In dating and intimacy, we’re often taught to look for surface-level markers of “worthiness” — titles, income, lifestyle, social status. But the deeper truth is this:
A person can look impressive and still live in quiet chaos.
And the more mature version of you doesn’t need to investigate someone’s outer life to understand their inner world.
You don’t have to figure out how much someone makes to know whether they are emotionally whole.
What matters more are quieter, more honest questions:
Is their life stable — emotionally, spiritually, relationally?
Does their story match their choices?
Do you feel safe, calm, and clear in their presence — or confused, tense, and unsettled?
These questions don’t come from judgment.
They come from wisdom.
You’re not “too sensitive.”
You’re perceptive.
When something feels off, it isn’t an accusation.
It’s information.
Your body notices before your mind catches up.
Your spirit recognizes misalignment long before you can explain it.
And trusting yourself doesn’t make you cynical — it makes you grounded.
Quiet clarity is powerful.
You don’t have to argue with your instincts.
You don’t have to convince yourself to stay curious about red flags.
You don’t have to silence your nervous system to be “open-minded.”
You are allowed to listen to the discomfort.
You are allowed to honor the pause.
You are allowed to choose peace over potential.
Emotional intelligence in love looks like this:
Peace without performance.
Consistency without chasing.
Safety without forcing.
And spiritual maturity shows up as discernment — not paranoia.
You are not rejecting people.
You are protecting your peace.
And that is holy.
I pray this Sunday you focused on what you need and that you know that your wants (no matter how big) are divinely aligned. May peace be your stand and hope your anchor. You are worth your healing work. 💕
I am feeling much better after a severe bout with a cold and congestion that would not let loose for about ten days.
Comforts of Home
I think I’ve finally returned to the land of the living… slowly, gently, gratefully. Today I felt the slightest spark to read, to write, to journal, to work a puzzle—little things I had planned for this holiday break before my body reminded me it had other intentions. 🤕
But Sundays? #Sundays remain the best.
This morning I let myself sleep in. No alarms, no rushing. Just rest.
Then a long, warm shower—💕
My full face regimen—💕
Moisturized from neck to toes—💕
H2O flowing through this human system—💕
Brushed my locs and massaged my scalp—💕
I even put on my pearl earrings. I miss my mom terribly. (Her name is Pearl.) 🌿
And when I exhaled… a deep sigh moved through me like a small resurrection. My appetite still isn’t back, but I’ll take these little returns. These tiny renewals.
I’m sipping hot tea—no coffee for almost two weeks now. Outside, it’s raining, that soft hush that makes the world feel like it’s whispering. With my youngest two at work, it’s just Big Koda and me in this quiet house.
Sundays are when I sage and soulfully reset. When I choose to be here, fully, even if “here” feels tender and strange. My weekly writing—this slow, intentional ritual—has a way of improving my emotional disposition. It lets me name the weight of the world without being crushed beneath it.
I don’t have answers to any of it. I haven’t made sense of much of anything lately. But I am releasing the heaviness—the chaotic energy that keeps trying to settle in my spirit.
Today I’m still moving slowly and softly. And that feels holy enough.
“Dear friend, I pray that you may enjoy good health and that all may go well with you, even as your soul is getting along well.” ~3 John 1:2
#SuperSundays: I used a gift card I won through a health app and treated myself to Starbucks this morning. I walked in, minding my business, and they handed me a free Red Cup for being a regular coffee consumer. A small, unexpected kindness. A wink from God. #WinWin 🤓
The Tribe… they were all here this weekend.
• Autumn fussed about my eating—and my not eating—habits. 🥰 A full Tillman. When she “moms” me, I hear Pearlie Mae, Val, and Keyna speaking through her. Healing comes full circle when our children carry the tone of the women who shaped us.
• Brutus texted a whole list of demands… while at work. 🧐🤷🏽♀️
• Darius seeking Umi duties. 🥰 His way of staying close.
• Damien, the big brother who shows up—not loudly, but faithfully. 💛 His presence always lifts me.
Damien and I spent Saturday together—shopping, movies, dinner. I drove him around for a bit. We got home and he immediately started dressing to go out again. I fussed because truly… he only comes to see his barber and his brother.
Him: “I’ve been with you all day.”
🤷🏽♀️🧐🙄
#FirstBornJiltsTheHeart
There’s a sacred sweetness in this stage of life—grown children finding their own paths but still circling back home in their unique ways. Their presence reminds me that love doesn’t leave; it shifts, expands, and deepens. Even the fussing is a kind of prayer.
Pair all of that with one spoiled pup and I feel surrounded by a living testimony of God’s goodness. 🌿🧡🌿 I’m leaning into these new chapters, not just gracefully—but spiritually aware.
🍂 Fall is here again. My favorite.
NC weather gave us every season this week:
🌦️☔️🌬️❄️☀️
But today is calm, bright, and warm in that gentle, soul-softening way.
This morning was #CoffeeAndQuiet and #PrayersAndSage.
A settling. A centering.
A reminder of Psalm 46:10 —
“Be still, and know that I am God.”
Stillness is not the absence of movement; it is the presence of awareness. It is choosing to pause long enough to hear what your spirit has been whispering all week.
Today, I’m reminded:
Healing isn’t optional; it’s required.
And it often begins in these small, ordinary, holy moments—
November Reflections: Reciprocity, Renewal, and Protecting the Heart
Work is creeping in, in a deep way—feeling like November and the end of Fall. I know there’s still more Autumn left, even if the weather and early darkness suggest otherwise. There’s a chill that whispers both endings and beginnings.
For now, I’ll protect my physical body with crochet scarves and my red beanie, layers of warmth and softness that feel like care. Spiritually, I’ll protect myself with scripture, hot tea, and quietness. This combination grounds me—it’s a gentle ritual of self-preservation and presence.
I will also continue to follow through with clinical encouragement and therapeutic support for my clients. I love what I practice for a living, though it often carries a great amount of heaviness. Bearing witness to others’ pain and growth is sacred work—it deepens empathy but also stretches the heart thin at times. My heart feels frayed a bit lately, yet my hope is deeper and wider.
It’s Sunday again—a new month, a renewing of time. The clocks “fell back” in the early morning hours, giving us the illusion of more rest, more time. Yet I know how long it takes for the body and spirit to catch up with the shift. This symbolic turning reminds me: don’t allow the world to cloud your intuition. Trust what you know.
Reciprocity vs. Transactional Relationships
In therapy and in life, we often examine the balance of giving and receiving—what it means to love freely while maintaining healthy boundaries. It’s important to distinguish reciprocity from a purely transactional way of relating.
A reciprocal relationship is rooted in goodwill, connection, and genuine care. It’s where giving becomes an act of love—not an investment expecting a return. It flows both ways, naturally and without keeping score.
By contrast, a transactional relationship measures worth in exchanges:
“I bought you coffee, so you owe me a coffee.”
In reciprocity, the heart says:
“I bought you coffee because I wanted to do something kind. I trust that you’ll hold me in love and care when I need it most.”
The difference may seem subtle, but emotionally and spiritually, it’s profound. Reciprocity nourishes connection. Transactionality breeds comparison, resentment, and emotional distance.
In therapy, I often remind clients that reciprocity thrives in spaces where trust and emotional safety exist. It’s a rhythm of mutual investment—where both people are free to give from overflow, not obligation.
Love, God, and the Waiting Season
Lately, I’ve returned to the dating app—not out of desperation, but curiosity and openness. It’s a strange world to navigate with a tender heart and a discerning spirit. I find myself reflecting often on why I desire partnership and how I wish to love.
Some conversations spark hope; others remind me how surface-level connection can be when rooted in transaction rather than reciprocity. There’s a quiet ache in realizing how rare it is to meet someone who’s ready to love intentionally—to listen, to give without keeping score, to see beyond what’s easy.
And yet, even as I scroll, match, and unmatch, I still believe in divine timing. I still believe that God writes love stories differently—slowly, intentionally, with purpose and alignment. So I’m learning to wait well. To stay open, but not hurried. To protect my peace while remaining hopeful that the right heart will recognize mine.
Spiritual Reflection, in Galatians 6:9, we’re reminded: “Let us not grow weary in doing good, for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.”
This scripture grounds me as both therapist and woman—someone holding space for others while still longing for her own sacred companionship.
Even when my heart feels stretched thin, I remember that reciprocity—with myself, with God, and with others—is an act of trust. A form of love that doesn’t rush or demand, but rests and receives.
As time falls back and the days grow shorter, I choose to rest, to trust what I know, and to give from love—never from depletion.
May this November invite you, too, into warmth, rest, and a deeper understanding of how you give and receive love. And if you, like me, are waiting on God to write your love story—know that He’s still writing.
Reflection Prompt: Where in your life do you need to trust divine timing—in love, in purpose, or in the quiet in-between?
There’s a quiet kind of fatigue that can come from wanting to be loved well. It isn’t physical — it’s emotional and spiritual. It’s the weariness that shows up after you’ve overextended your heart just to be understood, after you’ve carried more of the emotional load than the relationship ever asked you to.
But I’ve come to realize something sacred:
Love does not require my exhaustion, only my honesty.
That truth has become a balm for me. Honesty isn’t just about what I say — it’s how I choose to show up. It’s admitting when I’m tired, when I feel unseen, when I’m hoping for more depth. It’s saying, “I want a meaningful relationship,” without trying to earn one through over-effort or performance.
There’s a kind of peace that only comes when you stop negotiating your needs. When you release the urge to chase clarity or beg for consistency. When you start trusting that the love meant for you will never confuse you, diminish you, or ask you to betray your spirit in the process.
As we begin to heal with our own stuff, something shifts. We stop seeing love as a rescue and start seeing it as a reflection. We start realizing that the relationships around us mirror where we are internally — what we believe we deserve, how safe we feel within ourselves, and how deeply we’ve allowed grace to meet us in our healing.
My journey now is about emotional healing and spiritual safety — finding a rhythm in love that doesn’t disrupt my inner calm. I want connection that feels like prayer: steady, honest, rooted in presence. The kind that honors the quiet work I’ve done to heal, forgive, and grow.
When someone fades away, or blocks, or simply doesn’t have the depth to meet me — I breathe. I remember that peace isn’t the absence of longing; it’s the presence of alignment. I remind myself that my worth doesn’t rise or fall with someone’s ability to recognize it.
So I’m learning to love differently — without rushing, without rescuing, without rehearsing who I think I need to be. I’m letting honesty, not exhaustion, lead the way.
Because love that is divine, grounded, and true doesn’t demand my striving.
It welcomes my stillness. It meets me where I am,
and says: You are safe here.
Be Brave,
Michelle🌿
“I have found the one whom my soul loves.” — Song of Solomon 3:4
Intimately Worded | Sunday Reflections
What would it look like for you to love without exhaustion — to let honesty, not effort, guide your connections?
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.
Lately, I’ve been waking up at 4:15 a.m., not out of discipline but out of something deeper—an ache, a pull, a knowing. Maybe you’ve felt it too. That quiet nudge that whispers, You were made for more. Not in the loud, hustle culture kind of way, but in a way that sits in your chest, pressing down until you acknowledge it.
March felt like a run-through, like a practice round where I was trying to catch up with myself. Days moved fast, responsibilities stacked up, and I was just going through the motions. And now, April has arrived, and I find myself waiting—waiting for the weight of something real, something undeniable. The heaviness of stepping fully into what I know I’m meant to be.
But here’s the thing about more: it’s not always about doing more. Sometimes, it’s about softening. Peeling back the layers of overperformance, of proving, of moving so fast you don’t even feel your own life. Maybe more looks like stillness. Maybe it’s the kind of work that happens in the quiet moments before the world wakes up—before emails, before expectations.
If you’ve been feeling it too, this in-between space, this waiting, know that it’s not empty. It’s not wasted. You are being prepared, strengthened, softened in ways you can’t even see yet. So, keep waking up. Keep listening. Keep allowing yourself to move toward the life that’s been calling you. Because you were made for more. And you already know it.
Favorite Things: Summer Reads—Romance & Poetry Perfect Lip Gloss, Lavender Pens for Love Notes
I’m moving towards safer waters not out of fear but out of love…for myself, for others.
I love my space. I love my love for others. I’m unlearning all consuming love—unlearning the thought, that if I control IT there will not be any room for deep hurt. I am learning not to separate how I love to the way I love. I no longer hold back trying to figure out in which way I will be hurt next. Ahhh, Love.🌻 I still do not know what is the greatest way in sheltering yet I’m loving this space I have carved. My stitches of quiet time include falling in love with poetry once again. When able add, “The Sheltering” to your Readers’ List. I have included the link: https://books2read.com/KhayaRonkainen
I have grown to value time, albeit with grace. Reading a romance novel every now and then reminds me of what love should be, without having my head in the clouds. I enjoyed reading this library find, it was just the right antidote, “The House on Blueberry Lane.” The author included just enough courage and hope to have me sipping wine, praying for rain with each turned page. Snuggling with Koda is an added #Godperk. 🐾
As I age (with grace) —I do not believe I am lacking patience. I know that I do not like my time wasted, that’s with every aspect of life: driving, cooking, fellowship and friendship. In driving, I take the most scenic routes, away from the interstate. I am learning to cook healthier with buying strategically not just for convenience and eating well. I have upped my game with culinary knowledge. I am learning to date with care, my SelfCare. I want someone to be my greatest friend, supportive, dependable and trustworthy. I am expecting more—-without fearing what is next.
What I know: consistency remains one of the simplest forms of love. Consistency creates stability and with stability comes structure and with structure— compassion. And so with hope imagined I’ll turn to words, books, note taking, perfect lip glosses, soul-nurturing, and prayers—-all the things that create this currency of living life possible: choosing Me.
We have every right and reason to shine our lights, to do what is best for us and love our selves with care, truths and all the good things. No longer be afraid of what has happened—live in hope. I am more mindful of what is to come and this soul of mine—well I will always advocate for it’s navigational heart.
Intimately Worded,
Michelle
Have courage, take heart
“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Psalm 147:3
#goodread#WFH, my choiceAllow the #Godstuff to happen
I no longer am game to run on empty, to love on fumes. Inadvertently, we have learned to produce, busy ourselves on empty. Our moms did it as well as our grandmothers; we learned by observation, what we saw The Village doing. Women, we consume what we think works best for us, (as individuals) when we are often the nucleus of our families. Hardly a soft-landing. Scratching my head, it seems the middle of things is the hardest part of this journey. I have learned that it is not the beginning nor the newness that is the most difficult. My personal statement for 2023 continues to pop up consciously: #intentionalgrace…I’m not feeling graced nor graceful these last few months and all is not terrible. I’m leaning more into the flux of my creativity, sitting with the faithfulness and the stillness of things.
I’m reflective, conscientious in showing up in the difficult places and I’m happy; things truly are falling into blessed places, making room for intricate spaces. I am able to identify the external factors of my lapse in not flowing with my creative abilities. I readily identify my emotions and process the nudges, the whispers…I’m attune with my intuition. I am able to recognize the internal and soulful things that push me off kilter, off my structure for cultivating peace. I am also self-aware, I love being my way through and acknowledging my yearning for “stillness.”
Big, big things are happening in this world and those big things are heart wrenching and at times unyielding. I’m learning to answer those whispers to call, to reach out to others. I smile when I hear their joy in hearing my voice. I’m learning to hear, to listen to reciprocate and to want as much as I give out. Love seems to be so far removed from all the new things, new ways, new this, new that. What I know, strength is love; love is strength. Remain mindful of the good things, of good people…we’re all trying to find our way.
My prayers: “May I not settle in my disappointments, Heavenly Father.”
Be encouraged: “For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.” — Hebrews 12:11
Intimately Worded with Michelle 
You must be logged in to post a comment.