Unfuckwithable

a commitment to self love

#queenenergyonly

“I'm steady on my throne yeah
Healing got me glowing
But I'm moving on my own on my own
Peace locked down tight
I don't answer to the noise
Set my rules hold my space
Cause healing is my choice my choice
Queen energy only”

(Queen Energy Only · Room2Breathe · Shawnta Hill, A Trapped Souls Meditation, ℗ 7553002 Records DK, Released on: 2025-07-04)

I hate the saying that everything happens for a reason, but as I look back on what has been the worst chapter of my life, I am finding purpose in the lessons I’ve learned. I refuse to let it all be for nothing. So, that being said, my goal this year is to become unfuckwithable.

This lack of self love, this hesitance to stand in my power and claim space, has impacted every single aspect of my life from relationships and friendships, to my professional and creative life.

In relationships this lack of self love causes me to attract people who are unhealed because I am unhealed. I repeat these patterns over and over again. And then, suddenly, I wake up and realize who I’m really with, and what I’m doing, and how I have abandoned myself. As long as I refuse to see my value and stand in my own power, this cycle will never end. I’ll continue to mistake attachment for love. I’ll continue to be rejected by people who have done the work, because they can sense the wounds that keep me fractured.

In my professional life, I’ve often looked for, or hoped for external validation, or some sort of recognition. I rarely say no, and when the extra loads I take on seem to go unnoticed by admin, I feel unnappreciated and unseen. I wonder if all the work I pour into each course and every single lesson make any difference at all. The feedback I get from students is always positive. This is much more important. Their gratitude and the fact that I’ll always be passionate about teaching, should be enough. Teaching is never contained to just the classroom. It follows you everywhere. It’s easy to get a workaholic mentality, compare yourself to others, and take on a lot of emotional labor, and yet still feel like you’re not doing enough. I’m still trying to find the right balance.

In my creative life I have for so long convinced myself that what separates me from succesful writers is talent, but it’s not talent, it’s a lack of self confidence. It’s fear, and imposter syndrome. It’s holding back. It’s thinking that what I have to offer the world creatively isn’t good enough or at the very least, not ready. I tell myself my writing is too dark, too weird, to taboo and I allow myself to shrink, instead of recognizing that there might be others out there who feel seen and understood through this very type of work.

I’m fifty years old and I’m tired of worrying that other people will find me cringe, or think I’m oversharing, or think I’m too much, or not enough. I’m tired of not speaking up because my opinions might be unpopular. I’m tired of hurting myself, making myself miserable all to make other people comfortable.

This dark night of the soul has shown me where I’m valued, and who values me outside of whatever role I play in their lives, and who treats me like a deserving individual. It’s taught me that if my screams for help can go unnoticed, dismissed, and invalidated, why on earth am I wasting my time being anything else but the most authentic version of myself? I’m already being shown that I’m either too much or not enough. So what does it matter? In the end, I’m still not meeting their expectations. I still fall short. I sacrifice myself for absolutely nothing.

And that’s why this year I promise to love myself fiercely and to give myself the same grace and acceptance that I’ve extended to others. To become unfuckwithable.

I wish I would have come to this conclusion long before turning half a century old. But no use crying over spilled Diet Pepsi. I’m not going to waste another second of my life repeating toxic patterns, watering myself down, giving away my power, and living small.

Fuck that.