Protecting Your Energy as a Black Woman: Mental Health, Boundaries, and Healing
Protecting your energy and mental health as a Black woman means releasing survival mode, setting unapologetic boundaries, choosing rest and support over endurance, and honoring a life rooted in peace rather than constant sacrifice! We discuss it here!
Protecting Your Energy and Mental Health as a Black Woman
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By: Jamila Gomez
Protecting your energy isn’t a luxury — it’s survival. As Black women, we carry expectations that were handed to us long before we had the chance to name ourselves. We’re expected to be resilient, unbreakable, endlessly available, and grateful for whatever space we’re given — even when that space drains the life out of us. Protecting your energy and mental health starts with rejecting the lie that your worth is tied to how much pain you can hold or how much you can endure for everyone else.
The first hard truth is this: no one is going to guard your boundaries for you. People will take what you keep giving, especially when you’ve trained them to expect your labor, your listening ear, your time, your emotional care — all without question. Protecting your energy means noticing where you are overextending and being honest about the cost. If every conversation leaves you exhausted, if every relationship feels one-sided, if every room you walk into demands that you shrink just to keep the peace, something has to change. You don’t owe your sanity to anyone’s comfort.
It also means getting clear about the difference between being “strong” and being supported. Strength without support becomes isolation. Too many of us are praised for our endurance while suffering in silence. There’s nothing empowering about carrying what is slowly breaking you down. Protecting your mental health requires unlearning the habit of pushing through every storm alone. Ask for help. Say when you’re not okay. Choose friendships and communities where vulnerability is not treated like weakness, but like truth-telling.
Another part of protecting your energy is walking away from constant survival mode. When you’ve spent years fighting to prove yourself — in workplaces, families, relationships, and even spiritual spaces — rest can feel like guilt. Stillness can feel like laziness. But your nervous system is not a machine. Rest is not a reward you earn after you’ve almost collapsed. It is a necessity. Give yourself permission to log off, decline invitations, say “not today,” and step back from environments that thrive on urgency and chaos. Peace isn’t passive — it is intentional.
And let’s be honest: some of the harm comes from spaces that claim to love us. Family, church, friendships, or communities that refuse to respect your boundaries will frame you as selfish when you finally choose yourself. Protecting your mental health as a Black woman means accepting that some relationships will not survive your healing. That grief is real — but so is your freedom. You are not abandoning anyone by refusing to abandon yourself.
Pay attention to your body. The headaches, tension, fatigue, irritability, emotional numbness — those are signals, not inconveniences. Your body tells the truth even when you try to push past it. Therapy, journaling, movement, breathwork, medication if needed — these are tools, not admissions of failure. You deserve comprehensive care, not just encouragement to “be strong.”
Protecting your energy also means honoring your voice. Stop minimizing what hurts you just to avoid being labeled “difficult.” Advocate for fair pay. Challenge disrespect. Leave workplaces that drain you without remorse. You are not required to shrink to remain employable, lovable, or acceptable.
Most importantly, protecting your mental health requires envisioning a future where you are more than what you’ve survived. Healing is not just about recovering from the past — it’s about choosing a life that aligns with your values, your capacity, and your joy. Say yes to spaces where you feel seen. Say yes to softness, to laughter, to friendships that pour back into you. Say yes to a version of yourself that doesn’t center struggle as an identity.
You have one life in this body. Your energy is sacred. Your mind is not a battlefield for everyone else’s expectations. Protect it — boldly, unapologetically, and without delay.
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Finding Everyday Joy: How Black Women Can Cultivate Peace in Daily Life
Everyday joy for Black women is found in intentional presence, small pleasures, meaningful connections, and self care, offering a way to honor the fullness of life while navigating responsibility, resilience, and becoming! We discuss it here!
Finding Joy in the Moment
Photo Credit: Dani DG via iStockPhoto.com
By: Jamila Gomez
Joy doesn’t always show up in big milestones or picture-perfect moments. For many Black women, joy has to be chosen — carved out between responsibility, exhaustion, and the weight of expectations we never asked to carry. Finding joy in everyday moments isn’t about pretending struggle doesn’t exist. It’s about refusing to let hardship be the only story we live inside of.
One of the most powerful ways to access everyday joy is through presence. Not the rushed, half-checked-out version of moving through the day — but intentional presence. That might look like slowing down long enough to taste your morning tea instead of gulping it while multitasking. It might be stepping outside for two minutes of fresh air between calls, letting the sun hit your face, and acknowledging, “I’m still here.” Joy grows when we stop running autopilot scripts and actually witness our own lives in real time.
Another path to joy comes from creating room for pleasure without guilt. Too many Black women have been conditioned to earn rest, to justify peace, to explain why we deserve softness. Choosing joy in small pleasures is an act of resistance. Light the candle you bought “for special occasions.” Play the song that shifts your mood and let yourself dance in the kitchen. Make a cup of hot cocoa for no reason other than it feels good. You don’t have to wait until the crisis is over to enjoy something simple. Joy doesn’t disrespect your pain. It reminds you there is still more to you than what hurts.
Connection is also a daily doorway to joy — not just deep friendships, but micro-connections we overlook. Sharing a laugh with a coworker, exchanging a knowing nod with another Black woman in the grocery aisle, texting someone who “gets it” without needing a long explanation. These tiny reminders that we are not alone carry more weight than we often acknowledge. Seeking — and allowing — connection is a way of letting joy breathe in community instead of suffering silently in isolation.
There’s also joy in honoring the body you live in today, not the version you think you “should” have by now. That might mean stretching before bed, taking a slow walk, putting on lotion with intention instead of rushing through it. It might be looking in the mirror and naming something you genuinely appreciate — your smile, your strength, your resilience — without tearing yourself apart first. Joy shows up when we stop treating our bodies like problems to fix and start treating them like homes to care for.
Another everyday practice is celebrating small wins — especially the ones nobody else sees. Maybe you sent the email you’d been avoiding. Maybe you set a boundary, or chose not to argue, or allowed yourself to cry instead of pushing through. Those moments matter. Black women are often praised for surviving chaos, but everyday joy grows when we acknowledge growth that doesn’t come from struggle. Naming these moments out loud shifts the narrative from “I made it” to “I am becoming.”
There is also joy in letting yourself dream — not in a distant, someday way, but through small acts of intention. Journaling for five minutes. Making a list of things you want more of, not just what you’re trying to escape. Rearranging a corner of your space so it feels like yours again. Joy expands when we allow ourselves to imagine a life that isn’t built only around endurance.
And finally, there is joy in giving yourself permission to be human. Not perfect. Not constantly strong. Human. Some days joy will feel loud and full. Other days it will be quiet and tender — a deep breath, a soft smile, a moment of release. But when you choose to notice it, protect it, and claim it without apology, everyday joy becomes less of a luxury and more of a practice — one that honors your wholeness, not just your survival.
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How Self-Criticism Blocks Your Purpose and Keeps You Stuck
Self-criticism quietly undermines purpose by replacing trust and presence with pressure, revealing how self-compassion and alignment create space for growth, courage, and a more sustainable path forward! We discuss it here!
How Self-Criticism Blocks Purpose
Photo Credit: Inside Creative House via iStockPhoto.com
By: Jamila Gomez
Self-criticism doesn’t announce itself loudly. It shows up as second-guessing, replaying conversations, rewriting decisions in your head, and convincing yourself that whatever you did still wasn’t enough. Many of us were conditioned to believe that staying hard on ourselves keeps us humble, accountable, and driven. But over time, that inner critic stops being guidance and becomes a gatekeeper. It doesn’t refine your purpose — it restricts your ability to walk in it.
Purpose requires presence, trust, and permission to grow. Self-criticism replaces all three with pressure. Instead of asking, “What is my next honest step?” the inner critic demands certainty, perfection, and proof. It frames purpose as a test you can fail, rather than a life you are steadily building. When that mindset takes over, you don’t explore opportunities — you audit yourself out of them before they even begin.
Self-criticism also shrinks imagination. Purpose needs room to evolve, but harsh self-judgment keeps you locked inside the version of yourself you think you must maintain. You stop experimenting, learning, or trying new expressions of your gifts because every attempt feels like a risk of being “wrong.” The irony is that many people call this discipline. In reality, it is fear wearing responsibility’s clothing.
For many Black women, this critic didn’t come from nowhere. It was inherited from systems, expectations, and survival seasons that rewarded strength but rarely nurtured gentleness toward the self. We learned to anticipate disappointment before it arrived, to overprepare so no one could question our competence, and to hold our emotions close so we wouldn’t be labeled fragile. That training might have kept us functioning — but it slowly conditioned us to distrust our own becoming.
Purpose can’t flourish in suspicion. When you spend every step interrogating your worth, you never fully commit to the path in front of you. You delay projects you’re capable of completing. You silence ideas before they’re spoken. You keep waiting to become “better,” “smarter,” or “more ready,” believing purpose will finally unlock once you finish fixing yourself. Meanwhile, life is asking you to move now — imperfect, human, and present.
Breaking this pattern isn’t about ignoring accountability. It’s about replacing punishment with reflection. Instead of asking, “What did I do wrong?” ask, “What did I learn, and what’s the next faithful step?” Self-compassion doesn’t weaken purpose — it strengthens endurance. It allows you to grow without constant self-surveillance. It gives your gifts space to mature instead of forcing them to perform.
Purpose is not a reward for perfection. It is a relationship you build with your life over time. Some days it looks bold and confident. Other days it looks like showing up quietly and choosing not to abandon yourself. When the inner critic gets loud, remind yourself that purpose develops through curiosity, courage, and small, consistent acts of trust — not through relentless self-correction.
Give yourself permission to grow inside your calling without attacking yourself along the way. Your purpose needs your presence, not your punishment. It needs your voice, not your silence. And it needs your belief that you are allowed to become — at your pace, with your wholeness intact, trusting that every brave step you take is already shaping a life rooted in meaning, dignity, and possibility.
When self-criticism loosens its grip, purpose becomes less about proving your worth and more about living your truth. It becomes steadier, kinder, and sustainable. The path forward isn’t perfection — it is alignment. Keep choosing the version of yourself that leads with trust, and watch your purpose grow with you. Your becoming is allowed to unfold without apology or hesitation.
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Closing a Hard Year While Finding Your Way Forward
Ending the year in transition can feel unsettling, but there’s power in outgrowing old roles, choosing alignment over survival, and trusting that becoming doesn’t need closure to be real! We discuss it here!
Photo Credit: Barcin via iStockPhoto.com
By: Jamila Gomez
Every year doesn’t end wrapped in clarity or closure. Some years finish in the middle of the story, when the lesson is still forming and the path forward feels unfinished. If this year met you in transition, standing between the life you once carried and the life you are slowly growing into, know that you are not walking that stretch alone. Across our community, many are moving through seasons that look steady from the outside yet require courage on the inside, because identity, direction, and belonging are being rewritten in real time.
Transition stretches you because it asks you to release versions of yourself that once made survival possible but can no longer carry who you are becoming. You may have outgrown rooms you worked hard to enter, or relationships that depended on you shrinking to remain accepted. This year may have revealed patterns of proving, performing, or overextending that others praised as strength while your spirit called it exhaustion. Naming that truth isn’t failure; it is self-respect. It is the quiet work of rebuilding self-trust and honoring the wisdom of your own life, even when convenience argues against it.
Transition can feel like loss — loss of certainty, loss of illusion, loss of the comfort that comes from knowing your role even when that role is costing you peace. Yet this space is also a birthplace. In the in-between, purpose stops being performance and becomes alignment in motion. You learn to pause instead of pushing through every burden. You learn to choose yourself without apology. You learn that endurance is not the same thing as worthiness, and that your value is not measured by how much you carry in silence.
If this year confronted you with truths you can no longer ignore, treat them as information rather than indictment. Growth doesn’t erase tension — it sharpens discernment. You are learning to move differently, to stand present without shrinking, to set boundaries without guilt, and to refuse stories that equate sacrifice with purpose. This is identity work — layered, gradual, and deeply sacred. Even when it feels unfinished, it is still progress, because each honest decision brings you closer to a life that reflects your truth instead of your fear.
As you step into a new year, you do not need a dramatic reinvention. You need honesty with yourself and the courage to trust your own voice again. Purpose is not waiting somewhere far ahead; it is forming right here in the middle of your becoming, where uncertainty and faith share the same ground. Let the calendar turn without forcing pressure or perfection. Let your growth be rooted in alignment, in dignity, and in the steady practice of honoring who you are becoming.
So close this year with your head high — not because everything is neat or resolved, but because you are still present to your evolution. You are discerning, rebuilding, and reclaiming the parts of you that once stayed quiet just to keep the peace. Transition is not a detour; it is the work of arriving, step by step, decision by decision. Carry this truth forward: you are allowed to evolve without permission, to redefine strength on your terms, and to trust that every small, courageous shift is shaping a future grounded in dignity, direction, and purpose. Step into the coming days with steadiness, honoring what you have survived and what you are becoming, knowing that transition does not diminish you; it clarifies you, strengthens your foundation, and prepares you to build a life that reflects truth, agency, hope, and wholeness for yourself and for those watching closely.
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Misunderstood: Being Read Through Someone Else’s Lens
That uneasy moment when you realize you’re no longer being heard but interpreted reveals how assumptions, bias, and misplaced lenses quietly reshape meaning, drain trust, and change how you show up in spaces that claim to value nuance! We discuss it here!
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By: Jamila Gomez
There’s a particular discomfort that comes with realizing you’re no longer being listened to—you’re being interpreted. You can feel the shift when it happens. The room changes. The questions aren’t really questions anymore. They’re confirmations of a story that’s already forming in someone else’s mind.
Being read through someone else’s lens means your words stop belonging to you. Tone replaces intent. Assumptions replace context. Your explanation becomes evidence, not information. And once that lens locks in, it doesn’t matter how carefully you speak. Everything gets filtered through whatever they’ve already decided about who you are.
What makes this especially destabilizing is that it often happens in spaces that claim to value reflection, nuance, or growth. You come in expecting dialogue and leave realizing you were part of an evaluation. Not of your work, but of your character. Not of what you said, but of what someone assumed you meant.
There’s a moment when you recognize that clarity isn’t going to save you. That moment is quiet, but it’s sharp. You understand that no additional explanation will correct the record, because the record was never neutral to begin with. It was shaped by someone else’s framework, biases, and comfort level long before you spoke.
In those moments, you start doing mental math. How much do I say? How much do I hold back? Do I push against the narrative and risk being labeled defensive, or do I let it sit and absorb the impact later? None of these options feel clean. They all cost something.
What lingers afterward isn’t always anger. Often it’s disorientation. You replay the exchange, not to prove yourself right, but to understand how you were seen so differently than you intended. You question your delivery. Your timing. Your presence. And then, if you’re honest, you realize the problem wasn’t any of that. The problem was the lens.
Being read through someone else’s lens is exhausting because it asks you to manage perceptions you didn’t create. It places the burden of correction on you, even when the misunderstanding wasn’t mutual. And over time, it changes how you show up. You become more measured. More contained. Less willing to offer raw thoughts in spaces that haven’t earned them.
There’s also a loss that comes with this experience. Not a dramatic one, but a subtle one. You lose trust in the room. You lose ease. You lose the assumption that good faith is shared. And once that’s gone, participation becomes strategic instead of natural.
What’s rarely acknowledged is how common this experience is, especially for Black women navigating professional or learning environments. Neutral expressions get read as something else. Directness gets reframed. Thoughtfulness gets mistaken for resistance. And the moment you realize you’re being read instead of heard, you start protecting yourself in ways that are invisible to everyone else.
Being read through someone else’s lens teaches you something, even if it isn’t the lesson that was intended. It teaches you that understanding isn’t always available, no matter how articulate you are. It teaches you that some spaces reward conformity more than honesty. And it teaches you to pay attention to where your voice lands, not just how it sounds.
You don’t always get to change the lens. Sometimes all you can do is recognize it, decide what you’re willing to give, and move forward differently. Not louder. Not quieter. Just more aware.
And that awareness stays with you long after the moment passes.
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Trust Yourself: Learning How to Live with Uncertainty
Learning to live with uncertainty is really about learning to trust yourself when life offers no clarity! We discuss it here!
Photo Credit: Delmaine Donson via iStockPhoto.com
By: Jamila Gomez
Life will always find a way to remind you that control is a story we tell ourselves. You can plan, you can prepare, and you can try to map out every detail, but there comes a point where the road goes blurry and you have no choice but to walk forward without all the answers. That is the part most of us resist. We want clarity, predictability, a timeline, an explanation. But uncertainty is part of being human. Learning to live with it is the real work.
What makes uncertainty so heavy is that it hits the places we protect the most. The future you thought you were building. The people you expected to be there. The opportunities that were supposed to open. The version of yourself you believed you would grow into. When any of that feels unstable, it shakes everything else. Black women know this feeling well. We are often the ones who hold things together, so not knowing what comes next can feel like failure even when it is not. It can feel like you are slipping when really you are just transitioning.
Living with uncertainty means you stop trying to outrun what you cannot control. You stop believing you can force life into behaving. You stop exhausting yourself trying to fix situations that require patience instead of panic. There is power in knowing what is yours to carry and what is not. There is peace in realizing you do not have to figure everything out today.
None of this is easy. Uncertainty pushes every button you have. It invites fear and second guessing and those late-night thoughts where you start imagining worst case scenarios. It makes you feel unsteady even when you are doing your best. But the truth is that uncertainty is not the enemy. It is often the doorway to what you have been asking for. It stretches you. It grows you. It forces you to trust yourself in a way certainty never could.
Learning to live with uncertainty is not about pretending to be unbothered. It is not about toxic positivity or convincing yourself everything is perfect. It is about honesty. It is about admitting that you do not know how something will unfold, while still choosing to move forward. It is about letting your hope speak louder than your fear, even if you have to whisper it to yourself some days. It is choosing presence over panic.
One thing uncertainty teaches you is that clarity usually shows up after you take the next step, not before. You learn as you go. You grow as you move. Some answers arrive only after you have walked through the moment that scared you. That is why staying stuck does more harm than uncertainty ever could. Staying stuck keeps you repeating the same fear with no new information. Moving gives you evidence that you are stronger than you thought.
Black women deserve to build lives that are not controlled by fear of the unknown. We deserve softness even in the in-between. We deserve moments where we do not have to perform strength. Learning to live with uncertainty gives you the chance to finally breathe. It gives you room to stop managing everything and start trusting yourself again.
There will always be seasons when life goes quiet and the next step is unclear. But uncertainty does not mean you are off track. It means you are in motion. It means something is shifting. It means the story is still unfolding. And even if you cannot see the full picture yet, you are allowed to keep walking. You are allowed to believe that where you are going will make sense when you get there.
Living with uncertainty takes courage, but it also gives you freedom. Freedom from forcing. Freedom from fear. Freedom to grow into the version of yourself that can hold both the questions and the faith that answers are coming.
By: Jamila Gomez
There comes a point in your life when the wins you prayed for finally show up, but the people you assumed would celebrate with you are nowhere to be found. You look around for the friend you used to call first. You glance at your phone expecting at least one message that says, “I’m proud of you.” Nothing. The silence can make even a joyful moment feel heavy. You find yourself asking why this achievement feels lonelier than the struggle it took to get here.
Many Black women know this story far too well. We work, we fight, we survive, and then when something good finally happens, we stand at the finish line by ourselves. Sometimes the people who watched us climb pretend they did not see us reach the top. Other times they are caught up in their own lives. And in some cases, we outgrew the people who used to clap for us. No matter the reason, having wins with no witness can leave you questioning their value.
This loneliness can hit hard because the world tells us success is meant to be shared. We are taught that joy is supposed to echo. That milestones should be toasted with a room full of people who love you. But the truth is more complicated. Sometimes the win arrives during a season where you are rebuilding your circle. Sometimes the people you thought were permanent were only meant to walk with you through the part of life they understood. And sometimes your growth made your relationships shift in ways you never saw coming.
The hardest part of navigating wins alone is not the silence. The hardest part is the doubt that creeps in. You wonder if the win even counts when no one sees it. You wonder if you should keep striving when the road is this quiet. You wonder if you are allowed to celebrate yourself without feeling silly or self-centered. These questions can pull you back into old patterns, the ones that taught you to shrink yourself so you would not outshine anyone or inconvenience anyone with your joy.
But here is the truth that often gets overlooked: standing alone at the moment of your success does not mean the success is small. It means you outgrew the rooms where your joy used to fit. Sometimes you are being pulled into a life where your wins do not require an audience to be real. They only require you to claim them. When your circle feels thin, your voice becomes the one that matters most.
There is also a quiet power in learning to honor your achievements privately. It teaches you to root your confidence inside yourself instead of waiting for someone else to validate it. It teaches you to mark your own milestones instead of hoping someone else remembers they are important. And it teaches you to sit in gratitude without distraction. That internal grounding becomes a strength that follows you into every new chapter.
At the same time, being honest about the loneliness matters. You do not need to pretend it feels good to celebrate alone. You do not have to be the strong one who never admits she wishes she had a safe place to share her wins. Wanting connection does not make you needy. Wanting witnesses does not make you weak. It makes you human.
The key is to keep going without letting the silence convince you that you are unsupported. Someone out there is looking for the kind of woman who does what you do. Someone out there will hear your story and feel seen. Someone out there will show up with the same energy you pour into others. You are building a life that new people will grow into. And when those connections arrive, you will have a foundation strong enough to hold them.
Your wins are real. Your joy is real. Your growth is real. Even if you are the only one in the room to witness it today. Keep moving. Someone who can hold space for your light is on their way.
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Why “I Don’t Know” Is Holding You Back More Than You Think
“I don’t know” often becomes a shield that blocks clarity, growth, and truth we already feel but aren’t ready to face! We discuss it here!
Why “I Don’t Know” Is Holding You Back More Than You Think
Photo Credit: Deagreez via iStockPhoto.com
By: Jamila Gomez
People underestimate how much power sits inside three small words. “I don’t know” sounds harmless. It feels neutral. It gives you a little room to breathe when a question touches a nerve. But those words can lock you in place faster than fear ever could. They feel like an honest response, yet most of the time they are a reflex, a way to avoid looking at something you already sense but do not want to face.
When people hit discomfort, “I don’t know” becomes the easiest escape route. It shuts the door on deeper reflection. It keeps the conversation on the surface. It allows you to stay untouched by the truth that is waiting to be acknowledged. You are not confused. You are protecting yourself. And that protection comes with a cost. Growth cannot happen in a space where you shut down every invitation to go deeper.
Most of the time, the answer is already sitting in your body. You feel it long before you say it. You know when you are tired of something. You know when you do not trust something. You know when something is no longer working for you. The mind may play games, but your spirit rarely lies. When you keep saying “I don’t know,” what you really mean is “I am not ready to deal with the truth sitting in front of me.” And that honesty alone can be the very thing that gets you unstuck.
People stay in cycles for years because those three words let them off the hook. If you do not know, you do not have to choose. You do not have to confront anything. You do not have to make a move. You can stay exactly where you are and call it uncertainty instead of fear. It feels safer, but it is the kind of safety that steals your progress. Nothing grows in that space.
The shift happens when you stop letting “I don’t know” be the end of the conversation. Instead of shutting down, you start getting curious. What am I avoiding right now? What am I afraid to say out loud? What am I protecting by staying silent? Questions like these pull the truth to the surface. They interrupt the habit of shutting down. They give you access to clarity you have been pretending you do not have.
Growth does not demand perfect answers. It asks for honesty. It asks for willingness. It asks for the courage to sit with what is real instead of hiding behind what feels easier. “I don’t know” might feel safe in the moment, but it keeps you standing still. The minute you stop using it as a shield, you make room for the clarity and movement you have been needing.
You may not have every answer, but you know enough to take the next step. And that step is what gets you out of stuck.
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The Inflation of “Trauma”: When Trauma Gets Overused and the Truth Gets Lost
Trauma is real, but calling every hardship “trauma” can keep us stuck instead of helping us heal, grow, and take accountability! We discuss it here!
When Trauma Gets Overused and the Truth Gets Lost
Photo Credit: Jacob Wackerhausen via iStockPhoto.com
By: Jamila Gomez
There was a time when trauma meant something that split your world open. People used the word carefully because it named a kind of pain that didn’t just hurt; it changed who you were. Somewhere along the way, the word got stretched until it started showing up everywhere. Now it covers everything from a bad date to a rough week.
When everything becomes trauma, nothing really is.
That isn’t to say people shouldn’t talk about what hurts. Feelings need language. But trauma is a very specific kind of wound. It shakes your sense of safety. It lives in your body. It lingers long after the moment is over. When we blur the line between pain and trauma, we take away the gravity of what the word is meant to hold.
Social media made that blur even worse. Therapy language turned into a trend. Everyone knows the buzzwords now: triggers, gaslighting, boundaries, trauma responses. There’s power in naming things, but words lose meaning when we start using them like captions. “My trauma made me do that” often replaces “I hurt someone.” “That triggered me” becomes “That bothered me.” We start speaking in shortcuts instead of saying what’s true.
That’s where accountability gets lost.
There’s also an unevenness in who gets to talk about trauma without being questioned. When a white influencer opens up about it, people call it vulnerability. When a Black woman does the same, she’s labeled angry or dramatic. When a poor person names it, they’re accused of making excuses. The word hasn’t just been overused; it’s been unevenly respected.
And because it’s everywhere, people are starting to tune it out. Real trauma stories get buried under a sea of minor grievances described with the same language. People who’ve survived violence or long-term abuse start to sound no different from those who’ve simply had a rough day. That doesn’t build empathy. It erases it.
Still, it makes sense why people reach for the word. In a world that rewards resilience and punishes emotion, saying “I have trauma” can feel like a shield. It’s a way of asking to be taken seriously. But when every hurt is called trauma, care starts to lose meaning too. Sometimes we’re just hurt. Sometimes we’re disappointed. Sometimes we’re grieving. That doesn’t make it small; it makes it real.
We don’t need to shame people for getting it wrong. We just need to be honest again. Not every heartbreak is trauma. Not every disagreement is abuse. Not every uncomfortable moment means danger. Some things are simply painful. Learning to sit with that without exaggerating it is its own form of growth.
Language shapes how we hold each other. If we use big words for every small wound, the words lose their weight. People who are still carrying real trauma deserve for it to mean something when they say it.
Maybe the goal isn’t to prove who’s been hurt the most. Maybe it’s to tell the truth about what we’ve lived through, what still needs healing, and what we can face without hiding behind labels. That kind of honesty might not trend, but it’s where the real healing starts.
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The Power of Boundaries: Finding Freedom in Being Unavailable
Many women, especially Black women, are praised for their strength yet punished for setting the boundaries that protect their peace, but true self-care means choosing sustainability over sacrifice and reclaiming the right to rest, heal, and be whole. We discuss it here!
The Freedom in Being Unavailable
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By: Jamila Gomez
There’s a certain kind of exhaustion that doesn’t come from doing too much—it comes from being expected to. The world still treats women’s availability as a resource to be mined. Black women, especially, are taught early that strength means endurance: take the call, pick up the slack, swallow the feeling. Then, when you finally draw a line, someone calls you selfish, distant, or ungrateful.
It’s a strange paradox—to be admired for resilience and punished for the boundaries that make it possible. In the workplace, at home, and even in friendship circles, “flexibility” is often code for self-abandonment. Employers preach self-care in staff meetings, then extend schedules, cut pay, or stretch workloads under the banner of teamwork. Families talk about love and loyalty while quietly expecting the same few shoulders to carry the weight. Communities celebrate sisterhood but guilt the same women into being available for everyone but themselves.
The message is clear: your value is in your usefulness. And when you stop being useful to others, they stop being comfortable with you.
Boundaries threaten systems built on silent labor. They disrupt the flow of convenience. When a woman says, “I can’t do that,” she exposes how much was being done without acknowledgment. For some people, that truth feels like an attack. But it isn’t hostility—it’s honesty. It’s the radical act of choosing not to perform depletion for someone else’s comfort.
What gets overlooked is that boundaries aren’t walls; they’re doors with locks. They don’t keep love out—they protect the space where love can breathe. Setting them doesn’t mean rejection; it means discernment. The same boundaries that protect your mental health at work are the ones that protect your peace at home. They make room for rest, creativity, and care that isn’t coerced.
In relationships, boundaries expose imbalance. They ask hard questions: Why is my peace negotiable but yours isn’t? Why is my capacity assumed to be endless? Too often, “being there” for others has meant erasing yourself. But you can’t build healthy connection from depletion. Relationships that require your silence or exhaustion to survive are not acts of love; they’re transactions disguised as intimacy.
In families, boundaries shift generational habits. Many of us were raised to confuse obedience with respect. Saying no to parents, elders, or siblings was seen as betrayal. But refusing to repeat cycles of overfunctioning and guilt isn’t rebellion—it’s repair. It’s how you stop trauma from turning into tradition.
At work, boundaries look like refusing to glorify burnout. They look like declining unpaid emotional labor, saying no to “just one more task,” and remembering that flexibility is a privilege, not a personality trait. The language of sacrifice is seductive—especially in helping professions—but martyrdom doesn’t serve anyone. Healthy employees do better work. Tired ones just make it through the day.
Community boundaries are trickier. They require recognizing that being part of something larger doesn’t mean being consumed by it. Activism, advocacy, faith work—all of it can turn into performance if rest isn’t built in. There’s nothing radical about self-neglect. Revolution requires stamina, not self-destruction.
The truth is, many people aren’t mad that you set boundaries—they’re mad that you stopped centering their comfort. When you start valuing your own time, energy, and emotional capacity, people who benefited from your lack of boundaries will call it attitude. Let them. That’s not arrogance—it’s recovery.
The work now is unlearning the guilt attached to protecting your peace. You don’t owe constant access to anyone—not your job, not your family, not your friends. Boundaries are a form of integrity. They keep you honest about what you can give and clear about what you need.
To live without them is to live on borrowed energy. To live with them is to finally understand that caring for yourself doesn’t make you less compassionate—it makes you sustainable.
Choosing yourself isn’t betrayal. It’s the only way to stay whole in a world that keeps asking for pieces.
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How Personal Growth Changes Your Relationships and Makes Others Uncomfortable
Growth isn’t always celebrated and it’s the quiet, courageous act of choosing yourself even when it costs you connection, revealing the beauty and heartbreak of outgrowing what no longer fits. We discuss it here!
When Your Growth Makes People Uncomfortable
Photo Credit: Prostock-Studio via iStockPhoto.com
By: Jamila Gomez
Everyone celebrates growth until yours stops making them feel good. People love a redemption story as long as it doesn’t include them as part of what you had to outgrow. They’ll clap when you talk about lessons learned, but not when the lesson is them.
Growth sounds noble in theory, but in real life it’s messy. It looks like saying no when you used to say yes. It feels like distance from people who were once your whole circle. It comes with guilt, with silence, and with the sharp awareness that becoming better often costs you belonging. You expect growing pains—you just don’t expect them to show up as people.
At first, it’s subtle. A friend grows quiet when you share good news. A family member starts talking to you like you’ve forgotten where you came from. A coworker who once encouraged you now competes with you. None of it is loud; it’s all tone and timing. But you can feel it—the energy has shifted. You haven’t changed for the worse; you’ve just stopped being the version of yourself that made their life easier.
Some people liked you best when you were unsure. You needed advice. You leaned on their opinions. You played small enough to keep the peace. That version of you was comforting. The newer you—the one who moves with boundaries, clarity, and self-trust—doesn’t fit their story anymore. They’ll say you’ve become different, but what they mean is you’ve stopped shrinking to match their comfort.
The hard part is not apologizing for it. You’ll be tempted to make yourself more approachable, to explain your choices so no one feels accused. But you can’t protect people from the discomfort of watching you evolve. Growth doesn’t ask for permission. It simply reveals who’s willing to adjust and who’d rather you stay the same.
Some connections will stretch to meet your new shape. Others will break under the weight of your becoming. That’s not betrayal; it’s alignment. Relationships built on mutual limitation don’t survive expansion. You’re not required to carry who you were just to keep others calm.
Keep going. Let the silence around you be information, not punishment. The people meant to walk beside you will adapt. The ones who drift were never anchored—they were attached to your uncertainty. Growth is proof that you finally chose yourself, even if it means fewer witnesses.
Keep growing anyway. The applause fades, the real ones stay, and the rest remind you why elevation requires distance.
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The Power of Self-Love: How Loving Yourself Attracts Everything You Desire
Self-love is the most powerful force in the universe, the energy that attracts peace, purpose, and everything meant for you when you begin honoring yourself first. We discuss it here!
Omar Cook Attends Event For AMNTS
By: Omar Cook
Self-love is the most powerful love in the universe. It’s the foundation of everything you attract, everything you build, and everything you become. When you truly love yourself—when you honor who you are, flaws and all—the universe responds in kind. You start magnetizing people, opportunities, and experiences that reflect that same energy of love right back to you.
Love is the highest vibration there is, and it begins with you. You can’t pour from an empty cup or love others deeply if you haven’t learned how to love yourself first. That means looking yourself in the mirror and saying, “I love you”—and meaning it. It means spending time alone and actually enjoying your own company. It’s taking yourself out on dates, doing things that make you feel alive, and realizing that validation doesn’t come from others—it comes from within.
When you love yourself, you stop needing the world’s approval. You stand firm in your truth, confident in your morals and beliefs, unshaken by outside opinions. That’s what it means to move through the world with grace, self-respect, and peace.
Especially as people of color, self-love is a radical act. In a world that has tried to dim our light and devalue our worth for generations, choosing to love yourself loudly and unapologetically is a form of rebellion. It’s resistance through joy. It’s power through peace.
Loving yourself looks like giving your body what it needs—good food, movement, rest, and hydration. It looks like setting boundaries that protect your energy, walking away from what doesn’t serve you, and creating a life that reflects your truth.
Real love is not about perfection. It’s about presence. It’s living on your own terms, being your own peace, and refusing to shrink for anyone. When you love yourself, you elevate your vibration—and that’s when everything meant for you naturally finds its way home.
Love yourself so fully that it becomes your lifestyle, not just your mantra. Because when you do, you’ll find that self-love isn’t selfish—it’s sacred.
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The Cost of Chasing Perfect: Why Perfectionism Holds You Back From Success
Chasing perfection drains your energy and keeps your dreams on pause, but choosing presence over perfection sets you free to move forward with honesty and power. We discuss it here!
The Cost of Chasing “Perfect”
Photo Credit: Prostock-Studio via iStockPhoto.com
By: Jamila Gomez
Perfect sounds good in theory. It promises security, approval, and the sense that once you finally achieve it, you’ll be able to breathe easier. But the truth is, chasing “perfect” doesn’t deliver freedom. It delivers exhaustion.
Perfection is a moving target. You think you’ve reached it, but then the bar shifts again. Someone else posts something shinier. You notice one more thing to fix. You tell yourself, If I tweak just this one detail, then I’ll be ready. That cycle never ends. One “fix” becomes ten, and suddenly weeks or even years have passed. The project never gets finished. The relationship never moves forward. The dream stays stuck in rehearsal mode.
And the price isn’t only time. The deeper cost is your energy. The energy you could have used to live, to try, to share, to create without apology. Perfectionism siphons all of it into polishing edges most people won’t even notice. You end up drained, and ironically, you still don’t feel satisfied. What was supposed to bring pride ends up leaving you empty.
The harder truth is this: chasing perfect is almost never about standards. It’s about fear. Fear of being judged. Fear of not measuring up. Fear that if you show up with anything less than flawless, you’ll be exposed. But here’s the trap—the longer you wait for perfect, the more invisible you become. Nothing gets shared. Nothing gets said. Nothing gets lived.
Think about how much of your life has already been swallowed up by “getting ready.” The ideas you never pitched. The words you never published. The conversations you rehearsed in your head but never spoke out loud. The opportunities you let pass because you didn’t feel polished enough yet. That’s the erosion of perfectionism—it steals moments that will never come back.
The alternative isn’t settling for sloppy. It’s choosing momentum over paralysis. It’s admitting that “done” matters more than “perfect,” because done gives you something to stand on and something to build from. Perfection keeps you locked in theory; movement creates proof. And once you have proof, you can refine. You can grow. You can keep moving forward without waiting for permission from flawless.
And here’s the piece we forget: people don’t connect with perfect anyway. They connect with presence. They connect with honesty. They connect with seeing someone risk showing up as they are. The cracks are where the light gets in, and those cracks make you relatable in ways perfection never will.
Perfect will drain you. Honest will sustain you. And every time you choose presence over perfection, you get your energy back—and with it, your freedom to keep moving.
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Creating From the Heart: How to Find Freedom in Authentic Expression
True creativity isn’t about likes or applause but about creating from the heart, honoring your truth, and finding freedom in expression for its own sake. We discuss it here!
Creating from the Heart
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By: Jamila Gomez
There’s constant pressure to create for an audience. We measure our work by likes, shares, or applause, and if those things aren’t guaranteed, we hesitate to even begin. Before the paintbrush touches the canvas, before a single word is written, before the camera even records, the questions creep in: Will anyone care? Will this be good enough? Will people approve? That pressure is heavy, and it can choke the very creativity we’re trying to protect.
But creativity wasn’t born from metrics. It was born from expression. From the need to tell a story, to release an emotion, to make beauty or truth out of what feels unshaped inside of us. When you create from your heart, the goal isn’t applause—it’s honesty. It’s presence. It’s giving shape to something that matters to you, whether or not anyone else ever consumes it.
Think about the songs sung in kitchens that never left the house. The doodles that lived in the corners of notebooks. The prayers whispered into the night. Those creations didn’t need an audience to matter. They mattered because they held truth for the person who made them. They were a release, a record, a small form of healing.
When you create without worrying about who will see it, you give yourself freedom. Freedom to experiment, to fail, to be messy, to make something that doesn’t “fit” a brand or trend. That freedom is where the deepest work often comes from. Some of it will be for you alone, and some of it may find its way into the world later, but either way, it’s still worth making.
And sometimes, paradoxically, the work that touches people most is the work that wasn’t made with them in mind. There’s a certain rawness, a certain truth, in art that isn’t built for approval. People can feel it. They recognize when a piece came from the soul, not from strategy. But even if no one else ever experiences it, you’ve still honored yourself in the act of creating it. That’s enough.
So the next time you feel that inner critic rise up—the one asking who will care, who will watch, who will clap—quiet it. Ask instead: What do I need to express right now? What wants to come through me, even if it never leaves this room? Then make that. Let it be imperfect, let it be real, and let it be yours.
Creating from the heart is a reminder that the value of your work isn’t found in the numbers—it’s found in the act of making. That act, all by itself, is already worthy.
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5 Tips to Becoming a Mental Giant and Building Top-Tier Mental Strength
Becoming a mental giant means mastering your inner voice, building resilience, and staying rooted in vision and faith no matter life’s challenges. We discuss it here!
Tips For Becoming A Mental Giant
Credit: Omar Cook
By: Omar Cook
Mental strength is the greatest strength that we can have. It’s more important than physical or emotional strength, as your mental leads the way for all things to be controlled. When you can control your mind, you can control your physical vessel and your emotional responses.
Life will test you, stretch you, and sometimes even break you down. But the ones who rise, who endure, who thrive? They’re the mental giants. And the good news is, mental strength isn’t something people are just born with. You can start from where you are right now and train, practice, and master your mind. Here are five powerful ways to step into your highest mental self and stay there, no matter what life throws your way.
1. Master Your Inner Voice
The conversation you have with yourself is constant and it’s either lifting you up or tearing you down. Becoming a mental giant starts with mastering that inner voice. Trade self-doubt for affirmations, fear for faith, and worry for words of power. Every time your mind whispers “I can’t,” speak back with “I will.” That simple shift rewires your entire perspective.
2. Build Discipline Through Daily Habits
Mental strength isn’t built overnight. It’s a strength that’s built brick by brick, habit by habit. Start with small, consistent actions that anchor your day. Journal your thoughts, move your body, pray, meditate, or practice gratitude each morning. Discipline is freedom, and daily rituals keep you steady even when life feels unstable.
3. Embrace Adversity as Training
Setbacks aren’t punishments. Change your perspective and look at them as training sessions. Every challenge you face is a chance to grow your resilience. When things get hard, don’t ask, “Why me?” Instead, ask, “What is this teaching me?” Mental giants don’t avoid struggle; they use it as fuel. Every storm strengthens your foundation if you let it.
4. Guard Your Energy and Environment
Your mind is only as strong as the energy you allow around you. Protect your peace like it’s priceless, because it is. Limit your time with negativity, whether it’s toxic relationships, chaotic spaces, or endless scrolling on social media. Feed your mind with books, music, and conversations that inspire. Mental giants know: you can’t control everything, but you can control what you allow into your space.
5. Stay Rooted in Vision and Faith
When the road gets hard, and it does for everyone, your vision and your faith will carry you further than willpower ever could. Write down your goals. Speak them daily. Connect to a higher source, whatever faith or spiritual practice grounds you. Mental giants don’t just stand strong; they stand anchored in purpose. That’s what keeps them unshakable.
Being a mental giant doesn’t mean you will never breakdown. Mental strength gives you the power to break and come back stronger every single time. It’s about showing up with courage, resilience, and focus, even when the world tries to pull you apart. Remember, your greatest power is already within you. Train your mind, guard your peace, and live rooted in vision, and you’ll step into a version of yourself you never thought possible.
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The Myth of Balance: Why Alignment Matters More | Op-Ed
Balance sounds good on paper, but real freedom comes from alignment, choosing what truly matters in each season and letting go of the guilt of trying to do it all. We discuss it here!
Why Alignment Matters Over Balance
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By: Jamila Gomez
We love to talk about “balance” like it’s the secret to a better life. Balance between work and home. Balance between ambition and rest. Balance between giving to others and pouring into yourself. It sounds good. It feels like the responsible goal. But balance is a myth.
Balance assumes everything gets equal weight. That you can divide your life into neat little sections and tend to each of them the same way. But life has never worked like that. Some seasons pull more from you than others. Some roles demand more of your energy. And sometimes, the very thing that gives you life will cost you in another area.
Think about it: if you’re pouring yourself into building a business, you may not have time to keep a spotless home. If you’re caring for family, you may not have the bandwidth to take on every opportunity at work. If you’re chasing a dream, you may sacrifice money, time, or comfort to get there. None of that means you’re failing—it means you’re human.
The problem with balance is that it sets us up for constant guilt. If you can’t give everything equal attention, you start to feel like you’re falling short everywhere. Instead of appreciating the areas where you’re actually thriving, you zero in on what’s slipping. Balance becomes another measuring stick that proves you’re not enough.
What if we shifted the focus from balance to alignment? Alignment means your choices match your values. It means you’re clear about what matters most right now, and you organize your life around that. Instead of chasing equal slices of the pie, you’re choosing what deserves your energy in this season.
Alignment frees you from the myth that everything has to get equal time. Some days you’ll give more to work, some days to family, some days to yourself. What matters is whether those choices reflect the life you want to build—not whether they look even on a scale.
The truth is, balance was never the goal. Wholeness is. Integrity is. Living a life that feels like yours, even when it’s lopsided from the outside. When you stop trying to measure your worth by how “balanced” you are, you start giving yourself permission to be present where it counts.
So no, I don’t believe in balance anymore. I believe in alignment. I believe in seasons. I believe in showing up fully where I’m called, even if it means letting something else wait. That’s not failure. That’s focus. And it’s a lot more honest than the myth of balance.
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Invisible Success: Why the Quiet Wins Matter Just as Much as the Big Ones
True success isn’t only in the loud wins the world applauds, but in the quiet, invisible shifts that transform who we are from the inside out. We discuss it here!
Why the Quiet Wins Matter Just as Much as the Big Ones
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By: Jamila Gomez
We’re so used to measuring success by the big, flashy things—new jobs, degrees, houses, relationships. The stuff you can post about, the stuff people instantly understand and applaud. Those are the kinds of wins people celebrate for you, the ones that prove you’ve “made it.”
But there’s another kind of success that doesn’t get celebrated the same way. The quiet wins. The ones nobody sees but you. And honestly, those are the ones that change you the most.
Invisible success is saying no when you used to say yes out of guilt. It’s recognizing when your peace is worth more than pleasing everybody else. It’s finally letting your real voice come out instead of swallowing it. It’s being able to walk into a room without shrinking, even when you used to disappear into the background.
It’s walking away from that one-sided friendship. It’s ignoring the text you know will pull you back into something you’ve already outgrown. It’s catching yourself before you spiral, pausing long enough to choose differently. It’s being able to admit, “I’m not okay,” when you’ve spent years convincing people you were fine. It’s starting therapy, or journaling, or even just sitting with yourself when silence used to scare you.
These shifts don’t usually come with a round of applause. There’s no big announcement, no obvious milestone to point to. Sometimes you don’t even recognize them until later—when you realize that the thing that used to tear you down doesn’t have the same grip anymore.
And that’s the tricky part. From the outside, invisible success looks like nothing. People might think you’re stuck, when the truth is you’re transforming in ways they can’t see. That’s why you can’t rely on validation to measure your progress. If you do, you’ll always underestimate yourself.
Because here’s the truth: invisible success is success. It’s the foundation everything else stands on. Before the new job came the confidence to apply. Before the healthy relationship came the boundaries you practiced. Before the opportunity came the self-worth you decided to honor. Without those invisible shifts, the visible ones don’t last.
So don’t dismiss it just because it doesn’t make noise. Don’t downplay it because no one else noticed. Every small, quiet decision is proof that you’re not who you used to be. And that’s worth acknowledging.
The loud wins will come. They always do. But when they do, don’t forget it was the invisible ones that got you ready. Success isn’t just about what people can see. Sometimes the most powerful progress is the kind that happens when no one’s watching.
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Why Resilience Isn’t Enough: Beyond Survival and the Need for Real Change | Op-Ed
Resilience may inspire us, but when it’s praised without accountability, it risks normalizing struggle instead of demanding change. We discuss it here!
By: Jamila Gomez
“She remained strong through it all.” It’s the kind of line we’ve all seen—splashed across headlines after disasters, tucked into profiles of grieving families, repeated in stories of women carrying impossible loads. The word “resilient” is always meant as praise. But when you hear it often enough, it begins to sound less like admiration and more like an evasion.
Resilience is the ability to bend without breaking, to endure hardship and still move forward. That is undeniably a powerful human quality. But the way our media frames resilience often does more to soothe the public than to confront reality. Survival is elevated as if it were the whole story, while the conditions that required such resilience are left unexamined.
The patterns are easy to spot. After a hurricane, neighbors rebuilding their homes with bare hands are celebrated, but little attention is given to why infrastructure failed or why government aid was delayed. In the aftermath of shootings, survivors are praised for their courage, but coverage often avoids asking why the violence keeps recurring. And when a Black woman shoulders caregiving, community leadership, and full-time work, she is hailed as strong, while the lack of structural support that forced her into that role goes unquestioned. In each case, admiration of resilience replaces accountability.
Resilience stories are seductive because they give audiences permission to look away. They transform painful realities into inspirational content. It’s easier to marvel at how someone endured than to demand changes that might prevent the suffering altogether. “Look, she survived” is a much tidier ending than “she should never have been put through this.”
But resilience comes at a cost. Bending without breaking still leaves scars. Constant endurance drains bodies, frays relationships, and erodes trust in institutions. When media outlets elevate resilience as the ultimate virtue, they normalize struggle as something to be admired rather than addressed. The unspoken message is that we should expect to suffer and expect to keep going—no matter the toll.
What if the media told a different story? Imagine if, alongside honoring strength, headlines interrogated the failures that made strength necessary. Instead of “She rose from the ashes,” imagine “She should never have been left in the fire.” Instead of celebrating communities for bouncing back, imagine celebrating the policies, infrastructure, and care that kept them from being knocked down in the first place.
Resilience deserves respect, but it should never be the end of the story. Real progress begins when we move beyond marveling at survival and start dismantling the conditions that make survival the only option. Until then, resilience will remain both inspiring and tragic: a testament to human willpower, and a reminder of how much we still refuse to change.
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Wellness, Self-Care, and the Need for Real Structural Change | Op-Ed
Op-Ed: Why true wellness goes beyond yoga mats and meditation apps and must address systemic issues like inequality, wages, and access to care!
By: Jamila Gomez
Wellness is everywhere. It’s in the apps on our phones, the aisles of our grocery stores, the curated corners of social media urging us to “breathe, reset, and find balance.” It’s sold through yoga mats, green juices, therapy-inspired journals, and weekend retreats designed to make us forget the weight of our daily lives. The message is consistent: if you invest in yourself—your body, your mindset, your routine—you can create calm no matter what chaos surrounds you.
But here’s the problem: the chaos isn’t always of our own making, and no amount of lavender oil or positive affirmations can erase it. The wellness industry has built an empire on personal solutions to systemic problems. It tells people to “self-care harder” while ignoring the fact that much of what keeps them unwell—low wages, unaffordable housing, unsafe workplaces, systemic racism—cannot be fixed by buying another product or waking up at 5 a.m. for meditation.
This disconnect is more than frustrating—it’s dangerous. When wellness ignores structural harm, it subtly shifts the blame onto the individual. If you’re burned out, you must have skipped your morning routine. If you’re anxious, maybe you didn’t manifest the right mindset. Struggle becomes evidence of failure, rather than a natural response to being overworked, underpaid, or constantly on guard. The very people most in need of care end up feeling like they’re not doing enough to “heal.”
And who exactly does wellness center? The glossy branding usually assumes a person with disposable income, flexible time, and access to safe environments. But for the single parent working double shifts, the caregiver who cannot clock out, or the essential worker living paycheck to paycheck, “just slow down” is not advice—it’s mockery. Those who need relief most are often the least able to access what’s being sold.
None of this means that wellness practices are useless. Many people find genuine comfort in meditation, journaling, or movement. The problem isn’t the practices themselves; it’s the narrative that these rituals alone can undo what society has broken. Wellness without justice is incomplete.
If the industry really wants to live up to its promise, it has to start telling the truth: personal rituals cannot replace structural change. True wellness is collective. It’s affordable housing, safe workplaces, accessible healthcare, and communities where survival isn’t mistaken for thriving. Without that, the industry is just selling candles for a house still on fire.
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Reigniting Your Inspiration: Finding Your Way Back When Creativity Feels Blocked
When creativity feels stuck, sometimes the block is really an invitation to pause, shift, and rediscover your spark in new ways. We discuss it here!
By: Jamila Gomez
Every creative person hits that wall at some point. You sit down to make something—write, paint, sing, build—and nothing comes. The ideas that usually flow so easily feel stuck behind a closed door. It can make you question yourself, like maybe the spark is gone for good. But blocks don’t mean you’ve lost it. They just mean it’s time to approach things differently.
Sometimes the simplest shift makes the biggest difference. Step outside, move your body, change your view. A new environment gives your mind fresh material to work with. Even something as small as working in a different corner of your house can open things up. Creativity feeds off of contrast, and when everything feels the same, your imagination runs out of oxygen.
Other times, it helps to shrink the task. Instead of aiming for a finished piece, aim for the tiniest step. Write one sentence. Doodle for five minutes. Hum a tune with no expectation it will turn into a song. Lowering the stakes takes off the pressure. What often follows is momentum, and momentum is what pulls you out of the block more than perfection ever could.
And then there are moments when you need to switch it up completely. If the words aren’t coming, maybe it’s time to pick up a brush. If painting feels heavy, maybe turn on music and move. If nothing else, try cooking something new. Changing the medium gives your brain a chance to play without rules. You’ll usually return to your main craft with fresh energy and looser hands.
Don’t forget: creativity needs input to keep going. When you’re running dry, fill yourself back up. Watch something outside your usual taste. Listen to music that takes you somewhere different. Read words that stretch you. Inspiration rarely shows up when you’re empty—it needs something to spark against.
And sometimes the best move is to stop trying. Rest. Take a nap, stretch, or sit in silence. Some of the best ideas arrive not when you chase them, but when you create enough stillness for them to find you.
The truth is, blocks are part of the creative process. They’re not the end. They’re invitations—to pause, to experiment, to look at your craft from a new angle. And if you let them, they’ll lead you back to your creativity in a way that feels freer, deeper, and more alive than before.
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