This isn’t a place for polished posts or catchy headlines.
It’s an archive of healing.
A breadcrumb trail of softness, struggle, joy, and return.
Come in as you are.
Home, With an Asterisk.
I went home and felt it immediately, the love, the laughter, the food, the way New Orleans still knows how to bring me back to myself in one bite.
What surprised me wasn’t the love. It was the cost.
This is a reflection on home, the body, and what changes when you start choosing where you can rest.
Still Here. Still Getting Free.
I didn’t disappear because I had nothing to say.
I went quiet because life filled up.
This is a check-in from a full season — wintering, resting, living — and an invitation to return without apologizing.
Crossing Water, Keeping Faith: What Istanbul Taught Me About Betting on Myself
A week in Istanbul turned into a master class in freedom. The kind found between continents, between call to prayer and conference presentations, between who I was and who I’m still learning to trust.
Life in Portugal So Far: Softness, Slow Days, and No Regrets
A year and a day after applying for my visa, I’m writing this from Lisbon, learning to live slower laugh louder and give my joy as much energy as my grind. These are the lessons, the laughs, and the long exhales from life in Portugal so far.
10 Things I Let Go of to Get Free(ish) (Part 2)
10 Things I Let Go of to Get Free Part 2 - Freedom isn’t a finish line. It’s a rhythm I relearn everyday. Some mornings I wake up light; other days I reach for what I thought I’d already let go. These words are for women learning, like me, to loosen their grip and choose themselves over and over again.
10 Things I Let Go of to Get Free(ish) (Part 1)
10 Things I Let Go of to Get Free - alove note to my lineage and to us. Here are five things I stopped carrying to get free, with reflections for your own letting go.
What they wrestled from the world, I will not hand back…This journey is not a luxury; it is obedience to the women in my lineage… I am the receipt.
Why Freedom FoundHer: A Beginning and a Return
This isn’t just a beginning. It’s a return. To the me I buried under weight, grief, striving, and survival. This blog is about unearthing her. And trust me, she’s got something to say.