Welp, it happened. She entered a brand new decade. (She is me, in case you haven't noticed the whole referring to myself in the third person thing.) Here's how I feel about it: 40 for the win. Happy Autumn.
Blogtober #23: On Letting Things Go.
Sometimes I wonder if I love fall so much because it's the visual embodiment of all the things that, psychologically, I should be doing a better job of maintaining. Every year, nature takes stock and detoxes, shedding its skin in the loveliest, most wondrous of ways. It's a lesson to be learned, and certainly one …
Le 40 is Le Terrifying and I Can’t Understand Why.
Y'all. Why am I so scurred about turning 40???? A bit of background: growing up, no age ever really scared me off. I ached to be 12. I couldn't wait to be 16. 21 was super cool. 25? Give me 5. And if you've read any of my past posts, you know about the wonder, …
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How to Adult.
Because let's be honest: there was no real manual to prepare for adulting when we were kids, was there? Sure, our parents may have given us advice and even perhaps provided their own living example. But we were destroying playing Legos and watching Jem and the Holograms. We--I, for sure--weren't paying attention. And then you …
real talk.
Life will stink. Life will get messy. People will let you down. Friends will shut you out. Work will feel like a jackhammer. Creativity will be stifled. Love will be slow. Time will lag. Dreams will remain dreams and not the reality you want. You will look in the mirror and not like what you …
“when you gonna make up your mind?”
Confession: I lost a bit of myself in 2017. I think it happens to every woman. Here and there, pieces of who we are, good pieces, at that, begin to crumble at our feet. The sources of that quiet, subtle destruction are many. Discouragement, lack of confidence, heartbreak, loss, pain, unhappiness--so, so many things. Womanhood …
Discoveries. (Or, Eureka, We Keep Finding Her.)
We never stop growing and learning about ourselves, do we? Below are some of the things I've realized about myself lately, because I'm all about epiphanies, epiphanies, epiphanies...anyway, read on, s'il vous plait. Discovery: I receive a special kind of joy from unsubscribing to the abundance of emails that clog my various inboxes. There's nothing like …
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she who has bloomed.
I used to bristle when folks called me a late bloomer. (Those folks being my bestie, whom you'll hear about often, and my mama, whom you'll hear about often.) There was something condescending and juvenile about it, as if I hadn't grown up yet. The online definition I found for late bloomer is "a person …
This Square Peg. 