My In and Out for 2025
I'm here for what’s real, naming what’s not, and reclaiming the vibes
Bottom line up front: Living in my truth without overexplaining (👋🏿 to my Gemini Sun)
Boundaries are the distance with which I can love myself and others 💯 at the same damn time.
Joy as defiance, softness as power.
Stepping up into leadership from a place of accountability ONLY to what sustains us.
In for 2025
Couples therapy for thriving, not surviving.
Amber lighting—none of this daylight 5000K nonsense.
Finding space to write, fast and messy—because it still counts.
Buying MY WIFE her dream home because why not?
Die-hard WNBA energy, because women’s sports deserve the spotlight.
Relaxing, the dying skill.
The wisdom of Black radical feminists, because bell hooks already gave us the blueprint.
Being the friend who asks, “What do you need?” but is okay if the answer is, “not this.”
Showing up for my people by modeling boundaries and taking feedback as care, not conflict.
Analog music for nostalgic connection, not escape.
A recommitment to trans rights and calling out transphobia wherever it lurks.
Embracing my Millennial Momma Montessori-chic era
Welcoming AI as a tool, not a savior or a villain—skeptical optimism for the win.
Saying no without a 10-point explanation.
Texting back “Maybe you are in the storm and are not THE storm?”
Unwrapping joy like a toddler who loves the box more than the toy.
Pancake cheese (what Nyah calls whipped cream) and the perfect NEIPA pour.
Out for 2024
Accepting crumbs and pretending it’s a feast.
Trying to be everything to everyone and losing myself in the process.
Feeling left out because I don’t have a Spotify Wrapped.
Ignoring settler colonialism while claiming “neutrality.”
Apologizing for what ain’t mine.
Corporate betrayals I saw coming but still cried over.
Emotional contortionism for people who don’t reciprocate.
Thinking burnout is fixed with a self-care budget and free lunch.
Hustling my way to nowhere.
Judging the youth for bringing back our middle school fashion just because our generation hasn’t processed our trauma.
Believing I failed because someone didn’t feel my care the way they wanted.
Meetings that could’ve been emails.
Getting duped by late-stage capitalism ads selling me a dream I didn’t order.
Overthinking the perfect comeback for an argument that wasn’t worth it.
“Family” workplace lies and Beyoncé’s commodified radical joy.
Wearing hard pants.
Overexplaining boundaries instead of just setting them.