I think it’s something we learn unintentionally….over and over again.

Until one day we mistake someone else’s voice for our own.

I’ve always wondered how some people seem to trust themselves so easily and come off so confident, while the rest of us are somewhere second-guessing every decision.

For most of my life, I thought self-doubt was just part of my personality. I assumed some people were naturally confident, while others like myself, were just insecure by default.

But the older I get, and the deeper I go into therapy, the more I realize confidence isn’t just a flaw in self-perception.

It’s something I’ve come to learn is either protected or interrupted.

Protected as in growing up in an environment where your thoughts, feelings, and instincts were consistently welcomed. Interrupted as in the total opposite.

Mine were interrupted, and admitting that to myself stings just as much.

I wasn’t abused in the ways people usually imagine.

Instead, I was taught, little by little, brick by brick, that my inner world couldn’t be trusted—that it was purely irrelevant.

I’ve been thinking a lot about foundations lately.

A house doesn’t collapse because of one bad brick.

It collapses because enough bad bricks were overlooked during construction.

The same is true for self-trust and assurance.

When you’re constantly criticized as a child, you stop trusting your first instinct.

When your emotions are dismissed, you start apologizing to people who hurt you for having them.

When your intentions are questioned, you start overexplaining yourself.

When love feels inconsistent, you begin believing that love in return is something you have to earn instead of simply receive.

Sometimes that looks like choosing burdensome relationships because they feel familiar.

People often imagine trauma as something dramatic and over the top.

And sometimes it is.

But other times trauma simply reflects back never feeling seen, and having your feelings repeatedly being dismissed rather than explored.

What about becoming so accustomed to criticism that you begin criticizing yourself before anyone else gets the chance? Let me be the first to say that I am exceptional at this.

Since my last therapy session, I’ve noticed that moving back home didn’t make me regress the way I feared it would.

It actually helped me realize just how much of my self-doubt was environmental—slowly baked into me over 3 decades of life.

I can leave for work feeling confident.

Come back here.

And within an hour, I’m questioning decisions, recovering from being gaslit, and feeling like that lonely little girl silently crying out for help all over again.

I didn’t realize how much of my life had been built on that foundation until I moved back home.

I thought going backward meant I hadn’t grown.

That I had officially failed my mission.

Instead, I discovered old environments have a way of introducing you to old versions of yourself.

The shadows we would normally keep in check get more mischievous.

Could it be that my nervous system remembers this environment better than my conscious mind does?

Therapy Taught Me Something Spirituality Couldn’t

Sorry to break it to you, but spirituality doesn’t replace therapy.

Therapy doesn’t replace spirituality.

Healing doesn’t erase history.

And I’m not saying that because spirituality isn’t powerful.

It is.

Spirituality helped me to understand “why” things were happening.

Therapy helped me understand what happened that I may have blocked out and made those patterns possible in the first place.

Those are two completely different questions being answered in unison.

One gave me meaning.

The other gave me understanding.

At the end of the day, I needed both.

Self-Doubt Makes Certainty Look Arrogant

For years, I thought trusting myself meant never making mistakes.

Now I understand how trusting yourself means believing you’ll survive your mistakes without abandoning yourself.

That’s my kind of confidence.

The kind that isn’t built on always being right.

Some of the decisions I regret weren’t made because I lacked wisdom.

They were made because I didn’t believe my own wisdom deserved to be trusted.

Self-doubt has a strange way of making certainty look arrogant.

So, we ask everyone else what they think.

We collect opinions.

We over-explain.

Then we wait for permission.

Until eventually…

we forget our own intuition was left out of the whole dam conversation.

Until Next Time,

Peace & Blessings

I know there is a shit load of content all over this here internet saying it does the opposite, but it killed mine.

Now don’t get it twisted, I was mature enough in my thinking to know that, as a mom and as someone responsible for another human being, quitting a soul-sucking job to chase my dreams was never an option. But when I got laid off, I did initially think maybe God was giving me a shot.

A shot to live my life more intentionally.

A shot to make decisions as the woman I am now, instead of the lost little girl I was a decade ago.

And I’m not saying God didn’t give me a shot, because that could not be furthest from the truth.

It just didn’t happen in the way I imagined.

I honestly wasn’t expecting it to be this messy.

I never thought all my paintings and art supplies would be locked away in storage for months.

I never thought I would have to face the parts of myself I thought I had already escaped.

Since I’ve been unemployed, I thought I would feel freer, yet instead my life has been turned upside down.

God took away everything and left me with nothing but my faith.

My home.

My privacy.

My independence.

And at times, it felt like my dignity was gone too.

Because of all this, I had to move back to my hometown with my mother—a place filled with bad memories, unfinished business, and things I thought I had already buried and got away from.

It’s been eight long months.

In that time, I’ve been severely injured with no justice. I’ve been disrespected, taken for granted, and shown very clearly who was really in my corner and who wasn’t. I’ve had to confront the fact that I’ve given grace to people who never deserved it while working myself to the bone trying to right every wrong and make sense of every lesson.

When you’re born into poverty, there are certain mistakes you simply cannot afford to make.

I don’t have a trust fund waiting for me if my art doesn’t take off. And even if it does, who’s to say it would be enough?

I’m not saying don’t follow your dreams.

I’m just saying be strategic about it.

Move intentionally.

Don’t make life-changing decisions based on emotion alone.

This is chess, not checkers.

Even though I didn’t physically leave my job before I was laid off, mentally I had already checked out long before then. I just thought I had more time.

More time to figure things out.

More time to make a move.

I got comfortable enough to put that job on autopilot. I explored new skills, but I never fully committed to one path because I believed I had longer to decide.

And that’s what I regret.

Not becoming an artist.

Not pouring into my creativity.

Not even striving for something bigger.

I regret trying to build it all on a weak foundation.

When I started the job, I was laid off from, I wasn’t even an artist at the time. I had no idea what my gifts were. I wasn’t looking for them either.

But through all this darkness, I found them.

I found my voice.

I found my purpose.

I found the kind of artist I am meant to be.

I understand my place now, and why I was given it.

Had I simply jumped from one soul-sucking job to another, I don’t think I would understand any of that.

And if I hadn’t gotten laid off, I never would have gone back to school to finish my degree at ODU after dropping out years ago to give birth to my son and work full-time so I could provide for him.

I wouldn’t be doing any of this.

Maybe that’s the lesson.

Maybe unemployment didn’t kill my creativity after all.

Maybe survival buried it for a while.

Maybe God stripped away everything that wasn’t built to last so I could finally see what was.

Obviously, I still don’t have all the answers.

I’m still rebuilding.

But for the first time in a long time, I know exactly who I am.

P.S. If you would like to get the story behind this reflection, I shared it on my youtube…

Until next time, and hopefully soon,

Peace & Blessings

I understand why.

Art doesn’t owe anyone an explanation. And some work truly arrives in silence.

Mine doesn’t.

For me, the painting is never the beginning, but more like the arrival.

The final form after moving through me in layers—feeling, memory, questioning, language, then image. The story and the painting are born from the same place. To separate them would feel dishonest to how the work actually comes into being.

My work is layered by nature. It’s about one thing and many things all at once. I can hold a clear intention while still leaving room for someone else’s truth to enter and live there too. Sharing my story doesn’t close meaning—it actually opens it.

Take my first collection, Red Roots.

On my end, it was about meeting my dark feminine. About ancestry. About tracing the patterns moving through my bloodline and understanding why I am the way I am. The roots wrapped around the figures weren’t symbols of shame or burden. They were acknowledgments. Yes, I have a past. Yes, there are deep roots beneath me. And yes—I can still make something beautiful from that knowing.

That was my truth.

But one of the women who collected a piece from that series saw something else entirely. She was a survivor of domestic violence and sexual assault. To her, the roots were endurance rather than ancestry like they were for me. They represented what tried to entangle her and what ultimately failed to break her. She saw feminine strength. Survival. Continuation.

Neither one of us were wrong.

That’s why I share the stories.

Not to dictate meaning or control perception, like some may think—but to reveal the soil my work grows from.

My poetry exists alongside my paintings because that’s the path the process takes me down. Words help me excavate what the image will eventually hold. The story doesn’t compete with the work—it completes me as I create it.

You’re free to see whatever you see.

You’re free to feel whatever you feel.

Until next time,

Peace & Blessings

See it’s not always about the chaos of everything going wrong, but more so the tension of things going right—just not right now.

In my 37 years of life, I can say I’ve been through some challenging things, however I can’t necessarily be sure anymore if it was ever discomfort.

Sadness yes.

Grief yes.

Humiliation yes.

Childhood trauma yes.

Betrayal yes.

But discomfort? I can’t confidently say that I have anymore.

I’m not talking about the discomfort that shows up as a side effect of what I just listed—I’m talking about the kind that shows up when you’ve outgrown old responses, but haven’t fully landed in your new inquiry.

Stay with me here.

Lately, I’ve been responding to life differently than I used to.

Pausing where I’d normally react.

Choosing restraint where I’d normally reach for familiarity.

And every time that happens, something very subtle seems to follow. Not necessarily an applause or certainty, but more like an intuitive nudge telling me that this is what growth is suppose to feel like—keep up the good work.

No one really prepares you for the part where you start questioning your own choices. The part where you ask yourself, why tf did I sign up for this?

The death of old environments.

The loneliness of being early.

The moment when comfort disappears before the unseen becomes seen.

This is the phase I’ve found a lot of people have given up and turned back to the familiar. And now that I am in it, fully, in the trenches, I finally understand what drove them to that point. It’s a scary place to be.

Honestly if I didn’t have my support system, I would have turned back too. Thats how big of a beast this shit really is.

I’m not about to front like I’m not receiving some sort of help in the process because that would be very misleading, and I’m just not that kind of person. Not saying it can’t be done, I’m just saying it takes A LOT of mental strength regardless of the situation or who’s around to lend a helping hand. No one will ever be able to see your vision but you.

If you want to change anything in your life, break generational curses, or whatever your why may be, just know that shadow will be right there waiting or not too far behind. So be prepared to keep it in check.

Manifestation is not Your Invisible Fairy Godmother

Manifestation, spiritual, self awareness, etc is sold like it’s cute. Like it’s an aesthetic. Like it comes with instant alignment and external validation. But in real life, it feels more like pressure. Like friction. Like a constant internal battle between who you’ve been and who you want to be.

It reminds me of how snakes shed their skin. It’s not this easy peasy clean process. It’s actually very slow, uncomfortable, and sometimes very painful for them. The old layer has to loosen before it can fall away—this is the phase where they say the snake is the most vulnerable.

Every day lately, I can feel parts of myself shedding. The version that tolerated too much. The one who overextended to be chosen. The one who stayed quiet to stay safe.

Thats where I am and maybe where you are too.

Not failure. Not punishment. Just the cost of becoming someone your old habits or environment can no longer sustain.

I’m slowly learning that transformation and redesigning your life on your terms charges a lot plus tax. But I’m also learning that staying the same comes with a lifelong fine as well.

And at some point, we all have to choose which bill we’re going to pay in this life.

If you’re in a season where things feel tight, unfamiliar, or unsteady, it doesn’t mean something is wrong, or that you need to give up and turn back.

It might mean you’re early.

It might mean you’re shedding.

It might mean you’re learning how to sit with discomfort, instead of running back to what used to feel safe.

This is not the time for perfection—it’s a time to be present.

And the bravest thing we can do, is stay with ourselves as the skin comes off.

Until next time,

Peace & Blessings

Some rooms drain you the moment you enter. Others make you so relaxed you don’t want to leave.

These feelings go far beyond aesthetics—it’s alchemical.

Space is not neutral. It’s an active ingredient.

Where you live, where you rest, where you create—these places are constantly affecting you, whether you’re paying attention to it or not.

They shape posture. Breath. Attention span. Even what you believe is possible.

I’ve learned this the hard way.

Crowded rooms taught me contraction.

Dim or poorly lit rooms taught me endurance.

Spaces without windows taught me dissociation and lack of ventilation. Whew..I will never do that one again..smh.

And light—real, honest light—taught me truth.

Alchemy begins with environment. Before intention, before action, there is containment.

The vessel matters. A cracked vessel cannot hold transformation without leakage.

This is why I don’t chase “trends.” I study conditions.

Light that moves across a room throughout the day.

Materials that age instead of rot. Silence that isn’t sterile but alive.

A space doesn’t need to be large to be potent. It needs to be aligned.

When a space is right, you don’t force productivity. You don’t have to hype yourself into creation.

Your body settles.

Your nervous system exhales.

The work rises naturally.

That’s alchemy, and alchemy doesn’t force gold into existence—it creates conditions where the transformation into the gold is inevitable.

Therefore, I no longer compartmentalize my inner life from my surroundings. I keep them both in constant cahoots with one another.

When my environment is chaotic, so are my thoughts. When my environment is intentional, so is my clarity.

This is not about luxury—this is just how nature works.

Like a chair that supports your back. A window that reminds you time is moving.

A corner with space that only you can take up—all are small decisions with large consequences.

No longer am I interested in spaces that impress—only spaces that initiate and elevate. I'm curating my space, just as I’m curating my life.

Because who you become is always shaped by where you choose to stand.

Until next time,

Peace & Blessings

You've blessed me with.

Everything I worried about, every excuse I made....stripped away.

Please don't let my mind waste this time.

Faith is all I have left.

Just me and You, face to face.

I promise I'm not complaining

I'm just getting to know habits I never knew I had.

God, please don't let my mind waste this time.

Everything is gone, I have nothing left.

Creating new worries feels like home.

Creating beauty feels foreign.

But here I am, standing in the middle of nowhere.

So what now?

Do I run back home or keep walking?

I can't decide.

God, please don't let my mind waste this time.

Time God Don’t Let Me is apart of my larger body of work—Renaissance Noir. View the FREE collectors preview to get the final look inside my collection—the poems, paintings, downloads, and symbolism that all shaped it.

DOWNLOAD HERE

Until next time,

Peace and Blessings

It’s evidence of proximity.

You don’t compare yourself to lives you can’t imagine.

You compare yourself to people who feel reachable.

People whose work, growth, or freedom lives just close enough to trigger something in you.

I don’t see that as jealousy—I see it as awareness.

We treat comparison like a verdict—something to feel ashamed of or defend against.

But most of the time, it’s really just a mirror held too close.

When someone else’s progress makes you uncomfortable, it’s not because they’re ahead of you.

It’s because they’re near the edge of what you know is possible for you.

If comparison were proof of failure, it would hit more randomly.

But it doesn’t.

It shows up around the things you’re actively working toward.

The internet doesn’t cause comparison—it collapses distance.

It places us in rooms we would have never entered any other way.

It seats us at tables with people who are ten steps ahead, two steps ahead, or walking parallel to us in a way we can finally see and feel.

What you’re feeling isn’t inferiority—it’s friction from the proximity.

And friction isn’t a sign to give up or attack—it’s merely a signal of contact.

Comparison doesn’t accuse us.

Comparison doesn’t define us.

It doesn’t get to have the final say.

Comparison is your GPS.

It pins your location, and shows how far you are from what you want.

What you decide to do with that information is up to you.

I’m making my own way.

Stopped following surface level directions—written in languages my soul doesn’t speak.

The most high pushed me into something so vast—I just can’t grasp.

This unknown world,

I can feel it,

I just can’t see it.

Will I rise or will I crumble?

For a personal portfolio of my writings and paintings, download my Collector's Preview

Stronger.

Smarter.

Skinnier.

Taller.

Younger.

Chile the list will never end...

So why do we let something so endless steal our happiness?

No one can be me. I can only be me.

No one can be you. You can only be you.

And no one can take what God has for us both from either of us.

So why do we waste so much time and energy measuring ourselves against what we think is “better,” or worse—what someone “told” us was better?

As a millennial, comparison didn’t always feel this heavy and suffocating.

Before the internet, it was easier to avoid.

Back then, you could live life without constantly being confronted by someone else’s highlight reel—simply by not having to be around them.

Now? You can’t escape it—especially if you’re a creator. Especially if you want better for yourself. Especially if you’ve outgrown your environment.

Now? All of your desires are served to you virtually—through strangers living them out.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s very inspiring to see that things are possible, but dam..

we are still human—and somedays it’s hard not to get impatient with yourself from time to time.

The Trade Off

Every day we’re exposed to better writers, better artists, better thinkers, and so on and so forth. And it’s not like we went out looking for them either—they’re placed right in front of us all day everyday. Yet somehow we still have to find a way to create through all the noise.

That’s the trade-off, and I don’t see anybody else talking about it. It’s like survival of the fittest out here. We have to clear out our own static. Maybe that’s a reason why so many are pissed about people using AI to create. Maybe it’s because it’s just bringing more static.

The internet gives us loads of access to information. No one is really able to gate keep anymore like they used to—just look at Hollywood.

You can learn how to create, build, market, master—whatever you want. The information is infinite.

But everything comes with a cost.

What we gained in access, we’ve lost in insulation.

We lost the invisible shield that once protected us from constant comparison.

Anyone who says they’ve never struggled with comparing themselves to others—especially as creators online—is a bold face lie, and I wouldn’t take any advice from those people.

If you’re building something online, if this is your doorway to changing your reality, comparison isn’t optional. It’s part of the environment.

You’re not creating in isolation. You’re creating alongside billions of people who are also trying to be seen, heard, chosen, and elevated through their work.

Everyone is reaching for something. Everyone is trying to move forward. And that shared hunger can either sharpen us—or paralyze us.

Comparison is the New Proximity

Since I started posting my work online back in 2019, I’ve come to learn that comparison isn’t a personal flaw—it’s a symptom of proximity.

The question isn’t why does comparison exist?

The real question is: What do we do with it once we notice it’s there?

Maybe comparison isn’t asking us to disappear, get jealous, or compete harder.

Maybe it’s just asking us to locate ourselves.

Every time I catch myself comparing, I take a moment to pause and ask myself:

What exactly is making me feel behind—what train do I feel I’m going to miss?

What do I feel this person I’m comparing myself to is going to take away from me?

Comparison doesn’t mean you are failing.

It just means you’re getting closer to something you care about.

So, instead of using that closeness to shrink or bask in envy—use it as information.

A signal.

A compass.

Proof.

Proof that you’re paying attention.

Until next time,

Peace & Blessings

What I’m running from is chasing me.

My mind is heavy,

but my heart is open.

Am I invisible?

Yesterday I felt so aligned.

Today I’m just disorganized.

I fight and I fight—I’m tired.

Why give me all this fire with no flame?

Why won’t this caged bird sing?

Moving Statues is apart of my larger body of work—Renaissance Noir. View the FREE collectors preview to get the final look inside my collection—the poems, paintings, downloads, and symbolism that all shaped it.

DOWNLOAD HERE

Until Next Time,

Peace and Blessings

All four paintings in this project carries the weight of becoming conscious inside of chaos in four different forms.

As a woman learning how to stand in her truth without needing permission, an audience, or applause—Renaissance Noir’ did it’s job.

It cleared residue and closed perpetual cycles.

It honored the woman I was when I didn’t know how to protect myself, and it made her feel welcome.

And now….it is has come to a close.

A Pause Between Worlds

There is always a moment after the burial and before the bloom.

A quiet corridor where nothing looks dramatic from the outside, but everything inside is reorganizing.

This is where I am now. Still. Observing. Preparing.

No longer bleeding, not yet flying, but ready.

And from all this, something new has already starting taking form.

What’s Forming Now

I’m entering a different phase of my work.

Renaissance Noir’ was about surviving the collapse of an old version of myself.

Hope Visionz is all about what happens after you stop collapsing, and start stepping out in the new.

This next collection is not about proving resilience or turning pain into spectacle. It’s about precision. Living with intention. Discernment. The kind of hope that comes from knowing yourself well enough to no longer betray yourself or sell yourself short.

Hope Visionz is rooted in:

• clarity after endurance

• rebuilding

• abundance

• freedom that is physical, spiritual, emotional, and financial

It’s about spreading your wings after getting out of that cocoon—not rushing the process, not skipping the integration. This goes far beyond delusional optimism.

I’m no longer creating from survival.

I’m creating from alignment.

And that changes everything for me.

This work is softer in palette, intentional in form, and rooted in the knowing that hope is not something you wait for, but something you practice.

Collectors & Supporters

If you’ve followed my work closely, you may know my collections are not isolated moments. They are chapters from a larger body of work.

I’ve created a Collector Preview that documents:

• the Renaissance Noir collection

• my artistic language overall

• and the world my work lives inside

If you’d like to download the free preview and step closer into this next chapter, you can do so here:

Download Collector's Preview

Those who download the Collector Preview, you’ll receive first access to limited-edition prints from the Renaissance Noir collection, before they are released publicly, as well as early access to upcoming drops from my next body of work.

(This preview is offered intentionally to those who feel called to support, collect, and witness the work as it evolves.)

About the Prints

I’m taking my time with this….

Each print will be produced in small, intentional batches—no print-on-demand, no shortcuts. I’ve tried the print on demand thing in my early days, and I just can’t get with it.

Every piece will be printed by hand, by me, signed, and professionally framed.

My work will no longer be rolled into tubes or treated as disposable objects. They will be prepared the way I created them—protected, ready to be held, displayed, and kept. From now on I’ll be prioritizing quality and longevity over rushing and mass production.

As always,

Peace & Blessings

Sometimes life will get tired of waiting on you to make up your mind, and eventually snatches you out instead.

We like to think we’ll exit gracefully when the time comes, but that couldn’t be the furthest from the truth. Most of the time endings are messy, inconvenient, rude, too early or too late.

Every time I’ve been pushed out of room, something better would always be waiting on the other side. Something meant for me and only me.

One thing I’ve learned in 2025, when the universe wants you to move, it makes staying where you are impossible. And once you finally listen and just do it, you realize you’ve actually been rescued.

But what happens when your mind is ready long before your body can move? Why does it happen like that? It feels like I’ve quantum leaped mentally and spiritually but not physically. Like Im ready to take off and get moving but the universe is just like naw not right now.

Thats the part people don’t prepare us for.

Being returned to the same environment that broke you can be a painful experience.

That’s where I am right now.

Physically still. Spiritually alert. Vibrationally ahead.

I’m not who I was when this place last had power over me, and that’s the part that hurts the most. When you outgrow an environment but forced to remain inside it, almost every encounter will feel like friction. Every day requires restraint. Every move is intentional.

There’s a special kind of pain that comes with outgrowing a life you were once afraid to leave.

When your spirit has already packed it’s bags, but your body is still anchored financially, emotionally, mentally, or all the above.

Still waking up in the same place. Still navigating the same toxic energies.

People don’t talk about this part enough.

The waiting. The restraint. The feeling of being ready, but can’t take action. The stillness. Like a butterfly still trapped in it’s cocoon.

Stillness, I’m learning, is not rest. To me it feels more like containment. Somedays that can be a good thing and somedays the exact opposite.

I came back home to live with my mom at 37 because life demanded a pause for my body to heal, for my nervous system to recalibrate from the noise so I could clearly hear what’s next. But to me personally this kind of pause feels cruel, because I can see my new life forming. I can feel it and I can taste it. Why? Because I created it. The fucked up part about it is, it’s not yet my reality.

Even though my higher self knows it’s divine timing, my shadow is positively sure that it’s stagnation.

That’s the part I have to keep reminding myself.

All I can really do is observe, plan, and watch patterns repeat themselves so I know exactly what NOT to recreate. I’m learning how people respond when they sense they’re losing access to you. I’m learning how people change when they can no longer use you, and when you’re no longer convenient to them. I’m learning who truly cares for me and who just fed off my energy. Even though its hard and painful, it was just what I needed to make my decision, move on with my life and never look back. God has stopped me in my tracks and made it crystal clear to me who I can bring with me, and who I can’t bring.

My life is going to change.

I’m literally starting over from scratch and stepping into something better, abundant, and aligned. And God has already confirmed that I’m not obligated to take no one with me or save anyone but myself. I don’t owe that to anyone besides my offspring, and the days of me giving more than what I receive are over with. I was already shown who was never worthy and I’ve decided to listen this time.

You can be healed and still be uncomfortable. Two things can be true at the same time.

You can be clear and still be trapped by timing.

You can be ready and still have to wait.

Waiting doesn’t mean doubt has entered me. It means I’ve mastered self control, something I struggled with for most of my life.

There are days when the urge to run is physical. When staying calm feels like a spiritual chore. When I feel myself shrinking just to avoid conflict and then have to consciously refill again in private, reminding myself that this is temporary.

This environment broke a version of me who didn’t know who I was yet.

It will NOT break me again.

What I’m doing right now isn’t dramatic or visible. I’m not announcing shit. I’m not over explaining my plans nor my next moves. I’m not asking for permission or validation, because for what?

Stillness has sharpened me while teaching me patience without passivity.

Hope without fantasy.

Faith without denial.

I no longer mistake comfort for alignment.

When I leave, it won’t be loud. It won’t be chaotic. It won’t be revengeful. It will simply just be.

Until next time,

Peace & Blessings.

Life has a way of taking the things we thought belonged only to us, and forcing us to sit in the void.

I’ve been out on my own since I was 23; now I’m pushing 40 and decided not to renew my lease and move back in with my mother and stepfather.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve been scrambling to stand on a shaky foundation for a very long time. I’ve forced myself to take on “good jobs with benefits” that I always ended up hating. I’ve lived paycheck to paycheck with barely any room for savings and no energy leftover to make extra money. I’ve been living in survival for the majority of my adulthood, to the point where the stress of it all has affected my health mentally, spiritually, and physically.

That was back when I cared what people thought of me and constantly felt I had something to prove. I was a totally different person who couldn’t see past her ego. That was the girl who built this life that has come to a close. The girl who knew nothing about how energy worked or who she was as a spiritually awakened woman.

I’ve lost my job, my apartment, and studio space and yet the woman I am now actually feels relieved, free, and more aligned than ever before. See the woman I am now knows exactly what this is. God has given me the time and space to reset and create my life from a higher vibrating version of myself. The woman I am now knows this is not punishment, it’s a process, and I must trust it if I want to keep going. I could have never gotten the downloads I’ve been receiving with all that stress over me. It was just simply too much noise, too much static, too much friction to channel clearly. I was a walking broken antenna, and what had to happen—happened.

THE ALCHEMY LESSON

In alchemy, the first stage of transformation is calcination; which is the fire breaking down matter until only the essence remains. It’s the stage of collapse, the stage where everything feels like it’s falling apart.

Calcination is what the ego often sees as punishment, yet it’s the total opposite. It’s pardon, release, purification, and all those wrapped in one. It clears out the excess. It forces us to see what’s real and what’s just smoke.

These past few weeks I’ve been moving back in with family, painting only once a week, working gig jobs, questioning if my art will ever be seen the way I see it. And let me be clear, it has not been pretty. I am not this perfect, spiritual, and emotionally mastered person at all by far. I’ve cried. I’ve screamed. I’ve doubted. Trust me…I’ve had my days.

But my higher self has been helping me realize: I am living the calcination phase. The most high has been stripping away every false thing I thought defined me so that I can create from authenticity and truth. This is my phoenix rising.

Maybe you’re in calcination too. If everything feels like it’s falling apart, ask yourself:

• What is being burned away that I no longer need?

• What is the fire trying to reveal in me?

• How can I create beauty in the middle of the ashes?

Alchemy isn’t about avoiding the fire, it’s about trusting that you’ll reemerge refined and divine.

Until next time,

Peace and blessings.

Our generation (I’m a millennial) sits in a strange in-between.
See we remember back when Will was the blueprint:
funny, charming, charismatic, safe, but still Black sort of way that cracked open doors we didn’t even know we were locked behind.

He walked so a whole generation could even imagine themselves in certain rooms.
He mattered to us.
He still does.

Millennial Compassion, Gen Z Jokes, and the Sadness Behind the Laugh

Now let’s be clear,

We’re not here to tear him down.
We’re laughing the way people laugh at someone they love, who’s doing the absolute most, while being completely unaware of the fact that they never had to in the first place. If that makes sense. It probably doesn’t but whatever.

The truth is…Will, you were always enough.

You didn’t have to chase behind the youth.
You didn’t have to prove you could still rap.
You didn’t have to re-audition for the amazing things you’ve already accomplished.

Unfortunately, that’s the tragedy of unhealed creation. This is exactly why I write what I write about on here. When the applause dies down, some artists panic—and instead of turning inward, they reach outward, afraid of what they might find if they sit with themselves.

That’s what we’re seeing with this whole Will Smith midlife crisis thing.

And yes it’s uncomfortable to watch.
It’s awkward.
It’s a little funny.
But it’s also sad, because we all know collectively deep down that it didn’t have to be this way.

As an artist myself, I understand how easy it is to confuse validation with vitality.
To keep performing long after the curtain should’ve dropped.
To think relevance is the same as resonance.

But watching Will reminds me that legacy without healing that inner child emotionally and spiritually is a performance loop. You keep performing for love that can only be found in stillness; the very place, he’s probably afraid to be but NEEDS to be. In my opinion.

Toxic Masculinity (The Good Guy Version)

As a Black, creative, spiritually inclined woman, on the path that I’m on; I recognize the unbalanced masculine in all of this.

Toxic masculinity doesn’t just show up as rage or control—
Sometimes it looks like a man who’s spent decades holding it all together and letting stuff fester inside for so long, that one night he randomly ends up slapping somebody. I don’t think it was Chris Rock, I think it was everything. Everything he refuses to deal with for whatever reason.

The inability to let go. Refusal to surrender.

Yet from a spiritual perspective, the irony is, if Will had just paused…
If he had just went inward instead of outward…
Then he might’ve realized the very thing he’s working so hard to prove right now—we already gave him.

We already love you, Will.
You don’t have to rap for it.
You don’t have to perform for it.
You don’t have to be down with the young crowd for it.

Unfortunately, we live in an era that rewards visibility over vitality.
And watching Will Smith, I’m reminded that legacy without healing is a straight prison.
You can be crowned king of the world and still be starving for self. Trust me, I’ve seen it time and time again. He’s not the only man I’ve witnessed going through something like this, this man just happens to be a public figure.

He’s chasing the attention of young people with underdeveloped frontal lobes, trying to play 25 again, but instead it's giving “boy trapped in a grown man’s body who never had space to cry out loud.” It’s giving toxic masculinity all up and through.

So, What Can We Learn From All This?

As an emerging and fairly new artist, I don’t see a man trying to reinvent himself; I see a man trying not to disappear. Trying to outrun silence and darkness. Trying to perform through pain. Trying to reattach himself to relevance like it’s his last lifeline.

But to us, to artists rising from the chokeholds of branding, those of us doing the spiritual maintenance, we recognize the wound when we see it.

That’s not no dam comeback tour. That’s an unhealed inner child holding a mic, hoping the audience can clap loud enough to make the shame go away. It all just proves that healing is non-negotiable. That relevance isn’t real if it costs you your legacy. And that sometimes the best thing you can do for that hurt child inside is let the adult take the mic, and walk him back home.

So let this be a reminder:
If you're goal is to build legacy—do that soul work first.

Until next time loves,

Peace and Blessings

Not only do they come back—they come back with their friends, their fleas, as well as their funk. And before you know it, you got the whole gang just scratching at your door everyday, begging for more scraps.

That’s what this mess online been looking like to me lately.

All these AI-generated videos mocking Black women—monkeys in pink wigs, primal behavior, swallowing whole chicken legs, being absolute heathens.

Yeah… it’s giving gutter.

And let’s be clear—it’s not “just AI”…(whatever that means).

It’s intentional. It’s calculated. It’s energy siphoning.

Another spiritual attack strikes again.

They can hide behind “AI” all they want to; I can see it for what it is. The people behind those disgusting videos are the kind of folks who need to mask their hate through prompt engineering and call it comedy, because they know damn well they could never survive off their own light beyond those gutters underground.

I would show exactly what I’m referring to in this post, because you know I’m all about the visuals. But I thought about it, and I refuse to help it grow legs and spread even more by putting that energy on my page. If you’re curious to see for yourself, they are all over the internet, on every platform. The algorithm is having a good old time circulating such content, so I am sure you will have no trouble finding it. But anywho..

This made me realize something. They’re not mocking who we are. They’re mocking who they need us to be—loud, broken, ignorant to self. Why? Because that version of us was easy to exploit. That version of us was beneficial.

But I don’t know about you, but I’m not interested in serving scraps.

We’re resting. Well, I am at least. Remembering. Rising into my divine feminine. My sovereignty. My truth.

And chile they can't it.

It’s like one attack on us after another, and it’s getting old.

So I say let them have their fun. Some may not agree or see it this way but that’s cool, whatever works for you. Protecting my energy is what works for me, and I’m good with what works.

It’s kind of interesting watching them starved gutter rats claw at my windows begging for shelter while I sip my tea at the altar of Reclamation Proclamation.

The Forgotten Portal is my very first visual zine for women walking this path of alchemy, remembrance, and reclamation. Download Your Portal Here Pay What You Can at $4 minimum

Because over here?

I don’t stoop down to smelly hungry stray creatures who can’t come from behind their keyboards and into the sunlight. (If you know you know).

I alchemize. Turn pain into power, insult into offering, mockery into mastery.

Energetic attacks into energetic servitude.

Because I understand what you stop feeding, will eventually kill itself. No need to get mad and help it live longer, nor lift your pretty little fingers. It’s always the same pattern, just look around.

So no—I’m not entertaining it, and neither should you my love.

Stay grounded in what can’t be duplicated, coded, or mocked—OUR essence, because their losing their minds our here.

Until next time,

Peace and Blessings

That’s the download I got this morning. And I couldn’t ignore it.

So, if this “World War 3” stuff got you shook or distracted, then keep on reading.

First off, this is not the war you think it is, and nobody is coming to bomb us. They can’t and never could. This is sacred soil, the land of the Indigenous--God’s jewels. What we are witnessing is a metaphysical war over energetic gatekeeping and control.

Why They Want the Portals, Lying to Us About it, & Trying to Scare us

The portals are energetic gateways to:

• Siphon lifeforce energy from the Earth’s womb, yes this world has a womb and the Divine Mother Earth is already tired and fed up. (I talk about energy siphoning in my latest zine, I’ll link it, pay what you can, no pressure.)

• To keep humanity in loops of fear and control.

• Block mass awakening by injecting dense vibrations into the spiritual veins of Mother Earth.

Download Your Portal Here Pay What You Can at $4 minimum

When the world gets distracted by headlines and fear… they’re hoping no one notices what’s happening beneath the surface. Why? Because fear is the lowest frequency. Why do they want us at a low frequency? Because that’s the Devil’s gateway.

Rest in the New World as this Old One Rots

Don’t give them your attention.
Don’t give them your frequency.

Don’t give them your energy.

Light candles. Speak affirmations. Make art. Touch the Earth. Pray, put your feet in the water. Meditate. Read the bible. Write poetry. Rest. Laugh. Connect with loved ones, whatever it is that brings you peace and the upmost calmness.

That’s our resistance. That’s how we defend ourselves from these vicious mind vultures.

They can’t win if we don’t tune in. So shut off those antennas to it and tune into God.

Those of us who are carrying our own light through this will always look coo coo for cocoa puffs to those invested in being trapped in darkness.

So, protect your peace, and don’t allow anyone to make you feel bad about it.

That’s all folks,

Peace in Blessings

As for me? I won’t be watching.

As a Black woman artist, alchemist, and as someone who is actively working to shift the energy of my life and my lineage, I must be intentional about what I consume.

This is exactly what I was talking about in a post I did a while ago “Vibrations Don’t Lie: Why the Energy of Art Matters More than You Think” if you have not read it, please go read because that movie “Straw” is a prime example of what I was talking about in that post.

Vibrations Don't Lie: Why the Energy of Art Matters More than You Think

“Art is energy first—spiritually, mentally, and physically—just like us. Choose wisely.”

And that movie?
It’s giving spiritual attack.

They keep telling us “ oh you’ll feel seen” and all this other mess.
But I don’t need to rewatch my wounds to recognize myself.
I don’t need to see myself destroyed to know I’m real. I know who I am, I know where I came from, I know what I want, and I know where I’m going.

Yes, I have my days—sometimes I lose hope like we all do—but I don’t just sit in it and wallow. Since when has crying like you’re at a funeral over something FICTIONAL ever been a good thing?

I’ve always been a sensitive person, so maybe its just me, but I just cant get with all that.

PROGRAMMING DRESSED UP IN “REPRESENTATION”

We’re so used to the media centering our trauma, suffering, and struggle that we mistake it for “important,” “deep,” “bold.” But it’s really just more pain that we’re already aware of and for whatever reason the filmmaker still feels the need to recycle that pain and feed it back to us over, and over, and over again.

Yes, black women struggle, yes single motherhood is hard af, yes our men don’t treat us right, yes, yes, yes Tyler WE KNOW!

Why must you keep making a gazillion movies reminding us of this?? We. Know. Can we please move on? Dam.

I don’t want to dwell in emotional, spiritual, mental, nor physical poverty.
I don’t want to keep swimming in despair in the name of “representation.”

I don’t want to be represented as struggle, I want to be represented at my best, not at my worst.

I want to break cycles—not binge them.

PROTECT YOUR ENERGY & SPIRIT; IT’S VICIOUS OUT HERE

If you’re someone who's doing the work… healing, creating, manifesting, resisting old narratives, making changes where changes needed to be made, then you already know how sneaky spiritual attacks can be.

They don’t always show up as demons—sometimes they show up as "must-see films."
They get shared by people we love, by all the “spiritual” folks, the influencers who mean well, but if your gut says no, than my love please listen.

If you genuinely don’t want to watch it, but your favorite influencer is suggesting otherwise, then DON’T. Don’t do yourself like that.

I’m not telling you what to watch. I’m just telling you why I’m not watching it.

I don’t know about you, but I’m too busy turning my pain into power. I’d rather ALCHEMIZE than ANALYZE someone else’s breakdown. I want peace. Happiness. Vision. Liberation. NOT stories that chain me back to the past.

Any who, it’s nice to see that some people enjoyed the movie, but I myself wont be watching.

Peace and blessings

Too emotional.

Too give no fucks
Too loud.
Too picky.
Too mean.

Too nice
Too strong.

Too weak
Too much.

Funny how when it comes to what Black women need, feel, or require — everything suddenly becomes “too much.”
I don’t know about y’all, but I’ve been sensing a pattern here.

But any who, when were they planning to let us know we were sacred?
Oh, that’s right.
They weren’t. That would be way “too” much now wouldn’t it.

The Forgotten Portal

What if your creativity wasn’t just a gift—but a gateway back to your power?
What if your womb wasn’t just a place to carry new life—but a beautiful rose garden waiting to bloom again?

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been quietly working on something that goes deeper than my usual weekly post—something I needed for my own healing, and I knew I couldn’t be the only one.

My very first Black Girl Alchemy Zine, “The Forgotten Portal: Why Our Creative Power was Hidden from Us”, is finally here and ready to share!

Think of it as your freedom packet. A visual portal designed to guide you back to remembrance, reclamation, and sacred return to your womb. Your rose garden.

The Forgotten Portal is for any woman who may be feeling emotionally starved, spiritually drained, or creatively silenced in this ghetto place called Earth.

I created it because I’ve come to realize that we were left in the dark (literally) and everyone seems to know about our power except us.

Our creative energy is a highly potent power source. And they’ve been silently siphoning off it for centuries.

From situationships to draining ass 9 to 5’s to spiritual bypassing, the system thrives off women like us not knowing our power and just giving it away recklessly.

But that shit ends today.

Download “The Forgotten Portal: Why Our Creative Power was Hidden from Us” to get the full scope, flip it back into your favor, and glow up while doing it.

What’s Inside:

• 12 pages of insight, art, prompts, and a sacred signing page.

• Why your creative power was never lost—just hidden.

• What makes sexual energy sacred life force

• What’s energy siphoning, how it’s real, and how to protect your divine currency

• The truth about your womb as a rose garden, not a wound

• The visual language of art and rebirth

• The Dark Feminine and her divine rage, boundaries, and softness

• A final Reclamation Proclamation (Your release form into the temple of Black Girl Alchemy that you sign—for YOU.)

P.S:**Black Girl Alchemy is a practice rooted in the feminine experience. While this digital zine was written for women—especially Black women—if you happen to not be a woman but seeking to better understand the sacred nature of creative feminine energy, then you are more than welcome to observe and not consume.**

The Temple of Black Girl Alchemy

Black Girl Alchemy is all about turning surviving into thriving, grief into pleasure, lifeforce energy into tangible reward, and wounds into wisdom. It’s a personal and collective framework of healing through art, sexual transmutation, remembrance, and getting back to source. The Forgotten Portal is one of many portals to come. But this one is the very first and waiting for the woman who’s ready to get to know her sacred garden and re-enter herself fully.

Energy Siphoning: This is Why You’re Tired Sis

There’s a reason some men chase our feminine energy but resent it at the same time.

Ever wonder why they come after our love, our attention, our bodies just to abuse us or leave us feeling empty?

Because it’s not about you or your body. It’s about your life force. Your divine feminine power that we ALL were born with.

In The Forgotten Portal, I expose the truth behind such spiritual theft, why it works, and how we can take it all back.

Ladies it’s time for us to get with the program and start remembering who we are, the Divine Feminine is on the rise, she’s already fed up and stuff is getting real out here. The time is now.

Download Your Portal Here Pay What You Can at $4 minimum

Whether you read it once, print it, or keep near and dear,

When the world tries to siphon your light, you’ll always remember where to find it.

Until Next time..

Peace and Blessings

until the floor’s all flooded and the damage is already done.

Creative energy works the same way—

It needs to move, before it turns into a big mess to clean up.

Let me explain…

Due to unforeseen circumstances, I haven’t been able to paint or write for days. I’ve been too focused on surviving. And as the days are going by, and my creative energy is getting more and more clogged up, my body is screaming at me. I’m paralyzed as fuck.

I'm a Pisces moon—if you have that same placement, you already know we feel things more intensely than the average person can understand. So, when I say I'm paralyzed, my ass is paralyzed.

One of the biggest lessons this era of my life has been teaching me is that, feelings are only meant to be felt—nothing more, nothing less.

Feeling unwanted emotions doesn’t mean you stop creating or stop doing what you’ve been called to do.
And don’t get me wrong, we’re human. We have real life happening. We have responsibilities.

Not everyone can just sit around and tend to their preferred craft all day, every day.

That’s not realistic.

What I’m talking about are those petty feelings: The “I’m not good enough,"
"This is ugly," I don’t feel like it today—maybe tomorrow" type of feels.

Those feelings are not facts, just signals. Your creative energy calling you, letting you know it’s on its way.

And if you ignore it, if you let fear clog them pipes, you’re only setting yourself up for a bigger mess to clean up later.

So think about it this way:

You’re drawing yourself a nice hot bath, and waiting for the tub to fill up. Then life comes calling and your phone rings. It doesn’t matter if the call is good or bad, either way your attention has shifted. You forgot about the bath. And you don’t realize it until you hear water splashing all over the dam place.

That nice relaxing bath just flooded your whole bathroom, now you have a giant mess to clean up.

So now you have 2 choices:

Get pissed off, clean it up, and go to bed because you’re no longer in the mood.

OR

Clean up the mess and run yourself another bath and carry on with your night.

So, which one would you pick?

That’s exactly what’s been happening with me. Stress, plus an overflowing tub, equals feeling stuck and waking up with headaches. Even after taking pain meds this morning, the real relief didn’t come until I just pulled out my laptop and started writing this.

No overthinking. No drafts, No mundane ass to-do list. Just me sitting up in my bed, writing this random ass post.

I'm posting this because I need to get myself out of my own head. I need to stop overthinking and allowing certain problems that God already got me on, hijack my creative connection in the meantime.

When I have other things on my mind, I don’t feel as creative, and everything I make just looks a hot mess to me. But now I’ve decided that it’s best for me to stop caring if it’s "good enough." Because not caring and just creating is what’s best for me right now mentally, physically, and spiritually.

So why should I deprive myself of what's best for me just because of what somebody else MIGHT think?

I'm writing this because I’ve been stuck in fear for the past couple weeks, and it feels dam good to me right now that I’ve managed to break myself out of it today. Got away from the Devil’s side and made it back to God’s side. Kudos to me:)

If you’ve never read the book “Outwitting the Devil” by Napoleon Hill, what I’ve been going through is the epitome of what he was warning us about: “The Drift.” This post is the epitome of it. The Devil is not some ugly creature sitting somewhere with horns and webbed feet holding a pitchfork grinning like Chester the cat. It’s an energy, just as everything else that moves and pulls.

And let me tell you, the Devil doesn’t give up just because you’ve found your own source of peace. He keeps trying, again and again. Sucks, I know. But that's the world we live in.

I say all this to say:

Stop letting how you feel dictate when, where, or how you create. Just create…something..anything..it doesn’t matter what just DO IT.

It doesn’t have to be a masterpiece.

It doesn’t have to be the dopest shit ever. Just get it out of you.

And I promise, once you get over to this other side, the heaviness feels a bit lighter. Hope comes back. Your source energy starts flowing again, and you’ll slowly begin to feel things in your life getting back into motion.

Because at the end of the day, creative energy IS sexual energy, and ALL IS LIFE FORCE ENERGY.

It needs to be moved, not all bottled up inside you with nowhere to go. Whether you write, paint, sing, or whatever brings you that peace you can’t explain, the point is to stay in motion. To keep the energy going and honor God’s gift to us all.

Peace and Blessings

This isn’t just about me.
It’s about all of us.

When I did the math, I realized the new rent amount they’re raising my rent to is what someone making $71,000 a year should ideally be paying for housing.

Let that sink in.

I don’t make $71K (right now), even though I would love to, but I don’t. The point is, I moved out here 8 years ago and this neighborhood was “income-restricted” and newly built when I first moved in. Back then, my rent was $950. Now it’s gone up significantly, and nothing about the place has been improved, added, or upgraded. They got us out here paying luxury prices for no luxury, only corporate greed, and we’re expected to just put our heads in the sand and deal with it or be homeless.

Landlords are price-gouging under the protection of inflation and a broken system.
And let’s be honest — the government not stopping them, because they benefit from keeping us tired, scattered, and stuck.

I’ve just recently learned my state has no rent control laws, the job market is an absolute shit show, these politicians are all elitist assholes and were never for the people, and I would never understand for the life of me why people are still believing any of them or entertaining this right vs left bullshit, THEY ALL SUCK, THEY’RE ALL LIARS, and whoever want to argue with me about my opinion can argue with they mama, because you’ve come across the wrong newsletter, so bye.

The system is corrupt with the slavery of our ancestors as the foundation. They are all just rich people who are all cool with one another behind closed doors, and all ya’ll on social media arguing about this or that, are all looking really stupid to them. It has been proven countless times that their prime focus is accommodating the sponsors (other rich people) and laughing to the bank building their generational wealth. And here we are on this internet arguing with each other, worshipping puppets..(clears throat)..I mean “celebrities.”

All I’m saying is, I see through it.
And if you’re still here reading this and not pissed off at me, I know you do too.

We Are Not Failures. The System Was Built This Way.

This gigantic pyramid scheme, they call an economy was NEVER designed for us to thrive — especially not for Black women, spiritual creatives, or those of us choosing a soul-led path.

We are witnessing the death grip of a collapsing patriarchal system, a system that knows it’s time is running out, but it’s doing everything it can to distract and destroy us before the Divine Feminine fully rises.

And one of their favorite moves on us black folk,
Using our natural empathy against us by keeping us in our emotions just long enough to blind us,
To get us so deep in our fear and pain that we miss the play being run. And if we can’t see the play — we can’t make our best move.

That’s the trick. That’s the game.

But we were born to outplay them. We got all the tools, we just were never taught how to use them, and I’m pretty sure that wasn’t by accident.

The Emotional Trap

Listen, I’m not saying not to feel your feelings. We are human, that’s what we’re supposed to do. I was just on the phone crying to my mom for 30 minutes, and I’m not ashamed. Honor them.

But don’t let them LEAD. Notice them, but don’t let them override your decision making.

We as Black folk, our sensitivity is our gift, our channel, our power source—but it’s also what gets targeted the most, because as a collective, we refuse to stop using it as our compass, and EVERYBODY knows it, which is what makes it our curse.

That’s why we must learn to lead with awareness. With clarity. With vision.
Play the game. Let your wisdom become your armor.
Transmute the hits, don’t just lay their and take it without doing anything with it.

When I was younger, my dad used to try and teach me how to play chess. I used to think it was just this boring slow-moving game for old people. But over time the rules to that game began to stick. It taught me that there’s always a move. Always a counter. Always a loophole.

And that’s exactly what I’ve carried into my craft mentally, physically, and spiritually.

When something dark or discouraging shows up, I ask myself:
What’s the angle? What’s the pivot? How can I flip this trap set in front of me into a tool or helpful resource?

Because there’s always a way around.
We just need to get past our emotions long enough to see the bigger picture and spot the play.

Our Creativity Is Our Weapon So Use It.

Even in the middle of this chaos, I’ve been seeing signs. And while I’m beyond grateful, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still struggling to focus.

But I know this moment is part of something bigger — something ancient.
The old world is dying; I can smell the decay a mile away.
And we are the wombs of the new one.

This is why I create.
Why I write.
Why I speak on these things.
Because every piece, every post, every poem is part of a chain reaction — to be your reminder and fuel something in you.

We Were Meant to Create Living. Not Die Struggling.

Let them raise the rent — our souls can’t be priced.
Let the system collapse — we were never meant to thrive in it anyway.

Stay focused on your mission.
Feed your creativity like it’s sacred — because it is.
Speak truth even when it feels like no one is listening.

You weren’t chosen to fit in. You were chosen to be the shepherd not the sheep. All the sheep probably already clicked off this post anyway.

This world is shifting. You can feel it in your bones.
So don’t fall for the fear.
Remember, the discomfort isn’t the punishment — it’s just the labor pains. And ladies what happens after those labor pains?

You finally get to see your beautiful baby’s face. Hold them in your arms for the first time. Your creation. Your legacy.

Until Next time,

Peace and Blessings

Tip to Say Thanks