long while, nothing and no one demands my attention—just me. And I’m uncertain about what to do with that. Nevertheless, even in this deep silence, I try to feel grateful. Maybe this marks the start of something new, even if it doesn’t seem like it yet. Perhaps this emptiness is creating space for my ...

  Happy Monday! This morning, I woke up with the same feelings from the night before, not knowing exactly why. I felt a bit overwhelmed, because I figured by now, these feelings should be gone. I soon realized what these emotions actually were: Emotional Residue — those lingering feelings that don’t disappear, even when life moves on. It’s funny, really… this residue is strong, real, and persistent. It almost made me circle back, almost made me reach out, even when I know deep down that sometimes the healthiest thing is to let it sit. At times, it felt almost as if this is intentionally being done to me. Yet here it is, reminding me of the connection, the closeness, and the moments that mattered. Almost every emotion felt tangible. Even though it’s tempting to act on it, I’ve realized that acknowledging it is enough. This emotional residue doesn’t need to control me. It’s a quiet, persistent reminder that I’ve loved deeply, felt fully, and lived honestly. I thank God He blessed...

I’d been meaning to have a talk with someone close to me, but I kept putting it off. Every attempt before had fallen flat, and deep down, I knew this conversation couldn’t wait forever. I just needed the right time, the right setting, and maybe — just maybe — the understanding I’d been hoping for. Bringing up the topic again was emotional for me. I was afraid it would lead to another disagreement, another wall being built, another day where my true feelings would go unheard. But this time, I approached the conversation differently. To my surprise, the response was nothing like I expected. The person listened — really listened — and even agreed with what I shared about where things stood between us. They said it would be selfish of them not to want me to grow. No harsh words were exchanged. No lines were crossed or words spoken that couldn’t be taken back. Instead, I was met with something I hadn’t experienced in a long time — a calm, understanding tone. A soft answer. One that caught m...

 This morning, I literally jumped out of my sleep reminding myself that I needed to water my plants and told myself not forget. No exceptions. I know that may seem crazy, to had been my first thought —but it felt necessary , almost urgent, like my spirit knew this small act mattered more than I realized. I rushed to my office, grabbed the watering can, and began pouring life into each plant. As the water flowed, I found myself talking to them softly. I told them I loved them, that they were growing beautifully, that I was proud of them for staying alive and pushing through. It may sound funny, but it felt sacred—like a moment of connection between me, nature, and something deeper. Then I noticed something. A few of my plants had outgrown their pots. Their roots were peeking through the bottom, and the soil had hardened. I realized it was time for them to be uprooted —to be placed in new soil where they could stretch, breathe, and grow freely again. That spoke to me. Because som...

 There are moments when doubt whispers louder than truth. It creeps in quietly, questioning everything you once felt certain about — your growth, your faith, your purpose, even your healing. But what if the doubt itself is the lie? What if the voice that tells you “you can’t” is only afraid that you finally will? This morning, I caught myself slipping into that space again — wondering if my blog will ever reach the goals I’ve set for it, if my book will be finished, if my dreams will ever unfold the way I imagine them. Will my stories become movies? Will I really get to work with the directors I dream about? Will my book one day be on the big screen like so many others? Those thoughts came after looking at my blog stats — numbers that made me question whether what I’m doing really matters. But then something shifted in me. I realized I could either sit in that doubt or doubt the doubt itself. I could choose to believe that just because I can’t see the full picture yet doesn’t mean ...

This piece is for my firstborn son. You were never my burden. You were my blessing in disguise — even when the world tried to make me believe otherwise. I’m proud of the man you are today. Intro: This is a small snippet from my upcoming book, I AM TONI, from the chapter titled 1997. At fourteen, I carried what felt like the heaviest burden of my life. Looking back now, I see it was also the beginning of strength, love, and purpose I never knew I had. Excerpt: My first pregnancy was one of the most difficult times in my life. Looking back, I was truly like a baby having a baby, as many would say. The heaviest weight I carried then felt like shame, though it would one day become the burden that shaped me. I was clearly made aware that being 14 and pregnant was considered one of the worst things a girl could do. As a parent of a 14-year-old daughter now, I would be upset with her, but I don’t think I could treat her the way I was treated at that time. I love my daughter deeply. I’m u...