trust God
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Some mornings it feels like my heart is its own little plot of land, stubborn and overgrown. Not a polished garden, just soil that needs attention and a woman determined to show up anyway. That’s the real work: tending what you’d rather ignore. I’ve learned that resentment grows fast if you let it. Neglect does…
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Modern psychology loves the term self-actualization. It sounds noble: becoming the best version of yourself, realizing your potential, living authentically. Maslow built his pyramid around it. Therapists sell it. Influencers turn it into morning routines and affirmations. But strip away the language, and you’ll see an old hunger dressed in new words, the same longing…
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My story didn’t begin with strength. It began with silence. I was a child who learned too early that adults can twist love into a weapon. I carried that secret like poison in my body. And when I grew older, I turned the knife inward. In my teens and twenties, I lived like someone already…
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Somewhere along the road, we were told that to matter, we had to harden. That softness was weakness. That to succeed, we had to compete like men, speak like men, perform like men. And in many ways, the world rewarded us when we did. But something sacred was lost. Womanhood is not a costume to…
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In the turbulent waters of my heroin addiction, I was a sailor lost, my vessel breaking against the jagged shores of despair. Every needle was a desperate row, an attempt to steer away from the wreckage I was becoming. My oars, stained with the shadows of self-destruction, fought against the currents that whispered of a…
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They always have a backstory, don’t they? Some excuse tucked into the folds of their history— a troubled childhood, a lonely adolescence, an addiction, a trauma (a trauma just like mine, funny how that works). And so the world wrings its hands. Poor man. He didn’t mean it. He was hurting. He needs help. They…
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Childhood trauma is an inheritance no child asks for. A ghost sewn into the seams of small, trembling bodies. It lingers in the marrow, in the hush of a locked door, in the filth of hands that should have protected but instead desecrated. Incest—an unspoken horror—warps time, fractures identity, leaves a child stranded in a…
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There was a time when I was nothing but smoke… a shapeless thing moving through my own life, consumed by the fire I set with my own hands. I burned through the nights, through the empty bottles, through the hollow applause of lovers who never knew my name. I lived as if the darkness was…
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Forgiveness is a terrain I never thought I’d cross—a landscape dense with memories I’ve been too afraid to sift through. But here I am, not forgiving for their sake, but for my own. Because forgiveness isn’t about absolving them; it’s about unclenching the fists I didn’t know I’d been holding since childhood. I lost myself…
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Loneliness after abuse is a room without doors, a silence that hums beneath your skin. You might think you deserve it, that love is something you were built to repel. But I promise, loneliness isn’t a verdict. Start small. Sit with it. Don’t flinch from its sharpness— let it pass through you. It hurts, but…