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When Clients Confess Their Truths There is a weight that comes with hearing the truth. Not the polished version. Not the story people tell at brunch or post online. The real one. The one that only comes out when the door is closed, the recorder is on, and the voice starts to shake before the words arrive. When you decide to hear another person’s story—really hear it—capturing their essence and repeating their lived experience is not easy for the storyteller or the writer. It

PURPOSE DOESN’T WHISPER People say they’re waiting to hear their purpose. As if purpose is shy. As if it’s hiding. As if it hasn’t been knocking this whole time. Here’s the truth they don’t like to admit: Purpose doesn’t whisper — we ignore it. Purpose speaks through discomfort. Through restlessness. Through that inner tension that shows up when you’re settling for less than what you’re capable of. If you’ve been feeling unsettled, distracted, or discontent lately, it’s not b

BEHIND THE INK The clock read 2:17 a.m. when I got the email. Most people sleep when their world whispers at them, but not me—not when I live two lives. One life, the world sees me as a creator, empowering individuals with my positive vibes, guiding them to their next level. The other life… the silent one, a ghostwriter, of shadows and secrets. Sometimes the shadows write back. Raw, unfiltered, the thing I least expect— stories can heal, but only if they’re told. Sometimes, t

THE 15 SENSES My body has a way of talking to me — usually when I ignore it. Last Thursday, my hip ached so badly I almost canceled everything, but I didn’t listen. I told myself, “Push through. You’ve handled worse.” So I did. I pushed through meetings, calls, and deadlines, pretending the discomfort was temporary. Pretending rest was weakness. By the evening, my body had escalated its conversation: heavy fatigue, tension creeping up my neck, and a throbbing pain that refuse

CONVERSATION STARTERS There came a moment when I realized that love had to have a common correlation. It couldn’t exist only in words. And it couldn’t survive on effort without truth. If love was real, it had to be shown when it was spoken. There had to be a collective alignment of actions, behaviors, and consistency that supported the claim. Anything outside of that was not love. It was performance disguised as intention. And if you don’t pay close attention — if you don’t w

EMPOWERING YOU1ST There’s a moment in everyone’s life when the voice inside you says, “Enough is enough.” Mine spoke on December 21st, 2021. A date tattooed in memory, not on skin. I had spent years nodding, agreeing, shrinking, editing my words to fit someone else’s story. I moved like a shadow in rooms where I should’ve been the light. I softened the truth to make others comfortable, even when it choked me. But that day… that day I remembered what it felt like to be seen. T

WELCOME HOME Every house has rooms… but there's that one space where life settles, breathes, and becomes real. In Grandma’s house, the den was that place. Not the kitchen where pots never rested, not the pristine living room nobody sat in — the den was where the heartbeat lived. It was where I learned routines without realizing they were lessons. Monday nights with Granddaddy watching wrestling in the same chair, with the same laugh, like clockwork. Quiet tasks like stacking