𝖁𝖊𝖓𝖚𝖘𝖎𝖆𝖓𝕵𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖑

As I sit in a space I once used to vent and make sense of my thoughts and behaviors, I realize this is exactly what I needed. I haven’t been active on YouTube for a few years because I felt watched and scrutinized for the things I chose to share in what I considered my safe space. I used to beat myself up for no longer wanting to share parts of my journey visually because I’ve never been the kind of person to give up easily. I’m strong-willed, passionate about self-expression, and I consider it a gift.

I’ve met so many people who struggle to express themselves authentically because their “oh no, someone’s going to see or hear this” alarm goes off long before mine. I try to focus on my intention rather than worrying about how I’m perceived because, at the end of the day, that’s inevitable.

There are so many new beginnings on the horizon for me: relocating from Houston to New Jersey with my fiancé, reconnecting with and building our community, finishing my associate’s degree, and eventually getting married when I feel ready. I’m not in a rush, and I don’t like to be rushed—especially by people who don’t contribute.

When I talk about “contributions,” it’s never about money or glorification—it’s about my pursuit of happiness. Too often, people hesitate to vocalize their joy or goals because society seems to celebrate complaints more than contentment. It’s almost taboo to speak kindly of yourself or your dreams unless it’s veiled as a joke on TikTok. That emptiness disguised as humor actually scares me. Why can’t we laugh simply because of a funny memory or engage in genuine conversations about life’s challenges if that ? I think we’re actually cooked forreal.

We’re no longer living in the moment or creating new memories, whether intentionally or by accident. Instead, we’re caught in a loop of oversharing—our reels, our TikToks, our traumas, and even our raw, unfiltered selves but nothing else. I want to leave space for the kind of moments that linger, the ones I can savor and process over time because they were so beautiful, fulfilling, heartwarming, and intentional.

For me, marriage isn’t just about the dress or the ceremony—those things are easy. The real challenge is creating the feeling you want to surround your union. Sure, I can find my dream dress and hire the best makeup artist, but without family and friends who are curious, helpful, and selfless, some of the joy that is lost in the process.

Living in a reality where hyper-independence is necessary yet everyone wants a seat at your table is a hard no for me. No guidance, no effort to change the narrative, no love, no willingness to inconvenience themselves—that’s what’s wrong with society. But I’m grateful for the small group of people who consistently show up. My fiancé, who shares the same sentiments I have but he also provides a perspective that allows me to process these thoughts in a healthy way. My cousin Kim, who’s ensuring I celebrate with the family that loves me. My friends Mechelle and Viv, who’ve offered to coordinate a bachelorette party and to simply be apart of this journey. They listen, they show up, and that’s what matters.

On another note, I’m almost done with my sophomore year of college, and I’m becoming a better student as I go. Truthfully, school was never part of my dream, but I know that achieving what you want often requires doing inconvenient things. No shade—it’s just so humbling. Like imagine having to be an adult FULLY, then have to be ahead of your assignments and get good grades to keep your GPA up while still being a person. Everything as an adult just feels like a damn circus!

College, like love, has a way of liberating you in ways you don’t expect. This degree is supposed to help me gain financial stability and access—at least, that’s what I’ve been told. I’m affirming it because financial stability is my ultimate goal. But making money isn’t enough for me. I’ve made money before, and I’ve learned that stability means longevity and I want that, I need that, gata have that!

I use to have the need to leave so many jobs in the past because I was more comfortable settling for what I call “bum ass jobs” or places where mediocrity and mistreatment are normalized. It was easy to get in and just as easy to give up on, and after realizing my resume was getting longer and longer, I made a hard decision to just go get this degree. It’s easy for people to just accept poor management, late paychecks, and toxic environments for a check. I’m no longer willing to settle though, so the jig is UP.

Speaking of settling, I’ve reached a point in my healing journey where I’d prefer for people to not seek advice from me. Whatever decisions people share with me, all I can do is nod and wave. I used to feel the need to respond fully and authentically to everything, but I’m learning that not everyone is open to honesty. Although some things are obviously bad decisions, it’s not up to me to decide what’s best for others. Some call it a “superiority complex,” but I believe we all have one in different forms. But until I step into motherhood, I only desire mothering myself from now on. I need it more than anyone I know.

What fascinates me is how people suppress their true feelings, only to discuss them with others behind closed doors. I’d rather address things directly, but I understand why defensiveness happens. What I don’t tolerate is when that defensiveness turns into disrespect, that’s when I step back.

Anger and disappointment used to be my go-to responses when I felt misunderstood. But the truth is, I wanted validation from people who couldn’t relate to my reality and that’s not healthy. The only people that can validate a rare experience like navigating orphanism, or having no siblings, are people who share that same exact sentiments or people with extremely high emotional intelligence. It’s a lonely but necessary realization: not everyone will understand your journey, and that’s okay.

This is why therapy has become a recurring part of my life. It gives me the outlet I need because I can’t always expect friends to fill that role. Friends should be a support system, not a ventilation system, and learning this has been freeing but also isolating.

At the same time, I’m learning to take responsibility for my thoughts and actions without seeking external validation. It’s heavy work, but it’s also part of growth. Writing, like therapy, helps me process these moments. I don’t write to please, I write to release. My blog as well as my YouTube are my safe spaces and I will no longer suppress the need to release myself from the guilt, or shame surrounding expression.

I enjoyed making this video for YouTube, but I wanted to share it here because writing allows me to emphasize my emotions in a more intimate way. If you resonate with any of this, leave a comment below. Let me know where you are in your journey, because we’re all figuring out this life for the first time—and I’d love to hear your perspective.