Becoming My Own Medicine
Aging, Letting Go, and Leaning In...
I turned 39 on July 1st. During my birthday week, I gave myself the gift of spaciousness and slowness.
This felt like a protest — a quiet refusal of the way I was raised: to hustle endlessly, to earn rest, and to believe that stillness was a waste of time. That wiring runs deep. But after several medical bills and a loud message from my body, I realized that version of life isn’t sustainable, especially as I age.
As someone used to holding a lot of space, people, expectations, and ideas, slowing down felt radical. A revolution I didn’t know I needed.
Leaving the environment in which I grew up was essential. Moving from Chicago to Arizona created space for something new. New land. New rhythm. New kindred spirits. Here, the desert invited me to:
Slow down and savor each moment.
Peel back the armor I collected over 30+ years.
Reconsider how I want to show up in the world.
Release the patterns I was performing in Illinois — the ones that no longer fit the life I’m building: sacred, abundant, and easeful.
I realized that if I wanted to keep healing — if I wanted to step into the life I’ve long envisioned — I had to become my own medicine. And once I began offering that medicine to myself, it naturally began flowing into how I hold space for others.
Nurturing myself during my birthday week looked like this: I deleted all the social media apps. I made myself unavailable. I moved slowly — from a Pilates class one day to acupuncture and cupping the next, and a deeply grounding Thai massage in between. I ate well at my favorite restaurants. I lingered in bed longer. I watched the shows that bring me joy. I journaled in coffee shops, intentionally leaving my laptop at home so I could be fully present with my thoughts — no work, no pressure, just space to be.
A full pause felt necessary to deepen.
After a year of full-time space holding, this was the medicine I needed — to refill my well as I continue to build the in-person and virtual spaces I once longed for when I began my spiritual journey.
The older I get, the more I understand that withdrawing isn’t weakness — it’s wisdom. Stepping back is part of the path. It’s part of our spiritual curriculum.
So far, my 20s have felt like a period of research and exploration. My 30s have been about application and self-realization. And now, I welcome the becoming that my 40s will bring.
This birthday reminded me that I don’t have to rush the unfolding of who I’m becoming. I can stay rooted, open, and attuned to the deeper work, knowing that what’s meant for me is already on its way.
Prompts from the Path
I’d love to introduce: Prompts from the Path. These are journal reflections that have supported me as I navigate my healing and growth. They’re offered to help you integrate what’s unfolding in your life and to meet you exactly where you are. May they create a little space, spark some clarity, or offer a breath of presence as you walk your path.
Where in my life am I being invited to slow down?
What lesson is life trying to teach me right now?
What am I building that doesn’t need to be rushed or explained?
May you always remember that your pace is sacred, and your path is enough.
The Black Mystic Journal is a free, monthly offering rooted in reflection, healing, and mysticism. If you’d like to support my work, you can share this Substack, book a Wounded Healer Session, attend an event, or purchase the Wounded Healer oil blend. However you choose to engage, thank you—your support means more than you know.
Stunning love this deeply and slowly