I spent the past week with my family in Chicago; living away from my home city for over ten years has produced much change within me, but obviously also within the city. The familiar stores I knew in Hyde Park; like Bonne Sante, Leona’s, Treasure Island, etc., are now figments of a memory. Now, the only thing that remains consistently present is my family.

Being the product of a broken home, whenever I come home to the windy city, I try to spend an equal amount of time with all of my family; a day with my mother, a day with my dad, a day with my grandma, a day with my brothers, and if Im lucky, I get a day to rest in between; no coordinating schedules and grocery store trips, just time to play Street Fighter on the PS5 on my mom’s sectional couch.

Now that I’m in my thirties, still building a life with hubby, and trying to fix the financial mistakes I made in my twenties, visiting home hits differently. When I was younger, I’d spend my time trying to socialize with everyone; running on caffeine, liquor, and sheer will-power. I’d prioritize time with folks I rarely even speak with on a regular basis, and end up feeling burnt out from all of the ripping and running. I’d spend hella money on credit cards just to make everything more convenient.

No more of that.

As much as I love my family, I had to get real with myself and the goals that I have for my family; why do I feel the need to do the most every time I visit my family at home? Why do I feel the constantly spread myself so thin? Ever since I was a teenager, being a big sister, whenever I’d be home with family, I’d feel the impulse to evade being home. I’d busy myself with friends and parties for fun and socializing, but also, I realized I just didn’t want to be home; dealing with the discomfort of the realities were too much for me.

The discomfort of my dad’s divorce.

The discomfort of my grandma’s crowded space.

The discomfort of my mom’s struggles.

But once I accepted the need to slow down, I started noticing what’s actually happening inside of my family’s homes on a deeper level. I stopped being so quick to make 20,000 plans, and started spending more time with my actual family in their perspective environments.

Aging.

I noticed my mom’s struggles with going up and down the stairs…looking more frail, with mini strands of gray dusting her brown hair.

I noticed that now, my father is using a cane, and he wears a brace around his ankle to hide his ‘auntie kankles.’ The crows feet around his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

I noticed my grandma’s once brown and silver highlighted hair now looks closer to being gray and silver.

My most recent trip to Chicago was humbling, and further confirmation that I’d like to spend more time visiting family, even if only for a weekend. Life isn’t promised, and those moments are precious. My parents are aging, and the once peaceful Hyde Park that I used to know, has become a mini version of downtown for University of Chicago students. There are so many new places to explore in my old neighborhood, I don’t need to constantly break my neck to do touristy things across the city. Im enjoing my home town while I still can recognize it.

I encourage you reading, if you’ve moved away from your home town, to savor the moments when you visit. Soak up the hugs and forehead kisses. Laugh at your parents being a bit overbearing. Hug your brothers a little tighter. Explore the local small businesses in your own neighborhood that may not have gone viral yet on IG.

❤

After experiencing sexual assault, witnessing dv, and feeling watched by pervs throughout my life, the concept of safety has become more and more appealing to me. Just to make it through stores without being cat-called and harassed for wanting to mind my own business. Fawning became familiar, and so did staying home.

Home has become my safe haven in my healing journey — either that, or entering the 30 club really pushes you toward the direction of unapologetic peace [I think it’s been a combination lolll]

But seriously, after experiencing so much in world, at some point my soul became desperate to have some semblance of ‘safety,’ until I realized something.

In this world, safety seems to be an illusion, sort of a spectrum.

Of course, some things are more or less safe- driving with a seatbelt vs not, walking to a bar at 10 pm by yourself vs getting home before sunset, posting your location on IG vs keeping your profile and personal deets private. But, in spite of precautions, from all of the research I’ve gathered, there is no full-proof way to ever 100% be safe. Things happen outside of our control all of the time, even when we use wisdom.

This realization has rocked my world and challenged me.

Because yes, while it pisses me off that there are creepy men in this world that have nothing better to do than harass beautiful women, it’s only by God’s grace that I’ve been protected even in my home; and I ask myself, what life am I going to choose to live with the knowledge that as long as we are in this broken world, we can not control everything?

Here’s what helps my soul —

1. Focusing on empowerment: Surprisingly, in my brief revisiting of using BetterHelp services, one of my trial therapists shared a nugget of wisdom with me: she asked me, “what makes you feel empowered? Focus on that.” Stunned by the simplicity, I thought through the few things that do…consistent strength training, prayer, making my own decisions…being consistent with what empowers me brings hope and joy to my most challenging days.
2. Research: if you’re anything like me, when I find a topic of interest, I can search and search until my eyes have no more room for blue light. Searching topics like ‘women empowerment,’ ‘women’s safety,’ and watching youtubers like Joe Navarro has helped me find safety tips as a woman existing in America.
3. Make your home a place of peace: Really. Finding my pretty living room rug from Amazon. Dim lights. Candles that smell of lemon balm, eucalyptus and vanilla…cozy pink slippers and my favorite Nyx lipgloss. Keeping things close to me make me feel cozy helps me remain in my softness after the world tries to harden me.
4. Meditating on God’s word — Jeremiah 29:11, Proverbs 3:5–6, Mathew 11:28, these are some of the scriptures I meditate on to remind me of the Lord’s presence in my life, that brings me the most lasting peace in chaos.

What empowers you? How do you stay soft in a hard world? How have you found safety after trauma, if at all? ❤

I’m praying for your peace!

‘Speak up we can’t hear you!’

In America, where noise and hustle and bustle is constantly rewarded, being soft spoken has always been my personal thorn in the flesh.

It’s been intriguing to me, though, as I’ve gotten older, how much of it seems to be psychological.

As I work in the field of social work & working with people in general, I find a correlation between those that have been traumatized, ashamed, shy, and afraid, with those that speak more softly.

Imagine not being sure of your safety for years; your voice being the physical representation of the eggshells you’ve had to walk on. Imagine years of repressed emotions, hiding, fear of vulnerability…it’s enough to squeeze the life and joy from you.

As I’ve grown in my faith journey, I’ve found that my confidence in who I am and how I was created has grown; I’ve learned over time that I do have something to say that’s worth hearing, and even if I’m not the loudest voice in the room, it doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to be there.

But sometimes, what if, instead of always making people shout louder, we learn to lean in? To quiet ourselves to hear them more clearly? To pay attention?

I think it would do us some good. I’d love to challenge the loud extraverted people, or the people that are ashamed of how their personal vocal chords work, to think differently. You don’t have to always adapt to everyone elses preferences; let some people adapt to you too.

I’m learning to finding beauty and appreciation in softer voices; something about them feels healing!

What are your thoughts on being soft-spoken? How have you overcome the challenges it presents? How have you adapted?

❤

As an MSW student interning in the city, I find myself exposed to things I’d been trying to avoid as a former city girl; liquor stores, drug users, corner loitering, and tents camped on bando-blocks.

At my internship I met a young man whom I completed an assessment with; I’ll call him Jamal.

He shared with me the pain of losing his 16 year-old sister to suicide, having to identify the dead body of his older brother, only for the surrounding cops to make a joke of his body on the pavement, snickering as they asked ‘is that Pistol Pete?’ I saw the sadness in his eyes as he shared. Searching the walls of the cluttered office for answers only God knows.

He suffers from PTSD, as he himself was shot by a racist man that was carried away by the rage of a graduation party that was too lively. He shared the hopelessness of feeling like he’ll somehow never be able to escape the clutches of cops pulling him over because of the record he developed as a young man; even though he feels he has learned his lesson and wants to improve his life for his 4-year old daughter, he somehow can’t escape constant harassment from the cops.

He shared a story from this week, of how, after leaving a workforce development program, where he’s hoping strengthen his chances of better career opportunities, 6 cops pulled guns on him as he was heading to a sandwich shop. As Jamal shared,

“I just dropped my phone. I was trying to put it back in my pocket, and I guess as I was putting it back in my pocket, they thought I was pulling out a gun. They threw me on the ground, and next thing I know 10–15 people were around me recording my face. I was so embarrassed. I felt assaulted too, because one cops roughly grabbed my crotch for no reason while I was on the ground.”

My heart tore as his countenance dropped. He stared at the ground as he shared that it probably wouldn't be worth reporting, as his lawyer told him we wouldn't have much of a case.

It’s hard doing intakes and assessments with folks in human services that you may never see again. You’re left wondering about their situations; will they improve? Will they be okay? Will things work out for them?

I hope Jamal always knows that he is worth advocating for.

I hope he knows that there is hope for him to have a better life, free of torment.

I hope he knows that his past doesn’t have to define him, and that goodness finds him.

❤

I’ve always been a lover girl.

IYKYK.

ever since I can remember, I was boy crazy.

I remember going to my best friend’s house secretly hoping her cousin would be there.

I remember intentionally going to parties and events secretly hoping my crush would see me, you know, teen drama vibes.

Usually, I chose guys that were older. Unlike my peers who were more blatantly immature, playing too much in class, and not tall enough, I liked the feelings of protection and security that I thought came with being with older boys.

And I also remember my identity being wrapped around whomever I was with. If they liked sneakers, I liked sneakers. If they were obsessed with Rihanna, so was I. If they wanted to start a clothing line, or rap, I was right there at the studio.

My life always took a backseat to theirs.

In hindsight I’ve wrestled and asked myself, why did their lives seem so much cooler than mine? Why would I rather trade all of my time and devotion to boys that often times treated me poorly, cheated, and weren’t committed to me long-term anyways?

I’d say it was a number of things.

Avoidance — I hated being at home. I associated being home with boredom, and feeling claustrophobic with the amount of family members I lived with. I felt my relationships were escapes from my home life. With them, I felt free. I felt rebellious, and felt my right of passage to be my own woman.

Low Self-Worth — I wanted men to validate my worth, my beauty, my place in the world. When I was single, I felt less loved, less special.

Lack of purpose — My family couldn’t afford to involve me in many curricular things. I didn’t have a deep sense of my interests or talents, other than getting good grades. Sure I liked drawing, but never felt confident enough in my own skill, nor patient enough to develop it. I didn’t have many goals to work toward, as I didn’t really know what I could aspire toward, other than graduation.

I prided myself in being loyal to people, but my personal life lacked so much depth. I was not living authentically true to myself; I lived for social acceptance and belonging, even if that meant going along with things that I truly wasn’t comfortable with. I didn’t choose me, because I placed everyone else on a pedestal, not knowing how to deal with my own stuff.

If I got talk to my younger self, I would take her to get matcha, pay for 6 months of therapy for her, and gently encourage her to tap into her interests, and stop giving so much of her time and attention away. I would hug her for being so strong, and often not knowing how to cope with pain, but I would tell her to not be afraid to face discomfort, and that no one’s presence can give her the validation that only herself and the Lord can give her.

Are you living authentically? Where are you compromising yourself?

❤

I never dreamt of a fairytale wedding. I enjoyed Cinderella — she was cutesy of course…but the movie was good more for the musicality and the animation than the story in and of itself. Where many young girls have dreamed of their weddings, I was too busy dreaming of being free from the drama of my family life. Marriage, from what I had witnessed, was mostly full of late night drunk arguments, unexplained holes in walls, locked doors, and secrecy.

Like some of you maybe, I did not come from money. My family has always pretty lower-middle class if that. Both mine and my husband’s sides of the family have experienced poverty, and so in our marriage we have had to build from the ground up.

As my now-husband was courting me, I was clear with him up-front —

“One day, I’d like to be a stay-at-home wife; how would you feel about that?”

He affirmed me that it was his desire to be able to provide in such a way that this could be possible for me.

My heart fluttered at the alignment in our hopes. I knew that I’d be called to help him in any ways that I could, but I also knew that I could see myself taking care of my babies at home, building a safe and peaceful atmosphere for us all. I was no Cinderella, but surprisingly, I liked the stereotype of making my mans plate, sweeping and mopping, etc.

Thankfully I’ve had friends to always challenge my potential and thought process…yet still, I never cared to climb the corporate ladder either. While I was still exploring the things in my life that would give me purpose and meaning, I never desired to participate in hustle-culture. As my dad likes to say, I’m just not wired that way.

Throughout my career journey, I have had many job transitions. One thing I’ve learned about myself over the years, that I am willing to quickly leave jobs that aren’t a good fit. Maybe it’s the millenial in me. One telltale sign that a job is a bad fit for me is when I need loads and loads of caffeine just to make it through my shift without wanting to sneak out of the nearest exit.

Thanks to the support of my husband, I have been able to leave jobs that aren’t good fits for me, without having to wait years to save up enough cash. I put in my two-weeks, and im home-free. literally.

But through my 2–3-month stints of being home, i’ve been able to get to know myself more deeply:

I LOVE being a girl + I like making my own money; affording me the chance to help with bills but also get my nails done when money is tight. Personal maintenance matters!

I do like a change of scenery.

I like identifying problems, being innovative, and bringing my solutions and ideas to a team. I miss it in the times when I’m not working with others.

I enjoy routine to a certain degree, as it allows me to have structure in my day.

Even though I find fulfillment and purpose meal prepping, keeping my home tidy, and being available for my hubby without the weight of worrying about stumbling out of our queen-sized bed in the morning, I find I’m most content when I have time to tend to home, pursuing my hobbies, but also balancing that with time to contribute to the workplace, focusing on someone else’s world if only for a-little while.

What gives you passion and purpose? Are you a hustler, a home-body, or something in between?

I’ve always considered myself a very introverted person; although, after taking 10,000 personality tests, apparently I’m actually somewhere in the middle [ambivert]; nonetheless, working from home wasn’t exactly what I imagined it to be.

Though often forced to socialize by my more extraverted peers, I’ve always thoroughly enjoyed my alone time. I’ve loved exploring my ideas, as I google and research the millions of questions that pop into my brain about love, friendship, relationships, work, social issues, etc. I love being able to really get to the bottom of my beliefs and what I feel about a thing. When you’ve grown up in a pretty enmeshed family system, it can take some extra intentional work to truly know where you stand and think, independently of those you love.

And yet, I truly believe that the impact of COVID and work-life becoming more remote has shifted a lot for me in ways that I’m still trying to unpack fully. Here are some of the ways that this virtual/remote world has impacted the way I relate to others:

Im more accustomed to being alone.

When I had my fully remote 9–5 job, often times with no meetings scheduled with anyone, or meetings constantly being cancelled, I’d grown used to not expecting to hear from folks, but feeling a buzz of joy and anxiety when I do.

I’m more of a texter

Teams was the name of the game. While I was working my 9–5, using TEAMS became so customary. In conjunction with having a supervisor that was ‘hands off,’ I became used to not ‘hopping on a call.’ Emails and IM’s became a new normal.

I crave breaks away from all of my devices

Seriously. Some days I wake up, and I’m proud of myself if I don’t check social media or email first. I can leave my phone on the counter for hours at a time. I crave in-person presence, without pings and notifications that always feel urgent.

I think working from the bedroom is inappropriate

I used to truly believe that when I was able to work from home, it was no big deal to bring the laptop to bed. As a married woman, I realize it doesn’t fully sit right with me when my husband or I spend time working on our laptops in bed. While I still don’t prefer it, I know that there are days where this is probably necessary for folks. Unless I’m truly bed-ridden, I prefer for my bedroom to be a sacred space for my husband and I, so that our intimacy is not impacted.

it’s harder to turn work ‘off’ — boundaries can be blurred.

Living in DC for so long, I’ve grown accustom to people asking me what I do for work, and now I’m guilty of it myself. Coworkers love posing plans for happy hours and house warmings and pretty soon, work associates become friends. When you’re working from home it can get very lonely, so anyone that wants to connect in person can feel like a blessing. And yet, I still try to use discretion about who I’m calling a friend, and why.

I crave being in person with loved ones more

I’ve never been one for small talk, and working remotely has truly shown me the value of quality time. Especially as someone living away from the city I was born in, being away from family, and watching them age through an iPhone is crazy. When I can see loved ones who live in different cities as me can feel like such a blessing, no matter the relational dynamics happening at the time.

How has the remote-life impacted you?

❤

How many therapists have you been through? LOL. Really though? As someone who’s had a number of different therapists over the years, I feel I’ve taken away a number of valuable lessons but also observations that I hadn’t realized before signing up,

I feel like it’s pretty typical for Millennials to be focused on mental health and healing, judging from the myriad of never-ending podcasts and instagram pages created on the subject. I’m proud of us for having the bravery and courage to name the patterns we witnessed as children, as we seem to be collectively deciding that we’re breaking these generational cycles and curses…but as many of us are still new to therapy, and if you’re anything like me, you may have walked into therapy somewhat not fully prepared.

I started therapy for the first time around age 19. I had a challenging relationship with food, and I knew there would be plenty for my therapist and I to unpack with the limited 6 sessions I had access to as a college student. Honestly, I was just happy to have an objective person that wouldn’t judge me, but I didn’t learn what I should come to therapy being mindful of. Here are some things that I’ve discovered over the years:

1. It’s important to come with clear goals — I often assumed that doing the intake forms were enough. I think it’s wise not to assume anything. While you might be pretty descriptive in intake, I’ve often left sessions wondering how much of my intake they even memorized/read. I’ve found it helpful to add more structure to my expectations, so that I’m not only relying on my therapists agenda and memory to steer my therapeutic goals. A good therapist should ask about your goals, but even beyond that first session, clear goals can help you stay grounded.
2. It helps to check in with yourself — maybe weekly, daily, quarterly, asking yourself ‘am I making progress in the areas I sought out to? any progress at all, in big and small ways?’ You’re paying for a service, and I think it’s good to stay clear on if the service is actually causing you to grow in the areas of your goals.
3. Not all modalities work for all people — CBT doesn’t work for everyone, EFT isn’t for everyone. I don’t know about y’all, but talk therapy can feel like talking in circles sometimes! Do your research and find the history of these modalities, and don’t be afraid to switch it up!
4. The real work happens outside of therapy [homework is helpful] — the real work happens in real life. While weekly therapy is ideal, this is not affordable or accessible to everyone. Don’t forget to practice what you’re taught in therapy, as much as you can remember!
5. Therapists shouldn’t tell you what to do — I’ve heard folks say that therapists should help guide you toward the solution that’ll work best for you…they’re not necessarily there to give you definitive instructions.
6. Its okay to have standards — I often came to therapy believing that all therapists are trained equally, and should be equally as helpful. Honestly, I do believe that you get what you pay for when it comes to therapy. I’ve seen the quality of professionalism and helpfulness increase the more I’ve had to pay. I’ve gotten to a point where I’d rather pay for someone trained in the specific ways that I need help, than to pay less for a general counselor, just to be frustrated with the lack of progress. You don’t have to be so open to everyone who claims to be professional; therapists are also humans who are not perfect. While I’m sure that there are great therapists that charge less, this is just my experience.
7. It’s okay to ask questions about their process — this is something I’ve learned more recently, but when I have a curiosity about something or want to try something new, I’m learning to be more vocal about my questions, without shame.
8. I won’t crumble if I can’t meet weekly — I used to feel such anxiety about not being able to meet weekly; in this economy, I’ve learned that sometimes weekly therapy just is not financially feasible in certain seasons. Consistency is key, but in the mean time in between time, we have so many helpful resources available to us! In between sessions I like to read helpful books, blogs, and podcasts to gain helpful perspective as I’m processing things I’d like to address in therapy.

What are some observations you’ve made in your time in therapy? I’d love to know!

❤

I’ve never been one that was super comfortable with the topic of race. I grew up in a pretty diverse neighborhood in Chicago; I was partially raised by a white woman, and I’ve always been a relatively easy-going human. As a natural peace-maker, I had always adapted the ‘why can’t we all just get along’ stance. Once I moved to the East Coast, race and culture were brought to my awareness in a whole new way.

Chicago felt a little more segregated in hindsight, but living on the East Coast, I’d met folks I never even conceived of meeting: from the east coast, west coast, Jamaicans, Trinidadians, Nigerians, cultures that I wasn’t very mindful of as a child.

Post undergrad, I’d seen black folks, white folks, asian and hispanic folks existing and mingling quite peacefully, professionally, and regularly at happy hours and networking events. As I’ve become more exposed to political conversations, in all honesty, I often chose to steer clear of stepping on toes for fear of the ‘angry black woman’ trope.

But now, as a married woman to a black man, I can’t deny some of the experiences that I’m having and witnessing. Today, while leaving church, my husband and I encountered a white man, shouting at us across the parking lot “Hooah, Hooah, better watch where you are…” with an American flag raised proudly in the air, pushing an all black cart, contents unknown, while walking a huge grey Pitbull. I felt grossly intrigued and concerned as he stared back at us with hatred, unsure if he’d try and attack us. It felt like a scene out of the Handmaid’s Tale.

As a woman familiar with predatory men, I knew that feeling of being watched like prey. It made me first angry, and then sad, to know that this type of confusing hatred can find someone anywhere, unsuspecting. Im grateful for the calming, strong presence of my husband, and the covering of my Lord…but as a woman, I wonder how many other folks are having encounters like this on the regular, that aren’t even able to fully process it: is this how it was for our great-greats?

Here are some ways I’m working on empowerment after encounter’s like this:

1. Self Defense — I hope to soon enroll in self-defense courses.
2. Prayer and Worship — for my spiritual, mental, and emotional health. Praying for a heart that doesn’t harden, peace, strength, humility.
3. Resources — ’Sharp Women’ by Kelly Sayre is a book that has taught me about operating safely in the world as a woman.

-‘The Gift of Fear’ by Gavin De Becker is another book that has taught me more on how to discern the difference between actual reason to fear and take action, vs. paranoia that is unhelpful.

Whether you’re black, a woman, both, or someone who has experienced prejudice, I hope that you are building resilience, capacity, and remain hopeful in these times.

Thank you for reading ❤