Hello, everyone!!!
Where have I been? What have I been up to? Honestly, I’ve asked myself the same questions.
Life has a funny way of just lifin’, doesn’t it? One minute, you’re planning your next blog post, and the next—boom—it’s been almost a year. And even then, that one post was the first since June 2020. Time… flew. COVID hit, and life as we knew it shifted. Priorities changed. Energy shifted. And for me? The desire to write simply disappeared.
I lost the motivation. The inspiration. And it made me wonder—what even is inspiration? Where does it come from? What headspace do we need to be in to feel it again?
I’ve watched many people rise during these years—start businesses, pivot careers, thrive. Meanwhile, I’ve just been. Not failing, not necessarily flourishing. Just existing in a quiet space. And weirdly… I’ve been okay with that.
When I started this blog back in 2018, on my 38th birthday, I imagined I’d have so much to say. I was full of opinions and commentary. But I’ve realized that those opinions usually emerge from friction—something I’ve read, seen, or felt deeply. Blogging, though, is different. It requires consistency. And sometimes, there’s just nothing pushing me to write.
I’ve never wanted to create just for the sake of producing content. I write from a place of fire—agitation or inspiration. If I don’t feel it, I won’t force it. There has to be a reason behind my words. A “why.”
Tonight, I felt the urge—not to unpack anything heavy, but simply to speak to why I’ve been silent. I’m not someone who moves just because others are moving. I respond to that small voice within. Sometimes it whispers. Sometimes it roars. But when I move, when I speak—it’s with purpose. And it always lands where it’s meant to.
One thing I’ve come to know about myself: I’m not for everyone. But for the ones I am for? My voice, my presence, my message—it resonates. As we closed out 2022, I kept coming back to this word: intentional. Intentional in my writing. My relationships. My purpose.
Timing and rhythm—those often-overlooked details—matter. And as I age, I hear time whispering: “You’re out of time” or “It’s too late.” But I remind myself: As long as there is breath in these lungs, there is purpose to be fulfilled. Even a quiet season is still part of the journey.
Maybe I’m rambling. Maybe I’m processing out loud. Or maybe—just maybe—I’m speaking to someone who’s been feeling the same way. Either way, I’m here tonight to declare: It’s not over. You survived for a reason. You made it through to tell your story. There is more to do, and you are a vital part of what’s to come. The generations after you are counting on your obedience.
So go—not on their timing, but yours. Move with intention. Make decisions that honor where your heart longs to be.
Until next time—whenever inspiration hits.
Stay true. Stay bold. Stay on point.
— Velma