Last weekend, I stood on a cute 5 acre farm, sun on my skin, bare hands brushing the backs of horses, mules and cows, feeding pigs, goats and chickens. For a moment, I felt so rooted. So at peace. But even in that stillness, a soft ache whispered in the back of my mind: Where do I truly come from?

I know I’m Black! I know strength, survival, legacy. But I long for the details, the names, the land, the tongue. Maybe that’s why I feel like I’m always becoming. Always returning. Always unraveling and rebuilding.

Today’s blog is for anyone who’s ever felt like that too.

We are all unraveling and rebuilding in our own quiet ways.

Yesterday someone said whenever you hear someone say “I’ll figure it out” just remember there’s a quiet sacrifice being made.

Healing ain’t gendered.

Identity crises don’t discriminate.

Rebirth doesn’t skip anybody.

Which brings me back to this line I heard the other day while rewatching Black Is King:

“When it’s all said and done, I don’t even know my own native tongue.

And if I can’t speak myself, I can’t think myself,

And if I can’t think myself, I can’t be myself.

But if I can’t be myself, I will never know me.

So, Uncle Sam, tell me this: if I will never know me, how can you?”

— Joshua Abah, “Uncle Sam”

When you’ve been stripped by life, by loss, by responsibility, by becoming someone else for someone else. Whether you just lost an income stream, became a single parent, ended a failed relationship, turned another year older, or simply looked in the mirror and thought “Who even am I now?” Friend, you’ve felt this.

Whether it’s Postpartum, PTSD, or Depression.

We all go through emotional rebirths.

And with every rebirth comes mourning, discovery, and rebirth again.

So here’s your reminder for today:

You do not have to be fully figured out to be fully worthy.

Take your time friend.

Provide grace.

Talk to yourself more gently.

Peel back the layers, but don’t rush the reveal.

And please don’t let anyone else define you while you’re still becoming.

Lately, I’ve been struggling with journal prompts. If you’re into journaling, here’s a prompt for us all:

“If the truest version of me could speak today, what would they say?

What do they miss? What do they need? And what am I finally ready to reclaim?”

No filters. No edits. Let your pen be your translator and integrate this into your next fast.

Xoxo, Drea