My decision to shift away from the politically and advocacy-driven prose of my earlier writing wasn’t entirely mine to make. I was reminded of that yesterday when I logged into WordPress and saw a notification: my second anniversary.

It made me reflect on how I wrestled with God about this new direction. I mean—I tussled, like I had a chance. I questioned it all. Why me? Why now? Who would believe that I have no desire to be well-known?
But God gently reminded me: You don’t need to be well-known. You’re just worth knowing.

That hit different.
My spirit nudged me to be brave again. To take yet another leap of faith. To gamble on me.

Of course, I believe in free will. I know God would love me either way. But I now see that this divine ask wasn’t about serving others—it was about healing me.

I’ve always been a writer—poetry, diaries, composition books filled with words. But this? This is different. There’s a quiet accountability in being seen, in healing aloud. It’s why support groups work. It’s why community matters.

And that’s become one of my intentions:
To build a space for people—especially those who cherish their solitude—to come together in softness.
To be united not by pressure or performance, but by the simple desire to savor life’s gentle luxuries: slowness, choice, rituals of wellness, and the beauty of nature.

I didn’t realize how deeply that vision mirrored my own healing journey… until today.

I am blooming into my knowing.
Rooted. Expansive.
Soft—but never small.