All in Divine Time

So this week I found myself feeling completely unmotivated to write. It felt like a chore to be creative. I have this rule of thumb that if something creative starts to feel like a chore, don’t fucking do it. Don’t force anything artistic because you feel like you have to, it’s one of the fastest ways to take something you love and morph it into something you hate. I sensed something bigger happening behind the scenes, so I decided to take a week off and sit with my emotions. I can’t be a raggedy escapist all my life, at some point I have to give more a fuck, right?


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So yeah, I really struggled last week to tap into that creative space. I typically let Spirit lead me creatively and when I sense creative energy is within reach I capitalize on it and give it my all. I try my best to honor the natural flow of creativity and ride the wave til I can’t anymore. However, last week I started to hit some kind of a wall, like writer’s block, I guess. Side-note, I saw this TikTok that had me reevaluating my entire everything. The woman said that when she changed her perception of time everything changed, and her life did a complete 180. Now at this point, I’m thinking ”no shit, bitch” that’s how growth works, if not, you’re doing it wrong.

She went on to say that everything is based off of someone’s perception, from the concept of time itself and the 5-day workweek and weekends to social codes and beauty standards; all of those things are constructs based off the imaginations of others. She said these things, including how we measure success, is weighed against the ideals that live within the imagination of white men. For instance, in Hawai’i everyone jokes about being on island time, in the same way black people always joke about being on CP time, but… what determined that to begin with? Like, have you thought about why that is? Why the natural way that we move is considered being late? According to her theory, weve been conditioned to model and measure our lifestyle against the standard of time set forth by fossilized white men. Y’all… Y’ALL!!!


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Anyway, so that got me to thinking about the fact that I didn’t put out a post on Thursday as I usually do and I immediately felt guilty for it. I deadass had to ask myself why? Whose time was I on and why was I putting this immense pressure on myself? I literally have no one to answer to but myself, so where was this coming from?

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When I thought about it, my writer’s block had shown up for a reason. It had been a rough couple of weeks schedule-wise and the truth was that I needed rest. I was too emotionally spent to be creative and it left me feeling kind of blah. Before I knew it, my body had put me in some kind of emotional torpor. I try to operate in divine timing with all things, and it’s never let me down. That made me think that maybe the writer‘s block wasn’t this angsty,

joy-stealing, devil coming to do battle with my motivation and creativity, maybe it’s another way my body communicates with me.


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Before I could truly wrap my brain around the fact that I was finally writing consistently enough to have writer’s block as a problem again, I Scooby Doo’d that shit and realized that I wasn’t dealing with true writer’s block after all. I was actually dealing with a depressive episode that slid in under the radar as writer’s block. I wasn’t feeling creative or motivated to do anything because I was depressed. My body knew I didn’t need to write this week, I needed to rest and slow down to let my body move through this episode (and shout out to my therapist for teaching me that depression symptoms can be episodic). Resting is such an act of defiance it’s not even funny. In a society that praises “sleep when you’re dead” habits, it’s hard to practice, let alone, recognize, that rest is needed in the first place. I’m proud of me for that.


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I rested, I went to therapy, spent time in nature and processed some of those residual dumbass feelings of guilt. Shadow work in full f’n swing! I’m also allowing my body to rest, and fulfill it’s desire to go to sleep early like it’s Shady Pines ‘round this bitch. I gave myself permission to just listen to my body, check-in, and see what and how I was feeling so I could address whatever was needed. That included not writing, saying fuck the extra chores, resting, and just being a bump on a log.

Resting is so important and does not mean that you’re wasting time you could be putting towards your goals. It means that you’re learning to prioritize stopping or slowing down as showing up for yourself, too; no it’s not easy, but definitely worth it. I also acknowledge that, had I not been feeling down, I wouldn’t have slowed down long enough to notice that I even felt emotionally burnout. Your emotions, even the shitty ones, are your guidance system, they reveal things. Apparently last week mine revealed that I needed to sit my ass down somewhere and recalibrate.


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I’m still working through this depressive episode and I don’t know how long this one will last. Hell, im still wrapping my head around how this depression shit works for real. But what I do know is that I’ll come out on the other side of things more motivated and better rested. So with that said, I’m going to go back to my bed, cozy up with my tiny human, honor the sad space my body is in, and enjoy living the black woman bare minimum life for a little bit.


I’m working on my time, which is divine, and whenever I’ve moved in divine time things have just worked out smoothly. I deserve to cater to myself and my time that way. I deserve to meet myself wherever I’m at, and work from that space without forcing a feeling or motivation that just isn’t there. I deserve to give myself grace and if you’ve ever found yourself in this space, or you’re here now, too, you fucking deserve as well! Get your rest, y’all! 🙃


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Also, don’t forget my novella ‘Situationships & Sippy Cups is available on Kindle Vella in the Amazon store, check it out!!! https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B09TZ1BXTB

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