She laughed.

I said “Is something funny?” She said no. I don’t know why I laughed actually. Sorry.

I stared in shock and awe. And I mean awful because that is exactly how I felt, as I remembered what childhood me felt like.

Being too much. Too different. It was the same familiar feeling.

I could perceive so much. See so much. Not only did she not share in the vision. She didn’t even try.

I had no idea I was on stage.

It was in that moment, I decided I didn’t want anyone else to shrink. To sink. Because when you shrink, so does your vision. Your thoughts. Your personality.

And the world needs more of you, not less.

Expression is expressed because we need to feel. Words are spoken because we need to hear. Lights are turned on in the dark because we need to see. Same with vision. Same with ideas.

Safety is created and found in the seen. Because you can’t easily identify what you don’t see.

Especially in the dark.

If I could be the person receiving someone like that, I would. I would foster it. Illuminate it. Make the light a little brighter with affirmation.

Because you deserve that. I deserve that. We deserve that.

And babe? Shine the light on em’.

This is for the woman who has always been a little too much for rooms that were a little too small.

And for the girls with as much vision, goals, and ideas as there are stars in the universe. Amielle is your space to feel safe and as expansive as the universe inside and outside of you. 💕

Wear your safe space: https://www.etsy.com/shop/ShopAmielle

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I was at home when I found out.

And just like that, the ocean pulling back before a wave, it hit me.

The safety net disappeared.

It was like someone pulled the rug from underneath everything I had built, and I just stood there in the middle of it trying to remember what to do.

That was the beginning of two years I will never forget.

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I had worked for everything I had. Fought through rejections. Kept educating myself. Kept advocating for myself. Kept pressing and pushing through every ceiling that tried to stop me.

And I had arrived. A career I had built from the ground up with my bare hands. 

My worth was wrapped in what I did. Not who I was. I didn’t know that yet. I would learn it the hard way.

The lowest point wasn’t the day I got laid off.

The lowest point was the months after. The bills that needed to be paid. The reaching out and hearing nothing back. The grasping at straws.

There is a particular kind of hopelessness that is empty and quiet and confusing all at once. Uncertain of everything. Even yourself.

I cried. I questioned. I wondered why. I sat with the silence and waited for an answer.

And slowly, slowly… I started to listen for it. 

The turning point wasn’t a single moment. It was a leaning.

I leaned into faith when I had nothing else to lean on. I leaned into creativity when the corporate path closed. And somewhere in that leaning, I started to find myself again, the self that had been buried under titles and achievements and the relentless pursuit of arrival.

I began rebuilding. New habits. Gratitude. Learning to be happier with less. I traveled. I loved. I found purpose in a space I was actually passionate about. I laughed and cried and had quality time with people who actually mattered.

Space was made for rest, for reflection, for rediscovery.

I found my voice. Connected to my true self. Explored what I actually wanted. Tapped into my real passion. 

It wasn’t linear. There were still hard days. There still are. But something was shifting underneath it all.

Here is what two years in the wilderness gave me that success never could:

Discernment. Resilience. Wisdom. Gratitude. A creativity born from necessity. A faith forged in fire. The ability to recognize true kindness. The people who showed up when I had nothing to offer them. Miracles I would have missed if life had stayed comfortable. And a strength I only discovered because I had no choice but to find it.

You cannot buy those things. You cannot shortcut your way to them. You can only live your way there.

It reminds me of Proverbs 19:21, “Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the LORD’s purpose that prevails.” I lived that verse for two years. 

I needed the lesson. I needed to return to who I was before the titles told me who I was supposed to be. I needed to learn that my worth was never in the role. Never in the achievement. Never in the arrival.

It was always in me. 

I won’t tell you the wilderness wasn’t hard. It was. Some days it still is.

But I will tell you this, sometimes it has to be harder before it gets easier. Sometimes the redirect that feels like devastation is actually the most loving thing that could have happened to you.

The wilderness wasn’t a punishment. It was a preparation.

 And if you are in yours right now, if you are in the middle of the hard, the hopeless, the grasping at straws, I want you to hear this:

You are not lost.

You are being found.

Keep going. Trust the redirect. The wilderness always ends. 💕

If this resonated with you, you can support Amielle over on Buy Me a Coffee. Every little bit keeps the words flowing. ☕

Buy me a rose

In high school someone looked me in the eyes and told me I wouldn’t make money doing what I loved.

My most significant relationship ended and I didn’t just lose him, I lost the version of my life I thought was finally falling into place.

I knew of God but didn’t know Him personally yet.

I’m finishing my degree later than most.

I built an entire career, then lost it, then had to start over.

By every timeline I was ever handed - I was behind.

And for a long time I believed it.

The thing about timelines is nobody tells you whose they are. You just wake up one day measuring yourself against one you never chose.

Life was never meant to be linear. Growth was never meant to follow a straight line. It spirals. It doubles back. It takes you somewhere you didn’t expect and somehow that’s exactly where you needed to be.

Nobody tells you that the benchmarks, the milestones, the checkboxes, the by now you should haves, were never actually yours to begin with.

They were inherited. Assigned. Handed to you like homework. Due date included.

And here’s what nobody says out loud: those milestones were never the measure of arrival. You are the measure. Your growth. Your healing. Your becoming. The woman you are turning into.

She is the only milestone that has ever actually mattered.

It took therapy and faith to untangle that. To sit with the uncomfortable truth that I was never behind. I was just on my own path and hadn’t learned to trust it yet.

We are exactly where we are supposed to be. I know that now, but I didn’t always.

If I could sit across from my 22 year old self or even my 25 year old self, still trying to figure it out, here’s what I would tell her:

You were never as behind as you believed.

It is safe to express yourself.

You are worthy of love. Not when you arrive, not when you figure it out, Right now. As you are.

Don’t be so hard on yourself.

You are more resilient than you know.

You are powerful.

You are capable.

And you are so, so enough.

The long road gave me things the short one never could have.

Discernment. Resilience. Creativity. Authenticity. The ability to heal my inner child. A self assurance that can only come from having been tested and surviving it anyway.

You cannot shortcut your way to those things. You can only live your way there.

To the lovely lady reading this:

If you feel behind on the career, the apartment, the relationship, the life you thought you’d have by now.. I want you to hear this:

You are not late.

You are not behind.

You are right where you are supposed to be.

You are becoming.

And becoming takes exactly as long as it takes.

The woman you are turning into could not have been rushed. She required every detour, every disappointment, every moment you thought you were losing, every season that felt like wilderness.

She needed all of it to become her.

So did you.

Bloom on your own timeline, girl. The flowers were always yours. 💐

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I came into myself a little later in life. Which means I’m learning the lessons now, in real time, out loud, and Amielle felt like the right place to do it.

Amielle is my safe space and I want it to be yours too. As a communications major, an advocate, an introvert, and an ADHD girlie who romanticizes life’s simple moments and has very strong opinions, this felt like the most natural thing I could do.

Connect. Share. Be present.

Here you can expect girlie feminist convos, communications topics, faith, hot takes, soft living, cooking, coffee, simple pleasures romanticized, relatable womanhood moments, encouragement, empowerment, and the kind of honest conversations your group chat was made for.

This is for the introverts. The overthinkers. The ADHD girlies. The women becoming on their own timeline.

Grab your coffee. Let’s go.

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