I’ve been thinking a lot about posture lately.

Not the kind your chiropractor reminds you to fix.

The kind no one can see.

The posture of your heart.

Because I think hearts have posture, too.

Some hearts are open.

Some are guarded.

Some are exhausted.

Some are hopeful.

Some have become so accustomed to disappointment that they flinch before anything beautiful has the chance to arrive.

And some...

have become so heavy that they don’t even recognize themselves anymore.

We’re in the middle of summer.

For a lot of people, summer means vacations, rooftop parties, new outfits, and maybe even a new relationship.

But I’ve been wondering...

What if this summer wasn’t about changing your wardrobe?

What if it was about paying attention to your heart?

The heart doesn’t just break.

It adapts.

It learns.

It remembers.

It builds habits.

And sometimes those habits keep us alive.

Other times...

they keep us from living.

I wonder how many of us are walking around with hearts that are simply responding to old experiences.

Not because we’re cold.

Not because we’re difficult.

But because somewhere along the way...

our hearts learned that protecting themselves felt safer than trusting again.

I‘ve only recently started reading the Bible consistently, and it’s funny how certain verses seem to find you exactly when you need them.

One that I can’t seem to let go of is Proverbs 4:23:

“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”

At first, I thought it meant... guarding my heart meant building higher walls.

Being less vulnerable.

Trusting fewer people.

Keeping my feelings to myself.

But I’m not sure that’s what it means anymore.

Because somewhere along the way...

guarding became hiding.

And hiding isn’t the same thing as protecting.

A healthy heart isn’t one that lets everyone in.

It’s also not one that lets no one in.

It’s one that has discernment.

There’s a difference.

I’ve started asking myself different questions lately.

Not...

“Who deserves access to me?”

But...

“What posture is my heart in before they even arrive?”

Because if my heart is bitter...

I’ll see bitterness everywhere.

If my heart is afraid...

everyone will look dangerous.

If my heart is desperate...

red flags start looking pink.

If my heart is peaceful...

I’ll stop forcing what’s never meant for me.

Maybe that’s why matters of the heart are exactly that...

matters.

Because everything flows from it.

The way we speak.

The way we love.

The way we forgive.

The way we receive compliments.

The way we receive correction.

The way we respond to disappointment.

Even the way we see God.

I’ve realized something else.

A lot of us spend time decorating our lives...

without ever tending to our hearts.

We’ll organize the closet.

Book the vacation.

Buy the dress.

Rebrand our Instagram.

Start the business.

Find the therapist.

Move to another city.

All beautiful things.

But if the posture of your heart stays the same...

the scenery changes.

You don’t.

So maybe this summer...

instead of asking,

“What am I doing?”

Ask,

“Who is my heart becoming?”

Is it becoming softer?

Or harder?

More trusting?

Or more suspicious?

More grateful?

Or more entitled?

More open?

Or more closed?

More compassionate?

Or more cynical?

Because hearts are funny.

You rarely notice they’ve changed while they’re changing.

One day...

you just realize you don’t laugh the same.

You don’t trust the same.

You don’t dream the same.

You don’t believe the same.

And then you have to ask...

“When did that happen?”

I don’t think a Lover Girl is someone who’s obsessed with romance.

I think she’s someone who refuses to let life make her heart ugly.

She knows heartbreak is possible.

Disappointment is inevitable.

People will misunderstand her.

Some will leave.

Some promises won’t be kept.

But despite all of that...

she keeps doing the brave work of tending to her heart.

Not because it’s easy.

Because it’s necessary.

Maybe that’s what this season is really inviting us into.

Not a perfect summer.

Not a romantic summer.

Not even a productive summer.

Just...

an aware one.

A summer where we notice the posture of our hearts before we ask someone else to hold them.

Because the condition of your heart will always shape the condition of your life.

So before summer slips away...

take a moment.

Put your hand over your chest.

Ask yourself one question.

What posture is my heart in today?

And whatever the answer is...

don’t judge it.

Just become aware of it.

Awareness is where healing begins.

With love,

Your Chief Lover Girl, M. 💌

How does your heart feel today?

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Today is the Fourth of July.

And if I’m honest...

I’ve been sitting with a weird feeling all day.

Actually...

I’ve been sitting with a lot of feelings.

As I’ve gotten older and become more aware of history not just the version we were taught but the version that actually happened. I experience this holiday differently than I used to.

It’s strange.

Because I’m genuinely grateful to have today off.

I’m looking forward to spending time with people I love.

I’ll probably eat too much.

I’ll probably laugh.

I’ll probably end the night watching fireworks somewhere.

And yet...

None of that changes the facts surrounding this holiday.

Those two things somehow exist together.

I almost wasn’t going to write about this.

Sometimes it feels like people get tired of hearing Black people talk about history.

Sometimes I wonder if people hear it as complaining.

But then I catch myself.

Because telling the truth isn’t complaining.

The facts are the facts.

Whether they make us comfortable or not.

And that’s what got me thinking...

How much weight should we give our feelings?

Because lately...

I’ve been noticing how often we say,

“Well, I feel...”

I feel overlooked.

I feel loved.

I feel anxious.

I feel unseen.

I feel hopeful.

I feel exhausted.

I feel grateful.

I feel angry.

Our feelings matter.

But they’re also...

constantly changing.

I can feel one thing at breakfast...

and something completely different by dinner.

The facts usually don’t move that fast.

Today, my feelings are complicated.

As a Black woman, I feel proud.

Proud of who we are.

Proud of our resilience.

Proud that despite centuries of trying to erase us, diminish us, or rewrite our story...

we’re still here.

Still creating.

Still leading.

Still loving.

Still laughing.

Still building.

Still dreaming.

There is something incredibly powerful about that.

And then...

I also feel tired.

Not defeated.

Just...

tired.

And maybe that’s okay.

Maybe maturity is realizing you don’t have to choose one feeling.

Maybe healing looks like making room for all of them.

But here’s where I get stuck.

If we only move through life based on our feelings...

we risk losing perspective.

Because feelings can lie.

Fear feels like certainty.

Anxiety feels like prophecy.

Rejection feels permanent.

Loneliness feels like nobody loves us.

And sometimes...

none of those things are actually true.

But if we only move through life based on facts...

where does compassion live?

Where does grace live?

Where does empathy fit?

Because facts might tell me someone was rude.

Feelings might help me ask whether they’re hurting.

Facts might tell me someone failed.

Feelings might remind me they’re human.

Maybe we need both.

Maybe wisdom isn’t choosing between feelings and facts.

Maybe wisdom is knowing which one should be driving.

Maybe the facts should keep us grounded...

and our feelings should keep us human.

So today...

however you’re spending the Fourth of July...

I hope you make room for complexity.

I hope you don’t feel guilty if you’re celebrating.

I hope you don’t feel guilty if you’re grieving.

I hope you don’t feel guilty if your heart holds both joy and discomfort at the same time.

Because two things can be true.

And maybe that’s the most honest place to live.

With love,

Your Chief Lover Girl, M. 💌

What’s Your Heart Posture ?

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I expected the usual advice: network, work hard, find a mentor, update your LinkedIn profile, don’t forget to send thank-you emails.

Instead, the speaker spent a surprising amount of time talking about something I’ve been thinking about ever since:

Your default setting.

Not your goals.

Not your dreams.

Not the version of yourself you post online.

Your default setting.

The place your mind naturally goes when life gets uncertain.

The voice that speaks first when an opportunity shows up.

The story you tell yourself when things don’t go according to plan.

And because I’m currently standing in yet another pivot season of my life, the question hit me harder than I expected:

What is my default setting?

More importantly...

Has my default setting been helping me find my dreams or talking me out of them?

Because if I’m honest, I don’t spend much time wondering whether my dreams are possible.

I spend a lot of time wondering if I’m qualified for them.

The older I get, the less I believe dreams arrive as destinations.

I used to think one day I would finally arrive.

I’d find the right career.
The right relationship.
The right version of myself.

Then everything would click into place and I’d spend the rest of my life living happily inside the dream.

But that’s not what my life has looked like.

My life has looked like pivots.

Starting over.
Reintroducing myself.
Outgrowing things I once prayed for.
Finding new parts of myself in seasons I never saw coming.

And maybe that’s why the question “Will I ever find my dreams?” doesn’t hit me the same way it used to.

Because what if I’ve been finding them all along?

Not in the way I expected.

Not all at once.

But piece by piece.

Pivot by pivot.

Version by version.

Maybe the dream isn’t a place you arrive?

Maybe it’s becoming someone brave enough to keep listening for what’s next.

These days I’m paying closer attention to my default setting.

To the voice that speaks first.

To the stories I automatically tell myself.

Because if I’m going to keep growing, I want my default setting to be curiosity instead of fear.

Faith instead of certainty.

Wonder instead of control.

And maybe that’s enough for this season?

Not knowing exactly where I’m going.

But trusting that the woman I’m becoming will know what to do when I get there.

Dear Lover Girl,

Maybe your dreams aren’t lost.

Maybe they’re still introducing themselves to you.

My church asked me to speak, and I immediately said yes.
No hesitation.
No overthinking.
Something in me knew I was supposed to do it.

But the moment I stepped into

the communicators lab… I immediately regretted saying yes.

Isn’t the mind wild?

Because what changed in 24 hours?
Not my ability.
Not my calling.
Not the opportunity.

Just the voice I started listening to.

And lately, I’ve been paying close attention to the voices in my head and which ones I allow to guide me.

The fearful voice.
The insecure voice.
The voice that says:
“What if you embarrass yourself?”
“What if you’re not good enough?”
“What if people judge you?”

But if I’m being completely honest, the loudest voice said something even deeper:

“You’re a podcaster. No one is going to take you seriously.”
“Your story isn’t that helpful to anyone.”
“This is corny.”
“Another pivot, Medinah? Come on.”
“You’re not a church girl.”

And whew.

That voice almost won.

Because sometimes the enemy of purpose isn’t failure… it’s shame.
Shame about your past.
Shame about how people perceive you.
Shame that makes you feel like you have to stay trapped in one version of yourself forever.

As if healing has an aesthetic requirement.
As if God only speaks through people who have always gotten it right.
As if you have to become a completely different person to become more aware, more grounded, more connected spiritually.

I realized something hard about myself recently:

By pattern… I typically listen to the negative voice first.

Not because it’s true.
Not because God said it.
Not because it’s wise.

But because it’s familiar.

But I’m changing that pattern.

And honestly? That takes work.
That takes practice.

Because patterns don’t disappear overnight just because you become aware of them.
You have to actively challenge them.
You have to keep choosing differently.
You have to learn how to give the healthier voice more authority, even when the negative one is louder.

And that level of radical awareness has been changing me.

Because once you become aware of the voice leading your life, you start noticing how many of your decisions were rooted in fear instead of truth.

How many things did I stop doing because I got uncomfortable?
How many versions of myself did I abandon because insecurity got louder than curiosity?
How many opportunities did I almost talk myself out of because fear disguised itself as “being realistic”?

Truthfully… I almost quit at the last minute.

I wanted to back out.
I wanted to disappear.
I wanted to convince myself that maybe I wasn’t ready after all.

But this time, I gave the other voice some fight in the battle.

And she won.

The quieter voice.
The hopeful voice.
The voice that whispered:
“You can do this scared.”

So I did.

Again.

And maybe courage isn’t becoming fearless.
Maybe courage is simply learning not to let fear have the final say anymore.

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I don’t think I fully understood how important the heart is.

Not in the way people say it all the time… “follow your heart,” “listen to your heart.”
My heart has led me into some situations that required a lot of healing afterwards lawd.

I’m talking about a different kind of understanding.

The kind that comes when you sit with yourself long enough to realize:

What’s in my heart has been quietly or loudly been shaping my life this whole time.

Last night I was thinking about the actual, physical heart.

How it just… pumps.
No drama. No announcements. No validation needed.

It just keeps sending blood… life to every part of the body.

And whatever is in that blood?
That’s what everything else receives.

And somewhere in that thought, it clicked for me:

My emotional and spiritual heart has been doing the same thing.

Just circulating…
My thoughts.
My fears.
My desires.
My wounds.
My hopes.

Over and over again.

And I have to be honest with myself.

There were seasons where my heart was carrying things like:

• insecurity I never addressed

• disappointment I tried to act like didn’t hurt

• attachments I knew weren’t good for me

• a desire to be chosen… even if it meant choosing less for myself

And I think I thought I could just “move on” without dealing with it.

But it doesn’t really work like that yal. ( somebody please tell the men this )

Even when I wasn’t thinking about it consciously…
it was still circulating.

Still influencing how I showed up.
Still affecting my decisions.
Still showing up in who I entertained, what I tolerated, and what I ignored. My behavior.. My drinking.. The list goes on..

I don’t say that from a place of “I figured it out.”

I say it because I’m in it.

I’m realizing that tending to my heart is not a one-time thing.
It’s not something you just do after a breakup or during a healing phase and then you’re done.

It’s ongoing.

And I’m also learning that:

Just because something feels familiar in my heart… doesn’t mean it’s healthy.

That part? Whew.

Because I’ve felt at home in things that were actually draining me.
I’ve mistaken intensity for connection.
I’ve held onto people and patterns longer than I needed to… just because it felt like something I understood.

And here’s something else I had to learn…

The work isn’t always deep, dramatic, or obvious.
Sometimes it’s as simple and as hard as changing what you let in.

I’ll never forget after one breakup… I felt like I was fighting for my life.

I had to turn off all the love songs.
ALL OF THEM, y’all.

Because every time I heard one, it was like reopening something in me.
It was keeping me in a feeling I was actually trying to move through.

Those songs?
They were circulating through me.

Feeding the part of my heart that was already tender… already attached… already trying to make sense of something that had ended.

And for that season, I needed a break from that version of myself.

I think moments like that can seem small from the outside.

“Girl… it’s just music.”

But for me?
That was part of my work.

That was me saying:

“I need to be intentional about what I allow to keep living in me right now.”

So now, I’m asking myself different questions.

Not “Do I like this?”
Not even “Does this feel good?”

But:

“What is this planting in my heart?”

Because if it’s going to circulate…
if it’s going to reach every part of my life…

I have to be a little more honest about what I’m allowing in.

I don’t have this mastered.

Some days I still overthink.
Some days I still revisit things I’ve outgrown.
Some days my heart is a little more open than it should be.

But I’m more aware now.

And awareness feels like the beginning of something.

So this isn’t advice.

It’s just something I’m sitting with:

My life hasn’t just been shaped by what’s happened to me…
but by what I’ve continued to carry in my heart.

And maybe the work isn’t to become someone new overnight…

Maybe it’s just to gently start asking:

“What have I been holding onto…
and is it still helping me live the life I actually want?”

With love,
Your Chief Lover Girl 💌

Deserve.

I was talking to a friend the other day and I asked him a question that I didn’t realize would feel so… loaded.

I said,
“What do you think you deserve?”

And not in a joking way.
Not in a “haha money, love, success” type of way.

I meant it like… say it. Out loud. Confidently.

And he paused.

Like really paused.

You know that little fidget people do when they’re trying to buy time?
Yeah… that.

And I realized something in that moment…

A lot of us aren’t comfortable saying what we think we deserve out loud.

And I couldn’t help but wonder…

If you really believe you deserve it…
why does it feel so hard to say?

So of course… I went down a rabbit hole.

The word deserve comes from the Latin word deservire.

Which means:
“to serve well” or “to earn through service.”

And I sat with that for a sec because…
that’s a little… loaded.

If deserve is tied to service, effort, or earning…
then no wonder people get uncomfortable.

Because now it sounds like:

“Do you deserve that… or did you earn it?”
“Have you done enough?”
“Who are you to think you deserve that?”

And baby… that’ll mess you up 😭

But then I looked at it from a different lens.

In Greek, the closest word to deserve is axios… which means worthy.

Not earned.
Not proved.

Just… worthy.

And that shifted something for me.

What if the conversation isn’t about what you’ve done to deserve something…
but what you believe you’re worthy of?

Here’s where it gets interesting.

Some people hear the word deserve and think:

“I deserve love, softness, peace, a good partner, a beautiful life.”

And others hear that same word and feel…

offended
triggered
like you’re asking for too much

And I started wondering…

Why does someone else saying what they deserve make other people uncomfortable?

Is it because
they don’t believe they can have it?
they were taught to earn everything the hard way?
or they’ve been surviving for so long that “deserving” feels unrealistic?

Let’s be honest…

Some of us don’t struggle with wanting more…
we struggle with feeling like we’re allowed to have it.

But here’s something else little ole me has been pondering…

Some of us will look at the people we love and say things like:
“She deserves the world.”
“I want my daughter to be treated like a princess.”

A father will raise his daughter to believe she deserves softness, care, protection…

But then turn around and look at a woman who actually believes that for herself and say:
“She’s asking for too much.”
“She’s entitled.”
“She just wants to be taken care of.”

And now I’m confused.

So which is it?

Do we deserve beautiful things…
or only in theory?

Do we deserve to be loved well…
or only when it makes other people comfortable?

Because it seems like deserving is celebrated when it’s
projected onto others
spoken gently
kept hypothetical

But the moment someone stands in it… confidently… out loud…

Now it’s a problem.

Now it’s “too much.”

And I think that’s the part we don’t talk about enough.

Maybe the discomfort isn’t about what someone else deserves…

Maybe it’s about what we haven’t allowed ourselves to believe we deserve.

And then there’s the other side.

The people who confidently say
“I deserve the best.”

And it ruffles feathers.

People start thinking
“Based on what?”
“You haven’t even…”
“That’s a bit much…”

And now we’re measuring worth.
Comparing lives.
Auditing people’s journeys like we’re God.

Whew.

But there’s another side to this conversation that I couldn’t ignore…

Because if we’re being honest…

None of us actually want everything we deserve.

Not really.

What about the times we were wrong?

The times we hurt someone.
The times we didn’t show up the way we should have.
The times we knew better… and still didn’t do better.

What if in those moments…
we actually got what we deserved?

Would we still be here?

Would we still have the same opportunities, the same access, the same people in our lives?

There are things I’ve been given in this life that I didn’t earn.

Grace.
Another chance.
Understanding from people I probably didn’t deserve it from.

So now the question becomes…

If life isn’t always giving us what we deserve…
then what is it giving us?

Grace?
Mercy?
Another opportunity to choose differently?

And if that’s the case…

Maybe the conversation around “deserving” isn’t as black and white as we make it.

Maybe it’s not just about what we’re owed…

But also about what we’re given despite ourselves.

But what if…
deserve isn’t something you prove?

What if it’s something you decide?

What if it has less to do with
how hard you’ve worked
how perfect you’ve been
how healed you are

And more to do with

what you’re willing to accept
what you’re no longer negotiating on
how you see yourself

There were times in my life where I accepted things that were far below what I now say I deserve.

And at the time…
it felt normal.

So now when I say

“I deserve honesty.”
“I deserve consistency.”
“I deserve a love that feels safe.”

It’s not entitlement.

It’s awareness.

So I’ll ask you the same question I asked my friend…

And I want you to really sit with it.

Not the cute answer.
Not the socially acceptable one.

But the real one.

What do you think you deserve?

And can you say it…
without shrinking? 💌

Reply if you feel called to…
What’s one thing you’re learning you deserve no explanation needed.

When was the last time you did something just because it made you happy?

Not because it was productive.
Not because it looked good on Instagram.
Not because it was going to “turn into something.”

Just… because.

I asked myself that recently, and the answer sat in my chest a tad bit heavy.

There’s a version of me who does things just because.
As a child, I loved to create little songs and sing them out loud in the back seat of my moms van. I would talk to myself, make up stories, laugh at things that weren’t even funny to anyone else. I would dance in the bathroom like I had a sold-out show. I would start things and not finish them. I would just… be.

There was no outcome attached.
No audience.

Somewhere along the way, that version of me got quieter.

And I don’t think it happened overnight. I think it happened the way most things do… slowly, then all at once.

Life happened.
Heartbreak happened. Whew
Responsibility showed up with a clipboard and started asking questions.

“Is this realistic?”
“Is this sustainable?”
“Is this going to pay off?”

And before I knew it, everything that once brought me joy started needing a reason.

And then one day I looked up… and realized I had buried myself.

Last year, I was sad, y’all. Like really sad.
Like a quiet, heavy kind of sad that doesn’t always look like crying… but feels like disconnection.

Everything that made me me got pushed to the side while I was trying to survive something that broke me open.

And survival will do that.
It will convince you that joy is optional.
That play can wait.
That you can come back to yourself later.

But “later” has a funny way of not coming unless you go looking for it.

So I had to fight for it back.

Not in some big, dramatic way.
But in small, intentional choices.

Saying yes to things that didn’t make sense on paper.
Letting myself laugh again… even when it felt unfamiliar.
Doing things with no guarantee attached.

Somewhere along the way, I realized something:

A lot of us didn’t stop loving what we loved… we just got disconnected from it.

Maybe you stopped dancing because someone made you feel awkward.
Maybe you stopped creating because it didn’t “go anywhere.”
Maybe you stopped being soft because someone mishandled you.

Maybe you stopped dating because someone broke your heart .

And now you’ve built a life around responsibility… but there’s a quiet part of you that still remembers what joy felt like.

So let me ask you, lover girl…

What did you love as a child?

Why did you stop?

And was it really your choice… or did life just start getting louder than your joy?

If you had a completely free Saturday, no responsibilities, no expectations, no one to perform for… what would you do?

Not the version of you that needs to be impressive.
The version of you that just wants to feel good.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot.

Because we talk so much about purpose, passion, and building a life… but I really believe one of life’s quiet missions is simply this:

To become more aware of yourself. Gently.

Not forcefully.
Not perfectly.
Just… honestly.

Take it or leave it.

But I don’t think you’re meant to choose between passion and responsibility forever.
I think the real work is learning how to reintroduce yourself to the things that make you feel alive… even while you’re handling your responsibilities.

A life that only makes sense on paper… can still feel empty in real life.

And I don’t want that for you.

So I’ll leave you with this:

Have you ever stopped doing something you love because of someone else?
How did that make you feel?
Are you still living in that decision… even now?

And most importantly…

What makes you feel most like yourself?

Go back and find her.

She’s not gone.
She’s just been waiting on you to remember.

With love,
Your Chief Lover Girl 💌

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There is something about this season…

Something about everything blooming again,
about things coming back to life,
about the quiet reminder that not everything lost is gone forever.

Some things… just needed to be reborn.

I’ve been thinking about passion.

Not the loud kind.
Not the kind we perform for other people.
But the quiet kind… the kind that lives inside of you.

The things you love.
The things that light you up.
The parts of you that feel the most you.

If I’m honest…
there were times I abandoned or maybe unintentionally ignored those parts of me.

I got distracted.
I got discouraged.
I poured into other people, other things, other timelines…

and somewhere along the way, I stopped choosing what I loved.

But I’m realizing something now…

What is meant for you..
your joy, your passion, your softness, your creativity…

it doesn’t leave you for good.

It waits.

It waits for you to come back.
It waits for you to remember.
It waits for you to return to yourself.

And maybe that’s what this season really is…

A return.

A return to the version of you that felt alive.
A return to the things you once loved without overthinking.
A return to yourself.. before the world told you to be anything else.

So if you’ve been feeling disconnected…
if you’ve been feeling off…
if you’ve been wondering where you went…

this is your reminder:

You’re not lost.
You’re just on your way back.

And what is meant for you…

will meet you there.

With love,
Your Lover Girl 💌

I was talking to a friend the other day…

and we somehow got on the topic of all the things people say that sound good… but don’t actually make sense when you think about them for more than two seconds 😭

Like:

“you can’t teach an old dog new tricks”
“what goes around comes around”

and one of my personal favorites…

“when you know better, you do better”

Now I get the intention.

It sounds encouraging.
It sounds like growth.
It sounds like the kind of thing you say when you’re trying to believe people change.

But let’s be honest.

That is not always true.

Because we all know better about something.

We know better than to:

have unprotected sex,
ignore our intuition,
stay in situations that don’t feel right,
keep choosing what’s familiar over what’s actually good for us.

We know.

And yet…

we don’t always do better.

I’ve had moments where I knew exactly what the right decision was.

Like… crystal clear.

No confusion.
No mixed signals.
No “I need more time to figure this out.”

I knew.

And still found myself hesitating.
Still found myself justifying.
Still found myself doing the exact thing I had already promised myself I wouldn’t do again.

And that’s when I had to be honest with myself.

The issue wasn’t that I didn’t know better.

It was that I didn’t choose better.

Because knowing is easy.

Knowing doesn’t require anything from you.
You can know something and still stay comfortable.
Still stay familiar.
Still stay exactly where you are.

But doing better?

That requires you to go against what feels natural.

It requires you to:
disappoint people,
let go of what you’re used to,
sit in discomfort,
and choose something different… even when it doesn’t feel as good in the moment.

And that part?

That part is hard.

So yeah…

“When you know better, you do better” sounds nice.

But a more honest version would be:

when you know better, you’re faced with the choice to do better.

And sometimes…

we don’t choose it.

Not because we’re dumb.
Not because we didn’t learn the lesson.

But because doing better requires a version of us we’re still becoming.

So now I think about it differently.

It’s not:
“do I know better?”

It’s:
“am I ready to choose better?”

Because those are two completely different things.

And if I’m being honest…

there are still a few areas in my life where I know better…

and I’m working my way up to doing better.

So I’ll ask you the same thing I’ve been asking myself…

what do you know better about…
that you’re still choosing not to do better in?

Love,
M.💌

You matter.

Not in a motivational quote way.
Not in a “say it until you believe it” way.

I mean in the real, everyday moments where it actually counts.

You matter when something doesn’t feel right…
and you try to convince yourself it’s not a big deal.

You matter when your needs feel “too much”
and you start shrinking them to keep the peace.

You matter when you notice a shift in energy
and instead of addressing it… you adjust yourself.

That version of you?

The one who keeps understanding,
keeps extending grace,
keeps trying to be “easy to love”…

she matters too.

But she deserves to be considered.

Fully.

Not just when it’s convenient.
Not just when someone else feels like showing up correctly.

All the time.

Because the truth is…

a lot of us don’t struggle with whether we matter.

We struggle with acting like we do.

We’ll show up for other people in ways
we don’t even require for ourselves.

We’ll honor their feelings,
respect their boundaries,
and then turn around and negotiate our own.

And at some point…

you have to stop asking,
“do I matter to them?”

and start asking,

“am I moving like I matter to me?”

Because how you move sets the standard.

Not what you say.
Not what you hope.
Not what you keep giving chances to.

So today… this is your reminder:

You matter in the conversations you avoid.
You matter in the standards you lower.
You matter in the moments you choose silence over honesty.

And you matter enough to choose differently.

Even if it feels unfamiliar.
Even if it feels uncomfortable.
Even if it means not being chosen by someone who can’t meet you where you are.

You still matter.

Act like it.

Love,
M. 💌

I really thought I had done the work.

Like… I wasn’t who I used to be anymore.
I had reflected.
I had journaled.
I had grown.

Or so I thought.

Because a lot of us are walking around saying we’re healed… or healing…

and you don’t really know until you’re faced with what you needed healing from again 😭

That part?

Very humbling.

I recently found some of my old journals…
and baby…

I’m not healed.

I’m in remission.

Like I’ve been symptom-free, minding my business, feeling evolved…
and then one familiar situation shows up and suddenly I’m fighting for my life trying not to repeat the same patterns.

Same thoughts.
Same justifications.
Same “well maybe this time it’s different…”

And it’s like oh???

So we’re still here???

I think that’s the part nobody really talks about.

Healing isn’t just what you know.
It’s what you choose when it’s presented to you again.

It’s easy to say:
“I would never do that again.”

Until you’re in it.

Until it feels familiar.
Until it feels comfortable.
Until it feels like something you already survived once… so maybe you can handle it better this time.

And that’s where the real work is.

Not in the journaling.
Not in the awareness.
But in the moment where you have to choose differently.

Because apparently… awareness and discipline are not the same thing

So yeah.

Maybe I am healing.

But I’m also realizing that healing isn’t a finish line.

It’s more like…

being honest enough to catch yourself
before you repeat what hurt you.

And choosing something different.

Even when it doesn’t feel as familiar.

I’ve been sitting with this…

what is something you know requires you to choose differently…
but you haven’t yet?

Love,
M. 💌

I’ve been thinking about this for a while.

There are things I’ve learned through dating, through heartbreak, through trying to be “better,” “more self-aware,” more healed…that don’t really fit in an Instagram caption.

And they don’t fully belong on the podcast either.

Because some of it is quieter than that.

Some of it is the kind of truth you only admit to yourself… Some of its a little embarrasing.

If you’ve ever:
stayed longer than you should have,
confused potential with reality,
or convinced yourself that “almost” was enough…

you’re in the right place.

I’m not writing from a place of having it all figured out.

I’m writing from the middle of it.

From realizing that you can be self-aware…
and still abandon yourself.

From understanding that loving someone deeply doesn’t mean you’re loving yourself well.

And from finally asking:
why did I accept that?

This space is for the things I couldn’t say out loud.
The patterns I had to sit with.
The lessons I learned the hard way.

Not polished.
Not perfect.
Just honest.

So if you’re somewhere in between who you used to be
and who you’re becoming…

stay.

Love,
M 💌