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In this op-ed, I share the personal story behind welcome to today and introduce the four pillars that guide our work: trauma-informed coaching, mentorship for the overlooked, creative expression as healing, and reclaiming the sacredness of now. Whether you are in transition, tired of pretending, or simply longing for something more aligned—this space is for you.
Be honest. How many negative experiences and unhealthy relationships would you have evaded had you just let go and walked away?
The other day I was asked to give one reason why I would encourage someone to meditate. After some thought, I responded that it invites us to observe our present moment experience without trying to change it.
Thus, I surmise that the only real way of seeing one's self is to look within. I had to understand that while I am flesh and bones, my reality exists in a place that is not seen—only felt.
As an artist, Kanye has undoubtedly transcended cultural boundaries. His virtuosity has revolutionized the sound of Hip-Hop, forever. But, if he hopes to be a building block in the evolution of human thought and the improvement of the human condition, he's going to have to come off his throne, at least for now.
When I joined the Navy, I immediately identified with a community of brothers and sisters within the institution. I learned to appreciate the struggle as a unifying force and respect the nuances of black cultural diversity. It was at this time that I also learned why Zora Neale Hurston said, "all my skin-folk ain't kinfolk."
Gender and sexuality are both fluid concepts. While some stay fixed on the spectrum, there are those that choose like God and water — to flow, freely.
On January 30, 2025, my life changed.
The weeks leading up to that day looked successful on paper. I had just helped lead a major workforce development event after months of planning. Earlier that month, I presented a report to city council members highlighting the impact of our work—feedback that later followed me into public spaces through praise and affirmation. My performance was never in question. I was seen as a high performer who remained steady under pressure.
And yet, that same day, I walked out of the building without a job.
What followed was not just a career transition, but a deeper reckoning. The disruption forced me to confront how much strain I had normalized in the name of leadership, and how endurance had quietly replaced alignment. This essay explores the hidden costs of staying too long in environments that reward performance while eroding well-being—and how disruption, when examined honestly, can become the doorway to clarity and renewal.