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?

There comes a sacred moment in our healing when we stop replaying the hurt and begin honoring the lesson. Walking in the Wisdom, Not the Wound invites you to move beyond the stories that kept you stuck and step into the calm clarity of your own becoming. Guided by herbal allies like rosemary, chamomile, and lemon balm, we learn to release what no longer serves and embody peace rooted in purpose. Healing isn’t forgetting — it’s remembering who you are beneath the pain.