Pull up a Chair

Okay so lemme just talk to y'all real quick. Pull up a chair. Get comfortable. This ain't that kind of post today.

I've been in my head a lot lately. Work. Getting ready for this market. Just... life, sis. And if somebody asked me right now how I was really doing? I'm tired. Like actually tired. Not the "lemme take a lil nap" tired — though Lord knows I need that too — but the kind of tired that be sitting in your bones. The kind that comes from holding everything together for so long that you forgot what it feel like to just... put it down for a second.

Some days I wanna throw the whole thing away. Imma be honest about that. The markets been getting better but they ain't been great yet and I'm still out here trying to figure out how to stand out more. I'm nervous about August 8th. I love glass etching — like genuinely love it — but some days the business side of it takes something from me that I don't always got to give.

And I know. I KNOW. Life ain't easy. Ain't nobody gotta tell me that. But damn. I need a real break.

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You wanna know what my dream day look like right now?

Sleep in. Real sleep. Nobody knocking. Nobody needing nothing. No alarm. Just me and the bed and some silence.

Then wake up slow. Watch my show without somebody interrupting every five seconds. Eat something that taste like a hug. Nothing fancy. Just good.

And honestly? Have somebody to do nothing with. Just nothing. A drink. A blunt. Some snacks. A rom com on. Looking a whole mess — bonnet on, no bra, not performing for nobody. Just existing. Laughing. Being loved without having to earn it in that moment.

That's the dream. Not a vacation. Not a spa. Just rest. Just somebody to be still with.

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But here's the thing I keep coming back to every time I think about quitting —

I worked too hard to get this far.

And "this far" ain't a number. It ain't sales or followers or booth fees paid. This far is me carving time out of a life that had no room for me — specifically for me. This far is replacing drinking with creating. This far is me looking myself in the face and saying "Hey, I'm here, I matter." What I make matters.

I went from not even knowing myself anymore to having a whole creative identity. An outlet. Not just any outlet — a creative one. One that's finding ways to bring my husband in, my kids in. One that's turning into something real.

I built that. While tired. While stressed. While still holding everything else together. I did that.

Most people stay lost. I decided not to.

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Now I only have advice for the woman reading this who is exactly where I was before all of this started. And I hate that I only got advice because babyyyy, advice don't refill an empty tank. But the realest thing I know is this:

You're worth it. And nobody gon' love you like YOU can love YOU!

I know that sound like something on a throw pillow. I know when you running on E it sound like noise. But I mean it in the most real, unglamorous way possible — you gotta decide you matter before any of this get better. Not in a "manifest your dreams" type way. In a "I'm finna carve out 20 minutes for myself today even if this house is a mess" type way.

That's how I started. Twenty minutes. A craft. A moment that was just mine.

Look at us now.

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I'm building something over here. Slowly. Imperfectly. With glitter in my hair and etching cream on my hands and about three different irons in the fire at once. And I'm doing it for every woman who ever felt like she was too much and not enough at the same damn time.

Come grow with me. 🖤

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Love Always,

Your Favorite Craftin Ass Blk Grl ✨️ 🫶🏿