The Summer of 35

There’s something I realized this week. Something about myself that’s both uncomfortable and undeniably true . Food has become my best friend. Not in a “foodie” way, or because I love cooking, or because I’m exploring new flavors. No. This feels… different. It’s the way I turn to food even when I’m not hungry. It’s the way I eat when I’m anxious. When I’m bored. When I’m celebrating. When I’m just existing. Sometimes, food is just there , and that’s reason enough. A Quiet Realization It hit me, one quiet day at home. I was watching movies. Nothing intense, just relaxing. But for some reason, I couldn’t stop eating . Not snacks. Full meals. One after another. I wasn’t hungry—but I kept eating. Like a compulsion. As if chewing and swallowing would distract me from… something. By the end of the night, I was full. Not just satisfied. Stuffed. And still—I went for two slices of bread. Not because I needed them, but because I thought: What if I wake up at night and feel h...

Not Just Survival—But Passionate Living The kind of love you develop for the process is different from just tolerating your circumstances or “hanging in there.” It’s not the same as survival or showing up simply because you have to. It’s a deep, rich, intoxicating commitment to growth—and to yourself. I’ve always desired more than just existence. More than just getting through the day or checking things off a list. I want to be purposefully aligned with my goals. I want to look at my life and feel like, yes, this is mine, and I love it. I live for the days when I’m completely overwhelmed—not by chaos, but by the dreams I once longed for finally becoming my reality. That pressure to show up… it would be exhilarating. Scary? Sure. But deeply fulfilling. Because even with the weight of responsibility, I know I’d still go. I’d still show up. I’d still honor that version of myself. More Than A Paycheck Working just to make a living has never been a remedy that worked for me. There’...

A deep reflection on place, purpose, and the lie of the savior complex. The Hood Is Heavy There’s something deeply unsettling about the “hood”—not just the geography of it, but the spirit it carries. I live in the hood. It’s loud. It’s bitter. It’s angry. And more often than not, it’s dangerous—not only to the body, but to the soul. The fruits are the same, over and over again: scarcity, jealousy, gossip, violence, and trauma dressed up as toughness. You feel it in the streets. You hear it in the casual cruelty of neighbors. And somehow, you’re just expected to adapt . But I can’t romanticize the hood. Not today. Because what I see is a system that was engineered to break people down—and sadly, it's doing just that. A Short History: How the Townships Were Designed Let’s be clear: black people didn’t choose the hood— the system chose it for us. South African townships, where the majority of black communities still reside, were a product of apartheid’s violent spatial pl...

A soft reminder to rest and reflect. Waking Up with Joy Hey, yourself. This week has been amazing , hey? I woke up each day excited, ready to face the morning with an open heart. My mind felt clear—lighter, even—and there was no anxiety clouding my vision. Just peace. Just presence. It’s been a long time since I felt this in my body. Like I’m finally breathing again after holding it in for months. I allowed myself the luxury of rest and the tenderness of reflection—and that, in itself, felt like a miracle. Facing the Exhaustion I'd Been Ignoring I realised something this week: I hadn’t given myself the space to truly process life —its weight, its surprises, its pressures. I’ve been in motion for so long, running from one task to the next, that I forgot what stillness felt like. That caught up with me. It showed up in my face. In my attitude. In my spirit. I was exhausted, bestie. And when exhaustion lingers long enough, it doesn’t just wear you down—it changes you. It beco...

To the woman I am, and the one I am still becoming. The Beauty in My Strength My strength sometimes amazes me. There are days when I feel overwhelmed, unsure, or lost—yet somehow, I keep showing up. And when others reflect back to me the strength they see—when they say things like, “You inspire me” or “You’re doing well” —it stops me in my tracks. Because they’re seeing something I often miss in myself. And that teaches me a powerful lesson: perspective matters . I thank God for this journey. Not just the victories, but the stillness, the confusion, and the surrender. I’ve learned that sometimes the most important work isn’t in the doing—but in the revising , the resting , the re-strategizing . I want to live a life I’m excited about—a life full of purpose, joy, energy, and peace . I don’t want to be constantly tired, burdened, and bitter. That’s not the life I believe God wants for me either. The Quiet Pull of God's Presence This week, God reminded me of His peace—the kind ...

This week, I’ve been noticeably quiet on social media. I didn’t feel the need to post, to show up online, or to prove that I’m still working toward something. I’ve simply needed silence—a moment to step back and reflect on what truly matters. And in that stillness, I’ve found something I haven’t felt in a long time: peace. For the first time in a long time, I feel more at ease with my decisions than I ever did during the intense grind of the last five years. Those years were filled with hustle, ideas, pushing, pulling, overthinking, trying—and sometimes failing—to make everything happen all at once. It’s been exhausting, and the pressure I placed on myself was constant and loud. But this week? My mind feels lighter. My chest isn’t tight with anxiety. There’s a softness in how I speak to myself. I no longer feel like I’m behind, racing, or missing out. I’ve accepted that change is okay. Redirection is divine. Starting over is still progress. And this new direction I’m choosing feels r...

A Clear Choice, A New Morning This Friday feels different—and positively so. I woke up and made a conscious choice: to keep going, to keep choosing myself, and to honor the decision to follow my unique path. That alone fills me with gratitude. The ability to choose, to wake up and keep going despite the noise in my head, is a quiet form of courage. Aging into Uncertainty Life in my 30s is eerily similar to my 20s—but with more responsibility, more self-doubt, and a thousand more thoughts of comparison. The anxiety has doubled, and so has the awareness of how quickly time moves. I often question whether the decisions I’ve made are good enough. Whether I’m falling behind. Whether I’ve already messed up beyond repair. The doubt creeps in silently, and some days, it roars. But I’m Still Here And then I remind myself: I’m still here. Still breathing. Still learning. Still trying. That alone must mean something. It must mean there’s more in store. More purpose. More growth. More becomi...