Your Wound Becomes Your Medicine Hey y’all, I am so excited to step into this next chapter — this shift, this evolution — as The Mediocre Black Woman becomes a Spiritual House. Before we open the doors fully, I want to show you one of our most important pillars. Y’all know me: I blend many tools. But the first foundation of this rebrand? Astrology. And specifically, the archetype of Chiron — the Wounded Healer. Chiron: The Original Wound, The Original Teacher In the old myths, Chiron was...

Earlier this evening, I wrote a note about accountability. About patterns. About that moment when you realize the same situations don’t keep showing up by accident—and that at some point, you have to ask yourself what your role has been in allowing them to continue. I didn’t think much of the note beyond that. But later, when I sat down for my nightly prayers, Spirit was very clear: turn the camera on and record this for them. So I did. What came through wasn’t soft. It wasn’t vague. And it...

Dear Capricorn, you sensitive gangster. You emotional thug. I know, I know—that doesn’t even sound right. But if you’re a Capricorn Sun, Moon, or Rising, you already know exactly what I mean. You feel deeply. You love hard. You carry weight quietly. And somehow the world keeps insisting you’re just… cold, rigid, money-obsessed, or married to your job. So I decided to start something new: love letters to the signs, especially during their seasons. Because astrology has been flattened,...

Black women, this meditation is for you. I made this after a moment where my nervous system went into a slight meltdown— because I had to set a boundary I knew was right for me. If you’ve ever noticed that choosing yourself can feel physically unsettling, you’re not imagining it. Many of us learned to survive by overriding our bodies. We pushed through exhaustion. We stayed quiet when something felt wrong. We learned to endure instead of listen. So when we finally choose ourselves—when we say...

This super full moon in Cancer is asking us to stop pretending we don’t care. What’s being illuminated right now is the habit of making our needs casual — downplaying what we feel so we can stay connected, unbothered, uncomplicated. That strategy has reached its peak. It’s tired. And it’s no longer protecting you. The release isn’t people. The release is the performance of emotional detachment. You don’t get clarity by sitting alone with your feelings and analyzing them to death. You get...

Thoughts from my notes app on Black Women, Innocence, and The Fool Y’all want Black women on our knees so bad. How can you want to be fed from our bosoms, eat off our backs, draw from our labor, our intuition, our bodies — while simultaneously being so pressed by the fact that we exist at all. And especially when we exist outside the boxes you keep trying to trap us in. Historically, Black women were used as non-consenting vessels.For birth.For nourishment.For labor.For care.For sex....

Carry this across the threshold instead of the armor. I didn’t feel called to offer a full end-of-year collective message this time. But I was sitting in my prayer closet this afternoon—after waking up late AF because I went to sleep at 6 a.m. adding more cards to our music oracle, now officially dubbed the Heart Strings Music Oracle. In the prayer closet, I asked Spirit one simple question: what is the main thing we need to carry with us as we cross into 2026? The cliff notes version:...

2 Suitcases and 6 Cans of Chicken Noodle Soup Published on December 30, 2025 I am really the queen of moving through life and sometimes only having a prayer to my name. I literally picked up my two suitcases, my six cans of chicken noodle soup, and hopped on a plane to Texas—booked a one-way ticket—and didn’t look back. I didn’t have a master plan. I didn’t have every detail ironed out. What I had was excitement. Possibility. A feeling in my body that said this matters, even though I couldn’t...

My Birthday Reflection I just finished what people call the master teacher year—the Jesus year, 33. It is officially my birthday, and I’ve been thinking about something my grandma once shared with me. She said that she and her sister call each other on their birthdays and say, “I made it!” My grandma is also a December baby, so I called her a few weeks ago on her birthday and said, “You made it!” I lost my best friend when she was 36. I lost my mother when she was 45. So making it to 34 is…...