Intimately Worded with Michelle

Category: Advocacy

  • #CrossingBridges:

    The Third Day Promises: Healing is Agency

    Nature Walk♥️

    Where Lent Found Me

    Lent met me in the present this year. Not in old wounds. Not in childhood memory. Not in something buried. But in something current.

    I was recovering from a breakup I was growing in; it had great potential. There was no explosion.

    No dramatic ending. Just the quiet understanding that something meaningful had run its course.

    And even when you accept that with maturity —there is still grief. The kind that lingers. The kind that shows up in ordinary evenings.

    While Falling Forward

    I felt the need for structure. So I went dry.

    I walked more. I paid closer attention to what entered my body. I thought I was already mindful.

    But intentional seasons reveal subtle attachments. It wasn’t about food. It was about comfort. It was about what I reached for when I didn’t want to feel the weight of missing someone.

    The Moments I Leaned In

    There were evenings when I felt the ache more than usual. I would stand in the kitchen —

    not hungry, just unsettled. And I sensed it quietly:

    Stay here.

    “Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10

    Stillness felt harder than indulgence.

    But stillness was where clarity lived.

    So instead of soothing myself outwardly,

    I turned inward. Instead of numbing, I walked.

    Instead of filling silence. I let it hold me. Solitude is a practice of extending self- grace.

    Easter Sunday: Third Day Promises

    The Third Day has always meant resurrection.

    But this year, it meant the in-between.

    The space between surrender and rising.

    The quiet before clarity.

    “And we know that all things work together for good…” — Romans 8:28

    Even this. Even endings that didn’t break me —

    but stretched me. I realized I wasn’t in collapse.

    I was in refinement.

    The Better of Things

    What surprised me most was not the discipline around my body. It was the clarity around my calling. There has been a gentle stirring in me —to expand professionally. To step more fully into my work as a therapist. To build with greater intention.

    There are rooms I feel called to walk into now — not from lack, but from readiness.

    Grief clarified my capacity. I am not shrinking.

    I am strengthening.

    What I Know

    Healing is Agency. It’s choosing differently, even when it’s hard. This season taught me, Healing this Lent wasn’t dramatic. It was disciplined. It was honest. It was present. Spiritual intimacy, for me, became alignment.

    Alignment between: what I feel

    what I release

    what I consume

    what I build

    The Third Day reminds me that resurrection is not always loud. Sometimes it looks like:

    acceptance,

    a long walk,

    a closed chapter,

    and quiet courage.

    I am still becoming.

    And that feels enough.

    Being brave,

    Michelle

    ©️Intimately Worded, Michelle

  • This Is What Healing Became

    This Is What Healing Became

    — Dating with Intention, Growing in Purpose, and Embracing What’s Next

    Soft landing

    I feel like I’m moving into something new.

    It isn’t loud. It isn’t forced. There’s no dramatic breaking or unraveling—just a quiet unfolding. A gentle crossing over into a space that feels… different. I feel loved here. Sure-footed. Grounded in a way that doesn’t require me to prove anything. And there’s a happiness present—steady, unyielding, yet breathable. The kind that doesn’t suffocate or demand, but simply is.

    Earlier this week, a client told me, “You’re strong.”

    I paused, and I gently told her, “I have strength.”

    Because there is a difference.

    Being “strong” can sometimes feel like a role we’re forced to play. A fixed identity. A weight. It can sound like survival dressed up as virtue—the kind that leaves no room for softness, for breaking, for being held. Strength, on the other hand, is alive. It moves. It breathes. It grows.

    My strength is not rigid—it replenishes.

    It extends grace when I need it most.

    It allows me to bend without losing myself.

    It lets me rest without guilt.

    Strength is what carried me through the seasons where I didn’t feel chosen, where I questioned my path, where I showed up anyway—uncertain, but willing. It is what taught me that endurance is not about hardening, but about remaining open… even when it would be easier to close.

    And now, I feel the fruit of that.

    Not in a performative way. Not in a way that needs validation. But in a quiet knowing: I am held. By God. By the work I’ve done. By the woman I’ve become.

    This newness doesn’t feel like pressure—it feels like permission.

    Permission to soften without losing my power.

    Permission to experience joy without waiting for something to go wrong.

    Permission to receive love without questioning if I’ve earned it.

    And as I sit with this newness, I’m beginning to understand what it is asking of me.

    It is calling me to be intentional in the spaces I once approached cautiously.

    When I return to dating, it will not be from a place of loneliness or curiosity—but from alignment. I am no longer entertaining potential without evidence. I am no longer drawn to what feels familiar but unsettled. I will date with intention—clear, grounded, and open—allowing connection to meet me where I already stand whole. There will be no rushing, no proving, no abandoning myself to be chosen. Only mutuality. Only peace.

    This newness is also stretching me professionally.

    There is more for me to learn, more for me to carry, more for me to offer. I can feel the pull toward another certification—another layer of knowledge, another refinement of my craft. Not for validation, not for appearance, but because I honor the responsibility of what I hold. The letters behind my name will grow, yes—but more importantly, so will my capacity to serve, to discern, to lead with both skill and spirit.

    And then there is this sacred space I am entering—empty nesting.

    It is tender. It is unfamiliar. It is quieter than what I’ve known for so long. And yet, I am not resisting it. I am leaning in. I am allowing myself to feel the fullness of what it means to release and to trust that what I have poured into will continue to live and breathe beyond me.

    At the same time, I find myself gently preparing—creating provision for what’s to come. Not from fear, but from wisdom. Not from lack, but from stewardship. I am honoring both the present moment and the future that is unfolding before me.

    This is what newness means for me:

    Not striving—but aligning.

    Not forcing—but allowing.

    Not bracing—but trusting.

    Do the necessary work.

    I am learning that growth doesn’t always feel like pressure. Sometimes it feels like peace. Sometimes it feels like clarity. Sometimes it feels like standing in the middle of your life and realizing… you are no longer trying to survive it.

    You are ready to live it.

    And maybe that’s where I am.

    Not at the end of anything.

    But at the beginning of something sacred.

    A life that feels both grounded and expansive.

    A heart that is no longer bracing—but open.

    A spirit that trusts what is unfolding, even without having all the answers.

    If this is what newness feels like…

    I am ready to receive it.

    Being brave,

    Michelle ✨🌿✨

    ©️Intimately Worded, Michelle

  • Healing: A Season of Solitude

    The Journey of Journaling

    There are seasons in life when healing doesn’t arrive with a clear roadmap. There are no ten steps, no quick formulas, no perfectly outlined path back to ourselves. Instead, healing often arrives quietly—through awareness, compassion, and the courage to sit with our own hearts.

    Recently, while waiting for my daughter in a parking lot, I opened my journal and wrote the following:

    “My body spoke to me: rest. I woke up and decided against attending church. I snacked on fruit and nuts while I completed notes. I took a 2-hour nap. I awoke rested.

    I took a photo of the sunflower in my vase catching the sunlight.

    Loving thing to remember: I am loveable. This season of solitude is healing. I miss his presence, the comfort he gave. I am better than ok.”

    When I read those words again later, I realized something important: healing had already begun before I ever tried to “figure it out.”

    Listening Instead of Fixing

    In a culture that often pushes us to move quickly through discomfort, solitude can feel like something we must escape or rush through. But sometimes the most honest thing we can do is pause long enough to listen.

    On that particular day, my body asked for rest. Instead of overriding the signal, I honored it. I skipped church, completed the work that needed my attention, ate something simple, and allowed myself a nap.

    That decision wasn’t dramatic or heroic. It was simply attentive.

    Healing often begins in these quiet moments—when we stop trying to control the process and start listening to what our bodies and spirits need.

    The Beauty That Returns

    Light & Shadows ✨

    What surprised me most about that day wasn’t the rest. It was the moment of beauty.

    I found myself taking a picture of a sunflower sitting in a vase, illuminated by sunlight. It wasn’t an extraordinary scene, yet something about the light felt warm and alive.

    When our hearts begin to heal, we start noticing small beauty again. Light through a window. A quiet moment. The stillness of a flower catching the sun.

    These small recognitions are not trivial; they are signs that the nervous system is settling and the heart is slowly reopening.

    Holding Multiple Truths

    Another realization came as I reread my journal entry: healing doesn’t require us to deny what we feel.

    I wrote honestly that I miss his presence and the comfort he once gave. Missing someone does not mean we are broken or moving backward. It simply means the connection mattered.

    At the same time, I affirmed something equally important:

    I am loveable.

    This season of solitude is healing.

    I am better than ok.

    Healing with an open heart means allowing multiple truths to coexist. We can miss someone and still move forward. We can feel tenderness for the past while choosing a healthier future.

    Solitude Is Not Emptiness

    A season of solitude is often misunderstood as loneliness or isolation. In reality, it can be a sacred space where clarity and self-respect deepen.

    Solitude gives us the room to ask gentle questions:

    What does my body need right now? What does peace feel like in my life? What kind of love truly aligns with my values?

    These questions do not demand immediate answers. They simply invite awareness.

    Healing Is Not a Checklist

    There is a temptation to treat healing as a set of steps: forgive, move on, start again. But real healing rarely unfolds so neatly.

    Instead, it grows through:

    Compassion for ourselves when we feel vulnerable.

    Forgiveness, not as a forced act but as a gradual softening of the heart.

    Awareness of our needs, boundaries, and inner wisdoms.

    When we allow healing to unfold naturally, it becomes less about fixing ourselves and more about rediscovering ourselves.

    An Open Heart in a Quiet Season

    That short journal entry reminded me that healing does not always announce itself with grand breakthroughs. Sometimes it appears as rest, sunlight, and the quiet affirmation that we are still worthy of love.

    A season of solitude is not a pause in life. It is a period of listening, growing, and becoming more deeply rooted in who we truly are.

    And from that place, love—healthy, stable, reflective love—has a way of finding us again.

    Until then, we keep listening to the small, wise voice within that says:

    Rest.

    Notice the light.

    Remember—you are loveable.

    I encourage you to trust this part of the journey too.

    Being brave,

    Michelle 🌿

    ©️Intimately Worded, Michelle

  • The Quiet That Comes After Letting Go

    The Quiet That Comes After Letting Go

    There is a certain kind of quiet that only comes after emotional noise.

    Not the quiet of loneliness.

    Not the quiet of avoidance.

    But the quiet that returns when your spirit has decided it will no longer argue with what it already knows.

    Tonight the house is still.

    My phone is still.

    Even my thoughts feel softer than they did a few weeks ago.

    Healing does not always announce itself loudly. Sometimes it arrives in the smallest ways.

    You notice you laughed at something today.

    You realize your shoulders are no longer clenched.

    You stop replaying conversations that once felt like unfinished business.

    And somewhere in that noticing, you understand something important:

    You survived the moment that once felt unbearable.

    For a while, your heart held tension the way a fist holds onto something it is afraid to drop.

    Questions.

    Hopes.

    Words that were never fully returned.

    But eventually the body grows tired of holding on to pain that has already taught its lesson.

    So the hand opens.

    Not dramatically.

    Not all at once.

    Just enough for peace to slip back in.

    Tonight I am learning that healing is not always about replacing what was lost.

    Sometimes healing is simply the moment when your heart becomes quiet enough to remember who you were before the storm.

    And that woman is still here.

    Still thoughtful.

    Still discerning.

    Still capable of loving deeply.

    Only now she knows something she didn’t before:

    Peace is not something someone else brings into your life.

    Peace is what returns when you stop negotiating with what your spirit already released.

    And when that quiet comes…

    you finally rest again.

    Inner Reflection

    Some endings leave behind a strange kind of silence. At first, it can feel uncomfortable, even heavy. We may reach for distractions or explanations because the stillness feels unfamiliar.

    But sometimes that silence is not emptiness.

    Sometimes it is restoration.

    It is the sacred space where your heart regains its rhythm. Where your thoughts begin to settle. Where your spirit gently reminds you that you are not defined by what ended, but by the strength it took to release it.

    In this moment, if you find yourself in a quiet season, allow it to be what it is.

    You do not have to rush to fill the silence.

    Sometimes peace arrives softly…

    and asks only that you receive it.

    “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”

    — Exodus 14:14

    A Gentle Question for Your Heart

    Before you move into the rest of your day, take a quiet moment and ask yourself:

    What has my spirit already released that my mind is still trying to hold on to?

    Healing often begins the moment we stop wrestling with what God has already given us the strength to leave behind.

    Today, allow yourself to rest in the quiet. Trust the stillness, it’s a win. ✨

    Being brave,

    Michelle

    ©️Intimately Worded, Michelle

  • Sunday Reflection: Advocating for Myself, Finding My Center

    Sunday Reflection: Advocating for Myself, Finding My Center

    Sundays have always been my sanctuary—the quiet pause, the slow swirl of coffee steam, the soft scratch of pen on paper. Today, I’m sitting with a truth I’m learning more intimately: self-advocacy is not optional. It is necessary. It is the bridge between hope and action, between fear and clarity, between my body and my spirit.

    Anchoring —Advocate

    This week, I found myself in a strange liminal space: my body insisting on attention, my mind navigating uncertainty, and the familiar ache of missing my mom whispering in the background. I was faced with the possibility of emergency surgery, yet something in me hesitated. I wanted guidance, but not without discernment. I sought the advice of my primary care physician, the solace of my adult children, the steady presence of my siblings. And through it all, I leaned into my partner, Reggie, whose care and calm felt like a cape draped over my shoulders in a storm.

    Through these moments, I kept returning to my faith. Spirituality has been my guide when life demands pivoting, when seeking clarity in confusion, and when life lifts me up and lays me low. The words of James 1:5 remind me: “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him.” Leaning into that guidance, I found the courage to pause, reflect, and make decisions in alignment with my body, my mind, and my soul.

    Self-advocacy is sacred. It is the act of showing up for myself when life threatens to sweep me along. It is telling the world—and reminding myself—that my voice, my feelings, and my choices matter. Choosing to pause before surgery wasn’t indecision. It was discernment. It was a quiet, stubborn insistence that I would not let fear dictate my path.

    I share this because I know so many of us move through life forgetting to take our own hand, to speak our truth in the spaces where it matters most. Whether it’s in health, relationships, work, or our spiritual lives, advocating for ourselves requires courage, patience, and a fierce tenderness. It is not selfish; it is essential.

    Today, I write with gratitude for the support around me, for the faith that keeps me anchored, and for the hope that whispers, even when my body feels foreign to me. Advocating for myself is not just surviving—it is leaning into life fully, with awareness, presence, and love.

    May we all find the courage to speak our needs, honor our bodies, trust our wisdom, and lean into our faith when the path is uncertain.

    Be brave,

    Michelle

    ©️Intimately Worded, Michelle

  • Blocking vs. Boundary Setting in Intimate Relationships: Choosing What Protects Your Peace

    Blocking vs. Boundary Setting in Intimate Relationships: Choosing What Protects Your Peace

    Intuition and Self Love

    In the landscape of intimate relationships—especially ones that have ended or grown complicated—the question often arises: Do I block them, or do I set a boundary and keep the line open? Both choices carry meaning, weight, and consequences. The decision is deeply personal, but understanding the difference can help you move toward clarity and healing.

    What Is Blocking?

    Blocking is a hard boundary. It’s a clear, uncompromising decision: “You no longer have access to me in this space.”When you block someone, you remove their ability to call, text, or interact with you on social platforms. This is often used when continued access feels harmful, triggering, or disrespectful to your healing process.

    ✨ For example, one client described how every morning text from her ex felt like reopening a wound. When she finally blocked him, she said she could breathe deeper—the silence felt like freedom, not loss. She likened it to closing a door so her spirit could finally rest.

    • Impact of Blocking:
      • Immediate relief from unwanted contact.
      • Reduces temptation to re-engage in unhealthy dynamics.
      • Signals to yourself that your peace matters more than their access.
      • Can, however, stir feelings of finality or grief—sometimes blocking means truly accepting closure. The “what-if” ping pong game.

    What Is Boundary Setting?

    Boundary setting is a soft or flexible limit. It might look like muting notifications, telling the person when and how you are willing to communicate, or choosing to disengage without fully cutting off access. Boundaries require ongoing communication and reinforcement, and they often shift depending on your healing and growth.

    ✨ Another client chose boundaries over blocking with a co-parent. She muted notifications outside of agreed parenting hours, so she wasn’t startled by messages at night. This gave her control and calm, without shutting the door on necessary communication. She said it felt like drawing a gentle circle of protection around herself and her child.

    • Impact of Boundary Setting:
      • Preserves a sense of control without complete severance.
      • Allows room for civility, co-parenting, or shared responsibilities.
      • Requires emotional strength to hold the line when boundaries are tested.
      • Can prolong attachment if the other person continues to cross boundaries or send mixed messages.

    Which Is Right for You?

    The choice between blocking and boundary setting comes down to one central question: Does their access to me nurture my healing, or does it harm it?

    • If their presence disrupts your peace, drains your energy, or constantly reopens wounds—blocking may be the healthiest option.
    • If there is space for respect, distance, and maturity in ongoing contact—boundary setting may work.

    Neither choice is about punishment; both are about protecting your well-being.

    The Deeper Impact

    • Blocking often brings a sharper sense of relief and clarity, but also demands acceptance of closure.
    • Boundaries offer flexibility, but can leave cracks where old dynamics slip back in.

    Both paths teach you something powerful: your care, energy, and attention are sacred resources. Choosing how to guard them is an act of self-respect.

    A Gentle Spiritual Reminder

    When facing the choice to block or set boundaries, it can help to soften the moment with spiritual grounding. Offer yourself a simple prayer or affirmation:

    “I release what disturbs my peace. I trust that God, Spirit, and Love guide me into relationships that honor my soul. My heart is safe, my life is unfolding, and I am whole.”

    Remember: healing isn’t just about saying no to someone else—it’s about saying yes to yourself, your faith, and your future.

    Call to Action

    If you find yourself wrestling with this decision, take time to journal, pray, or meditate on these questions:

    • When I allow access, do I feel peace or pain?
    • When I remove access, do I feel loss or freedom?
    • What does my spirit long for in this season of my life?

    If the answers feel heavy, consider reaching out to a trusted therapist, faith leader, or supportive community. Sometimes the most spiritual act of love is to protect the vessel that is you.

    Intimately Worded,

    Michelle

    @TransitionalPathwaysPLLC

    Where healing is sacred and intimacy begins with you.

  • Intentional Journey

    May is Mental Health Awareness Month

    2018-2019
    2020-2021
    December 2020
    May 2023
    #SoftLove
    Different 🔥
    (more…)

  • Freeing…a healing journey

    Pain has purpose, I hear that a great deal. I believe the statement to be true. Pain has purpose and I’m learning to heal with it: the pain and the purpose of the pain. I’m learning that quietness and confidence leads toward greater strength. I’m following grace and no longer leading grace. It has been another Earth Year, another birthday. I smile. I reflect. I pray. I breathe deeply and I praise God for all of intricate, unearthing, undoing and unlearning of 52 years. I am honoring my journey more.

    I scheduled a few days off to celebrate my birthday; however none of the week slowed down, my stillness was high jacked and I found it difficult to sit, to deep breathe. I believe we often take for granted the days we’re given and the time we are to spend with one another.

    Our souls will get weary, our physical gets tired and the mental fatigue with personal and professional life is challenging. I do not often want to go, go, go. I’m learning to not grow bitter in my living. I’m learning to release those and their actions when being helpful, productive turns towards hostility.

    What I know: I have become very protective of my time. I have learned to value it more. I long for moments of solitude, of quietness. I do not feel like I need to be seen for you to “see” me. #Epiphany

    I’m unlearning that my softer isn’t weakness and I’m loving this part of my growing 50s. I’m doing things different and hopefully, better. #Smile I will celebrate this birthday without a flood of anxiety and busyness. I’ve scheduled me an integrative Thai Massage and I’ll spend a day with a friend lunching and antiquing in a small town…next month. I encourage you to trust the bigger of these days, the good things of this life. Love yourSelf better and those good humans you want/and or have will always find you.

    I pray that you see your miracles, live your answered prayers and love your healing path. Knowing that we want to heal and need to heal does not protect us from doing the work. Healing is hard, life grows difficult in most parts of our journey; trust where you are. I beg you not to start over just begin where you are, begin again in those moments. I love you. I see you. ~Michelle

    “When the time is right, I, The Lord, will make it happen.” Isaiah 60:22.

    Reader Takeaway: Pay attention to how people pull at you and what they pull from you. What parts of you are you giving away? How much does that particular giving wounds your soul?

  • This Doesn’t Feel New: Anxiety

    Sundays are my favorite, always has been my favorite day of the week. Last week, I awoke with #panic. I experienced a panic attack at 4:09 a.m. I haven’t had a panic attack in over 15 years. I am the best at coping, at righting my wrongs and at times the desire to perfect my surroundings will get the best of me. I have a lot going on; I believe we all do.

    It is now March and this Year doesn’t feel so refreshing to me. It’s as if I’m starting over to start over. I’m beginning to get stuck in the hard parts. What is #new isn’t stagnant, its moving and it is not overwhelming. Everything is weird, good weird. I’m internally grateful. It all seems rather uncertain, better and yet undefinable. Four years ago, I was working towards my licensing and no panic attacks doing every thing “right” to make sure I achieved my goals. Perfectionism isn’t the goal yet our thoughts will force those habits to occur. Then again nor were we living in a Pandemic nor was I a working therapist. Anxiety hits us so differently and unexpectedly. I can tell you I’m thrown off of the balance I believed I had achieved. I feel guilty that I experienced a panic attack.

    I’ve come a long way. I know I have. My bond with my #Sister-friendships have deepened even though there has been significant heartbreak for us all. Panic attacks are happening to the greatest of us…it is weird when we’re the strength of our families. My love shows more when I am unable to therapy those I love. (Your therapist friend cannot be your therapist.) I love in so many other ways and I’m proud of my Sister-Queens for understanding that, for being there for me in ways they may not fully comprehend.

    I remain extremely busy yet I love seeing the breakthroughs. One patient, older, has scheduled a face to face session in office for next month. They live several hours away. Patient: “I just want to see you. I’m getting out more this year. Imma fix myself up and make a trip of it. This Zoom ain’t it for everything. Can I see you in office?”

    I love and require the guidance I receive from those I am connected to, my Spiritual Advisor. Her: “Send me your spiritual goals. I want to pray for those same things you want.” My heart smiles. #Heartwork So I’m not so far off course yet this panic attack has me reflecting on where I am, mentally. My heart is healing, my intentions are pure, my soul is unlearning what I theorize as the Black Woman Syndrome. I surely do miss my mother.

    Continue to take your moments; stop seizing the day when your Well is leaking. I take my moments when my teen daughter asks for her pictures when she was 6 years old for a school project. I take my moments when my son drops off my granddaughter so he can shoot ball and our habits become a group text about how and who is the meanest. Koda, Sir Pup continues to argue with his big self. Brutus’ voice is deeper, he’s taller and is frustrated because I purchased Cheerwine instead of 7UP.

    Our struggles do not have to become so weighted that we lose the truth of who we are. Trust your give, continue to do your work. Be gentle with your soul again. Trust your Self, even through this and each time your soul is stretched. God doesn’t pile up the heaviness…we neglect to release those things to Him. Be mindful of your words. How are you treating You? #SoulImage

    Intimately Worded,

    ~Michelle

    • Healing: Necessary Work

      I know I haven’t blogged in awhile. As this world continues to be lopsided, broken and undergoing intense psychological warfare on Humanity; I find myself consistently in a weird wounded type of movement. Open, learning, yearning yet not passive nor suppressed….Defiantly Intimate.

      The Process of Unlearning

      Since last post, I completed my required 3000 hours under my deadline goal of two years—I completed them in 18 months. I have submitted my application for approval for full licensure. I have improved my selfcare with purchasing fresh flowers for my home, just because I like the idea of them. Even with this quarantine, I remain available for my children, my grandchild and my patients. I’ve tried to date….men are exhausting. That’s a whole other ordeal. #MyLife

      Living Black does not leave me disconnected from any of the News, the headlines, the atrocities. Racism, the hate isn’t new. The resurgence of the Black Movement is painful, magnetic, intense and divinely necessary. This is more than a moment. Do your work, you matter. #SystemicAwareness

      I want to write about the process in healing. When healing, you’re not moving pass it. You’re moving through it. Healing requires acknowledgment before insight and foresight are gifted. How are we to reconcile when the hurt is not recognized? This is where its not about “how you made me feel” takes root but rather having the capacity to self-advocate with, “You hurt me.”

      I understand that we do not like conflict. Yet, it is divinely irresponsible to limit the pathways toward your healing. This is where you begin your work. We tend to rationalize reaching down or reaching backward for the very same systems, person or people that broke us.

      Be willing to overturn and unlearn systems that benefit from the crushing of Humanity: WE are a powerful people. Good wins; it should. Allow people to leave when emotional maturity is lacking, when spiritual identity becomes foggy, distant, unreciprocated. Give space —huge amounts of space to those who are incapable of making room for you. Move differently. You are worthy of healing.

      Intimately Worded,

      Michelle

      Writer’s Favorite Work: Lion’s Den and the vulnerability of Belief is one of my greatest written work to date. Take a read or re-read.

    • July: Healing Humanity

      Our 2020 has gut punched seemingly on a weekly basis. I’m proud of how we’ve endured and persevered. WordPress sent me a congratulatory notification two days ago stating that I have been blogging for 5 years now. Wow! I am appreciative for the courage to share my thoughts in such a creative process. Thank you to all who like, follow, share and comment. I value each of you.

      This year has had me in such a weird place that writing seems foreign to me. I haven’t been neglectful in writing—there just doesn’t seem to be an easy flow of writing to where readers will be empathetic to comprehend my soul pieces. I hope that makes sense. The political disconnect (truthfully it has always been there), CoVid19 continues, Systemic Racism (woundedly, it remains), Police Murders of Black Lives (#GeorgeFloyd) was not the first and the revolutionary resurgence of Black Movement. #BlackLivesMatter

      #Spiritual Wellness…I made major moves this week. I’m doing a lot more focusing on the things I want and requesting those things that I require. I expected some push back on this one request and I didn’t receive it. In a talk w/ a colleague, “Michelle I’m not sure why you expected push back. You are the most sought out therapist here. Look at your location. Every location I visit you’re the only therapist that remains booked. Yeah. No, you’re not going to get any push back.” 

      I looked at her strangely. I didn’t get the big head. I became even more humbled. There are times I have no clue where I am in all this. Oftentimes, I miss me. This week was a Monday’s Monday–every day of the week: I listened to a patient apologize yet defend their idea of “All Lives Matter while Black Lives do not matter.” (Actual words: “Black Lives do not matter.”) The more they talked to their Black Female Therapist, the more racist they sounded. I wrote three individuals out of work—mental health has become an issue for the majority; I was threatened “jokingly” while in session and I reported my first case of child abuse to DSS.

       This ‘work” just doesn’t leave me yet it doesn’t become a part of me either. It all causes me to pause and reflect. I move into gratefulness. I think who I am and how I am leads me toward the moments of difficulty, gives me strength and causes me to recognize where my strength comes from. I think if  I had the ability to shake it or become numb I wouldn’t be who I am as a therapist. I believe serving as a therapist has to be one of the most difficult things I had to do…and become. We’re always becoming, evolving; trying to be better than yesterday. This role as therapist is difficult while being purposefully rewarding; so many pieces of me are required. 

      In my personal reflection, I notice how we neglect ourselves to make ourselves available for other people. One previous Saturday, I woke up unsure if I was getting sick or if I was just worn out–mentally and physically. I was more apt to believe in the first option, that I was getting sick. In wearing these masks my face has begun to breakout, coupled w/ stress I think it’s natural to assume illness. I needed to rest and reset. I’m going to find my space in this. I’m committed to finding my space in this. I continue to make room everyday as well as set new boundaries. I am selfish with my peace.

      I pray that in our moments —those moments that we find difficult to get up that we move towards our wholeness. As we continue to be whole there is no stopping point of movement, of increase. We gain ground. Continue to gain ground. In your grounding: you may have to Reground, Reframe, Reset, Process, Breathe…Love Anyway. 

      Intimately Worded,

      Michelle

    • Facing Our Monsters

      January has been the most difficult concerning my therapeutic life. It was a rough month. This hurt; this stuff hurts. Its not all due to the therapeutic experiences alone yet hearing certain isolated stories of pain caused me to look at some pockets of pain in my life. We are not just facing traumas…to work in a mental health profession, with #mental illness is upsetting, its great, its wonderful, its inspiring, motivating, its painful.

      Its painful to see the things we have to see; its hurtful, soul wrenching and heartbreaking to hear the horrific things people go through and the things they want to do…its haunting. What I have learned this year, what I am learning this year: its not that I need to do more or that I need to be more intentional: I need someone.

      I’ve set my life up to the point of wanting someone but never will I need someone…that I will ever need someone and that is hard for me to come to terms with. Those are the monsters I’m talking about. The emotional, self- protective modes we come up with because everything becomes very hard, very difficult to deal with. We imagine that no one could possibly understand our journey. So when the monsters show up we don’t know what to do. We stop learning how to let those things go. We don’t know how to process those things. We forget how to not be afraid.

      Yet, it amazes me how the Universe flows towards us and never against us. Its great to have someone to ask about your day. Of course, I do not share particular travesties with those that call and check on me…there’s a responsibility in what we leave with people, what we hand over to them. My children surrounded me during this past week. My eldest popped in for a weekend visit, my granddaughter wanted to spend the weekend and she loves her Umi. My heart healed with having all my children under one roof. Monday I sent them a group text:

      “Being a therapist has been icky these last few weeks. I don’t tell y’all all of it because it’s ugly very ugly at times. This weekend was what I needed and by far one of the greatest moments of being your mother. I’m so proud of each of you. Being with you does my soul & heart well. You are what I need…always what I wanted and you’re always loved. Your Mom. ” They are what I need.

      “Spiritual progress is like detoxification.”

      We have to face the monsters. The monsters show up whether we want them to or not; whether we’re ready or not. We have a base, we have home plate—a foundation. It’s not for you to just be okay, it’s for you to be better. Trust your growth process. Understand the experiences for what they are, understand your humanity, understand your heart for whenever the monsters show up its not as scary. For they come, they show their ugliest. Life is difficult…yet we are given the strength to face the monsters. Learn to be gentler with yourself. Love is reciprocal…allow the greater to #evolve.

      I’m learning to process so that I can progress and man does that hurt. It becomes easier to trust the Darkness when that’s all we see and hear. Our monsters become bigger when we operate from places of patterns—comfortable patterns that we’ve band aided. There’s Light wherever we are even when we have become the glimpse, a fraction, the source of the Light.

      Psalm18:28-29: “You , O Lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into Light. With your help I can advance against a troop; with my God I can scale a wall.”

      Intimately Worded,

      Michelle