I learned how to make things happen because I didn’t have people showing up for me.

Not the way I needed. Not consistently.

So I became the provider, the protector, and the plan.

But it cost me softness I didn’t even know I was allowed to have.

My dad sold me dreams—and then he left me.

I’m tired of being the one who always chooses.
Choosing men who weren’t ready.
Choosing love that didn’t love me back.
Choosing potential over reality.

Some days survival looks like
showing up broken,
driving through the storm,
praying…

This long road carries me home.

Self-worship is what saved me.
Not productivity.
Not performance.
Not even prayer the way I was taught it.