This morning
I didn’t wake up loud.
I woke up steady.
No fireworks.
No grand announcements.
Just a quiet knowing in my chest
that the woman I am becoming
is no longer asking for permission
to exist.
There was a time
I thought power meant being unshakable…
perfect…
healed overnight.
But recovery.. real recovery..
taught me something softer.
Power is:
showing up when it would be easier to disappear.
choosing clarity when numb would be quicker.
looking at your own reflection
and deciding to stay.
I have walked through shame.
Through silence.
Through the kind of nights
that humble your whole spirit.
And still…
here I am.
Not rushed.
Not forced.
Not pretending to be further along than I am.
Just… building.
One honest day at a time.
I dream in acres.
But I build in days.
And this morning,
for the first time in a long time,
that feels like power. 
