Phoenix: Live Love Laugh

Last week was hard.
And I’m not saying that for sympathy—I’m saying it because keeping it inside is quietly destroying me.

It’s terrifying to admit, but necessary. For years, I’ve told myself that I was okay—that I had made peace with everything that’s happened since my stroke and coma from Sickle Cell complications. But last week, my mental health hit a breaking point.

On the outside, I looked fine. I smiled. I functioned. But on the inside?
I was screaming.
Sobbing.
Shaking with rage and confusion.

I was angry—mostly with God and with myself. And yes, I believe it’s okay to admit that. God can handle our anger. He can take the frustration, the questions, the cries. I needed to vent, and honestly, who better to vent to than the One who listens without judgment?

I didn’t want advice.
I didn’t want clichés.
I didn’t want to be reminded of things I already knew.

I needed silence. Space. A release.

The storm inside my head wasn’t just emotion—it was also the lingering effects of my cognitive impairment. It makes writing, thinking, transitioning, and processing harder than most people understand. I know my blogs may not flow like typical ones. I know the transitions might be choppy. But that’s okay—because I’m still going to write them.

Not everything I share will be connected.
Not everything will be perfect.
But it will be honest.

There are so many things about life I want to say. So many small truths, reflections, and moments that matter. So I’m starting here—with short blogs that hold pieces of my experience. I’m writing not because I’m a polished writer, but because I’m a real person living through something many don’t see.

If you’ve ever had a week like this—just know, you’re not alone.