The Ultimate Bounce Back: That Was A Close Call

Staycations in Miami>

For a while now, I’ve been navigating disillusionment, shock, and rage behind the scenes. I have been legally advised to tread carefully, so I will be sharing my story solely from the perspective of what it has been like to navigate my reality as a first-time author who put everything on the line to pursue her dreams only to be………heartbroken.

I am partly writing this as a way to unburden myself because I simply can’t carry this anymore. It has been too heavy and as time passes I’m realizing that this weight has become a boulder on my creative path. I have always been a dreamer. I have always been a risk taker. I have always thought it to be worth it to make myself proud, no matter the costs.

I brazenly decided that in 2022 I would bet on myself like never before. I reset my life. I got a divorce. I moved abroad by myself. I committed to recovering from the burnout that came from managing/leading a community org that I launched at the age of 26, and I set my sights on writing my first book.

I rejected the “safe route” and I put everything on the line. My savings. My comfort. My stability.

Ultimately, I burned through my money, but I wrote the book. I got the book deal. And, now over a year post-publishing I can say that because of my wholehearted commitment to learning how to sell a book ad-hoc, “Build It and They Will Come” sold out, and the demand continues to spike. I did exactly what I said I would do.

Y’all, do you know how hard that is?

Publishers hire agencies to market books.

I did it on my own.

With no prior experience.

I’m really proud of myself for doing this, but I was STRESSED. My eyes were twitching non stop for months and my eating disorder quietly flared back up. It felt like the stakes were so high and like I had no room to fail.

The part that I never saw coming in all of this was that I would eventually be…finessed.

For the past year, I have been battling feelings of failure and humiliation. Simultaneously, I have experienced fulfillment knowing that my mind led me to create a project that I knew people needed, and I witnessed it being confirmed. And, yet, every time a reader appreciated my book, I wanted to cry because nobody has known how gutted I’ve been throughout the process.

Never had I felt this aimless.

My entire life plan had to be scrapped.

This time, I didn’t see it coming.

This time, I had no financial cushion.

This time, there was no perfect credit score.

This time, there was nothing. Just the raw reality.

Suddenly, the apartment that was once a dream manifested became a financial burden. My “hot girl” walks became a lifeline. The voices of those who told me I was nothing, and that this endeavor was worthless, got louder. The opportunities I was sure would come in after putting out this project were nowhere to be found.

I began to slip deeper and deeper into desperation.

There was a moment there where I really wasn’t sure if I had the will to continue existing as the passionate, fiery, forward-thinking version of myself that up until then I was so proud to be. I had already fought so hard to not lose her, but she seemingly led me into a ditch. So, I began to think, maybe they were right all along. I was nothing. My job here was done. It’s time to disappear.

In my best moments, I felt committed to physically remaining here, but I didn’t want to try anymore.

No more writing.

No more trying to make a difference.

No more anything.

I had already tried it and it led me to hell.

In the midst of betrayal, my most precious self-care practice became something I resented. My thoughts. My words. My audacity almost took me out, so I resisted the keyboard. I resisted my journal. I resisted outlets. I just festered. I’ve applied to and have been rejected from countless jobs that I know I’m overqualified for. For what feels like forever, I have been regressing during a season of my life that I thought would be the best yet.

But, I know that nothing I try will work out if my inner world continues to be held hostage like this.

But, it’s March 19, 2026 and here I am writing this because the truth is, I can’t not write. It’s not actually an option.

I have so much I am meant to do while I’m still here, but I can’t unless I let this go. So, this is my attempt to do just that. This is my declaration that I will write. I will stop spinning deeper into the darkness, and I will recommit to the mission. I will take the lessons with me and leave the rest. I trust that my future collaborative partners will be trustworthy and that God will make sure that I continue to be taken care of.

So it is.