This is 40: Arriving Home to Myself

The Arrival

I’m no stranger to the grind - the constant motion and all the noise that never really stops. The seasons where everything and everyone needed me all at once. Where survival was the only plan, and “rest” felt like a luxury I’d never be able to afford.

I became a mom at 20 years old. I hadn’t even had a real chance to figure out who I was before I became somebody’s mother. From that point on, life moved fast. There wasn’t really time to discover myself; I was too busy showing up for my baby and the subsequent 2 that followed. And when you’re in survival mode, you don’t always realize how much of yourself you’re putting on hold just to make it through each day.

And for a long time, I did it by myself. Single motherhood will teach you things about strength that you never asked to learn. I was the provider, the nurturer, the everything. I had to keep showing up for my kids while quietly trying to keep myself from falling apart. I dropped out of college twice - not because I didn’t want it, but because life had other plans. Still, even in the chaos, I kept dreaming. I wanted more for us - more stability, more peace, more freedom. I didn’t always know what it would look like, but I knew it had to exist. There were the years of building. Building businesses, building stability, building a life that couldn’t crumble if someone else changed their mind. I learned how to make things happen from nothing. I learned how to depend on me. And if I’m being honest, I’m proud of that era. It was ugly and it was rough, but it shaped me and showed me what I’m made of. It showed. me just how strong I really am.

But it also kept me in “go” mode for a long time.

Even when the storms passed, I didn’t know how to slow down.

Love found me along the way. Real love. Marriage. Partnership. A blended family. And as beautiful as that chapter has been, it didn’t come without it’s own lessons. I had to learn how to truly be with someone after so many years of being for everyone. I had to learn how to soften again, how to trust again, how to share the lead rather than take it. That’s its own kind of growth - and a story for another day.

Somewhere in the middle of motherhood, marriage, and making it all work, I had the harsh realization that life shifted so fast, I had no idea what I wanted. Not the checklist stuff like career, money, yada yada - but the real heart stuff. What made me feel alive? What gave me peace? What did I want my life to feel like?

That’s when things started to shift. Because for the first time, I stopped chasing the version of me I thought I had to become… and started paying attention to the woman I already was.

This is what arrival feels like.

It wasn’t a grand moment or a milestone I was able to check off. It was a quiet knowing - like deep exhale, a release, a relief. It was the realization that I made it through, and finally… I could allow myself to just be.

There’s a peace that comes when you finally stop fighting for your place in the world and just stand in it. That’s where I’m at now. I don’t feel the need to prove, perform, or push the way I used to. The desperate urgency is gone. What’s left now is clarity - a sense of knowing that what’s meant for me won’t require me to burn myself out to keep it. I’m not in survival anymore; I’m in alignment. And from here, everything hits different.

A Shift from Hustle to Alignment

My 20s taught me survival.

Not just surviving motherhood, but surviving friendship, identity, and the growing pains of becoming an adult before I ever had the chance to just be one. I had to learn the difference between loyalty and longevity - that not every friendship is meant to last a lifetime, and sometimes love runs its course long before you’re ready to accept it. I went through the quiet ache of realizing that some of the people I started with couldn’t meet me where I was going. It wasn’t drama; it was just growth. Those years taught me how to let go without bitterness and without losing myself, how to love people from afar, and how to stand on my own two feet even when it meant standing alone; and man did I spend time standing alone. But being alone wasn’t lonely. I didn’t know it at the time, but that season was teaching me resilience - how to rebuild myself again and again without losing my hope in what could be.

My 30s were about building.

That was my grind era - the season of foundational building. I built a business, rebuilt my confidence, and somehow built structure into the chaos of my life. I started to understand the power of my own discipline and the gift of my determination. But I also learned that success without peace is nothing but struggle in disguise - and sis has the nerve to be in a stiff wig. Tuh!

There was a season of burnout - just one, but it was enough to change everything. It taught me the difference between forcing and flowing. I realized I was pushing myself into roles and positions my soul never agreed to. Doing things that looked good on paper but didn’t sit right in my spirit. I learned that when you move out of alignment, your body and your peace will always let you know - and baby mine had no problem ringing every alarm! I’ve learned to follow what feels anchored, not what looks impressive. Because when I let my soul lead, burnout? Oh we don’t know her.

I hit plateaus, shifted paths when I needed to, grew platforms, raised teenagers, and never stopped reinventing how I showed up in the world. There were seasons of reinvention, and grace. My 30s taught me how to keep showing up - even when thunderous applause cheering me on turned into the quiet of bated breathe expecting failure - and how to become the woman my younger self would have be able to lean on.

And now, my 40s are here - and they’re all about being.

I’m done proving my worth, and I’m not forcing a dam thing. This decade isn’t about chasing material things; we’ve already done that, got the t-shirt and returned it to sender. In this season I want to align deeper. I command peace over pressure and intentionality over impulse. I understand that “doing” will NEVER define me more than truly “being” does. I’ve put in my years of hustling - of stretching myself thin trying to earn what was already mine. I want alignment now. I want rhythm that comes as naturally as the sway of my hips and the curve of my smile. I am choosing to live each day from a place of grounded ease - the kind that comes from knowing the life I’ve prayed for is already here and I’m the one who built it!

Alignment doesn’t mean everything is perfect. I’m not foolish enough to believe that nonsense. It just means that I trust myself enough to pivot when it isn’t. It means I rest without feeling guilty, move with clarity, and no longer confuse chaos for purpose or movement for progress.

I’ve shifted - from chasing to choosing, from proving to embodying.

For me, alignment feels like showing up with a quiet confidence that doesn’t feel the need to announce itself. That kind of confidence is quieter, steadier, rooted. It’s not the loud “look at me” kind of energy; it’s the subtle peace of knowing I no longer have to force what naturally flows. These days, my life feels less like I’m chasing moments and more like I’m curating them. I don’t move to prove anymore - I move with purpose. And that’s where intention comes in.

The Power of Intention

As I ease into this new era, I’m very aware that intention isn’t just in setting my goals - it’s also in how I move through life. It’s become the energy behind everything that I do, the quiet awareness that my choices create the rhythm of my days. My spirit doesn’t seek perfection. Instead it asks, “Does this feel true to me?”

I’ve lived and survived - not without scars or course - the life of hustle and hurry. I’ve checked the boxes, met the deadlines, hit the goals, and done literally all of the things - and still felt disconnected inside, like something was missing. I came to realize that my soul craves depth, not accolades. I’m learning to honor the long pauses and the quiet moments where life whispers instead of shouts. More importantly I’m learning to lean in and really listen to those whispers. There’s so much power in slowing down and allowing myself to just be present in the moment without feeling like I’m falling behind somewhere else.

Rest used to make me anxious - the literal opposite of it’s intention. I was so used to being on the move that stillness felt like I was wasting time. Now I see rest as part of the assignment. Rest is where I recalibrate, where I remember who I am and what truly matters. It’s where I hear my own voice again after uplifting everyone else’s. Rest is where I find my way home.

Something else I’ve learned is that having a sense of urgency doesn’t require me to rush. It simply means knowing what deserves my energy and what does not. My urgency now is rooted in priority - in making sure my time, peace, and purpose are aligned with the lifestyle I’m building. I move slower these days, but trust that every single step is deliberate. Every “yes” is sacred and every “no” is self-respect in a complete sentence.

Intention, for me, is the bridge between peace and purpose. It’s what grounds me when life feels overwhelming, and what guides me when things go quiet. It’s the reason I no longer need to chase timelines or compete with seasons. I trust the pace I’m on. I trust the woman I’m becoming… no, the woman I already am. We fought long and hard to peel back the layers that protected her not knowing she is a force in and of herself and doesn’t need protecting.

The Evolving Her Era

Evolving Her isn’t a brand or a hashtag to me - it’s a way of being… my way of being

It’s a daily reminder that growth isn’t always visible so it won’t always look like motion. Sometimes it looks like beautiful stillness. Sometimes it looks like saying “no,” resting, or walking away quietly instead of explaining myself to anyone committed to misunderstanding.

This era of my life is about embodiment - living out everything I’ve learned instead of constantly trying to learn the next thing. I’m ready to be in the moment, the season or the era. I’m not reinventing myself anymore; I’m integrating her. The woman who survived, the one who hustled, the one who healed - they’ve all earned a seat at this table and at the head is the version of me who blooms with elegance and grace unapologetically. Together, they all make me whole.

Evolving Her is soft power in motion. It’s the balance between my grace and my tenacity. It’s knowing that my worth isn’t tied to my productivity, but to my presence. It’s understanding that my peace is the only proof I need. I don’t have to shout to be heard anymore; the way I live speaks louder than any words ever could.

This new era is about showing up as the full expression of who I am - creative, confident, silly, full of life, intentional, rooted. It’s about letting my life preach what my mouth no longer has to. It’s about legacy: teaching my children and all of the women watching that evolution isn’t about becoming someone new - it’s about remembering who you were before the world told you who to be. In the words of Mufasa, “Simba, remember who you are.”

This is the Evolving Her Era - where I understand the soft life isn’t about pilates and matcha dates followed by brunch and shopping. It’s where I move with softness, speak with clarity and conviction, and build from peace. Where I no longer chase transformation; I embody it.

A Note from Me to You

If there’s one thing I’ve learned on this journey, it’s that becoming yourself isn’t a destination. That implies that there is an end somewhere down the line. This is a devotion. A daily returning. A soft, steady unfolding. I spent years fighting to arrive, only to realize I’ve been her all along - just buried under survival, expectation, and noise.

My committment now is to live slower., breathe deeper, and move with purpose. I honor all versions of the woman I’ve been while celebrating the woman I am, and staying open to whoever I’ll potentially evolve into. That’s what I’m creating this space is for - to document the in-between. The growth, the stillness, the lessons, the laughter, and the moments that remind us we’re human and divine all at once.

This isn’t just a blog to me. This space serves as an open diary - written first to myself, and vulnerably shared with the world. A place where honesty meets healing, and reflection becomes connection. My hope is that when you read these words, you feel seen and that some part of you is reminded that your evolution doesn’t have to be loud or fast to be powerful. It can be whatever your soul needs it to be.

Welcome to Evolving Her.

The space for growth, reflection, and rest - together in community. So pull up a chair, take a breath, and settle in.

The rush is over. It’s time to rise.