When I First Decided to Write for Real…

I don’t remember the exact date. But I remember the feeling.

It was the early 2000s, and life had me wrapped in a storm of survival—trauma after trauma, test after test, until I could barely tell where one version of me ended and the next began. But through all of it, there was one constant whisper: “Write it down.”

In 2002 or 2003, I decided to take that whisper seriously. To write for real. Not just poems in the margins or ideas tucked in my purse. I wanted to pour it all out—how I survived abuse, disappointment, betrayal, even my own bad decisions. I didn’t want to just share stories. I wanted to bleed truth, to free myself and maybe help someone else break their own generational curse along the way.

But then… life happened.

I got distracted. I got caught up in being everything to everybody—wife, mother, daughter, friend, peacekeeper, survivor. I buried my pen under the weight of responsibilities and unspoken pain. And just like that, the dream faded into the background like a song I loved but hadn’t heard in a while.

Still, that call never left.

Eventually, I circled back and birthed my first self-published book—a self-help book, naturally. Because I didn’t just want to tell people what I went through; I wanted to help them find light in their own darkness. That book wasn’t perfect. But baby, it was mine. It was my scar turned scripture. My truth without filters. My first brick in building the life I knew I deserved.

And even though it wasn’t the deep trauma memoir I originally envisioned, it was a beginning. A sacred start. A contract with my future self to keep going.


So why share this now?

Because I’m back where it began—but with more clarity, more conviction, and way more power. This waxing moon, sitting between Taurus and Scorpio, reminds me that everything I buried is still growing. I’m not just surviving anymore. I’m writing from a place of knowing.

Knowing who I am.
Knowing why I’m here.
Knowing that my words are healing tools—not just for others, but for me too.


If you’re reading this, I want you to know:

You’re not too late.
You’re not too broken.
You don’t need to have it all figured out to start.

Your voice is valid.
Your story is sacred.
Your pen can be your prayer.


Your Inner-G Assignment (if you’re ready):

  1. Write a love letter to your past self—the version of you who tried, stumbled, or stayed silent.
  2. Ask your present self: What story needs to be told right now?
  3. Make a commitment: Light a candle, set an intention, and write for 5 minutes today. Just 5.

And if you need a witness, an anchor, or a fellow traveler—I’m here. Still writing. Still healing. Still choosing my truth on paper.


Call to Action:

Let’s write together.
Drop a comment below with your origin story or DM me if you’re ready to tell it but don’t know where to begin.


Check out my first self-published book [link here] and join me on this journey of storytelling, self-healing, and sacred scribbles.

Because when I decided to write for real, I didn’t know it would become my revolution.

But now I do.

Asé.

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