Let me keep it real with y’all —
If you know me [like really know me], you know that I am a writer. I write for solace, for love, for healing, for fun, for God, for friends, for everything. But to be perfectly honest, I don’t remember the last time I wrote anything.
I made it my duty to buy a new journal in every country (7) I’ve visited, but converted those jounrals into planners.
I guess that was me trying to gain some kind of control over my confusion.
I’ve battled the nuances of happiness and feeling accomplished, simultaneously realizing that I cannot let my success stress me bare. You’re not supposed to kill yourself while you’re attempting to build yourself.
I didn’t realize that my disengagement with writing was a sign that something was and is wrong. I thought I was growing out of an old hobby on this “new” journey.
Note to self: Bull Sh*t! You were just trying to hide your feelings from yourself, but you ain’t low, Na!
I almost thought about giving up on the blog because of my inconsistency, but that would just be me giving up on me! But I decided against it – I matter to me and my voice and presence is necessary.
trying to make making time for myself— diving into what makes me happy, and still on the grind without putting myself through the grinder. Finding time and space for me is so important!
Counting my wins. Glorifying my losses. Loving God always. And always leaving haters on read.
Note to self: I love you, Na! Remember that!