That Freed Self

My last post, “The Unspoken Social Shame of Having to Heal Yourself,” was an admission that I’m tired of my dependence on external sources of love, and I’ve started a year-long “Love Container” journey. The unknowns are many, and the questions of what and how are plenty. But navigating these unknowns has to feel better than 30+ years of a spiraling mind and nervous system.​ Since my last post, I’ve reflected further on the normalcy (and often encouragement) of finding our sta

There’s an underlying narrative Black mothers and other women of color have failed when we must heal and rebuild ourselves. Let's squash that now.

I’d been running my new business the same way I showed up in my motherhood. Offering as much as I can, and asking for as little as possible in return.