There came a time in my life where one challenge followed another — miscarriage after miscarriage, financial struggle after financial struggle, heartbreak after heartbreak. And every time, I went through it alone. I told myself, “Nobody needs to see me like this. Nobody can fix it anyway.”But the truth underneath that was fear — fear that if people saw me broken, they’d never see me as capable again. I kept praying, “Spirit, why is it that every time it’s my turn to

See, in my family, we learned early that softness could be dangerous — that tears didn’t fix bills, and vulnerability didn’t keep lights on. So we learned to swallow what we couldn’t say.We smiled through pain and called it strength. But the truth? The silence passed down isn’t sacred if it’s suffocating.

I spent my early womanhood in a tug-of-war with her. Weight I couldn’t explain, exhaustion I couldn’t fix, cycles that felt like betrayal. I thought I was doing everything right — eating “okay,” staying busy, keeping the smile, keeping the peace. But my body was keeping score the whole time. PCOS had been hiding behind every miscarriage, every surge of weight I couldn’t shed. And instead of listening, I did what most of us do — I pushed through, prayed harder, and punished my

Soultribe… you ever had a season hit you so hard it snatches your breath? Not just “life is lifing” hard. I’m talking embarrassment hard. Bruised ego hard. Exhaustion so deep your body is tired and your spirit is tired. And the emotions don’t even stay contained — they spill over onto the people you love, and now you’re frustrated because you didn’t mean to be short, distant, snappy, or numb… but you are. And what makes it worse?

The obstacles that came with my son's birth marked the beginning of a new spiritual journey for me. His illness forced me to reevaluate my l