Alright homegirl…let’s talk.
You might as well pull up a chair…kick off ya shoes…and grab a snack…..because shit’s about to get real up in here.
I know….. I know…..I’ve been ghost for what, seven whole-ass years? Yeah. This isn’t a quick “where have you been” catch-up. It’s the truth….the whole truth…and nothing but the truth. So buckle up.
When the Fire Burned Out
You ever feel like you’ve given something all you’ve got and the spark just…dies? That was me…with this blog. I started this blog strong…way back when. I mean…while I was writing my diary, I dropped 150 pounds like it was nothing. I was struttin’ around, thinking I had this weight loss game on lock. But then? I got comfortable… the scale got comfortable…and the progress stopped. And my blog? It started feeling like a journal I didn’t want anybody to read. No substance, no impact…just me, venting into the void. It was depression overload. So, I stepped back. I didn’t feel like it was needed anymore… and my fire was damn near out.
I thought maintaining that weight was a win, you know? Like, “Hey, at least I didn’t gain it all back.” But that comfort was a trap. It talked to me nice and I felt like I could coast forever….like I’d never gain it back.
Newsflash: that was a lie!
The Loss That Broke Me
After a while, I was thinkin’ about a comeback, ready to dip my toes back into this whole “blogging with a purpose” thing. Then Robert died. My heart got ripped apart. I couldn’t even think straight. I tried, though. I posted one little blog… just one. Then, boom….I lost Bat. Now, he was gone too…violently. Just like that, any piece of me that had hope… got swallowed up by severe depression. It was the kind of dark that doesn’t let any light in. Writing? Yeah right! Breathing felt like a struggle most days. I didn’t even wanna live, much less write.
When grief has you in a choke hold like that….it doesn’t just let go because the world keeps turning. It doesn’t care about your plans. It doesn’t care about your goals. It pulls you under…and all you can do is fight to keep your head above water.
Two Years of Wanting and Not Doing
Time passed, but the grief didn’t magically disappear. Eventually…I started thinking about blogging again. The problem? I knew this time it had to be different. Real…raw, like “rip open the wound and let it bleed” kinda real. And that? That shit is scary.
I wasn’t ready to let y’all see me. Not the messy, crying 24/7 me. Not the “this weight ain’t the heaviest thing I’m carrying” me. I wasn’t ready to be vulnerable. And honestly? I didn’t wanna be judged. I didn’t wanna make my people uncomfortable with the truths I was still struggling to even admit to myself.
There were days I’d sit with my fingers on the keyboard, staring at a blank screen, heart about to come out of my cheat. I wanted to speak, but fear choked every word back down. I was stuck between wanting to be heard and needing to hide.
The Perfection Trap
And then there was this bullshit idea that I had to “do it right.” Videos, audio, social media, perfect posts…all of it. I wanted my return to be a masterpiece. The kind of comeback that makes people pay attention. But that pressure? It made me freeze. So, I just…didn’t do it. Easier to avoid it than to “fail”….right? Well, whatever fail even means.
Looking back, I realize I let perfection paralyze me. The idea that I had to have it all figured out kept me from even starting. It’s wild how I convince myself that doing nothing is better than doing it “imperfectly.”
Why I’m Here Now
You know what cracked me open? Coaching. Group sessions… private one-on-ones… Self=Compassion workshops—they lit a match under my ass. They reminded me that my voice matters.
This blog? It’s my journal. My story. I literally can’t fuck it up…even if I tried….because it’s just that….MY JOURNAL! If it doesn’t resonate with everyone, cool. It’s not for everyone. But for the people it’s meant for? It’ll hit. I believe that now. Hell, I even believe in me now.
I’ve realized there’s strength in being raw. There’s power in telling the whole damn truth, even when it’s messy. As a matter of fact….especially when it’s messy. In the middle of that mess is exactly where the healing starts.
Committing to Consistency
So, here’s the deal…. I’m back. Raw, real, and unfiltered. I might step on some toes. I might make people uncomfortable. But if I’m gonna show other women what’s possible, I gotta get my life right…and be the example first. No more hiding. No more ghosting.
I’m here, unmuted. And I’m ready to speak.
Here’s the promise I’m making to myself. I’m committing to posting at least once a week. Maybe more if the spirit moves me, but you can count on at least one raw, real post a week. I owe it to myself to keep going, to keep this space alive, and to share whatever comes up. So, stay tuned and be on the lookout. We’re in this together.
Closing Thoughts
To anyone who feels like they’ve fallen off, like their voice doesn’t matter—I’m proof that it does. It’s scary as hell to come back, but it’s possible. We create our own lanes, and I’m just gettin’ started with mine. Stick with me…..this ride ain’t over.
Until next time….
Love ya! Mean it!
