Scribbles from a sleepy girl... in no particular order.

A bunch of scribbles from a sleepy girl... in no particular order. 

Drafts, journals, notes... not sure what date for some. But they all made sense together in a way.

I sat up in the bed. Reaching for the leg I thought was still covered in blood. 

Just a dream. Just a dream. 

It seems too simple to say I want them to be safe. 

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We all took a personality test that said we needed safety in the workplace... not one of us answered with having it. I found that horrible yet right on brand.

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"The greatest thing you can offer to a grieving soul is safety." - Rich Perez.

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Concrete Rose 

I’ve shared with a few people before that I was told by a woman without an earthly home I was like a weed in the sidewalk. At first I thought ouch okay… but over the years I’d be waking the streets in some big downtown city, and there would be this beautiful flower. Just there. In the sidewalk. Waiting to be seen. Trying its best to survive among the concrete and traffic. And I’d half smile thinking of my friend who saw me way back when. Maybe I was out of place. Maybe I didn’t fit in. But I was seen by her. Just like I was blessed to see her. And I’m grateful for that. 

Years after that first comment, I was handed a paper with the meaning of my Name. “Green shoot” “vitality” “fertility” “blooming” “goddess of harvest” and I thought yeah okay, weird. But cool. I like being joyful and the life of the party. Sure.

Turns out the Devil didn’t like that I was given identity and leaning into a truth, so he fed me a lie. 

Death. Darkness. Grim Reaper. Isolation. 

For years I’ve felt anything but "who I am." it’s not a coincidence that the very things I was surrounded by in reality, started to feed into the lies more than the truth. 

Tupac once said, “Long live the rose that grew from the concrete when no one else cared.” 

I cared. Every time I saw a flower in the sidewalk. I thought how much more that flower needed to fight just to be alive. I thought about how unfair it was that it wouldn’t ever be in a field or a vase. It wouldn’t just be there stuck. Waiting for someone like me to notice it. To thank it for just being. 

But I’ve been doing some resorting of the lies and the truths recently. 

The snow has melted away. 

Spring is around the corner. 

And I pulled that rose right out of the concrete & gave her a new pot. 

With soil & light & water.

Turns out the environment not only changes how we see flowers. 

But how we see ourselves. 

Like Angie Thomas wrote, 

“It's kinda like how we have to do with ourselves. Get rid of the things that don't do us any good. If it won't help the rose grow, you've gotta let it go.”

Like to be reminded that beauty can come from much of nothing. To me that’s the whole point of flowers.

My truth is I was seen a long time ago. Now it’s time I tend the environment I’m in and create more life. 

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A dandelion appeared in my yard today. Gods timing is always perfect.

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A week ago I walked off the bus and was met with big hugs from some middle schoolers who knew things would be a lot different now.

My phone still full of messages from OG's cracking jokes about how they "never thought they'd see the day."

Email inbox dinging every so often with community partners well wishes.

March 20th, 2025. Spring Equinox. And my last day on staff at Urban Impact. I chose that day exactly why you would assume. So much was out of my control on any given day. But book ending day light savings and the first day of spring around my final two weeks? SYMBOLIC. 

I haven't decided on what to say yet... for now, I am grieving much like always. Celebrating the small wins like they are huge, like always. And forever blessed.

It took me about 5 years to battle some serious darkness before getting to the light. 

But that day a week ago? I felt full of light. Joy. And a peace that I never thought was possible for someone like me. Bound with so much chaos and fire inside it's a mystery to me still.

It's very unlike me to make a decision before running away for awhile... but I guess you could count that time in Charlotte, Vegas, St. Louis, Joshua Tree, Knoxville, and all the times in Louisville combined for this one. Not to mention, I am looking at plane tickets currently...

Oak of righteousness yes, Rooted? I've never really been much for that part after all.

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I laughed so hard today I cried. Then I just cried. 

Surrounded by the dead, I slipped and fell in the mud cause with so much rain the newly buried plot caused a lot more muddy spots. Instead of jumping back up I just laid there stunned by how ridiculous I must have looked. But then I realized I was only surrounded by tombstones. My humor has become more and more dark over the years, while simultaneously becoming the lightest thing I can offer someone. 

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My therapist put a timer on me recently. He said I was the one who showed up. I was the one who decided it was time to heal... but it had to be for me. "You can't do it for them. They will have to decide one day too."

So now, I'm choosing to heal me.

Day 424

Day 424 of sobriety. 

Today I bought plants. 

Why? Because people don’t tell you on day 424… when life is crumbling around you, kids are dying,  you’re bombarded with bad news every hour on the hour… your immediate response is compulsion.

To numb, to forget, to separate, to isolate. And because you don’t have alcohol, or you don’t have anymore eyelashes to pull and people caught on to when you didn’t eat… you find another thing. 

Plants. 

And you play your music really really loud. 

And you go to the prayer room. 

And you cry. 

They also don’t tell you that people are sad when you don’t drink with them. Even if they don’t say it. 

I never really had an issue with alcohol. However, I do have an issue with numbing. 

I have an issue with reaching for anything that will separate me from pain and sadness. 

Because like someone has said before, I am the personality hire. 

I am joy. 

And feeling anything but happiness is a scary thing. For anyone. But for someone who isn’t programmed to be anything else… I’ve been malfunctioning to put it nicely. 

I’ve been in therapy before for watching an unhoused person die in the street, or for the fact I have multiple levels of OCD and depression… but my self infliction of discipline has remained unmoved. 

I’m not sure why that’s my go to coping mechanism… but here I am. With plants I know will die soon. Because just like I drown out my sins, I too over water my plants. 

I don’t have a solution folks. 

I’m just being honest. 

When will you?