In the fog. In the funk. In that quiet place of disgust—
with myself, with my energy, with the version of me I was showing up in the world. The version I knew wasn’t the full me and didn’t even come close the whole story.

And I tried all the things.
Podcasts. Planners. Productivity hacks.
I tried to shop it away.
Tried to drink it away.
Tried to scroll, snack, sleep, save, spiritualize it away.
(Cue Solange—because yes, I even tried to change it with my hair.)

But none of it worked.
Because none of it asked me to face myself.
None of it made space for what I was really carrying.

I didn’t need more strategies.

I needed more space.

More space to be with me.
More space to grow.
More space to connect.
To slow down.
To breathe.
To begin again.

It wasn’t until I got still—until I got honest—
that things finally started to shift.

Journaling helped me untangle the noise.
Asking better questions gave me real answers.
And little by little—through reflection, release, and a whole lot of inner work—
I climbed my way back to myself.

This journal was born out of that climb.
So that maybe, you don’t have to do it alone. 💛