Maybe I never needed to find myself. Maybe I needed to stop abandoning her. There was always a woman inside me who knew exactly what she wanted. She had a loud laugh. Strong opinions. Big dreams. A wild streak. A soft heart. And absolutely no interest in living an ordinary life. But

I wasted a lot of beautiful days waiting for my life to look the way I thought it was supposed to. Waiting for the right person. The right moment. The right circumstances. And somewhere in all that waiting, I forgot something pretty important: This is my damn life. There are still pla

spent enough years carrying everything. Tonight? I’m carrying cotton candy. I want loud music. Stupid jokes. Late nights. Unexpected adventures. Belly laughs that make my face hurt. I want to say yes just because it sounds fun. Healing taught me how to survive. Now I’m learnin

I’ve spent enough of my life looking backward—replaying what happened, questioning what I should have done differently, wondering why people hurt me, and trying to make sense of things that were never mine to understand. I’m done giving yesterday that much power. I know who I am now, and more im

And then one day, I remembered who the hell I was. Not the woman they convinced me I was. Not the woman who questioned whether she was enough. Not the woman who accepted crumbs because she was afraid of losing the table. Me. The woman who survived things that should have destroyed her.

I spent years mistaking being wanted for being safe. Read that again. I thought if someone chose me, stayed, loved me hard enough, held me tightly enough… maybe I could finally exhale. So I searched for home in other people. Sometimes I stayed too long. Loved too hard. Forgave too muc

There was a version of me who thought being loved meant being accommodating. Understanding. Forgiving. Patient. She explained herself until she was exhausted. Gave second chances that became fifth chances. Made herself smaller so other people could feel bigger. And sometimes confused being n

At some point, healing stopped being about fixing what hurt me. It became about actually enjoying the woman who survived it. And apparently… she’s a little louder than she used to be. 😏 She wears the lipstick. Plays the music too loud. Laughs at inappropriate times. Flirts when she feel

Healing is strange. You can grow. You can rebuild. You can become stronger, wiser, more confident, more protective of your peace… …and still have a day when something touches an old wound and suddenly you remember exactly how it felt to be the woman you used to be. That doesn’t erase you

I didn’t wake up one morning as this woman. I built her. Piece by piece. Lesson by lesson. Boundary by boundary. I lost. I learned. I healed. I grew. And somewhere along the way, I stopped waiting for someone else to choose me. I chose myself. This isn’t a reinvention. It’s a rec

At this point I deserve a reduced sentence for good behavior because I’m out here surviving on caffeine, hormones, stress, hot flashes, two jobs, emotional damage, and vibes alone. 😂 Charges include: • rage cleaning • crying for no reason • forgetting why I walked into a room • needing

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I’m not where I want to be yet…but I’m not where I was either. This is me rebuilding-one step at a time. I put everything I’m using into a simple kit in case anyone else needs a place to start. 🔗 Link in bio #phoenixera #creditrebuild #financialglowup #startingover #rebuildyo