09/01/2025
Some seasons arrive like whispers. Others, like storms. This year has been both, relentless and unyielding. There are days when it feels like the weight of the world lives in my chest, not just for me, but for so many of us.
In 7 months ago, when my therapist “prescribed” a solo trip, my entire body resisted. My breath caught, my chest tightened, and tears came without warning. The thought of being alone, truly alone, with my thoughts, my fears, my deepest questions… it felt impossible… Who am I now? What do I want? Where am I headed?
But life has a way of nudging us toward what we need, even when we fight it. And somehow, here I am: London. Solo dolo. 🤯
I came here searching for quiet, for bookshops and libraries, for hidden corners where I could listen to myself again. A week devoted to rest, to curiosity, to remembering the parts of me I’ve set aside beneath responsibility and noise. A journey back to the self I’ve been too busy to meet.
I wouldn’t be here without the people who carried me when I couldn’t carry myself:
: for your unwavering support, your endless encouragement, and for holding it down at home with Mateo, no easy feat, and I’m endlessly grateful.
: for the necessary kick in the ass when I needed it most, even when I resisted it.
BWS: for sprinkling your magic to make this happen for me, there are no words big enough for my gratitude.
LA (no socials, but she knows 🫶🏾): for pushing me past my doubts and reminding me of what’s possible.
HMC: for teaching me, over and over, the art of self-care and the courage to choose myself.
SK: for your quiet wisdom and the gentle reminders to trust my instincts.
This week, I’m leaning into slow mornings, soft breaths, and deep stillness. I’m making space for the hard questions, and maybe, finally, some answers.
Here’s to rest.
Here’s to restoration.
Here’s to finding myself again.
