I’ve been gone for six months.
Not because I ran out of words…
but because I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face them.
There’s a kind of fear people don’t talk about.
Not the fear of failing,
but the fear of succeeding.
The fear of stepping into the version of yourself you prayed for.
The fear of being seen.
The fear of being called.
That fear had me quiet.
Life kept moving.
My children were growing.
Responsibilities were shifting.
Blessings were forming.
But inside, I was stuck between who I was and who I was becoming.
I didn’t know where I would go next.
I didn’t know what I would do.
I didn’t know if my voice still mattered.
Then, while looking through my old blogs, I found something.
A response to one of my posts.
It wasn’t new.
The reader had written it before I left.
Before the silence.
Before the questions.
Before I began wondering whether any of this still mattered.
The message had been there all along.
They told me my words helped them.
They told me they found confidence in their healing.
They told me they cried because they finally felt like their life mattered.
When they wrote those words, they didn’t know I would eventually step away.
They didn’t know I would spend six months questioning everything.
They didn’t know how heavy the pause would become.
They didn’t know how much I would need someone to say,
“I see you.”
And they certainly didn’t know that one day, while searching through my old blogs, I would find my way back to their words.
I wasn’t looking for validation.
I was simply looking through the writing I had left behind.
But somewhere between the words I had written and the words they had written back to me, I saw something I hadn’t been able to see before.
The writing was on the wall.
The proof had been there all along.
The reminder had been there all along.
The purpose had been there all along.
I just wasn’t ready to read it yet.
That message, the one now placed on the wall behind me in the image, became the sign I didn’t know I needed.
It said:
“You’re not done.
You still have something to say.”
So, before anything else, I want to say thank you.
To the reader who took the time to respond.
To the person who didn’t know they were helping me.
To the one who didn’t know their words would be waiting for me when I finally came back looking.
To the one who didn’t know their words would become oxygen.
You reminded me that my voice had reached someone.
You reminded me that my words mattered.
You reminded me that I still had something worth coming back to.
And now…
I’m here again.
I introduced this space as Righteous Perceptions.
Today, it has a name that reflects what it has always been becoming:
Born Again Beauty’s INK™
The INNER VIEW™
Where my ink is guaranteed to make you think.
Where I listen without defending,
speak without offending,
and write without pretending.
This is my welcome back.
This is my restart.
This is my reminder that purpose doesn’t disappear.
It waits.
Sometimes the answer is already there.
Sometimes the proof has been sitting in front of you the entire time.
Sometimes you only have to return to the place where you left your words and look again.
Because when you’re ready to pick your purpose back up, it meets you exactly where you left it.
The writing is on the wall.
I’m ready to read it now.
Welcome back.
