My older writing makes me smile. She was full of passion and fire. Unapologetic. You can feel it in her words. Swinging hard. Sounding alarms. She was always in warfare. And honestly… I love her for that. She taught me resilience. She prayed hard. Fasted hard. Stood hard. Everything felt urgent. Everything was spiritual warfare. But I smile now because I see growth. No longer sleeping with my boots on. Peace time looks different than war. Battles come but the

Dear 90’s Kim, You yelled too much. You smoked too much. You cussed too much. You said you wanted one thing and did another. You felt rejection deeper than you knew how to name. So you people-pleased. You overgave. You lost yourself trying to hold onto everything else. You were messy. You were inconsistent. You were hurting. But you were also surviving. You survived even when it felt like the darkness would swallow you whole. You survived self-hate that clawed

When Tuesday came around, I would not get out of bed. I was over an hour late. Not because I forgot. I just did not care. I was not hopeful. I was not expecting anything. I was not thinking this appointment would change my life. I was empty. But that Tuesday became a turning point because I realized something: Not every battle is the same. For years I had prayed and prayed for freedom. I went to altars wanting to be free. But I did not just need another prayer. I needed a hea

Some stone altars are built around dramatic moments. Others are built around one reluctant yes. Mine started on a Sunday I did not want to go. By then, I had been drowning for a long time. Depression had settled in. Anxiety had tightened its grip. Suicidal thoughts had become louder than hope. I was exhausted. Not just tired. Soul tired. The kind of tired where getting out of bed feels impossible. The kind where showers feel overwhelming. The kind where tomorrow feels heavier