Meet Mariam Molake

Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Mariam Molake. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Mariam, thanks for taking the time to share your thoughts with us today. We’re excited to dive into your story and your work, but first let’s start with a broader topic that might be stopping many of our readers from pursuing their dreams – haters, nay-sayers, etc. How have you managed to persist despite haters and nay-sayers that inevitably follow folks who are doing something unique, special or off the beaten path?

You know, I usually wouldn’t even answer a question like this, because “haters and naysayers” feels kind of buzzword-y. But I do have a specific way I think about it. Honestly, it’s hard for me to even see people as haters. The way I view humanity makes it difficult for me to hold that label for anyone. Often it’s the people closest to me who notice when someone is being shady or rooting against me before I do.

For me, persistence comes from this belief in being one. Call it hippy dippy, call it woo woo, but it’s what’s kept me alive: the ability to hold unconditional love for humanity, even after what I’ve been through. When I realized that most of the time, people are projecting their own pain, their own demons, it became easier not to take it personally. Sometimes, when someone is against me, I can actually see the wound they’re reacting from. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, I’m human, I love being liked, I love when people are having a good time. But it does mean I don’t have to carry their pain as my identity.

The way I think about it is like water. When I was younger, a single insult or rejection was like a drop of dye in a cup, it changed my whole world, colored all my waters. But over time, I’ve expanded. My cup became a bowl, then a basin, then a pond, and eventually an ocean. Now, when that drop falls in, it doesn’t define me anymore. It gets diluted. It gets cleansed. My waters are too vast to be defined by one drop of negativity.

And honestly, I don’t just persist despite the haters. In a way, I persist for them. Because if I can keep healing myself, I won’t turn into a hater back at them. I’d rather be a yay sayer, someone who looks at even the harshest critic and says, “You know what? You could actually hate harder if you wanted to. Be the best hater you can be!” Because maybe that’s their divine calling, to critique, to poke, to pressure test. And sometimes that friction really does ignite growth, for me or for them. It shows us where the squeaky wheels are, where there’s room for development. That’s valuable.

So persistence, for me, isn’t about fighting the haters. It’s about growing my capacity so they no longer have the power to change my waters. And ironically, if they hang around long enough, they just might leave a little cleaner, too.

Thanks for sharing that. So, before we get any further into our conversation, can you tell our readers a bit about yourself and what you’re working on?

Blessings Bee Bzzaar is a mother daughter business rooted in growth, heritage, and divine alignment. What we do is deeply personal, every product we offer is something we’ve used in our own home, born out of necessity, love, and a desire to care for ourselves and others.

Our journey began with a simple remedy: plain honey. My daughter was born with lymphangioma. During growth spurts or illness flares can occur in her tongue, we found that honey helped soothe her discomfort. That humble jar of honey became a staple in our home, and eventually, the seed of something bigger.

The infused honeys came later, almost by accident. One day, I was making ginger honey chicken and thought, why not infuse the honey myself? That experiment led to hibiscus-infused honey, which quickly became a favorite for its vibrant color and floral notes. From there, our kitchen became a creative lab, and our brand began to take shape. Just another mode of transport for tonics. Some use alcohol or apple cider vinegar. We use honey. It all about what works for the individual.

We were originally asked to take over a shop called The Broom Circle. We poured our energy into it, but over time, things became convoluted and misaligned. Despite our best efforts, the shop closed. It was a painful transition, but we chose to see it as divine guidance. Every time we felt like giving up, when exhaustion took over and we thought we couldn’t take another step, something miraculous happened. A door would open. And just after we decided to change the name, a new space appeared. An office space with built in cubicles, and Blessings Bee Bzzaar was born.

What makes our brand special is that it’s real. It’s lived. Every product is something we’ve tried ourselves, so we can speak from experience and offer genuine care. We’re not just selling goods, we’re sharing pieces of our lives, our healing journey, and our joy.

We’re currently expanding our offerings and hosting events in Colorado Springs, including chakra activation workshops and community game nights. These gatherings are a way to bring people together, share laughter, and celebrate the blessings that surround us.

Blessings Bee Bzzaar is more than a business. it’s a testament to resilience, creativity, and the sacred bond between mother and daughter. We’re grateful to share our journey and our creations with the world.

Looking back, what do you think were the three qualities, skills, or areas of knowledge that were most impactful in your journey? What advice do you have for folks who are early in their journey in terms of how they can best develop or improve on these?

I think one of the biggest things that’s helped me is my ability to find silver linings, even in the messiest, most painful moments. It’s not always easy, and for some people it might sound a little unrealistic, but I’ve had a lot of practice. Life hasn’t exactly been gentle, and I’ve had my share of hard times. But I learned early on that if I let myself sit in the feeling, really sit in it, whether it’s sadness, fear, frustration, and then ask, “Okay, what good could possibly come from this?” something shifts. It doesn’t erase the pain, but it gives it purpose.

I’ve had days where I felt like everything was falling apart. Times when I was so sick I couldn’t even have regular bowel movements, and let me tell you, that’s its own kind of hell. But even then, I’d find myself saying, “Well, today I smiled. Today I woke up. That’s something.” I’ve always been that kind of person, even as a kid, I was the one telling adults kind things, trying to make everyone feel okay. I was the kind of kid who would genuinely be thankful for a banana as a present. It didn’t take much to impress me. Just knowing someone thought of me was enough.

That gratitude, even when it started as a mask, eventually became real. It rewired how I see the world. And I think that’s part of what’s carried me through, being able to turn negatives into positives, even if it’s just by shifting my perspective.

Another thing that’s been huge for me is problem solving. I don’t know how to let a problem sit unsolved. I’ll twist it, flip it, untangle it, like a dog with a bone, until I figure it out. Sometimes that gets in the way of casual conversations because I’ll go full on solution mode when someone just wants to vent. But it’s second nature to me. I think it’s generational. My mom used to solve her own hunger as a kid by eating crayons, and she figured out green was her favorite flavor. That kind of resourcefulness runs deep in our blood. We make something out of nothing. And when we do have something, we turn it into everything.

I also lean heavily on empathy and ancestral wisdom. I work with numerology and do a lot of ancestral honoring, but really, it’s about listening. Feeling. Guiding people gently until they’re ready to walk on their own. That’s where I feel most aligned.

If I had any advice for someone just starting out, it wouldn’t be to chase the skills that look shiny on other people. It would be to look within. What comes naturally to you? What did you love as a kid? I was always curious, always asking “why?” I loved numbers, not for math, but for their vibe. I loved puzzles. Turns out, that curiosity was solving problems and decoding mysteries all along.

So yeah, trust yourself. Your impact doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. It might be loud, soft, sharp, or even scented. It may look eerily similar to someone else’s. But it’s yours. And it’s enough.

What was the most impactful thing your parents did for you?

Honestly, the most impactful thing my mom ever did for me wasn’t just about keeping me safe, it was about taking accountability. Not just for the things she could control, but for the things she couldn’t. Even as an adult, when I was still unpacking the pain and trauma from my childhood, she never turned away from those conversations. She showed up. She listened. She didn’t deflect or make it about her. She just held space for me, and that impacted everything.

When I was a child, she was going through a separation from my brother’s father and had to take a nighttime job. That’s when things got dark, when predators found their way in. Before that, she was the kind of mom who’d hear silence in a room and immediately ask, “What’s going on?” She was present, protective, intuitive. But when she had to work and rebuild her life, she couldn’t be everywhere at once. And unfortunately, that’s when I was introduced to my first abuser. Then another. Both took advantage of her absence, and it’s something that still hurts, but I understand why it happened. She was trying to survive. She was trying to build a home. She was dealing with her own mental health and didn’t have a team behind her.

When I brought these things up, she didn’t shut down. She didn’t get defensive. She didn’t spiral into guilt. She just said, “Thank you for telling me.” She apologized. She told me she loved me. She respected my boundaries, even when I wasn’t respecting my own. That kind of accountability, that kind of emotional maturity, is rare. And it’s the reason I’ve been able to heal.
She broke the generational curse. In her family, girls were shamed, called names, torn down, left unsupported. But my mom spoke love into me. She believed in me. She told me I could do anything I put my mind to, even when I didn’t believe it myself. And when I became a mother, I realized just how much she had carried. I was terrified of becoming her, not because she was a bad mom, but because I couldn’t imagine surviving the pain she did. Finding out what happened to your child and still being able to navigate with them through your own pain? Super hero..

Even now, she reads the articles I write about my experiences. I know it makes her stomach churn. I know it hurts. But she’s there. She supports me. She’d probably support me even if I was wrong, but she wouldn’t let me keep doing wrong. She’s a mentor. A matriarch. She made sure I had the tools to do more than survive, she wanted me to thrive.

She started from nothing. Homeless as a teenager, sleeping in fiberglass insulation because she didn’t know any better. And she made sure I never had to start that way. I’ve never had to wonder if my mom would help me. And you’d think that kind of support would be common, but it’s not. Especially between parents and their adult children. That’s why, despite all the pain and trauma I’ve lived through, I’m thankful that the one pain I don’t carry is having a mom who couldn’t grow with me.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://blessingsbeebzzaar.com/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/blessingsbeebzzaar/
• Other: https://blessingsbeebzzaar.com/blogs/news

Image Credits

Mariam Molake, Melissa McAfee, John McWhorter