Some people move on quickly—not because they’ve healed, but because they can’t sit still with what hurts. I’ve learned that reflection changes how we love, how we communicate, and how safe we feel with another person.

There are no sick days for single moms. Even when my body is failing me, my mind is still wrapped around my children and their needs.

I’m in a season of rebuilding—my life, my sense of self, and the community around me. It’s uncomfortable and tender, but it’s also teaching me that it’s never too late to find your people.

When money is used as power, it isn’t partnership- it’s control. And control is not love.

I wasn’t asking for perfection. I was asking for presence, honesty, and connection—things that should never require competing with a screen.

Some memories aren’t meant to be carried forward. Some are meant to be acknowledged, honored, and released so they don’t follow us into who we’re becoming.

I am not the one that got away. I am the one who grew, healed, and chose herself.

I didn’t know then what love was supposed to feel like. I thought silence was strength and discomfort was something to endure. Now, with clearer eyes, I’m learning the difference between love that confines and love that allows you to breathe.

This weekend reminded me that coping doesn’t always look like strength or productivity. Sometimes it looks like rest, comfort, and choosing to stay when things feel heavy.

When I stopped reacting, everything changed. Not because I was wrong—but because I was finally steady, clear, and focused on what truly mattered.

She didn’t leave because she was weak. She left because she was becoming someone who could breathe, someone who could heal, someone her children would one day look at and understand.

This Christmas hurts in a way I didn’t expect. Not because love is gone, but because it’s still here — prepared, waiting, untouched.

They called it irresponsibility. I call it resilience, motherhood, and survival. The truth looks very different when you’re no longer carrying their narrative.

Some endings aren’t failures. They’re the moment you turn toward the light and choose a different way forward- for yourself, and for the ones who walk beside you.

Some seasons teach you how to survive without a safety net. Not because you want to — but because you have to. This is what healing alone really looks like.

When you spend years being silenced and disrespected, you eventually stop trying to prove your worth. You don’t fight anymore. You just walk away.

I once believed the blame placed on me. Now I understand it was never mine to carry.

Not everyone heals the same way. This is about choosing growth over rushing, and rebuilding a life rooted in peace.

Growth begins when you stop trying to be understood by those unwilling to listen- and start surrounding yourself with people who already see your worth.

There are moments in healing when the past rises- not because we are still trapped in it, but because our body finally feels safe enough to speak.