Brielle’s Archive
An ode to timeless femininity

Growing up, I remember my grandma’s voice following me around the house.

“Do it little by little. You’re a girl.”

Sometimes she would simply say, “Slow down.”

She would say it while I was doing my chores, rushing through one thing so I could get to the next. I would smile, finish anyway, and we would both laugh when she repeated herself.

My mom would say it too.

I heard them both for years.

I just didn’t listen.

It took me reaching my early twenties, with a handful of achievements, failures, mistakes, and a series of heartaches, to finally understand what they were trying to teach me.

Sometimes I laugh when I think about it.

Today, I cried a little.

Because I wish I had listened.

Not because they were telling me to do less. They were teaching me something much more difficult: how to live while doing.

I had spent so much of my life believing that the goal was simply to get there. Finish the chore. Reach the goal. Make the money. Become the woman. Fix the problem. Move on.

I spent years confusing urgency with ambition.

Everything felt like it needed to happen now.

And when it didn't, I felt like I was falling behind.

But there is a difference between moving forward and constantly rushing towards somewhere else.

Marcus Aurelius wrote, “Very little is needed to make a happy life.”

I used to think a full life meant having more to show for it.

More achievements. More experiences. More proof that I was becoming someone.

Now I wonder if a full life might also mean having enough stillness to notice the life you already have.

There is an art to doing things slowly.

Not lazily.

Not without intention.

Slowly.

There is an art to drinking your coffee without mentally running through the next fifty things you need to accomplish.

To sitting somewhere without immediately reaching for your phone.

To letting a conversation breathe.

To taking a walk without turning it into exercise.

To sleeping without feeling guilty that you could have been doing something productive.

To pausing before you say yes.

To thinking twice before you lay down in that man's bed.

To letting the phone ring when you know you don't have the emotional capacity to answer it.

To choosing girls' night because you genuinely want to go, not because you are afraid of being forgotten.

I am learning that not every opportunity is an assignment.

Not every invitation needs an answer.

Not every door needs to be opened.

And not every season of your life needs to produce something you can put on a résumé.

Some seasons are simply meant to be lived.

I am learning this now, and it has made me look back at all the little patches I left open while I was rushing towards my goals.

The friendships I didn't nurture.

The moments I didn't fully experience.

The versions of myself I was too impatient to understand.

The mornings I woke up already thinking about tomorrow.

No regrets.

I don't want to punish the younger woman I was for surviving life the only way she knew how.

She was ambitious.

She was hopeful.

She was scared.

She wanted so badly to become the woman she imagined that sometimes she forgot to be the woman standing in front of the mirror.

I understand her now.

And I am softer with her.

Maybe growing older is not just becoming wiser.

Maybe it is learning how to stop fighting the pace at which life is unfolding.

Shhhhh.

Breathe.

Listen.

Notice how the noise begins to fade when you stop feeding it.

There is a whole life underneath the rushing.

A quiet one.

A beautiful one.

The one where you can sit with yourself without needing to improve yourself.

The one where you can achieve something and still rest.

The one where you can want more without believing that what you have is not enough.

I think this is the kind of peace my grandma was trying to give me all those years ago.

Not permission to dream smaller.

Not permission to become less ambitious.

Just a reminder that I don't have to sprint through my own life to prove that I am living it.

Little by little.

I think I finally understand.

I am healing.

I am learning.

I am growing.

And I am documenting it all, not because I have figured life out, but because perhaps somewhere, another woman is rushing too.

Perhaps she is sitting with her coffee, already thinking about the next thing.

Perhaps she is wondering if she is behind.

Perhaps she needs someone to remind her that she isn't.

So, my love, take the seat.

Drink the coffee.

Let the day be unfinished.

You are allowed to be a woman in progress without treating yourself like a project.

There is still so much life waiting for you in the moments you almost rushed past.

And maybe that is what my grandma meant all along.

Do it little by little.

Slow down.

You’re a girl.

I think I finally listened.

With Love 🤍

Selah.

Growing up, I was the child who owned a hundred books before she owned five pairs of shoes. I filled notebooks with my thoughts, gratitude lists, wins, losses, mistakes, dreams, poetry, new words, and random ideas that crossed my mind. I joined book clubs whenever I could and found my way into creative groups and societies in every new environment I found myself in.

Writing wasn't just something I did. It was home.

Then life happened.

Adulthood happened. Motherhood happened.

And somewhere along the way, I lost touch with the things that made my soul smile. The things that made my inner child feel alive.

A few months ago, I stumbled across Substack through a friend's story. I got curious. I spent time exploring the platform, reading, learning, and trying to understand what made it special.

Eventually, I started posting.

At first, the room was quiet.

But that wasn't the important part.

The important part was that I found the courage to write again. To share thoughts that had been sitting quietly inside me for years. To revisit memories, ideas, and pieces of myself that had somehow gotten buried beneath the responsibilities of life.

And then something unexpected happened.

In that quiet room, I started hearing voices.

Kind voices.

Thoughtful voices.

Encouraging voices.

I discovered some of the most wonderful people are here on Substack, people who read, connect, share, and remind you that your words matter.

So today, I just want to say thank you.

Thank you for reading.

Thank you for connecting.

And thank you for helping me find my voice again.

With gratitude,

Brielleslivn 🤎

I've healed enough to finally talk about it.

Healing taught me that the wounds we ignore don’t disappear, they simply wait to be acknowledged.

Maybe someone needs to read this today and maybe this is the sign you've been asking for.

There was a time when I was painfully shy. I was timid, afraid, and constantly second-guessing myself. For years, I thought that was just my personality.

It wasn't.

As I got older and started doing the hard work of healing, I began to understand where so much of it came from. Childhood experiences I had buried for years. The domestic violence. The hurt. The fear. The things I convinced myself I had moved on from.

The truth is, some wounds don't disappear just because time passes.

They settle quietly inside you.

They show up in your relationships. In the way you react to criticism. In the way you struggle to trust people. In the way you overthink every little thing. In the way you become defensive before anyone even has the chance to hurt you.

For a long time, I didn't realize I was carrying all of that.

I was walking through life with invisible baggage.

One of the hardest things I discovered during my healing journey was that I had hidden resentment toward the people who caused me pain. Not because I thought about it every day, but because the hurt was still there.

Unspoken pain has a way of turning into anger.

And anger, when left untouched, can slowly become bitterness.

The scary part is that life is so busy now. Between social media, work, responsibilities, and trying to survive, we rarely sit still long enough to notice what is happening inside us.

We learn how to function, but functioning isn't the same as healing.

Healing forced me to sit with myself, to ask uncomfortable questions and It made me look at parts of myself I wanted to avoid.

And honestly?

It hurt.

Healing is painful because it asks you to feel everything you've spent years trying not to feel.

But it was also the most freeing thing I've ever done.

So what helped me?

I started trying to become a better human being, not a perfect one.

I learned to forgive, even when it was difficult. Stopped asking only, "Why did this happen to me?" and started asking, "What can I learn from this?"

I became more intentional about my health. I paid attention to my sleep, became careful about the content I consumed and generally just protected my peace.

I learned to speak up when something hurt me instead of swallowing my feelings. Most importantly I stopped shrinking myself to make other people comfortable.

Lastly , I took everything to God.

Before every major decision, every breakdown, every moment of confusion, I talked to Him.

I cried, prayed, questioned sometimes and somehow, through it all, He stayed.

I truly believe God listens when we call on Him. Not always in the way we expect, but in the way we need.

I also learned to walk away from environments that constantly drained me.

I learned that protecting your peace is not selfish. It's necessary.

I became brave enough to defend myself.

I learned to give people grace and myself too, because sometimes the version of me that made mistakes was simply a wounded version of me trying to survive.

Why am I sharing this?

Because I know someone reading this feels trapped inside their own story.

Maybe you're carrying shame, anger or wounds that nobody knows about.

Maybe you're smiling in public and struggling in private.

I want you to know something.

You are not broken.

You are not too damaged.

You are not beyond healing.

If I could make it through, so can you.

Today, I can honestly say that I let it go.

I forgave myself.

I forgave the people who hurt me.

I forgave the younger version of me that didn't know any better.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel free.

These days, I often think about my future self.

The woman I'm becoming.

The woman God is preparing me to be.

She inspires me.

And I know she doesn't need these old burdens.

So every day, I choose to put them down.

Not because the past didn't happen.

But because my future deserves a lighter version of me.

And maybe yours does too.

Love,

Brielle’s Livn

I almost spiraled today. 😭I sat there crying because I felt like my life was a mess and I wasn’t doing enough. I opened my music app ready to find the saddest song and sink deeper into my feelings, but a random gospel song started playing instead. And somehow, it reminded me of what I had forgotten - I’m alive. I still have hope, and maybe I’m doing better than I give myself credit for. Then, I realized I wasn’t lacking blessings I was lacking gratitude.

So I wiped my tears, found a few songs that made my heart smile, and carried on. 🤍✨Funny how a song can change your entire day.

GRATITUDE is remembering that today’s reality was once yesterday’s prayer. 🌷

When was the last time you thanked God for the things you once prayed for?

The funny thing is, I used to be all in. I was the friend who showed up, shared what I could, gave advice, paid the bill sometimes. Most of those friendships ended anyway, over boundaries, misunderstandings, timing, or simply life being life.

For a while, I convinced myself I was too hurt to make new friends. Maybe I’d get hurt again. Maybe I’d be the one doing the hurting.

So I got comfortable with my own company. And honestly? It’s beautiful here.

These days, I think of friendships like a mall. Some people stop by briefly, some stay longer, and everyone eventually goes home.

I still admire those decade-long friendships i see online. They’re lovely. But I’ve learned that not everyone is meant to have the same kind of connections, and that’s okay.

I gave myself time to heal. To cry, laugh, grow, and become someone I genuinely like.

And now? The healed version of me comes with a small tax. If I choose to keep you, you get the softer, sweeter version of my heart.

So, if you’re also taking your time with friendship too, that’s okay. The world isn’t running out of good people. 🫶🏼✨

They shine !

Not because they never fail, but because they never stop becoming. They keep evolving, growing, learning, trying again. Even when no one is watching, they’re still working on their craft, still reaching for something greater than they were yesterday.

Maybe that’s what makes a star a star.

People admire them. Some envy them. Some love them. Some hate them. Some spend their lives wishing they could be them. But none of that changes what they do. They keep shining anyway.

I think there’s something beautiful about that.

So here’s my little morning prayer for all of us: may we never become stagnant. May we always have the courage to grow, the humility to learn, and the strength to keep showing up, even on the days our light feels dim. And may the universe protect every one of us as we find our own way to shine.

With Love,

Brielleslivn ✨

Like a cat, I have lived nine lives.

In eight of them, I made mistakes. I judged myself too harshly. I succeeded, I failed, I was betrayed, and I betrayed others. I lost friendships, I carried heartbreak, and I spent so much of myself trying to make everyone else happy. I was selfless to a fault, and somewhere along the way, I forgot to be kind to myself.

But this ninth life is different.

I have gathered the broken pieces of who I used to be. I have healed. I have let go. I have forgiven myself and given myself the grace I once thought I had to earn.

In this life, I know there will still be hurdles. There will still be days that test me. The difference is that I am no longer afraid of them. I am braver, stronger, and far more prepared than I have ever been.

I no longer hide my scars. They remind me that I survived.

So here's to Chapter 9. To choosing myself without guilt. To loving myself without conditions. To becoming someone I can be proud of.

And if life ever knocks me down again, I'll simply begin again.

From Chapter 1.

©️BWS

Like a cat, I have lived nine lives.

In eight of them, I made mistakes. I judged myself too harshly. I succeeded, I failed, I was betrayed, and I betrayed others. I lost friendships, I carried heartbreak, and I spent so much of myself trying to make everyone else happy. I was selfless to a fault, and somewhere along the way, I forgot to be kind to myself.

But this ninth life is different.

I have gathered the broken pieces of who I used to be. I have healed. I have let go. I have forgiven myself and given myself the grace I once thought I had to earn.

In this life, I know there will still be hurdles. There will still be days that test me. The difference is that I am no longer afraid of them. I am braver, stronger, and far more prepared than I have ever been.

I no longer hide my scars. They remind me that I survived.

So here's to Chapter 9. To choosing myself without guilt. To loving myself without conditions. To becoming someone I can be proud of.

And if life ever knocks me down again, I'll simply begin again.

From Chapter 1.

©️BWS