The errands have been run. The beef stew is simmering in the crockpot. The house is clean.

My monstera has been growing huge lately, which surprises me—because honestly, I’ve neglected her these past few weeks. But maybe that’s her way of telling me that she’s not the one feeling neglected after all.

I’ve lit my candle, and my sweet pumpkin cheesecake with a cup of fresh lemon and ginger tea is waiting for me. This is my Saturday. This is my life. And what a safe, peaceful environment I’ve come to create.

I’ve been sitting in that—not because I don’t think I deserve it, but because I kept believing it was possible. I used the resources around me to get here.

I want you to take a second and imagine what the most comforting Saturday would look like in your world.

See, I used to pretend a lot when I was younger. Pretending was my place of safety and protection. Not from physical harm, but for emotional safety. I learned how to cry alone, break down alone, get angry alone. Not because of my adoptive mother, but because of my perception of her.

I didn’t see emotions practiced often—and it’s not that she didn’t have them. It was just hard for her to express them. I get it now, as I’ve gotten older.

Anyway—those worlds I created were magical. They were full of characters and possibilities, a place where I could narrate what I wanted life to look like. As I grew, those visions changed. But as I sit here now on my Saturday, I realize: each of those worlds live in my environment.

There is laughter in my canvas.
Beauty in my Africa continent painting.
Softness in the affirmation post-its around my house.
Consistency in my camera and Cricut setups.
Joy and comfort in my bed.

My Spotify plays 24/7—the sounds of Cleo Sol, Lianne La Havas, King Promise (randomly, yes lol), and Olivia Dean’s album on repeat at least six times.

Your mind is powerful.

As I sit here waiting for my crockpot to ding, I’m reminded of more than one thing: this—this peace—is what I’ve been working toward. Inner and outer peace, in a world that is often cold.

And you deserve that too. Despite the past. Despite the madness. Despite what people told you.

The tasks will always be there. But when you sit down, you’ll realize the worlds you built as a child are still there—they just look different.

And when you ask yourself, is this who I am?

You’ll be able to say, with confidence,
Yes.

from my writing corner with tea,

Teisha