🌱The Genesis

🌅 A New Year, A New Cycle

2026 is a year of beginnings.

In astrology, it’s a 1 year, the birth of a brand-new cycle. And for me personally? It couldn’t be more aligned. My Saturn return begins. I turn 30. I’m stepping into an entirely new era of my life.

Last year was about laying the foundation. Planting seeds. Figuring out what needed to be healed, released, and reimagined.
This year isn’t about preparing anymore.

It’s about becoming.

🛤 Choosing Movement Over Comfort

And yet… these first few weeks of the year have felt heavy. Quiet. Reflective. A little sad.

Every January has a way of doing that; forcing you to look at all the things you said you wanted and didn’t get yet. Not even the big dreams, but the simple ones: “I want to feel better in my body.” “I want to be happier.” “I want to move forward.” And when you realize you ended the year heavier, lonelier, or more tired than you started… it can make you feel like you failed.

That’s usually when I want to give up.
Not because I don’t care, but because quitting feels comforting for a moment.

Until the moment passes… and I’m still stuck.

So this year, I’m doing something different.

✨ The Genesis of a New Life

My motto for 2026 is simple:

Say yes when I’d normally say no.
Get up when I’d normally stay still.

Yes to plans instead of bed-rotting.
Yes to travel even if I land and go straight to work.
Yes to moving my body even when it aches.
Yes to living, even when comfort is tempting me to hide.

Because 90% of the time, I don’t want to go. I want to stay safe. I want to stay familiar. I want to stay comfortable.

But comfort doesn’t grow you.
It just holds you until it eventually starts to suffocate you.

🤍 Worth the Effort

So I’m choosing to get uncomfortable on purpose; before life does it for me.

This is the year I stop making excuses.
The year I become the version of me who is actually ready for everything I’ve been manifesting.
The woman who doesn’t just dream about her life, she shows up for it.

Every day. Even when it’s hard. Even when it’s boring. Even when I’m scared.

This first blog of 2026 is the Genesis of the life I’ve been praying for.

And this year, I’m asking God and the Universe one simple question:

“Show me how good it can get.”

All they’re asking in return is that I show up.

I think that’s a fair exchange.

And I hope this year you decide that too.
I hope you remember that you are worth the effort.
You are worth the sacrifices. You are worthy of it all and more.

Let 2026 be the year it all changed for you, because you remembered you deserve it.

💌 A Gentle Reminder for Your Weekend

You don’t need to feel ready to begin. You just need to be willing to try. Let this be the weekend you move anyway; even if your energy is low, even if your heart feels heavy, even if you’re not sure where it’s all leading. Small steps still count. Messy starts still open doors. And choosing yourself, even quietly, still changes everything. You’re not behind. You’re at the beginning.

🌷 Thank You for Reading

Thank you for making it this far, thank you for choosing yourself alongside me.
This space is for the moments when we keep going, not because it’s easy, but because we know we deserve a life that feels full. I hope these words remind you that you’re worthy of the effort it takes to show up, to try again, and to keep building the life you deserve. Every small choice to prioritize yourself matters more than you think. Thank you for being here as I step into this new year, still learning, still growing, still choosing me.

✨ Affirmation Set:

• I am worthy of the effort it takes to build the life I want.

• I choose to show up for myself, even when it feels uncomfortable or unfamiliar.

• Every small step I take is moving me closer to the version of me I’m becoming.

• I release the need to be perfect and allow myself to be present instead.

• I trust that saying yes to myself will lead me exactly where I’m meant to go.

• I deserve a life that feels full, aligned, and deeply mine.

📝 Soft Return Reflection Prompts:

• Where in my life have I been waiting for motivation instead of choosing commitment?

• What would it look like to show up for myself as if I’m already the person I’m becoming?

• In what ways do I shrink or delay my happiness out of fear or comfort?

• What version of me is trying to be born, and what do I need to do to support her?

Until Next Time🌺

I’m Still Here 🤍

I’m Tied Boss ☕

I’ve been gone for a few weeks.
One week I was traveling for work… and honestly, since being back, I just haven’t felt like doing anything at all. I have zero motivation to move beyond my bed or the couch. It feels like life is overwhelming and meaningless at the same time; which is such a strange place to be.

I don’t know if that’s because of my dad’s passing.
Or the messy way everything around it had to be handled, where I never really got to sit and grieve.
Or because life in general just feels heavy right now.
Or maybe it’s all of it.

Turning 30 this coming year has only added to that weight. It feels like the world is pressing on my chest, asking me to finally start becoming the version of myself I’ve always dreamed of, and some days I barely have the energy to get out of bed.

I missed a few weeks of blogging, but every Friday I felt it. The emptiness of not showing up here.
So I’m back, not with hope, not with some big lesson, but just to say this:

Even in this sunken place… I’m still here.
And if I can keep showing up for myself in small ways, then maybe you can too.

Because when you really think about it, nothing magically pulls us out of the darkness.
We pull ourselves out, slowly; by choosing to show up again and again, even when we don’t feel inspired. And one day the sadness fades, and we look back proud that we didn’t quit.

This is my last post of 2025.
The last entry of my first year writing this blog.

And even though I don’t have much to give today, I’m grateful I created this space, for me, and for anyone who has been healing alongside me.

So, I’m making myself a promise:
I will keep showing up.
Even if I miss weeks.
Even if my posts are shorter.
Even if they’re not profound.

I will still show up.

I hope the new year brings you closer to the woman you dream about becoming, but even more than that, I hope you keep showing up for her on the days you don’t feel like it.

This is all I have right now.
But I showed up.

I’ll see you in the new year.
And I can’t wait to keep unpacking the lessons of life with you, one by one.

💌 A Gentle Reminder for Your Weekend

This weekend, honor the fact that you didn’t disappear.
Through grief, exhaustion, and uncertainty, you stayed.
Sometimes continuing is the miracle.
That matters more than any goal you didn’t reach.

🌷 Thank You for Reading

• If you made it this far, thank you for being here — not just for this post, but for this year.
  For sitting with me through the messy, the quiet, the heavy, and the uncertain. For reading even when the words weren’t polished and the feelings weren’t resolved.

This space started as a whisper and somehow became a place where I learned to breathe again. And if you’ve been here with me, even silently, you’ve been part of that.

As we step into a new year, I’m not promising transformation or clarity.
I’m just promising to keep showing up. To keep telling the truth. To keep writing my way back to myself.

Wherever you’re ending this year, proud, broken, tired, hopeful, or somewhere in between; I’m glad you’re still here too.

We made it.
And that counts more than we realize. Thank You🖤

✨ Affirmation Set:

• I honor myself for continuing, even when I felt empty or unsure.

• I am allowed to rest without feeling like I’ve failed.

• I release the pressure to have everything figured out.

• I am proud of myself for not giving up on me.

• I enter the new year gently, carrying only what I need.

📝 Soft Return Reflection Prompts:

• Where am I still asking myself to perform, instead of allowing myself to rest?

• What did this year teach me about my resilience that I didn’t know before?

• How do I want to feel as I enter the new year; not what I want to achieve, but what I want to feel?

Until Next Year 🌺

🧘🏾‍♀️My Own Best friend

🌑 The Weight of “Me, Myself, and I”

We all know that famous line: “Me, myself, and I — that’s all I got in the end.”
It used to be my anthem. My badge of honor.
I didn’t have solid friends. I didn’t have siblings. I couldn’t tell my mom everything.
So, I wore independence like armor… until it started feeling more like a knife in my back.

Losing my dad just two weeks ago cracked something open in me I didn’t expect.
I’ve been needing a break; a breath, a pause, a moment to exist without carrying so much.
But every day I wake up and reality hits me just as hard:

I really have to do everything by myself.

Emotionally.
Financially.
Physically.
Mundanely.
Every. Single. Thing.

🧍🏾‍♀️ Doing It All While Falling Apart

When I wake up sad about my dad, I have to pull myself out of it.
When the grief gets heavy, I have to soothe myself, motivate myself, talk myself into holding on.
I still have to show up at work, even when I feel hollow inside.
I still have to pay every bill, handle every responsibility, keep the house together, walk my dog four times a day, get groceries, make appointments, take care of everything.

I’m doing all of this while grieving, alone.

It didn’t hit me how much it was until I caught myself saying out loud,
“I have to do everything.”
And hearing that truth back crashed into me.

The holiday season already brings up loneliness for me… but this year, with my dad gone, it’s louder.
Putting up my Christmas tree; dragging it out of the closet, fluffing the branches, setting it up, wasn’t hard, but God… if I had someone to do it for me?
It would’ve meant the world.
Just a tiny reminder that I don’t have to carry life alone.

But the truth is: I do.

📞 The Silence After the Initial Shock

Friends called when the news first hit, but those calls faded.
My mom tries, but she isn’t emotionally available in the way I need sometimes.
Some friends text “I love you” every few days like it’s supposed to hold me together.
Others say “you can always talk to me” but disappear when I actually start talking.

Nobody’s giving real space.
Nobody’s holding the weight with me.
People get to go back to their normal lives… while mine feels completely shattered.

This week’s post isn’t tidy. It’s not poetic.
It’s a journal entry. A vent. A release.
A place to put the heaviness because I have nowhere else to put it.

Sometimes I wonder why the universe made me carry so much alone.
Why, even now, they didn’t send someone who could hold me through this.
Why I always have to be the one strong enough to lift, fix, soothe, rebuild.

And yes, I can do it alone. I always have.
But for the first time I’m realizing:
Just because I can doesn’t mean I want to.

Right now, I really don’t.

🌘 Naming the Loneliness So It Doesn’t Consume Me

I know I’m not the only one living life in this kind of solitude; the quiet kind where nobody sees how much you’re carrying.
Everyone feels this at different moments; mine is just peaking right now.

Instead of hiding from it, I’m writing through it.
Feeling through it.
Naming it.

And if you’re here reading this…
if you’ve ever felt like you have to carry your whole world by yourself…

Just know this:
Even in the feeling of “I’m alone,” someone else — me — is living the same truth.
Which somehow means… we’re actually not as alone as we think.

💌 A Gentle Reminder for Your Weekend

This weekend, remember:
You were never meant to hold every part of life by yourself.
Even strength needs a place to soften.

Let this be the weekend you stop punishing yourself for being tired.
You are not failing; you are carrying more than most people ever acknowledge.

You’re allowed to pause.
You’re allowed to not have the answers.
You’re allowed to want someone to lean on.

Needing support doesn’t make you less capable.
It makes you human, and deserving of softness, too.

🌷 Thank You for Reading

If you made it this far, thank you for sitting with me in a moment that isn’t polished or pretty.
Thank you for letting me be human here.

I don’t have a perfect lesson to offer this week, just truth.
And if any part of my exhaustion, loneliness, or honesty landed with you, I hope it reminds you that none of us are walking this life as effortlessly as it looks from the outside.

We’re doing the best we can with what we’ve been given.
And that is enough, even when it doesn’t feel like it.

✨ Affirmation Set:

• I honor the weight I’ve been carrying and the strength it took to hold it.

• I release the belief that I must do everything alone to be worthy.

• I am allowed to rest without earning it.

• I can be both strong and tired; both capable and in need of care.

• Support is aligning for me in forms I may not yet see.

• I soften the parts of me that learned survival was the only option.

• Even in moments of deep loneliness, I am held by something greater than myself.

📝 Soft Return Reflection Prompts:

• What parts of me learned that asking for help was unsafe, unavailable, or disappointing?

• In what moments do I feel the heaviness of “it’s all on me” the most? (And what do I need in those moments that I’ve never received?)

• Which emotions have I been holding alone because I didn’t think anyone could hold them with me?

• Where have I mistaken strength for self-abandonment?

• How has loneliness shaped the way I show up for myself — and how has it shaped the way I protect myself?

Until Next Time 🌺

🌒 Feeling What I Didn’t Allow

🕊️ When Life Forces You Awake

Childish Gambino said something recently that won’t leave my mind:
“Everybody has two lives. The second one starts when you realize you only have one.”

Losing my dad last week made that quote painfully true.

We had just talked on Friday.
By Monday, November 17th, he was gone.
No warning. No time to prepare. No soft landing.

💔 The Ache That Opened Me

Nothing shakes your spirit like losing someone whose voice felt like home; even when the relationship was complicated, imperfect, and layered.

This past week has been a blur of grief.
Tears. Numbness. Exhaustion.
And underneath it all, something I didn’t expect:
this heavy, aching craving for intimacy.

Not just comfort, masculine comfort.
Arms. A chest. Someone saying, “I’m here, just breathe.”

🌑 The Walls I Built to Stay Safe

It confused me at first.
I never received that from my dad, so why did my heart suddenly want something I’ve never even truly felt?

But the more I sat with it, the more I realized:
grief didn’t just break my heart; it broke it wide open.
The walls I’ve had up for years, the ones I convinced myself were “protection” collapsed all at once.

🌬️ When Grief Removes the Armor

And in that raw opening, I could finally see the truth:

I’ve been controlling life to avoid pain.
I’ve been protecting myself so hard that I stopped feeling anything at all.

I told myself I’d only entertain a man if he seemed like husband material.
Not because it was empowering, but because it was safer.
Cleaner.
Less risky.

But grief taught me what I never wanted to learn:

Pain doesn’t wait for permission.
Life will hurt you even if you avoid everything you’re scared of.

If I can survive this pain —
the deepest, sharpest loss I’ve ever felt —
then why am I still scared of the small pains?
Why am I scared of vulnerability?
Of trying?
Of loving?
Of losing?

🌙 A Dream That Told the Truth

A few days ago, I had a dream.
A friendly face held me, kissed me, softened me…
and when fear whispered rejection, I simply walked away.
No spiraling.
No panic.
Just… acceptance.

My therapist told me that dream was proof:
I’m ready to feel again.
Ready to let someone in.
Ready to experience intimacy; not just imagine it.
Because even in my subconscious, I’m no longer collapsing at the idea of rejection.

🌅 Stepping Into My Second Life

My dad’s passing didn’t harden me.
it humbled me; it softened me in ways I didn’t know I needed.
It showed me the places where I’ve been hiding behind “strength” that was really fear.
It showed me where life wanted me to smooth the rigidity.

It’s strange…
I thought his passing would make me close off even more.
Instead, it made me willing to open.
To want to feel.
To live my second life differently.
Less afraid.
Less controlling.
More present.

I hate that this lesson came through loss,
but I’m grateful I’m alive to learn it.

If November 17th taught me anything, it’s this:
I don’t want to leave this world having only ever lived inside my fears.
I want to feel everything, the risks, the love, the loss,
because life doesn’t wait for courage.
And I guess I won’t either.

💌 A Gentle Reminder for Your Weekend

This weekend, remember fear may try to protect you, but it can also keep you from living. Let this be the weekend you loosen your grip on control. You’re allowed to feel without bracing, to open without assuming you’ll break, to let life touch you without running from it. You’ve already survived the pain you thought would end you, so let yourself taste the parts of life that don’t hurt. You don’t have to guard your heart from everything. Some things are meant to reach you.

🌷 Thank You for Reading

If you made it this far, thank you for holding this moment with me. Losing my dad taught me something I didn’t want to learn, that life really does begin again when you realize you only get one. I hope these words remind you that your “second life” doesn’t start with a grand decision, but with a quiet shift inside you…the moment you choose feeling over fear, presence over protection, living over bracing. Wherever you are in your becoming, give yourself grace.
You’re not behind. You’re just stepping into the life you were always meant to live; the one that begins when you finally let yourself feel.

✨ Affirmation Set:

• I am learning to live from my heart, not my fears.

• My openness is not a weakness; it is evidence that I survived what tried to shut me down.

• I can trust myself to handle whatever life brings, even the parts that ask me to stretch.

• I don’t have to control everything to feel safe. I can let life touch me.

• I welcome connection, intimacy, and experiences that awaken me instead of shrinking me.

• My second life begins every time I choose courage over avoidance.

• I choose to live fully; not carefully.

📝 Soft Return Reflection Prompts:

• Where do I confuse control with safety, and what would it look like to trust myself instead of managing every outcome?

• In what moments do I choose protection over presence, and how does that choice shape the life I’m living?

• What parts of me are ready to be softened, opened, or witnessed, even if I’m scared of what that could lead to?

• Where have I mistaken emotional avoidance for strength, and how is my definition of strength evolving in this season?

• What would it feel like to live as if I trusted myself to survive both joy and disappointment?

• How does fear shape the way I love, desire, attach, or receive, and what new patterns am I ready to try?

Until Next Time 🌺

When Endings Taste Like Preparation🦋

🍰 The Salt in the Cake

My dad used to tell me, “You can’t have a good cake without a little salt. That just means you’re baking a damn good cake.”
And if you’ve ever baked, you know it’s true; without salt, a cake tastes flat.
Salt doesn’t ruin the sweetness.
It reveals it.

I think about that a lot.
Especially now.

Because every week I sit down to write these posts, something in my life has shifted, something in my spirit, my circumstances, or my healing. Every week there’s a new lesson, a new layer. And lately? The universe has been handing me a whole handful of salt.

🌙 A Job That’s Teaching Me More Than I Planned

Since my last post, so much has changed.
My new boss has been on a power trip, criticizing, nitpicking, humiliating more than teaching. The kind of environment where mistakes aren’t corrected, they’re punished. It’s a pattern I’ve seen in every job I’ve ever had: someone trying to break me in order to “build” me.

But somehow, I always rise.
Always exceed.
Always transform the salt into a damn good cake.

Maybe she’s my salt right now; the thing that’s bringing the best out of me, even if it stings on the tongue.

🌾 Cycles Closing (And What They’re Making Space For)

Men from my past have been coming and going like shadows, each one resurfacing only long enough for closure.
My therapist said, “They’re coming back to close the door.”
And that’s exactly what it feels like.

I have Saturn in Aries in my 7th house, and with my Saturn return hitting full force, I can feel the universe reshaping my relationships.
These old chapters aren’t for me anymore.
The healed version of me doesn’t react the same way she used to.
And that’s another kind of salt; not the painful kind, but the revealing kind.
The “look how far you’ve come” kind.

🕊️ My Father’s Final Chapter in My Story

And then the biggest shift…
My dad passed away.

I had just spoken to him on Friday.
By Monday, he was gone.

When I heard the news, my knees gave out.
I literally fell to the floor.
All the complicated emotions, the grief, the shock, the childhood wounds, the adult acceptance, rushed forward at once.

Our relationship wasn’t easy.
He wasn’t the father I needed him to be growing up.
But as I got older, I learned to see him.
To accept the version of love he could give.
To understand him as a human, not just a parent.

And as painful as this is, the spiritual part of me knows this wasn’t random.
It feels like a soul contract completed, his chapter in my life, and mine in his, both reaching their end at the exact moment the universe intended.

Somewhere inside that knowing… I’ve found a strange peace.

🌸 Showing Up Through the Salt

My dad would want me to keep going.
He wouldn’t want me to stop writing; the thing that helps me make sense of myself and my healing.

So even through these salty tears, I’m still here.
Still writing.
Still becoming.
Still honoring his legacy in the only way I know how: by showing up.

This week’s salt is heavy.
But it’s still part of the recipe.

Life will always give you salt,
but it’s our job to add the other ingredients and make a damn good cake.

And I know I will; I hope you will too.

💌 A Gentle Reminder for Your Weekend

This weekend, remember: not everything that feels uncomfortable is a setback.
Sometimes the “salt” life hands you is proof that you’re growing, maturing, rising into a version of yourself you prayed for.

Let the closing doors be a blessing.
Let the quiet be confirmation.
Let the shifts soften you, not scare you.

You’re not falling apart; you’re finally coming together.

🌷 Thank You for Reading

If you made it here, thank you for walking with me through a week of closure, clarity, and spiritual alignment.
I hope these reflections remind you that nothing in your life is random; not the salt, not the sweetness, not the timing, not the lessons.

You are held, even when you’re stretching.
You are guided, even when you don’t feel ready.
You are becoming, quietly but undeniably.

✨ Affirmation Set:

• I trust that every ending in my life is making space for something aligned to begin.

• Even when life feels unfamiliar, I am guided, protected, and exactly where I’m meant to be.

• I am allowed to grow out of what once comforted me — my evolution is not a betrayal of my past self.

• I trust the timing of my life; nothing meant for me can pass me by, and nothing I’ve outgrown can follow me.

• I honor the chapters that are closing, and I open myself fully to the sweetness that is forming.

• Even when I cannot see the full picture, I trust that the universe is arranging things for my highest good.

📝 Soft Return Reflection Prompts:

• In what ways am I still trying to hold onto comfort that no longer aligns with the woman I’m becoming?

• What version of me is this season asking me to release — and what version is rising in her place?

• Where in my life am I interpreting “salt” as punishment, when it’s actually preparation or protection?

• Which chapters feel complete, even if part of me is afraid to let them close?

• What patterns, relationships, or environments am I finally responding to differently — and what does that reveal about my growth?

Until Next Time 🌺

⋆˙⟡˙⋆ ✧˚ັ 𓇼 ˚ ༘ ⋆An Ocean in a World of Puddles: Making Peace With My Depth

✦ 🌱 The Early Years of Wanting to Belong

All my life, I’ve felt different. I could never seem to keep friends or maintain relationships, even though I wanted them so badly. I could never quite fit in with the “cool kids.” In middle and high school, I was endlessly teased for being dark-skinned. It hurt, but I learned to mask it well.

I was a cheerleader and played softball all four years, captain of both teams at one point — always visible, always performing. Yet at lunch, instead of sitting with the cool crowd, I’d be in my favorite history teacher’s classroom eating with the few friends I had. I never truly felt accepted, even by the people I hung around. Because of my “status,” I tried to keep up; the shoes, the clothes, the image. But somehow, I was still invisible unless someone wanted to tease me.

✦ 🫂 Learning to Shrink Quietly

On the outside, I was unbothered. On the inside, I was desperate to be seen. I longed for the kind of easy attention others got just for existing.

When I got to college, I decided I didn’t want to be in the spotlight anymore. I tried out for cheer but didn’t make it, and surprisingly, I was okay with that. I liked being known but not seen. Still, when I’d go to homecoming with my best friend, she’d know everyone we passed while I’d stand to the side, waiting to spot even one familiar face. That contrast stayed with me and stings every time we go back. I’ve spent most of my life trying to find balance, wanting to be noticed, but in a way that feels healthy.

✦ 🔥 Chasing Attention in All the Wrong Ways

In dating, I was always the “strict” one, the one with boundaries, the one who wouldn’t come over late. And it always got me overlooked. So I had a short “I’ll do what I want” phase. It felt empowering at first, like reclaiming my body, my choices, but eventually I realized it was still just me chasing attention. The wrong kind. The kind that never stayed.

The truth is, the more I tried to be like everyone else, the more invisible I became. The only times I was truly seen were when I was being authentic, and that’s rare. But so am I.

✦ 🌸 The Mirror of Envy

Recently, I mentioned that I went to school with Olandria. Watching her success unfold has been beautiful… and honestly, a little painful. Seeing her on national TV, loved by millions, returning to campus to cheers and admiration, it brought up that old question: Should I be doing more to be seen too? Should I audition for Love Island or some reality show? Should I post thirst traps online to get attention?

Every time that thought creeps in, I recognize my 14-year-old self — the girl who just wanted to be noticed. But now I can tell her the truth: we were never meant for surface-level eyes. We were meant to be felt.

✦ 🌊 I Was Never Meant for Surface-Level Eyes

I’m deep. I’m reflective. Nothing about me is surface-level; everything about me is soul-grabbing. I’ve never been meant for quick fame. My purpose is quieter, slower, deeper. And sometimes that hurts. It feels like being the tortoise in the race, watching everyone else sprint ahead while I’m still finding my footing.

✦ 🌿 The Tortoise in the Race

But this slower path has forced me to build foundation, to plant roots within myself and my purpose. Knowing that doesn’t erase the sting of envy, but it does remind me that my story is still unfolding exactly as it should. My preparation just takes longer because my destination is greater.

And this isn’t to say Olandria’s journey is surface-level — not at all. It’s just close enough to mine to stir things in me that still need healing. One day, I know I’ll tell her how much she’s inspired me — not only through her success, but by revealing the gaps I needed to close within myself.

Writing this feels raw and uncomfortable. It makes me sad that so much of my life has felt like watching everyone else get what I wanted. But I have to remember, I’ve never gotten anything when I wanted it; only when I was ready for it.

Right now, I’m still in preparation mode, still grounding, still rooting. Getting ready for all the good things I know are coming.

I’m learning to be okay with the fact that I was always meant to be felt, not seen. To be remembered in silence, not celebrated in noise. To be ruminated on, not consumed.

Coming back to Instagram and receiving little to no attention helped me see that clearly.

This isn’t one of those posts where I neatly wrap things up with a “lesson.” I’m still in the middle of this one. But if you’re like me, someone who feels like an ocean in a world of puddles, I hope you know that depth isn’t a disadvantage. You’re not behind. You’re just building something that will last.

Slow and steady really does win the race.

💌 A Gentle Reminder for Your Weekend

This weekend, give yourself permission to move slowly.
You are not late, forgotten, or overlooked, you are becoming.

Not every season is meant for being seen.
Some seasons exist purely so you can grow roots strong enough to hold the life you’ve been praying for.

If envy visits you, don’t shame yourself.
Let it show you where you’re still healing, where you’re still longing, where you’re still stretching into the woman you’re becoming.

And remember:
Not everyone is meant to arrive loudly.
Some people, people like you, are meant to arrive deeply.
Quietly. Powerfully. Permanently.

You’re not behind.
You’re just preparing for a life that requires more foundation than flash.

Let this weekend be soft.
Let it be enough that you’re still here… still showing up… still choosing yourself in the quiet.

🌷 Thank You for Reading

If you made it this far, thank you for sitting with a part of me I’m still learning to hold.
I hope something in these words reminds you that depth isn’t a burden, it’s a calling.

You don’t have to shine loudly to matter.
Some of us were always meant to move hearts quietly, to grow on our own timeline, to be felt long before we’re ever seen.

Wherever you are in your process, I hope you give yourself grace.
You’re not behind.
You’re becoming at the pace life is asking you to; growing toward the desires that will meet you when you’re ready for them.
And that is more than enough.

✨ Affirmation Set:

• My worth is not tied to visibility. My value lives in my essence.

• I trust the pace of my unfolding, even when it feels slow or quiet.

• I do not need to be chosen loudly to be chosen deeply.

• Everything meant for me is being built in the unseen, and I am becoming the woman who can hold it.

• I am not behind; I am blooming on a timeline designed specifically for me.

• My depth is not a flaw; it is the very reason my impact will last.

• I release the need to chase attention. I attract what is aligned by being who I truly am.

📝 Soft Return Reflection Prompts:

• Where in my life do I still confuse being seen with being valued?
  What would it look like to separate the two?

• When I feel envy, what deeper longing is it pointing me toward?
  What truth about myself is trying to be acknowledged?

• In what moments do I feel most invisible, and who taught me to shrink there?
  How old is the version of me who still wants to be noticed?

• What parts of my identity were shaped by trying to be accepted?
  Who might I be if I stopped performing completely?

• Whose validation am I still subconsciously chasing?
  What would it mean to release that pursuit?

Until Next Time 🌺

🌿 Growing Into Peace

For months now, I’ve been reflecting, writing, healing, peeling back layer after layer of myself. Every week, I sit with new revelations, trying to understand the why behind my patterns.

Each Monday, I wake up with a different kind of heaviness. Sometimes it’s something I uncovered in therapy. Other times, it’s a moment in life that triggers a deeper truth. But no matter the catalyst, change has been inevitable.

For so long, my life was chaos; loud inner dialogue, constant self-criticism, the need to prove myself. Prove myself to a man. To my job. To myself. It felt like I was always running toward or away from something, lights flashing red and yellow everywhere I turned.

Until suddenly… they stopped.
The lights turned green.

And instead of urgency, there was stillness. Instead of noise, quiet. Instead of chaos, peace.

And peace, when you’re not used to it, can feel like something’s wrong.

🪞When the Familiar Stops Working

Lately, life has been eerily peaceful. Nothing’s moving too fast or too slow. Just steady. And that stillness, at first, felt uncomfortable.

I found myself trying to create chaos again. I thought, “Maybe if I just post again on Instagram, that’ll stir something up.” Nothing.

I lurked on an old fling’s page — radio silence.
Tried to reconnect with another old flame — no spark.

Each time I tried to recreate my old patterns, the universe whispered back: No. You’ve outgrown this.

And it hit me. I wasn’t being ignored — I was being redirected.

🌱 Stillness Isn’t Nothing Happening

I only realized I’d outgrown my last shell because of what came next: the way new men approached me and how I handled it.

Old me would’ve spiraled, overanalyzed, tried to prove my worth in between the silence.
Now, I tell myself: you’re collecting data, not building yet.

I caught myself in real-time calming my own anxiety, reminding myself that my worth isn’t up for negotiation.
And that was the moment I realized, stillness doesn’t mean nothing’s happening.

Stillness means everything is aligning.
It’s the universe preparing you to live as the person you’ve been becoming.

Every failed attempt to go back was actually divine redirection; an invitation to see how far I’ve come.
I thought nothing was happening, but the truth is… everything was.

🌼 The Art of Letting the Universe Lead

This week, I want you to sit with yourself and notice where you’re resisting what’s next.

Where are you trying to hold on to comfort that no longer fits?
Who or what are you clinging to that brings familiarity but not peace?

It’s okay if it’s hard. Letting go of what once soothed you is one of the most painful parts of growth. But remember just because something was always there for you doesn’t mean you have to stay there to receive it.

When the same things stop fulfilling you in the same ways, it’s not punishment, it’s preparation.

And if you’re still feeling the pull toward your old comforts, I get it.
Sometimes the ache to go back isn’t about wanting what you had; it’s about missing who you were when it felt easy.
But the truth is, you’ve outgrown the version of you who found safety in the storm.

If you’ve already stepped into your next chapter, I applaud you.
If you’re still standing between the old and the new, feeling the tug of both, trust that you’re not behind, you’re just in between.

When life feels quiet or even boring, it’s not because nothing’s happening.
It’s because the universe is now creating new experiences that match who you’ve become.
You’re not being forgotten; you’re being refined for what’s next.

💌 A Gentle Reminder for Your Weekend

Everything you’ve been working toward is already making its way to you.
The stillness isn’t the end; it’s the inhale before the next beginning.

This weekend, instead of reaching for what used to comfort you, try leaning into what feels peaceful, even if it feels unfamiliar.
Let quiet be proof that life is still moving, even when you can’t see the motion.
You don’t have to chase alignment; it’s already finding you.

🌷 Thank You for Reading

To the part of you that made space to be here; thank you.
I hope these words remind you that stillness is not an absence, but an awakening.
That peace can be just as transformative as pain, and rest can be its own revolution.
May you stop mistaking quiet for emptiness and begin to see it as arrival.
You are allowed to outgrow what once soothed you. You are allowed to rest in what’s new.

✨ Affirmation Set:

• I trust the timing of my unfolding, even when I can’t yet see what’s forming.

• I no longer chase what I’ve outgrown; peace is my new form of passion.

• I am learning to live without constant confirmation; I am my own evidence.

• The absence of chaos is not emptiness; it’s the space where miracles have room to move.

• I am safe to let ease replace effort, and trust replace control.

• Every ending I’ve mourned was simply the universe making space for my next beginning.

📝 Soft Return Reflection Prompts:

• What parts of me only know how to feel safe when something needs fixing — and who might I become if I stopped searching for something to fix?

• What am I afraid will happen if I let things be easy? Do I feel I deserve ease?

• What old version of me am I grieving as I outgrow the places and people that once soothed her?

• If the universe is aligning everything in my favor, what might this quiet chapter be trying to teach me before the next expansion begins?

Until Next Time 🌺

The Quiet Side of the Gl☀️w-Up

☀️ Montego Bay Magic

As I lay out on the Caribbean sand in Montego Bay, I thought, this is it.
This is what life is supposed to feel like. Warm sun on my skin, rum punch in my hand, the ocean stretching out in front of me. I was happy. Like deeply, peacefully, this-is-what-I-prayed-for happy. I kept thinking, this is the life I want to live every day. The one I’ve been working for.

I felt grateful, for every setback that pushed me closer to myself, for all the hard work that got me here. Life was good, and for a moment, I could finally breathe.

🌿 The Comeback That Didn’t Come With Applause

Then I came back home.
And decided it was time to reactivate Instagram, my first post since deactivating on January 1st. It felt like a full-circle moment. Time to pop out.

The original plan was to come back snatched and in love; new body, new man, new energy. But here I am: no man, a little more weight, and the same phone screen staring back at me. Go figure.

Still, I made my little photo dump. My quiet comeback. Externally, my life looks pretty much the same, but internally? It’s a completely different world. So, I was excited to share, to show people the shift. I thought my comments would flood, that my DMs would light up, that people would say we missed you. But they didn’t.

It was just… another post on another day.
And to my surprise, that hit me harder than I expected.

💭 The Crash That Became a Lesson

My therapist calls it a dopamine crash, and that’s exactly what it was.
For months, I built up this moment, telling myself, once I post, everyone will see how much I’ve grown.
But what I really needed to see was how much I no longer crave being seen.

When you stop performing, the applause stops too.
And at first that silence feels like rejection, but it’s actually peace.
Because when you no longer need to prove anything, you start to feel free.

I wanted my “pop-out” to be proof that I had evolved. But it turns out, the proof isn’t in the post. It’s in the life I’m actually living.

🌸 The Growth Nobody Saw

While I was gone, I started a new job, bought a brand-new car, made big moves in the trading world, launched a blog that nobody knows about but heals me every time I write. I stopped performing for love. I stopped accepting scraps. I learned how to be fulfilled without being seen.

And yet, when I came back from Jamaica, I felt heavy.
Not physically, energetically. Like I was grieving the version of me who thought being “seen” would mean I’d finally made it.
But real growth? The kind that lasts? It’s invisible. It’s quiet. It’s not flashy or Instagram-worthy.
Real growth is coming back heavier but happier.
Real growth is feeling peace instead of pressure.

🔥 Recalibration, Not Regression

I thought after this trip and this hiatus I’d have this grand comeback moment, this perfect “I’m exactly where I need to be” story.
And while that’s partly true, it’s also not the full truth.
The full truth is that I’m still learning to be okay with the quiet.
I’m still unlearning the need to be chosen, liked, or praised.
And that’s not as glamorous as a comeback photo dump — but it’s real.

Maybe this “dopamine crash” wasn’t a setback at all.
Maybe it was a recalibration; from what I thought I wanted, to what I actually needed.
Because the universe has a funny way of humbling you when you start to make your worth dependent on who’s watching.

Now, I get to keep living for me.
Writing for me.
Becoming for me.
And if the validation ever comes again, it’ll just be a bonus, not the source.

🌙 The Sacred Silence

So if you’re in your own post-high crash, if you’re wondering why, you don’t feel as happy as you thought you’d be — maybe that’s just your soul expanding. Maybe it’s clearing out what doesn’t fit anymore.

You’re not behind. You’re not broken. You’re just becoming.
And sometimes that means sitting in the quiet after the applause; trusting that the silence is sacred too.

✨ A Gentle Reminder for your Weekend

You don’t have to announce your growth for it to be real.
Let this weekend remind you that silence can still sparkle.
You are allowed to rest in your glow without needing anyone to notice it.

🌷 Thank You for Reading

If you made it this far, thank you for being here with me.
I hope these words remind you that sacred things don’t need to be seen to be real, and that you don’t need a crowd to confirm your glow-up.
Even in the stillness, you are expanding; quietly, beautifully, enough.
Sometimes peace is the loudest proof that you’ve changed.

✨ Affirmation Set:

• I am no longer performing for love, attention, or proof.

• My growth doesn’t need an audience to be real.

• I am proud of the woman I’m becoming, even when no one is watching.

• My joy does not depend on recognition; it flows from within me.

• I am learning to celebrate my soft seasons as much as my loud ones.

• The absence of noise is not the absence of progress.

• I am exactly where I need to be—becoming, expanding, enough

📝 Soft Return Reflection Prompts:

• What parts of me chase spikes (likes, attention, “pop-out” moments), and what parts of me crave steadiness? How can I feed devotion over dopamine this week?

• If I stopped measuring my life by visibility, what new metrics would I use (peace, presence, integrity, consistency, tenderness)? Define them and how I’ll notice them daily.

• When the room/phone is quiet, what stories get loud? Which stories are true, and which are just old protections? How can I update the script with tenderness?

Until Next Time 🌺

🌿 What If It All Goes Right?

🧳 Packing & Overthinking

As I’m sitting here packing for my trip, excitement and anxiety are taking turns in my head.
What if I forget something?
What if I wrote my mom’s name wrong on the flight info?
What if something happens to my pup while I’m gone?
What if something happens to me?

It’s exhausting—how easily my mind can turn joy into a checklist of potential disasters.

🌺 Taking My Power Back

This trip means a lot to me. I’ve never been to Jamaica. I was supposed to go once before—with my ex—but the trip was canceled, just like everything else with him always was. So this time, I decided to go with my mom instead. It felt like taking my power back, showing myself and the universe that I will still go, still live, even if it doesn’t look the way I once imagined.

But now that it’s almost time to leave, that familiar part of me, the one that doubts, that expects things to go wrong; has started whispering again. The part of me that still doesn’t quite trust that good things can happen easily.

🌙 The Habit of Control

I’ve always been this way. I’m a Virgo Moon; I overanalyze everything. My therapist once told me I do it to maintain control. At first, I didn’t see it. But now I do. I play every possible scenario in my head, not to prepare, but to protect myself. If I imagine the worst, I can’t be blindsided by it.

But here’s the truth: all that mental preparation steals the magic from life.
It’s like building emotional armor when no one’s even swinging.

Instead of letting myself be excited, I numb the joy with worry. And when things end up going smoothly (which they almost always do), I realize how much I missed by not being present. The joy. The gratitude. The softness. The fun.

And honestly, it’s exhausting living like this.

🐾 What Luxe Taught Me About Fear

I was reminded of that watching my bernedoodle, Luxe. He’s scared of everything.
The sound of his food bowl moving, chairs, doors—literally anything. One day, as I watched him run away from his own reflection, I said out loud, “It must be exhausting walking around scared of everything.”

And then it hit me.
I do the same thing.
Mine just lives in my head.

It’s exhausting living in fear of everything, of what could go wrong, of what people might say, of how I’ll feel if I fail. Even my anxiety, the palpitations I’ve had, the tightness in my chest, they’re all my body begging for peace from my own mind.

🌤 Learning to Let Life Flow

So, this week—and hopefully, for the rest of my life—I’m choosing to live more in the moment. To stop being scared of everything.
Because life is short. And my fears today will be nothing compared to the regret of never really living.

As my girl Hannah Montana once said, “Life’s what you make it, so let’s make it rock.”
And now I get it. Life will always life; but it only rocks if I let it.

What are you scared of?
What fears are keeping you from the life you dream of?

Dodge the fear. Do it anyway. People will judge you either way, but at least you’ll be living.
Because one day, when all you can do is wish for more time, you’ll look back and realize:
the moments you prayed to relive were the ones you were too busy fearing to enjoy.

✨ A Gentle Reminder for your Weekend

This weekend, stop rehearsing disaster and start expecting ease. Uncertainty doesn’t always mean danger. You don’t have to prepare for joy to hurt in order to deserve it. Sometimes it’s the universe asking you to let life surprise you. Let good things happen without trying to predict their ending. Choose wonder over worry, just for today.

🌷 Thank You for Reading

If you made it this far, thank you for sharing this space with me.
I hope my words remind you that it’s safe to let life surprise you, that you don’t have to earn calm by expecting chaos.
You deserve to breathe deeply and believe everything works out for you, even if it doesn’t look like what you expected.

✨ Affirmation Set:

• I release my need to control every outcome; I am safe in uncertainty.

• I am allowed to experience joy without preparing for it to end.

• Ease is not the absence of effort—it’s the presence of trust.

• I am learning to let good things be easy.

• I do not need to rehearse pain to prove I can survive it.

• It’s safe to relax into the life that’s unfolding for me.

• I deserve to feel calm, even when everything is going right.

📝 Soft Return Reflection Prompts:

• Where in my life am I rehearsing disaster instead of expecting ease?

• What would it look like to let something good unfold without trying to manage the outcome?

• How can I remind myself that I am safe, even when I’m not in control?

• When I feel myself waiting for the “other shoe to drop,” what story from my past is being replayed?

• When things begin to go right, do I allow myself to receive it fully—or do I brace for loss as if joy is a setup?

Until Next Time 🌺

🖤 Making Peace with the Ache

🌑 A Week That Shook Me

This week’s post is heavier than most. I debated whether I should share it at all, but this is why I created this space. To tell the truth of what’s on my heart. And the deeper it hits, the more important it feels to write.

Earlier this week I was dealing with some health issues, minor on paper, but my mind makes everything major. Each flutter in my chest pulled me down a rabbit hole: What if I die here, alone?

In the middle of that spiral, my feed was filled with Monaleo and Stunna’s wedding. The joy, the tenderness, the way he looks at her with such genuine love, it was beautiful. And it triggered something in me I didn’t expect.

💔 The Ache of Watching Love

Hearing Stunna speak about how he loves her simply for being her—because she’s Monaleo and she loves pink—brought tears to my eyes. It reminded me that love like that exists.

But it also brought up the whisper I try to quiet: What makes you think you’ll ever have that?

As a woman who’s survived abusive relationships, I know the high of things being good until they suddenly aren’t. I know what it’s like to heal from trauma that love itself created. And so the idea of a man loving me wholly, consistently, simply for being me, it feels almost unattainable.

🪞 Alone in the Silence

That spiral took me deeper. I live alone. I’m an only child. My two closest friends, I might talk to every few months. I have my mom—my best friend—but no partner who checks on me daily, no one who would know if I didn’t wake up tomorrow.

And the thought that one day I’ll have to grieve my mom, alone, nearly breaks me. As her only child, I can’t imagine carrying that weight without someone to hold me up.

Even fall, my favorite season, can sting with loneliness. While others gather with family, mine is far away. And again, I’m left with myself.

🌊 What Brought Me Back

I don’t have a shiny revelation this week. No “aha” moment. Just me, my tears, and my rituals.

In the middle of the spiral, I ran my bath, lit my candles, and reminded myself: this is my safe return. This is where I come back to peace. This is where I hold myself and whisper, It’s okay. Keep going.

That’s my anchor. That’s my soft place. That’s the reason I don’t stay down for weeks when life tries to pull me under.

✨ A Gentle Reminder for your Weekend

I’m still believing that one day I won’t have to walk through it all alone, that the love I crave, the partnership, the support, will find me. But until then, I have me.

I have my soft place.
I have my rituals.
I have my resilience.

The world may knock me down nine times, but I’m getting up ten. And I hope you do too.

🌷 Thank You for Reading

If you made it this far, thank you for holding this piece of my heart and sitting with me in the quiet places most of us try to hide.
I hope my honesty meets your own and reminds you that you’re never as alone as you feel, that you have a place to return to, both within yourself and here with me.

✨ Affirmation Set:

• I am allowed to grieve futures I haven’t lived yet, while still trusting that new ones are unfolding for me.

• Mortality reminds me that nothing is guaranteed, so I choose presence, here and now, as my daily prayer.

• When fear of the future visits me, I anchor myself in the truth that I have survived every yesterday, I will survive this too.

• My solitude is not emptiness; it is a sacred container where I meet myself most honestly.

📝 Soft Return Reflection Prompts:

What fears about the future visit me most often, and what do they reveal about what I deeply desire?

How does my relationship with solitude shift when I see it as a sacred container rather than emptiness?

In what ways do I grieve futures that haven’t happened yet, and how might I also begin to make space for new ones to unfold?

What would it look like to honor both my longing for connection and the strength I’ve built in my independence?

If mortality reminds me that nothing is guaranteed, what simple joys or quiet moments do I want to be more present for today?

Until Next Time 🌺

The Space Between Enough and More ⚖️

Last week I felt unstoppable, steady in my routine, grateful for the invisible work that’s shaping the life I want.
This week, the same gratitude showed up carrying extra luggage.

Late at night, scrolling through engagements, baby announcements, and shiny milestones, I felt that familiar ache in my chest.
Happy for them, yes.
But also wondering when it will be my turn.

🌊 Tides & Feelings

I’m a Cancer sun and my moods move like the tide, one moment I’m light and laughing, the next I’m sad like I’ve lost a best friend, then moody and untouchable, then crying for reasons I can’t name.
That’s my life… but also just life. I’m simply expressive about mine.

Last week I said, “I love this in-between phase because I know it’s preparing me,” and I still believe that.
But this week those same feelings brought a few bags I needed to unpack.

💔 The Ache

As I scroll, I watch more and more people step into big life moments—engagements, marriages, pregnancy announcements.
Part of me still feels eighteen and too young for all of that, but another part remembers I’m twenty-nine and those milestones would be perfectly normal for me too.

With that comes reflection, and comparison.
I remind myself, “It’s okay, yours is coming in due time,” and it helps… for a while.
But like D-Bo after he leaves, the feelings creep back.

They return when I’m happy but wish I could fall asleep in someone’s arms.
When I imagine getting proposed to and remember no man seems to see me for who I truly am, beyond my thick curves, chocolate skin, and pretty smile.
I get sad and wonder, “Is this going to be my life forever?”

🪞 Old Wounds

This cycle has been with me since childhood.
As a dark-skinned woman, I couldn’t help noticing how lighter girls were treated and adored.
It always felt like that would never be me.
That’s a wound I’ll probably unpack forever.

Now it shows up as a quiet whisper: even though I know my season is coming, and will arrive at the perfect time, it doesn’t erase the sting of watching others live the joys I crave.
Whether the feeling is envy, jealousy, or just a sharp longing, I get it.
I’ve felt it more times than I’d like to admit.

🔥 Fuel

Even though last week I rode a high of consistency, this week reminded me that growth is a balance.
What steadied me was remembering that the things I want aren’t just on their way because I manifest and pray, though that matters.
They’re coming because of the steps I take every single day.

Every blog post.
Every quiet hour of invisible work.
Every act of showing up for myself.
That’s why my season will arrive, and when it does I’ll bask unapologetically in the joy of knowing life recognized I was ready.

⚖️ Balance

Life isn’t black or white, it’s grey, layered, coexisting.
My envy for others can sit beside my happiness for them.
It can even motivate me to keep grinding, knowing my time is on the way.

Admitting envy doesn’t make me a hater; it means I’m honest about the gap between where I am and where I know I can be.
Envy turns toxic only when you see the gap and do nothing to close it.
The more time passes without action, the more resentment builds.
I refuse to live there.

🌷 Choosing the Work

I share these tender places because I know I’m not alone.
The difference between those who receive what they want and those who don’t is often simple:
what you let your feelings fuel.

In this season, I’m choosing to let them fuel me—
to become her in the invisible hours.

I hope my reflections help you in some way.
Even if they don’t push you to immediate action, I hope they at least invite a softer, more honest return to yourself.
Better to face the truth with love, first with yourself, and here with me.

💌 A Gentle Reminder for Your Weekend

Your longing doesn’t cancel your gratitude.
Both can coexist, and both can guide you.
Let desire be the map and consistency be the engine.
Keep tending to your invisible hours, they are quietly creating the life you’re aching for.

🌷 Thank You for Reading

If you made it this far, thank you for sitting with me in the in-between.
These words are my offering, and I hope they remind you that every ache carries a direction, and every step, seen or unseen, counts.
I hope my words whisper that your desires are not flaws, but invitations to become.

✨ Affirmation Set

• My desires are not a weakness; they are evidence of possibility.

• The ache I feel is a compass, pointing me toward the life that already belongs to me.

• Every small step I take is proof that I trust my own becoming.

• I can honor what I want without rushing the timing. My life is on perfect timing.

• The love and opportunities I long for are moving toward me as I move toward myself.

📝 Soft Return Reflection Prompts:

When I feel the sharp ache of wanting something I don’t yet have, what specific future am I secretly mapping out? What does that desire reveal about who I’m becoming?

When envy rises, what early memories or past experiences does it awaken in me? How might those memories still shape the way I see love, success, or beauty today?

Imagine my life five years from now, after my desires have arrived. What would future me thank present me for enduring, practicing, or believing during this quiet season?

What qualities of “her”—the woman I’m becoming—are already alive in me today, even if the world hasn’t recognized them yet? How can I recognize them myself?

Until Next Time 🌺

🪽Becoming Her Before You Know Her: Building a Life in the Invisible Hours🔮

☁️ Monday Mornings

Most Mondays I wake up dragging, thinking, “ugh, I can’t wait until I don’t have to do this anymore.”
It’s a thought so quick it barely forms, but it sets the tone.
By Wednesday I usually start to feel a spark, fueled by the idea of the weekend and the tiny freedoms it holds.

But this Monday was different.
My sleepy brain offered its usual complaint, “here we go again” yet when my feet hit the floor, I felt something else.
Energy.
Motion.
Life.

I started moving without negotiation:
thinking about my blog, planning my posts, picking up clothes I’d ignored all weekend, prepping meals like someone who believes in the week ahead.
It was as if something inside me had finally decided, Enough waiting. Let’s live.

That small, unexpected shift reminded me how quickly life can change, sometimes in the space of a single morning.

🌿 A Shift in Gratitude

Last week I was heavy, dragging myself through the dry work of consistency.
I kept showing up because I said I would, even when I felt numb.
This week, I woke up grateful, grateful for the discipline I practiced when it felt pointless, grateful for the invisible proof that small steps really do build something.

It’s strange how gratitude sneaks in.
It doesn’t announce itself with trumpets; it slips quietly into the body until you realize you’re breathing easier.

🌟 Inspiration in Real Time

If you’ve watched Love Island, you might know Olandria Carthen.
We went to the same college.
She was always that girl—magnetic, luminous, impossible to ignore.

Seeing her success has lit a fire under me.
I keep imagining her boarding that flight to Fiji, unaware that it would be the last time she’d move through an airport as a stranger.
Had she known, would she have lingered over her morning coffee?
Would she have savored the quiet of being anonymous?

That image made me look at my own life.
No, my path won’t mirror hers, but I know this: once my blog grows, my life will shift.
One day I’ll remember these mornings when no one was watching, when I complained about having “nothing to do” and I’ll miss them.
So I’m choosing to cherish them now, while they’re still mine.

🌸 Loving the “Invisible” Season

This week I’m savoring the small things:
– posting on TikTok when no one likes or comments,
– walking my dog while neighbors pass by without knowing my name,
– putting in the quiet, repetitive work when nobody is looking.

These moments used to feel insignificant.
Now they feel sacred.
They are the soft soil where everything future-me dreams of will take root.
I can walk confidently in the abundance that’s coming because I’m already tending the garden—watering it with every unnoticed action.

⚡ The Boring Part Is the Magic

The work is often dull.
Consistency can feel dry, thankless, and lonely.
But I’ve learned this truth from watching others succeed: everything looks impossible until the day it works.
The ones who reach their dreams aren’t necessarily the most talented; they’re the ones who refused to stop showing up when no one cared.

The boring part isn’t a detour; it is the magic.
It’s the daily choice to keep walking when there’s no applause, no proof, and no guarantee.

🌻 My Promise: to Myself and to You

From this week forward, I refuse to let fear of what people think hold me back, at work, on social media, or here on this blog.
My life is mine, and future me would be furious if I let opportunities slip because I worried about looking “crazy.”

I hope you won’t let that happen to you either.
Your quiet season is not wasted time; it’s the training ground for everything you’ve been praying for.
Don’t run from it.
Learn to love it.

💌 A Gentle Reminder for Your Weekend

The quiet seasons are not empty, they’re sacred.
Every ordinary morning, every unseen effort, is preparing you for the extraordinary life you’re building.
Cherish them while you have them.
They will never come again.

🌷 Thank You for Reading

If you made it this far, thank you for holding space with me.
These words are my offering, and I hope their raw form touches a place in you that stirs your own offering to share with the world.

✨ Affirmation Set

• My unseen efforts are laying the foundation for miracles.

• The quiet work I do today will echo loudly in my future.

• I am building a life that can hold the weight of my dreams.

• I celebrate each step, even when no one is watching.

• I release the need for approval; my life belongs to me.

📝 Soft Return Reflection Prompts:

1. Where in my life am I craving recognition instead of trusting the process?

2. Where am I still letting fear of judgment hold me back?

3. What does success look like if no one else ever validates it?

   Until Next Time 🌺

🔥 Consistency Without Fire: Showing Up When It Isn’t Sexy

I feel like I talk in circles sometimes, like even when I’m on different topics, they all coexist and overlap in some way.

I’ve been gone for a while. Starting my new job opened the floodgates of abundance for me. And you’d think that would make life easier and happier, and it did. But it also stirred something inside of me that felt uncomfortable with the positive shift. It was overwhelming in a way I wasn’t used to.

With the high of receiving so much came the inevitable crash. And that crash led me back to a place of grief and longing, searching for something outside of myself to make me happy.

After weeks of chasing dopamine highs and lows, I remembered: I’ve been here before. This feeling is familiar. The comfort of lack and dopamine crashes had become my “happy place.”

That’s when I saw it clearly: the staircase of my soul leading back to the seat I’d left behind. I sat down, hugged myself, and whispered, Welcome back.

❓ What’s the Point?

Even with all this abundance, I’ve found myself feeling lost, asking: what’s the point?
I’m still not where I want to be.
I still don’t have the love of my life.

It felt like this wave of abundance was supposed to usher in a new chapter—but instead, I found myself stuck in the same loop.

🪞 The Hard Truth

Talking with my therapist, I realized something important: I was right. I am supposed to be starting a new life. But the reason I feel stuck isn’t because life hasn’t given me what I want, it’s because I haven’t been willing to put in the work.

For a while, I would put in spurts of effort and expect immediate results. When things didn’t happen, I felt like I’d wasted my time. Then I’d sulk, chase dopamine hits, crash, and start again. The cycle felt infinite.

Then my therapist said something that stopped me in my tracks: the life you want is on the other side of the work you put in every day.

It sounds obvious, right? But pause and sit with it:
Are you living the life you really want?
When you wake up and wish you were doing something else—why aren’t you?
Is it fear? A person? Yourself?

That’s when it hit me.

⚖️ Learning to Feel Alive in the Small Things

It sounds easy. Yet growing up in an environment where only big accomplishments were celebrated made the everyday steps feel invisible. Numb.

That numbness made me crave intensity, anything that reminded me I was alive, even if it meant pain.

But what if I could feel alive by chasing my dreams instead?
By pouring into myself what I so desperately want to pour into others?

What if the only thing holding me back from what I want… is me?

🌊 Choosing Consistency, Choosing Me

I’m realizing more and more that it has been me all along. I’ve been afraid of consistency because it feels too safe—too steady, compared to the highs and lows I’ve built relationship with.

The loop of “This is the year I’ll change my life” only to say it again the next year has been like an old friend. But I’m ready to break up with that friend.

It’s scary to realize I could have everything I’ve ever wanted if I just kept showing up, every day. Whether it’s an hour or five minutes. Big steps or tiny ones. The point is to keep moving.

So here I am again:
Back to chasing me.
Back to chasing my dreams.
Back to pouring into myself, giving myself a safe and soft place to land.

This is my space to reflect, to write out the thoughts I usually keep inside. And if you’re reading this, I hope something resonates. I hope it helps you on your journey back home to yourself, too.

💌 A gentle reminder for your weekend:

Consistency doesn’t always sparkle, but it builds the life you’ve been wishing for. Don’t underestimate your small steps, they’re the quiet and maybe boring, but they’re proof that you’re moving forward.

🌷 Thank You for Reading

If you made it this far, thank you for meeting me here, in the middle of my becoming. I hope in some way it reminds you of your own and motivates you to keep going.

📝 Soft Return Reflection Prompts:

Where do I confuse intensity for progress in my life?

What “old loop” do I keep revisiting that feels safe, even though it holds me back?

What would my life look like if I trusted daily steps instead of waiting for big breakthroughs?

🌺 Affirmation Set

I don’t chase chaos, I build peace.

Consistency is my rebellion.

Dopamine is not my compass.

My discipline is my freedom.

I am the fire and the foundation.

Until Next Time 🌺

When Receiving Feels Like Resistance

🌫 When You Don’t Know What to Do

What do you do when you don’t know what to do?
What do you say when you have nothing left to say?

I’m usually someone who can string words together, even when I don’t feel like I have anything to say. But these past few weeks, life has felt both fast and slow—like I’ve been moving in a weird kind of limbo.
Like I’m so close to that happy place, yet so far I don’t even know what steps to take.

A few weeks ago, I wrote about a job interview I almost didn’t show up for.
I told myself I wouldn’t get it.
But I did.

It’s with a company I’ve wanted to work for. It’s hybrid. Less stress. A little more pay. I should be ecstatic.
And I was.
But lately, I’ve found myself in a strange place.

Sometimes, when you’re used to rejection—used to the door being closed in your face—it feels confusing when one opens.
And when you’re invited to sit at the table?

You almost don’t know how to eat.

That’s what I’ve been working through lately: the feeling that I have to perform or be in service in order to deserve good things.

It’s a pattern I’ve seen in relationships, but now I realize it’s everywhere.
And if I’m honest, it’s been hard to show up.

📖 No Pretty Words—Just Presence

So this week, I won’t offer sweet affirmations or poetic reflections.
All I can do is show up.
Raw. Vulnerable. Honest.

Lately, I’ve been time-traveling—revisiting memories of relationships that didn’t work out.
And I’ve noticed I do this as a way to confirm my feelings of unworthiness.

Proof, my brain says, that I don’t get good things unless I work for them. Unless I earn them.
Unless I bleed for them.

I don’t know how to fully break out of that yet.
But I know that I’m trying. And maybe that’s enough.

My birthday is coming up soon (yes, Cancer baby), and if I’m being real—this time of year always makes me feel a little sad.

Sad that I’m not where I want to be.
Sad that I’m still single.
Sad because, if I’m honest, I’ve never felt like anyone’s favorite person.

And my birthday always reminds me:
I’m my own favorite person.
Whether I like it or not.

🤍 Still Showing Up

I don’t have the right affirmation to talk myself out of this moment.
But I’m still here. Still writing. Still pushing through.

And if you’re reading this, I hope you can relate—or actually, I hope you don’t because this feeling is sucky as hell.
But I hope it gives you permission to show up too.

Even if it’s messy. Even if you feel low. Even if you don’t have all the right words.

Every time you push through, you’re getting closer to the version of you that’s been waiting on the other side.

Future Joy—I hope you know I’m doing my best to get to you.
By any means necessary.
I’m trying, girl.

Until next time.

💌 Thank You for Reading

If you made it here, thank you for holding space for this version of me.
Not every post will be polished. Some will just be presence. But if it reminded you to keep showing up for yourself messy or not then it did what it was meant to.

I Am the Room

🌙 The More I Achieve, the Less I Feel I Belong

The past few weeks have been a lot. Between work, life, relationships, and dog-mom duties (and I don’t know if all dogs are like this, but allergy season is the worst for mine), everything feels like it’s piling up.

But this week specifically? It had me losing sleep.

Not because anything huge happened, but because of the quiet self-talk I’m still working on. The things I’d never say out loud, but somehow still repeat on a loop inside.

I had an interview this week. For a role I already do—and more—on the daily. But somehow, I was anxious. I kept imagining how disappointed I’d feel if I didn’t get it. What if they asked something I didn’t know?

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to back out.
The night before the interview, I couldn’t sleep. I even considered canceling. The thoughts were so loud:

You’ll fail. You’re not ready. Why even try if you already know the outcome?

But I showed up anyway. Put on my blazer and lip gloss. Pushed through.

And funny enough?
The interviewer said:

“You have extensive experience in this field—honestly, this might be a step down from what you’re currently doing.”

So, I might not get the position, not because I’m not enough... but because I’m overqualified.

And that got me thinking:
How often do I make myself smaller to soften the blow of potential failure?
How many things do I not even try, just in case I fall short?

The truth is, the interview was a breeze. But the anxiety beforehand was real.
I was terrified they’d ask a question that revealed what I subconsciously believe: that I’m not enough. That I don’t really belong.

Imposter syndrome is something I’ve carried my whole life.
And the wild part?
The more I achieve, the more I feel like I’m faking it.

Let’s unpack that, softly.

🪴How It Shows Up…

In Career:

• Not applying for roles you’re more than capable of

• Asking for less because you’re scared of seeming “too much”

• Saying yes to things you don’t want to do just to prove you deserve your spot

In Relationships:

• Accepting the bare minimum and calling it love

• Overfunctioning to feel chosen

• Confusing consistency with emotional availability

In Self:

• Shrinking your voice when your power rises

• Feeling guilty for rest, asking for help, or taking up space

• Believing your softness makes you weak instead of powerful

🔅What I’m Learning to Shift

The common thread in all of these?
What I tell myself.
The stories I run on loop. The quiet assumptions about what I deserve.

This week, I told myself I wasn’t ready. That I wasn’t enough. And I almost pulled the rug from under me. But I didn’t.

And the truth? I’m more than enough.
I actually deserve more.
What a wild, freeing thought.

You don’t have to overperform to be worthy.
You don’t have to accept less than your heart craves.
You do have to listen to the part of you that believes there’s more for you.

Even when it’s quiet. Even when it’s scary.
That voice? That’s your higher self. Follow her.

💌 A gentle reminder for your weekend:

What if you’re not an imposter?
What if you’ve just outgrown the spaces
that never expected someone like you to rise?

🌷 Thank You for Reading

If you made it this far, thank you for staying.
This post was stitched from pieces of my own softness, doubt, and truth.
And if it found you where you are—just know, I’ve been there too.

📝 Soft Return Reflection Prompts:

• If I wasn’t trying to prove anything, how would I show up differently?

• Is the way I describe myself rooted in truth—or in the version I think others will accept?

• Where am I still performing confidence instead of practicing compassion in my self-talk?

🌺 Affirmation Set

I no longer shrink to fit into spaces I’ve already outgrown.

I am not a mistake. I am a mirror of the light I’ve been searching for.

I release the story that says I have to earn my place in the room—I am the room.

Even when doubt knocks, I stay close to myself. I don’t walk away—I choose me.

Until Next Time 🪷

Becoming the Light 🕯️ Craved

🕯️The Ache That Sent Me Searching

Sometimes, when you’re unaware of a void inside yourself, you go unconsciously searching for it in the world. And when the world doesn’t give you what you’re missing—or gives it, only to take it away—you’re left wondering what’s wrong with you. And you feel emptier than before.

I recently broke up with a recurring ex. He’s lingered since our initial relationship in 2021 until now, 2025. During our time apart from 2021–2024, I realized how much of a safe space he had been for me. I thought about him literally every day. Longed to be seen in that way again.

When we got back together in December, I felt alive. Everything felt, looked, even smelled better. I started working out again. I started investing. I started getting my sh-t all the way together—because we were planning a future. Marriage. Stability. The version of myself I had been waiting to become.

But obviously, by calling him my ex, you can guess: it didn’t work out.

Post-breakup, it felt like someone had flipped the lights off in my life. Vibrancy dulled. Joy faded. Consistency turned to avoidance. That safe space of being seen, heard, and felt was snatched away. Again.

🌙 The Question That Shifted Everything

Then I had a profound session with my therapist. After I described everything I cherished about having him in my life, she asked me a simple question:

“What if what he provided for you, you can provide for yourself?”

I’d heard versions of that before—but this time, it hit different. This time, I was empty enough to actually consider it.

So I tried.

After workouts, I’d “text” myself: “I’m proud of you. I’m happy you’re staying consistent with your goals.” When I was sad and craving physical comfort, I cried. I held myself. I snuggled with my dog. I validated my feelings instead of gaslighting myself. I stopped calling myself crazy for feeling and started honoring the part of me that felt deeply.

And that’s when the shift began:
I realized I had always created space for others.
I showed up when people made room for me.
But I had never once created space for myself.

And now I was.

What if everything I’d been unconsciously searching for in others… was waiting for me within?

🌿 What Safety Used to Look Like

To me, safety looked like:

• Vulnerability

• Encouragement

• Reassurance

• Presence

If someone gave me just a glimpse of those things, I clung to them. And when they left, I felt discarded. Like I was too much. Or not enough.

But really—I was chasing slivers of light because I hadn’t yet learned to shine my own.

It put so much pressure on every relationship. Every new friend was my long-lost sister. Every man who showed kindness? My future husband. I gave loyalty at a level people hadn’t earned. And when it wasn’t returned, I felt unlovable.

The truth?
I had been abandoning myself—so of course it was easy for others to do the same.

💫 The Shift That Saved Me

That therapy session changed everything. I started noticing lifelong patterns. And now, I’m taking sacred, simple steps to become my own safe space:

• I speak to myself gently. I no longer dismiss my emotions—I hold them. I find their root. I give myself credit for feeling at all.

• I stopped shrinking to be liked. If people leave when I show up as my full self, they were never meant to stay.

• I keep promises to myself. That builds real trust—because no matter what, I have me.

• I stopped romanticizing everything. Not every hello is a love story. Not every kind soul is family. I let people show me who they are before assigning them a role.

• I leave emotional doors open. People can come and go. My peace no longer clings—it flows.

• I create intimacy for myself. Date nights. Bubble baths. Champagne and candles. Weekly reminders that I can experience tenderness with myself, for myself, by myself.

Because waiting for someone else to give it to me?
Only reinforces the idea that I’m not already worthy of it.

🪞 A Gentle Reflection

What patterns make you view others as more worthy than yourself?

Recognizing patterns is hard. It takes honesty, patience, and grace. But once you notice them—they don’t go unseen again.

There’s no better feeling than knowing: I got me.
No matter who stays or leaves.

There’s a peace that comes from being your own soft landing.
There’s a power in being your own safe place.

The light you’ve been searching for outside?
It’s been glowing inside you this whole time.
You just needed to come home to it. ❤️

💌 A gentle reminder for your weekend:

Breathe. You’re allowed to be held by your own presence.

🌷 Thank You for Reading

If you made it this far—thank you for walking through this with me.
Healing doesn’t always look graceful, but every time I choose myself, I get closer to wholeness.

This space is my way of not abandoning myself.
I hope it reminds you to stay with you, too.

📝 Soft Return Reflection Prompts:

– What have I been waiting for someone else to give me that I can begin offering to myself?
– What patterns have I repeated in relationships that made me abandon my own needs?
– What would it look like to become a safe space for myself this week?
– How can I show up with softness without shrinking?

✨ Affirmation Set:

I am my own soft landing.
I don’t have to chase love. I return to it within.
I honor my emotions as sacred, not inconvenient.
My light is not borrowed, it’s my own.
I am no longer waiting to be chosen. I have already chosen me.

Until next time 🌷

The Pressure to Be Her and the Presence That’s Actually Making Me Her

✨ What I'm Learning About Pressure vs Presence

Starting something new always comes with pressure.
Pressure to be perfect.
Pressure to create something that takes off.

Especially now—when people can blow up overnight from literally anything—it’s easy to wonder:
Will I be the one who pops? Or the one who has to slowly, painfully, birth something into greatness?

That kind of pressure? It doesn’t help.
It disconnects you from your own rhythm.
And honestly, sometimes self-abandonment and grace can look the same.

This week, I almost didn’t make a blog post.
Not because I didn’t want to—but because I felt like I had to show up perfect.
Like I’m some wise person who has it all figured out.

But the truth?
The more steps I take, the more confused I feel.

Confused because…
What if what I want takes too long?
What if I give up halfway?
What if I pour my heart into something that doesn’t go anywhere?

I see the vision clearly.
I know the life I want to live and love.
But the road there? Sometimes it feels too windy, too unclear, too hard.

Luckily, I showed up anyhow.
Imperfect. Confused. Drained.
But real.

Because the truth is—you won’t always feel like taking the steps.
But that version of you you’re becoming?
She’s shaped by what you do even on the days you don’t feel like doing it.

That pressure I put on myself almost disconnected me from her.
But I no longer want to live in the sadness of my comfort.
So I chose presence.

What I’m learning is:

• Pressure is loud. Presence is quiet.

• Pressure rushes. Presence breathes.

• Pressure says “prove it.” Presence says “feel it.”

• I’m softer when I’m present.

• I don’t have to be profound to be real.

🪞How I’m Learning to Tell the Difference

Pressure looks like:

• Feeling rushed or anxious when I’m not producing

• Wanting to show something off for validation, not pride

• Comparing myself to others and questioning my timeline

Presence looks like:

• Giving myself grace and listening to my higher self

• Letting failure be a teacher, not a punishment

• Trusting my inner knowing, even when results aren’t immediate

I know firsthand how hard it is to stay present in the middle of pressure.
But I also know:
Your future self is clapping for you—every time you choose presence over perfection.
Every time you get up again.

She’s proud of you for choosing her, even when it’s hard.

💌 A gentle reminder for your weekend:

Be gentle with yourself.
Let your truth be the softest kind of grace.

🌷 Thank You for Reading

If you made it this far, thank you for holding space with me.
I hope this entry reminded you to hold space for yourself, too—gently, honestly, and without apology.
You’re doing better than you think. And she’s so proud of you for not giving up. 🌷

📝 Soft Return Reflection Prompts:

• Where am I confusing perfection with presence?

• What would it look like to show up with what I have—not what I think I should have?

• Who am I trying to protect when I push instead of pause?

✨ Affirmation Set

I don’t have to rush what’s already unfolding within me.
I release perfection and return to presence.
I am already becoming the version of me I used to dream about.
My softness is sacred. My truth is enough.

“Knock me down 9 times but I get up 10.” – Cardi B
Whether this is your 6th, 9th, or 20th fall—get back up.
What you want is on the other side of what you fear.
In this life, you don’t get what you want.
You get what you’re willing to stay soft enough to work through.

Until next time 🌷

🌙 Holding Space for Your Queen Energy

👑 What Queen Energy Really Is

After a traumatic event, I think it’s only natural that we dive deeper into ourselves—maybe we go to therapy, pick up a new hobby, or, if you’re like me, go out partying with friends.
Nothing like a good tipsy night with your good Judy’s to help you recenter.
But once that’s worn out—then what?

The silence that creeps in after the distraction fades, after the hangover lifts, after the final session ends—what’s left?

That’s what I’ve been sitting with lately.
And it’s what inspired the first topic of our first Friday Soft Return Reset Ritual:
Holding Space for Your Queen Energy.

As a Black woman, when I hear the word “Queen,” I immediately think: strong, stoic, unphased, unaffected—and definitely not shedding a single tear.

For years, that version of strength shaped how I moved through the world. I subconsciously told myself I was “unbothered” or “not gon’ cry,” and instead of actually feeling my emotions, I just thought through them.

In a recent session with my therapist, I had a realization: I’ve been intellectualizing my emotions. If I can explain the reason behind how I feel, I convince myself I’ve processed it. But in truth, I’ve just dressed it up. I’ve suppressed the feeling with understanding.

Understanding is not the same as feeling.

And when I sat with that, I realized I wasn’t just suppressing emotions—I was suppressing my essence.

A true Queen doesn’t need to dress her feelings in logic. She doesn’t have to explain them away to avoid moments of weakness.
She sits with them. She welcomes them.
She cries when the tears rise—because release is flow.
She lights a candle, draws a bath, and meets herself in the dark, has those hard conversations with her shadow self—not as a victim, but as someone committed to softening.

And when the sun shines, those feelings are illuminated—not with guilt or shame—but with compassion.

That, to me—and to women alike—is our new version of Queen energy.

🪞 How We Give It Away Without Realizing It

When we’re operating from the unhealed version of ourselves—the version that longs for understanding, safety, and completion—we don’t even realize how easily we betray our own essence.

The version that doesn’t allow herself to break.
That reverses her tears when they’re about to fall.
That says “I’m okay” when everything is falling apart.

Self-betrayal doesn’t always look like something loud or obvious.
It happens in small, subtle ways.

When I said “yes” with a tight chest.
When I overexplained my boundaries so I wouldn’t seem mean.
When I accepted less than I deserved just to feel like I had something.

Those little betrayals add up.
It’s why your mind won’t stop racing at night.
Why the anxiety creeps in when the world finally gets quiet.

When we’re in a state of self-betrayal, we’re draining our essence.
We’re giving away our Queen energy without even realizing it.

Today, we recognize the signs—and we change the course.

🌿 How We Reclaim It Softly

Reclaiming my Queen energy hasn’t looked like a grand declaration.
In fact, it’s hard.
It’s ugly.
It’s raw.

It’s looked like my intuition telling me to go—and me leaving, without questioning it.
Without waiting around to see if I was crazy.

It’s looked like being brutally honest with myself.
Saying things like:
“This is the need to be accepted coming up.”
“This isn’t what you really want.”

Letting your emotions flow after years of suppressing them?
It’s foreign.

Staying true to yourself sometimes results in things you don’t want.
But the woman you’re becoming is worth the painful deshedding process.

She’s worth every ounce of discomfort to become exactly who you’ve always imagined you were.

Sometimes, reclaiming your Queen energy looks like lying in bed rewatching Insecure,
reading a good book and putting your phone on DND.

And sometimes, it’s standing in the mirror and whispering:
“Who I truly am is surfacing with every step I take.”

💌 Soft Return Reflection Prompts

Where am I still abandoning myself to feel chosen, accepted, or safe?
What would it look like to honor my Queen energy—even in the smallest way—this weekend?
What has my intuition been whispering that I’ve been too busy or afraid to hear?

✨ Affirmation Set

I honor my softness, my voice, and my inner wisdom. I choose presence over performance, and stillness over striving.

I release the version of me that survived by suppressing. I choose expansion, even when it’s uncomfortable.

My intuition is not a question—it’s a compass. I trust where she leads me. She will never lead me wrong.

🌸🌼 Thanks for Reading

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for holding space with me.
I hope this entry invites you to hold space for yourself—gently, truthfully, and without apology.

Here’s to the return.
To softness.
To the Queen you’re becoming—and you always knew you would be.

Until next Friday. 💌

🎧 A Queen Energy Wind Down Playlist

Sounds for your soft return.
Press play when you’re ready to vibe, wind down, or just need some background music.

✨🎀 Listen Here 🎀✨

                                       ⬇️⬇️

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