My Raw Unscripted Life

This morning, I woke up and my mind was everywhere. Thoughts I didn’t invite (worry, doubt, fear) rushed in all at once, each one pulling me in a different direction. I tried to just observe them, to watch them float by the way I’ve been practicing, but the noise was too loud. I needed quiet. I needed stillness.

I picked up my spiral notebook to journal. As the ink started spilling my thoughts onto the page, I felt myself reaching for grounding. I stopped writing, placed my hand over my heart, and breathed:

Four breaths in.
Hold for four.
Six breaths out.

I stayed there until the mental storm softened into silence. When the noise finally settled, I picked up my pen again and wrote three words:

(1) Ground
(2) Imagine
(3) Rest

The Desire to Write Again

My first blog was fun, effortless even. It poured out of me without warning or planning. I had no agenda, no motive. I just wanted to be honest. I wanted to be vulnerable in a world where honesty feels rare.

When I finished writing it, I told myself I’d never share it with anyone who actually knew me. It felt too raw. Too exposed. So I figured it would be for strangers only.

But as I moved through my day, opportunities kept showing up. Suddenly I wanted people to read it: my cousins, my friends, people from my childhood. I felt proud, almost relieved. And I thought, I have to do this again.

So I planned to write another one.

But nothing came.
I tried writing about my birthday (November 21st). Nothing.
I tried reflecting on the aftermath of creating space in my life. Still nothing.

Was this writer’s block?
Was I about to be a one-blog wonder? But then this morning, once I finally found quiet, the words returned. So I let them flow.

Returning to Ease

My goal is a life of ease, but I wasn’t living that truth. I kept trying to force my next blog into existence. I searched for topics, pushed myself to be profound, tried to create something worth sharing. And every time I tried to “make” it happen, I ran straight into resistance.

Of course I did. I was pushing when I was supposed to be listening.

Trying to force anything is the opposite of ease.
Existence requires nothing.
Existence is free.

To feel good is to feel God.

And forcing myself through resistance never felt good. But I kept trying anyway, because we’re conditioned to “do” without asking how it makes us feel. We treat our emotions like scraps on a Thanksgiving plate, something to push aside, not something meant to guide us.

But grounding teaches me to listen.
Imagining reminds me that expansion is natural.
Rest brings clarity.

The moment I returned to ease, the words came back.

The Call From Blue

Then Blue called.

I froze. I thought he needed something, why else would he call? We had broken up, and in our dynamic, I had never been able to tell him no. He knew that. His call caught me off guard, but of course, I answered.

He carried on like nothing had changed.
Like he hadn’t broken my heart six days earlier.
Like we were still us.

I stayed polite. Kind. He had to go and said he’d call back. When he did, I didn’t answer. My girlfriend had invited me to the movies, so I went. When I came home, I finally crashed into the kind of nap my spirit had been begging for. I hadn’t truly slept since creating space.

Ten hours later, I woke up to a text from him:
“What’s your reason for not calling me bac 🤔… welp, I get it tho.”

What did he want from me?
I don’t know.

I wanted to ask him what his deal was, why he was calling, what he was feeling, but I knew he wouldn’t give me a real emotional truth. I always wished he would feel safe enough to let his walls down. I didn’t want to become another person who hurt him, adding another wound to his trauma.

The truth was painful:
I could no longer create a soft, convenient life for him while he stayed tucked inside his walls and I stayed in pain.

And as much as I loved him, unconditional love meant stepping back. It meant giving him the space to find his own evolution and loving myself enough to reclaim my peace.

I knew that if I heard his voice again, I would cave.
So I wrote him a Dear John letter by email and made my boundaries clear.

He can no longer have access to my heart.
He and I both deserve more.

And in that moment, in that act of being clear, I felt something shift. My peace returned. My mind quieted. And only then was I able to write again, fully, honestly, without force, without resistance. My words flowed, because my heart finally had the space to be free.