Intimately Worded with Michelle

Tag: identity

  • Sundays, Early Mornings & Friendship Loss

    Journey towards Better

    There’s something sacred about early Sundays — before the world fully wakes. It’s where truth sits quietly, waiting to be named.

    I know the world is on fire—

    yet what continues to amaze me is how these global flames mirror our internal ones.

    The ache, the quiet unraveling, the loss that comes not only from tragedy but from truth.

    Humanity feels lost.

    Personal and political beliefs now hold the power to alter the direction of our lives, our connections, even our sense of belonging.

    Recently, I severed a long-term friendship—

    one built on love, laughter, and shared seasons.

    It wasn’t over something petty or misunderstood.

    It was because of politics.

    Not politics as in policy, but politics as in morality.

    People often underestimate the depth of their words or the weight they carry.

    What I’ve learned is this:

    if an apology begins with “I’m not racist” but ends with unwavering support for those who harm and divide—then it isn’t an apology at all.

    It’s an attempt to seek comfort in the very space where harm was done.

    And I’ve decided I don’t have to comfort you through the ending of our friendship.

    My heart is fragile, still healing, still learning.

    But I am also living—intentionally, fully, and with boundaries rooted in love for myself.

    I love deeply, in both length and width.

    But I will not prove that love by tolerating hate, bullying, or dismissiveness disguised as “difference of opinion.”

    “Some endings are not betrayals of love — they are affirmations of self.”

    Sometimes I chuckle, not out of humor, but out of disbelief—

    because people truly forget how long we have been Black and hated.

    How long we’ve known the weight of racism—not as theory, but as lived experience.

    I have felt its ugly claws, tasted its unyielding rage, and recognized how ignorance allows it to thrive.

    And still, on early Sunday mornings, I rise.

    I pray.

    I breathe.

    I choose peace over pretense.

    Friendship loss hurts, especially when love still lingers in memory.

    But truth has a frequency that can’t be silenced, even for comfort’s sake.

    Reflection for the Soul

    This Sunday, take a moment to sit with the quiet after loss.

    Friendship, even when it ends, leaves imprints of who we were — and who we are becoming.

    Ask yourself: What does peace require of me now?

    Not the kind that avoids pain, but the kind that honors it, transforms it, and releases what no longer loves you back.

    May you find grace in your boundaries, rest in your truth,

    and gentleness in the parts of your heart still learning how to heal.

    Intimately worded,

    Michelle 🌿

  • The Eighth Month: A Season of Shifts, Soul Work, and Soft Becoming

    The Eighth Month: A Season of Shifts, Soul Work, and Soft Becoming

    By Michelle Tillman, PsychoTherapist/Founder of Transitional Pathways, PLLC

    Graced for more💕

    August has always felt like a threshold month. The eighth out of twelve, it marks a quiet turning point—a slow descent from summer’s height into something more inward, reflective. The number eight, symbolizing new beginnings and infinite cycles, reminds me that change isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s a whisper, a knowing, a sacred nudge inward.

    This August, I’m paying closer attention.

    I’m noticing how much I’ve grown through the stillness and the storms. Life, love, and relationships—each carry layers of complexity I continue to unpeel, not just as a therapist, but as a Black woman who holds space for others while learning to hold space for myself. Each interaction becomes an opportunity for reflection and growth, revealing deeper truths about my journey and the interconnectedness of our experiences.

    Parenting Through Transitions

    Parenting adult children is its own sacred terrain. There’s a constant balancing act between support and surrender, concern and trust. The role shifts from being a protector to a mirror—from telling them what to do, to showing them who I am becoming. And in that, I’m relearning who I am, too. It’s an intricate dance that requires both courage and vulnerability. As I navigate this evolving relationship, I find myself reflecting on the lessons of patience and grace that I wish to impart. There are days I want to gather them like I used to when they were small, encasing them in the warmth of my love and protection. And there are days when I sit quietly, choosing not to fill the silence, letting them figure it out—letting me figure it out. It’s hard. It’s holy. It’s human, a reminder that growth often comes in layers, revealing more of us in the process.

    The Inner Work of Love

    In love—romantic or otherwise—I’ve stopped striving for clarity at the expense of peace. I’ve learned that deeper connection doesn’t come from figuring someone out but from allowing myself to be fully known, even in uncertainty. Intimacy, for me now, feels less like pursuit and more like permission. The permission to be present, to not shrink, to not pretend I don’t need gentleness. Embracing this vulnerability has deepened my relationships in unexpected ways, fostering a sense of safety and trust that allows us to explore the beautiful complexity of our connections.

    I no longer equate urgency with care. Instead, I ask, Can this connection honor my healing pace? That question alone has brought more clarity than some relationships ever could. It’s taught me the power of setting boundaries and recognizing when a relationship fuels my spirit versus when it drains my energy.

    Spirit-Led Slow Living

    This season, I’ve been deepening my relationship with prayer, meditation, and the quiet art of slowing down. I used to think rest was the reward. Now I know it’s the way. Meditation isn’t always serene. Sometimes it’s tears. Sometimes it’s silence that says, “you’re safe now.” I’ve learned that God often speaks in the pauses between breaths, not just in the outcomes I used to chase. There is a different kind of wisdom that rises when you stop rushing. It invites you to savor life’s moments, to appreciate the beauty in the mundane, and to embrace stillness as a teacher.

    In this letting go of haste, I’ve begun to uncover the richness of my inner landscape—thoughts, feelings, dreams—and allowed them to unfold naturally.

    Holding Space for Myself

    As a therapist, I’ve witnessed transformation in others. But this year, I’ve been asked to be the witness for myself. To name my desires. To grieve what never happened. To celebrate how far I’ve come—even if no one else sees the full stretch. Healing is a personal journey, and each step brings me closer to my authentic self, reminding me that I am not defined by my past, but rather by my resilience.

    August reminds me that healing doesn’t have to be complete to be worthy. I can be tender and powerful. Grieving and grateful. Longing and whole. This dance of contradictions is where I find my strength, my joy, and my truth.

    To You, Reader:

    If you are navigating change—be it in your body, your boundaries, your beliefs—I hope you honor the pauses. I hope you let softness find you. I hope you remember that your pace is not a problem. It’s part of your becoming. Each step along this path is significant, and each moment of reflection is a gift to be cherished.

    Let August be an altar. Not to who you used to be, but to the soul you’re still discovering. Embrace this time of introspection, allowing it to guide you into deeper understanding and appreciation of both yourself and the intricate tapestry of life that connects us all.

    Always, with grace and truth.

    Intimately Worded,

    Michelle

    @TransitionalPathwaysPLLC

    Where healing is sacred and intimacy begins with you.

  • Promises, Hope and my Heart

    Counselors picI accepted a job offer last week! I have yet to share it with the world. I have been trying for consistent employment in counseling for the last two years. I am excited and I feel extremely blessed. This morning as I was looking at the beautiful autumn leaves I realized that I am manifesting, yet afraid of His promises of hope.

    The dream opportunity to work as counselor—to be in this role before graduation, waiting on licensure scores—terrifies me. Manifestation: an event, action, or object that clearly shows or embodies something, especially a theory or an abstract idea. I am walking in what God has placed in my heart, a work that He knew of before my acceptance, a purpose He gifted me without giving details of how to achieve.

    I tell you, do not push away from the painful things, the disappointments. Remember, that God is within those things, those interruptions as well, right there with you. This Counselor’s path has been not easy —very difficult. Becoming a counselor is not a stagnant career choice. You will grow whether you want to or not. Your heart will change, stop, beat, ache, break, melt, heal and then do it all over again. Your friendships, the ones you cherish will hurt. Oftentimes your alone time will be your healing time. This is an unquit for me.

    This is my unequivocal purpose that is coming true! Although the promises of Hope move me in unfamiliar territory, I am in a territory of harvesting—working within my spiritual divine role. The moments that do not hurt: receiving authentic affirmations from a 15 year old recovering within her eating disorder: “I am beautiful. I am so beautiful! I am disappointed that I treated myself this mean.”

    I received a beautiful hand-created scarf (pictured above) —this client did not use a knitting nor crochet needle. She used her fingers! She saw my joy and I put it on immediately, and said, “I will rock this!” She responds so unsure: “Ms. Michelle I can make you another, a better one.”  Me: “I don’t want you to. This is perfect!”

    I have learned to love the unexpected hugs! (In the beginning, this was a problem for me.)  They are the greatest especially when I know my clients battle with touch, intimacy and trust. With all that comes with gaining a trauma victim’s trust it has been my intimacy with God that carries me through each session. At times, the science and the spiritual do not mesh and then there are times you cannot have one without the other. There are different paths that lead to healing. I marvel at these concepts and therapeutic techniques. I love Counseling! I do.

    My life has by far been a complete God-experience; He has kept me when I did not recognize how He keeps. I could not have identified my professional identity without my spiritual journey. My first day begins after Thanksgiving.

    Remain grateful, hopeful and I beg you to, choose the larger life.

    “The beginning is most important part of the work.” –Plato

    Intimately worded,

    Michelle

    {Song of Solomon 8:5}

  • Flux to Crux…Part I

    ©©When it hurts to write (my number one love), when it hurts to counsel, when it hurts to breathe…within my crux. My well is dry. My give is limited. My encouraging spirit, well it is in wound. This is new. There have been times in the past I was unable to write. This is different; my life experiences are genuine, unique. I try my best to learn from them and move forward. I hold no ill will towards anyone.  This is more than hurt feelings, more than depression, more than overworked, more than transitional. All of me is in such a painful turmoil; my thoughts, my spirit, my body…yesterday I cleaned my face with fingernail polish remover. Smh/laugh, I did.  Yet, I know this is more than I need a vacation phase.

    I am not sure what this is, what it means. I quit social media for a minute. I have been fasting since May. I have taken the necessary steps to welcome this transition and yet it seems I am still failing.

    My flux—Monday through Wednesday schedule is when I give all of me to others. Monday: work, see clients, facilitate grief group. Tuesday: work, see clients, and attend class. Wednesday: work, see clients, facilitate divorce group. Thursday: work, work on proposals, homework, more counseling projects. Friday: looks like Thursday. Saturday & Sunday: self-care days…even with some sort of training—in ethics or sex trafficking and conducting prayer hotlines. I think my self-care is suffocating because I do not know where I am at, who I am becoming. In addition, how is it possible that there is more to life when it all hurts?

    I am alone in my crux. I see, hear so much hurt. From planned suicide to displaced wives and children to grieving individuals. Their hurt pains me so much and I know to run, walk, talk, pray for them outside of my counseling sessions. I do not carry their weight although the heaviness is substantial. I could list all my credentials, my leadership roles, my accomplishments, my wants yet it still is what I did —not what I am doing. I have only the premise that I am in the middle of something huge and I cannot go backwards nor move forward in front of God. It all frightens me.

    “There is nothing My Holiness cannot do.” ~Marianne Williamson

    Fighting for joy…to keep it…to live with it and in it in spite of what I see, of what I hear and no matter the mistreatment keep fighting for joy. My purposes are my purposes…God-divine. When things come up hard, when reasoning makes no sense, when everything seems to fall short, when the fluxes of this life overwhelm we must remember all that God requires is never easy. Jesus, His son suffered more than anyone. He set the standard for being obedient to God’s will. He won. His victory is for us to win as well.

    There will be times I cannot be all to everyone. There will be times my spirit of encouragement is nil. There will be times when how alone I am in this world flattens me. (When Daddy & Momma are gone, it is a whole other kind of growing up.)

    I do not talk. I do not complain. I encourage. I smile. I cover up. While in this transition phase one person said to me: “There’s something behind that smile.”  I broke down. I cried. Not those hard cry just silent tears. There is my brokenness. There is the pain of being told my last seven years are a farce. That my struggle, my fight to be a counselor is of all things–unethical.

    Normally, I have a few choice words for people who intentionally harm or disrespect me. I have my say. I am my best advocate. Yet, this time the weight of others, of it all, of this journey made me pause. I give. I give a lot. I give out. This time, for this moment I gave in. Whammy after whammy is depleting. The core of everything I am, everything I am becoming has to be fought for and I am tired.

    “I will climb up to my watchtower and stand at my guardpost. There I will wait to see what the Lord says and how he[a] will answer my complaint.” Habakkuk 2:1 (NLT)

     There is peace in my wait. There is more of me in my wait. He is there for me in my wait. I awake smiling. I enter my space, my chosen time alone is outside where I can see, hear, smell, touch, breathe in His love. There is where I begin…within my crux. I am trusting God to do His possibles for me and for you.

    His grace.

    Intimately worded,

    Michelle ©

    Fyi: For those who do not know I am in the practicum/internship phase of achieving my master’s degree in Clinical Mental Health Counseling. 

    Beauty Selfie (2)
    Beginning 2009 or 2010

     

    Michelle_June 9 2017
    In between June 2017.  (at my daughter’s graduation from Middle School.)

     

     

  • Heart Faults, when we break.

    In any relationship, manipulation is the highest form of betrayal. We will have to stop eating everything that is fed to us…even if its silver spoon fed. We grow watching, observing and living to our parents and family wishes. We trust them. Believe them without reservation. When we live our lives only by observation, and with their expectations without knowing their wounds, their whys our foundation will crack.

    Respectability and accountability are requirements for the things we want in life, what we require from each other. Jesus’ mandate was to love one another as we love ourselves. His commandment sounds simple enough yet I believe it is one of the most difficult challenges in our faith walk. Loving self is a lifetime journey and it becomes more difficult to do when we break. The longevity of carrying pain, damaging pain that steals your joy and stills your heart is not loyalty. Do not lose Self in your love of someone. Our definition of love has to be redefined at times for every relationship is different. I hope that you create, prepare, equip and fall in love with your perspective of love….for love does not destroy you. Remember it. Keep your personal definition close to your heart. When the fires come, you will be able to fall back on a firm foundation no matter the cracks.

    Dr. K E Garland has written, “The Unhappy Wife” a book that solidifies the undoing of each woman’s heart within matrimony. The book is a collection of short stories of 12 different women and their intimate soul reveals.  I love how the book is not about failing marriages yet more about individuality and how meshing, merging are important without losing Self.

    Intimacy should be a bond that transforms and grows us individually and with our mate. It is inhumane, to not be touched, or reassured in your love. Intimacy is more than sex, more than means of procreating, its right smack in the middle of the whole scheme of things. As you read this book watch how their lives differentiate from their initial dreams, from their wants and how they live, survive within those differences.

    My friendship with this author, reading her book leaves me indebted to her. She writes truths that the reader unveils whether we are single, coupled, or married. She understands the schematics of how we love, how we believe with God and that the one-billionth prayer will somehow magically fix the ones we love to love us back. As I shared with her, “We have to do better” for ourselves, our daughters, granddaughters for all who are connected to us. As well as for the honor of a unique want that becomes a spiritual yet legalized covenant.

    One thing I did for myself many moons ago: I stopped labeling myself as divorced within conversations, on applications and within my definition of self-love.  That word, that status carries an overwhelming heavy weight. Drop it. Move forward. Love self so that you are able to love others, equally and with compassion. The Unhappy Wife by [Garland, KE]

    You are able to purchase, “The Unhappy Wife” here: www.kegarland.com. It will be one of your best book purchases this year. I promise! KE Garland’s blog link: kwoted.wordpress.com/

    Please post your feedback here, encourage KE Garland on her website and blog-site. I would love any commentary on this book, this post and your heart faults, please share. I teach a monthly workshop on Identity for Women of Faith and our sessions have been remarkable. So this read, this reflection has me ever so excited for our future. It all circles back.

    Keep healing; it recipriocates and removes the fault lines.

    Intimately worded,

    A. Michelle