“Prayin’ the 20 somethings don’t kill me.”

Happy new year, lovely reader people. Congratulations, you’ve already made it through an entire week of 2018.

I’ve never really done the whole resolution thing. If I’m being honest, it’s because my follow-through sucks. I’m diligent, passionate, loyal, and intentional with all the things I hold dear in my life. However, when it comes to myself? My own well-being and my interests? My follow-through is horrendous.

I don’t come through for the one person I need to come through for.

I get on a soap box and I clear my throat and I evangelize the wonders of self-care. Then I step down off that soap box, tuck it under my arm as I push through the crowds of people benefiting from my inspirational words, and slowly walk back home to procrastinate my own success.

2017 was really fucking hard. By the time December 30th rolled around, I could feel the nation arching its back in a tense stretch. I could feel the Earth heaving a sigh and blinking tired, slow blinks, the type of fatigue that comes from housing an especially active year of chaos and pain. Last year, I gave the optimistic message of the act of repurposing. We did a lot of repurposing in 2017, but it wasn’t enough.

Last month, I turned 20 years old.

A few days before my birthday, I was on the phone with my best friend Olivia. She asked me how I felt, knowing that I would never be a teenager again. As soon as she said that, I grew afraid. I think I’ve been afraid for a long time, but that reminder thawed my fear until it began to burn, reddening my palms and flushing my cheeks. I always half-joke about existential crises. Lately though, I’ve been questioning a lot.

For the first time in my life, I’m not sure what’s going to happen. I’m not sure about my path, I’m not sure what my life is going to look like in five years, and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do all the things I’ve wanted to do since I was a little girl.

And just like that, my practice years are disappearing. Soon I’m going to be launched into adulthood. Shit’s about to get serious, and I don’t know if I’m ready.

See, giving into fear is easy. It’s just letting go. It’s like sinking. It’s surrender. I surrender to fear easier than I surrender to God and the Universe and maybe that’s why I feel so unequipped.

I’m not afraid to admit that I’m afraid. I’m entering my twenties and I have to pick up where my parents left off, building a life for myself that’s hopefully half as great as the foundation they laid. I have to go out into the world, this world that seems to be crumbling before our eyes, I have to step out and stand in the sun, and then I have to run. I have to keep going and I have to bring people with me.

That’s scary. I am afraid.

But fear isn’t who I am, it’s not my identity. I’m not meant to stay in cower. I know this because of how fed up I am with myself, with this stagnancy that worry has locked me into. I’m so aggravated with myself for not trusting when that’s all my life asks of me, for not doing when I feel my instincts tugging at me, for not denying the sharp aches of doubt.

I was created to move forward. Those words are tattooed on my ankle, and that’s what I’m going to do.

I have to brush the debris of 2017 off of my clothes, listen to my heart and the Universe, follow God’s call, and build myself up to be brave again.

I have to build.

These twentysomethings, my own twenties and these twenties ahead, not just 2018, will not be easy in the face of fresh ruin. But I can do it.

Resolutions scare me because I am afraid of disappointing myself.

I’m not going to look at resolutions with shame anymore. The new year is another try to be better, do better, create something better. Being better to myself, doing better in my community, creating new memories, doing better in relationships, being better to the environment… the list goes on.

Every time I get to take another ride around the sun is another chance. Every day I get to wake up holds promise. I’m going to take advantage of that. I won’t let fear tell me that I don’t deserve a life I’ve been dreaming of. I know what I deserve better than anyone else.

Repurposing was phase one. Designing is phase two.

Here’s to making anew in 2018, and praying these 20 somethings don’t kill me, word to SZA.




  1. Read 10 books for fun.
  2. Reclaim the 3.9 GPA that one science course took away from me.
  3. Maintain clear skin.
  4. Go to church more often.
  5. See four digits in my savings account.
  6. Get three more tattoos.
  7. Travel to two new places I’ve never been before.
  8. Work harder to establish my brand.
  9. Take one of my writing projects to the next step.
  10. Break out of my fashion box.
  11. Practice healthier communication across all my relationships.
  12. Do three things that scare me.
  13. Finally pass my road test.

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