08/25/2026
Before you read this, just know this is one of the most vulnerable things I’ve ever shared here. It’s long, it’s emotional, and it’s a part of my story I’ve kept to myself. If you’ve ever supported Verita’s in any way, I hope you’ll take a few minutes to read it. 💛
Y’all, Verita’s home is finally done 🙏🏽
And when I say that sentence, I don’t think anyone could understand how much it means to me. So cousins, grab some popcorn, pour yourself a glass of w**e, better yet, pour yourself a double wh***ey with a few ice cubes because what I’m about to share comes with enough stress, emotions, and plot twists for all of us.
This season started in November of 2025 with my first water damage. Claim # 1
My kitchen was torn apart. An entire wall was opened up, wires and plumbing were exposed, and my home was no longer a place where I could comfortably or professionally do what I love. I thought, “Okay, we’ll get through this, we’ve done it before, s**t happens”
Then came February 2026 - Claim #2.
Another major water leak. Keep in mind the repairs for Claim #1 had not even began yet.
This time, it affected our entire home. And that’s when everything changed. The boys and I had to leave our home for four weeks. Four weeks of our belongings being packed up, moved out, put into a POD in front of our house, and placed into storage. Four weeks of living out of plastic bags. Four weeks without our beds, routines, privacy, or normal life. All while dealing with Graduation shenanigans and life itself.
The house became a skeleton, it was completely stripped. Floors were torn out. Sheetrock was removed. Walls were opened. Everything we had worked so hard to make feel like home continued to be covered in dust, plastic, tools, and construction equipment.
At the beginning of June 2026, we finally got to come home. I remember thinking, “Maybe this is it, maybe we can finally breathe, maybe this chapter is over.”
Ha! We had barely been home 12 days. And yup, here came another leak. Claim #3.
The restroom, hallway, and a bedroom were damaged again. This time, my living room became a storage unit for two rooms. My kitchen had a huge snake tank sitting in it. Plastic covered the walls, construction equipment was everywhere, and the window blinds in my living room stayed closed for 2 1/2 months.
Now listen, the window blind part might sound like a small thing maybe even a bit ridiculous to some people, but for me, it wasn’t. I am the woman who wakes up and opens every single blind in my house. My soul needs sunlight. It fills me with energy, joy, and makes me feel alive. But for 2 1/2 months, my home was dark and I too felt the darkness within.
The place I had once looked at and thought, “I did this.” The home I bought six years ago on my own. No cosigner. Working three jobs. Doing everything I could to build something for my children. A place that was supposed to be our safe place, our peace, and our home started feeling like a burden. There were moments when I honestly began to hate it, and that hurt me in ways I didn’t know how to explain. How do you look at something you sacrificed so much for and suddenly feel like you regret it?
This wasn’t even my first battle with this house. In six years, I have had SEVEN insurance claims. Seven. That doesn’t include the repairs I’ve paid for myself without filing a claim. When I add everything together, we’re talking about roughly 20 different repairs over the years. Thousands upon thousands of dollars out of my own pocket, along with the plumbing bills I’m responsible for on top of everything else.
So when I tell you this season has wiped me out. I seriously mean it. It has drained me financially, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. There were nights I couldn’t sleep and days when I slept too much. There were days when I felt like life was simply unfair when I was frustrated, angry, exhausted, and hopeless. But then I felt guilty for feeling ungrateful because I knew how fortunate I was to have homeowners insurance. Y’all my mind experienced emotions I didn’t even know I was capable of carrying all at once.
Through all of this, I was still a mother. Still trying to make sure my boys were okay. Still trying to keep life moving, work, keep Verita’s alive, and show up for people when there were days I could barely show up for myself.
I didn’t know if I had anything else left to give. But somehow, I kept going. Because that’s just WHO I AM…
And that is where YOU ALL come in. You are more than customers, followers, or a number on a business page. You have become part of the Verita’s family. During these past nine months, your support meant more to me than you probably realized. Sometimes a simple, “When are you cooking again?” made me feel like somebody was still waiting for me. Sometimes an order reminded me that I still had something to offer. Sometimes seeing people excited about my food reminded me that this dream was still mine, even when everything around me felt completely out of control.
Today, August 25, 2026, I can finally breathe again. And for the first time in what feels like forever, I can cry tears of pure excitement because my home is finally DONE.
The repairs are done. The unpacking is done. The organizing is done. The equipment is gone. The plastic has come down. The rooms are becoming rooms again. For the first time in nine months, I can look around and recognize my home.
These pictures I’m sharing show pieces of what our life looked like. Walls opened up, floors ripped apart, equipment everywhere, plastic covering rooms, belongings moved around, and our home unrecognizable.
Today, I know something now that I didn’t know nine months ago. I sure as hell ain’t the same woman who walked into this season.
This experience humbled me, stretched me, and broke me in places. It forced me to sit with emotions I usually try to outrun. And those same emotions I thought I had mastered suppressing are the very ones I’ve had to begin healing from. This has reminded me that being strong doesn’t mean you don’t get tired. Being a mother doesn’t mean you don’t get overwhelmed. Being grateful doesn’t mean you can’t be frustrated. Having faith doesn’t mean you never have moments where you ask, “God, how much more and why me?”
Sometimes strength looks like getting out of bed. Sometimes it looks like crying and then wiping your face because you’re not a punk. Sometimes it looks like admitting, “I’m not okay and it’s completely okay to not be okay.” Sometimes it looks like simply surviving a season you never even asked for.
So today, I’m not just celebrating that my house is repaired. I’m celebrating that I made it through. Maybe a little bruised. Hell, who am I kidding? I’m all bruised up over here. Definitely a lot tired. But, Mama is still here.
If you’ve been wondering where I’ve been, why things have been inconsistent, why I haven’t been cooking as much, or why things haven’t felt quite like themselves. Now y’all know.
This was the chapter happening behind the scenes, and today, I finally get to close it. And not because everything in my life is suddenly perfect, because baby, that’s a whole lie. But, because I’m ready to open the window blinds again. I’m ready for new beginnings and peace. I’m ready to let the sunlight in. I’m ready to breathe, cook, create, and laugh in my own safe space again. I’m ready to make this house feel like HOME again. OUR home, MY home, VERITA’S home.
But most importantly y’all.
I’m ready for the next chapter of Verita’s. And I’m ready for whatever God has waiting for me next.
To every single person who has supported me through this journey, whether you realize it or not, thank you. Thank you for buying, sharing, encouraging me, waiting, believing in me, and being part of something that started as a little food business and somehow became so much more. You didn’t just support Verita’s. You supported a mother and a woman who was trying to keep a dream alive while life was testing her in every possible way.
I love you all 💛
- Verita
