dear diary: I showed up today
I woke up with peace in my chest.
Not because I slept a full eight
I barely made it to six
but something deeper had rested.
My spirit felt light,
like it had done what it needed to do.
I went to war last night,
but not for myself.
I was called to intercede for one of Yah’s daughters,
and I said yes.
Sometimes peace doesn’t come from rest,
but from obedience.
Lately, I’ve been asking God to grow me in prayer.
Watching, reading, listening.
Leaning into it.
I used to only cry out when things were on fire.
Now I’m learning to pray from the place of knowing,
not just needing.
I speak His word back to Him now,
and there’s power in that.
Not loud power
but steady, quiet, unshakable.
Work today was… honest.
Somewhere in between joy and ache.
I realized I’ve seen my coworkers more this past year
than I’ve seen my own family.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Because I miss my babies,
and sometimes the missing hums louder than anything else.
But today was good.
My gurls were there
the only other Black women at the bank besides boss lady (but she don’t count).
There’s something sacred when we’re all together.
We drop the mask,
lower the shoulders,
breathe in our own rhythm.
We laugh like we mean it.
Like we need it.
We make something dull feel alive.
And yeah, we joke
“the three best friends that anyone could have…” from The Hangover.
But it’s real.
It’s how we survive the hours.
After clocking out, I walked home like always.
My legs carry me everywhere,
and lately, they’ve been carrying me into books.
Right now, I’m easing into The Salt Eaters.
It’s not an easy read,
but healing rarely is.
I’ve been pulled toward stories that feel like mirrors
Praisesong for the Butterflies,
Sisters of the Yam,
and now this.
Books that talk about breaking,
and rebuilding.
Now I’m home.
Finally.
Shoes off.
Lights low.
I made my tea.. hibiscus and elderberry.
It’s my little ritual,
the softest way to close the day.
It warms me from the inside out,
makes my skin glow,
and reminds me that I’ve done enough today.
No big thoughts.
Just presence.
I showed up.
I prayed.
I laughed.
I walked.
I read.
And now I’m here
still becoming,
still healing,
still me.
- Jimisha
song: I don’t know how to love him by Roy Ayers
( on repeat for the rest of the night )
