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USA250 Journal Project
Personal Chronicle: July 4, 2025 – July 5, 2026
A gift for reflection. A record of now. A story for what’s next.
🖋️ Opening Reflections
To be written in the days or weeks leading up to July 4, 2025.
There is no deadline for knowing yourself. Just begin.
Prompt One: “Who am I?”
Begin with truth—even if it changes.
Who are you beneath the roles, the job titles, the expectations?
What names, memories, or meanings do you carry?
What do you believe about yourself—deep down?
Prompt Two: “How did I get here?”
Tell it like you’d want it remembered.
Trace your path through time—family, joy, struggle, place.
What choices, accidents, or circumstances shaped the person you are?
What has life taught you so far?
📍 Journal of Tasha Bellamy
Atlanta, Georgia
Started: June 17, 2025 (written after putting Mama to bed)
Who am I?
I’m Tasha Monique Bellamy. Daughter, mother, caretaker, survivor. I’m the one holding the threads of this household together, sometimes with grace, sometimes with grit, always with love. Some days I feel invisible. Other days I feel like the whole world is sitting on my back, counting on me not to fall.
I work as a home healthcare aide, which is a fancy way of saying I help other people live with dignity while trying to do the same for my own mama. I am Ava’s mother, Jayden’s mother. I am Miss Nadine’s daughter, and most days, her memory. I used to dance, used to write little poems in the margins of bills and grocery lists. Still might, when the house is quiet.
I am tired, but I am still dreaming. I still laugh loud. I still believe in birthday cake and good music and watching storms roll in from the porch.
I’m not just surviving—I’m trying to shape something worth passing down.
How did I get here?
Born in ‘87, raised in the west side of Atlanta. Daddy left when I was seven—Mama never did. She worked two, sometimes three jobs, and still found time to sing church hymns in the kitchen. That voice could quiet a whole street. I get my strength from her. And my stubbornness.
I had Ava young—too young, if you ask some folks. I was nineteen and thought love could fix anything. It didn’t, but it gave me her. And a reason to fight harder. Jayden came later, different father, same full heart.
Been working in healthcare since I was 22. I’ve helped people heal, helped them pass, helped them remember who they are. Meanwhile, Mama started forgetting. It’s been two years since we got the diagnosis—early-stage dementia. Every day since has felt like both too much and never enough.
We live in a small place, but it’s filled with love. Rent’s always due, groceries cost more than they should, and I stretch each dollar like it’s dough for Sunday biscuits. But we get by. Somehow, we get by.
I didn’t plan for this life. But I’ve claimed it. Every scar, every laugh line, every burnt casserole and bedtime story—I own it. And I’m still writing it, one day at a time.
Family, Friends & Associates
Ava Bellamy – 17-year-old daughter.
Jayden Bellamy – Son.
Miss Nadine – Mother.
Keisha Monroe – Best friend.
Pastor Jerome – Family Pastor.
