When I first cracked my knuckles over a laptop to plan this blog launch, it was weeks before 2020. I was busy buying Christmas gifts and envisioning a successful and expansive new year. I, like the rest of us, was optimistic. I had it all planned and laid out like a first day of school outfit.
By the end of April 2020 my life felt like a rag being wrung dry. Or like the carpet of my life was taken and whipped into the sky, sending everything I'd previously known to be true into orbit.
What a two years it's been. Ongoing -demics. A "racial reckoning" across industries (but especially in my own: media). Human rights being revoked and tried on nearly every level (Roe v. Wade was revoked on my 27th birthday. Please donate to your local PP <3). Worsening capitalism and climate conditions. A Beyoncé album. So. Much. Grief.
Nothing is as it was in January 2020. And so I shelved this project.
That all feels so long ago now. Grief still feels present, nipping at my heart and tear ducts. Illness. Depression. Struggles with sense of self. Disconnection. They’ve made themselves frequent visitors to myself, my family, my entire community. None of us are exempt.
What a bitch it is to be alive. Truly. And I mean this in the best and worst ways. I am grateful to be here, carrying on a lifetime that was snatched from so many others. Even in continued chaos and unknowing, it can be exciting and colorful. And still so, so heavy. The past few years have felt dark.
Darkness doesn't equal emptiness, though.
Like all of us, I've felt the seemingly unbearable weight of relentless grief, losing people one right after the other. The disassociation. The yearning for community, for space, for freedom, for love, for air.
I’ve had to learn to heal, over and over again. Anyone healing, and we all are, will tell you it’s a fight in every moment, and it can take on new faces from moment to moment. What heals you today may not heal you tomorrow.
But like many of us, I’m scouring the world, and the internet, for paths forward.
I've looked for balms and salves. I fell into charcuterie. I reevaluated what a “good friend” meant. I joined TikTok and stopped resisting. I visited art galleries. I got married and had a wedding (!!!). I saw wellness in a new way. I fell back in love with reading. I lost my best friend. I found new ways to nourish myself and those around me.
Somehow, I’m working to move both forward and back, to a child-like place full of curiosity and zest, scraped knees and sticky hands. The zest of the new year has refreshed and renewed my commitment to finding new healing pathways. And building a community around my healing and Black rest. I tend to become a hermit, but there are aspects of healing that only flourish in the presence of loving community. This blog will be my attempt to carry you with me on my journey into healing.
I hope you’ll feel inspired. That you’ll allow yourself to rest, to find ease, to start over — whenever, wherever. You don't need Dec. 31, your birthday, a vacation.
Fall into life today. Let’s fall into life together.
I'll be real. This blog is going to have a little bit of everything (art reflects life): reflections on wellness, grief and recovery; book recommendations; ramblings on art exhibits; life lessons; charcuterie tips + more. There are a lot of parts to me. I want to share these parts of myself with you. I believe in the power of sharing our stories, of connecting the dots the universe gives us. I believe in finding the vibrance in every moment, in freeing myself from boxes and labels that could limit how fully I live and experience.
This blog, I hope, will be part of our healing. I’ll muse every so often about everything I care about (which is a lot). You can expect reflections and a little something something about life, Blackness, wellness, art, journalism, charcuterie… Catch some vulnerable ramblings or curious observations. Expect tiny dispatches with my thoughts on what’s unfolding all around us and sprinkles of useful information. Expect community. Expect a new friend.
Also, I'll always try to make sure there's something in it for you. You are family, right?
Take a breath with me.