Category Archives: Resilience

Plans Interrupted: The Lesson I Didn’t Expect

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Have you ever gone looking for one thing and ended up finding something completely different?

That has happened to me more than once. I once moved through a breakup convinced I knew what I needed, only to realize later that the real lesson was about self-worth, not the relationship. And there have been smaller moments, like getting lost on a drive and discovering a place that meant more to me than my original destination.

Recently, another lesson found me in a much simpler—and slightly more annoying—way.

I went to the park hoping for quiet. I wanted to meditate, clear my head, and listen to that inner voice that can be difficult to hear when life gets noisy.

I found a peaceful spot, closed my eyes, and prepared for stillness.

Buzz.

A fly.

I waved it away and tried again.

Buzz.

There it was, circling my head.

At first, I was annoyed. Seriously? I came all the way out here for peace.

Then it occurred to me:

Wait a minute. I’m in the fly’s house.

I was the visitor.

I had entered this outdoor space with my own agenda—quiet, peaceful, restorative—and somehow decided everything around me needed to cooperate.

That made me laugh, but it also made me think.

How often do we decide how something is supposed to go, and when life doesn’t cooperate, label whatever disrupts our plans an interruption?

We resist it. Fight it. Try to make it disappear.

But what if some of the things that keep “buzzing” deserve our attention?

Maybe it’s exhaustion we keep pushing through. A conversation we need to have. Grief we think we should be “over.” A relationship pattern that keeps repeating. Or a dream we keep talking ourselves out of.

That doesn’t mean every uncomfortable feeling carries a profound message. Sometimes a fly is just a fly.

But when something repeatedly gets our attention, perhaps it’s worth becoming curious before trying to silence it.

Instead of asking, How do I make this stop? try asking:

What am I actually feeling?

Is this a moment or a pattern?

What might this be pointing toward?

Sometimes the answer is rest. Sometimes it’s a boundary, a difficult conversation, asking for help, or simply acknowledging, This matters to me.

Eventually, I stopped fighting the fly. I accepted that I was sharing the space with it and returned my attention to the moment.

And then something beautiful happened.

Two large butterflies appeared and seemed to dance right before my eyes.

Maybe they had been there all along. Maybe they had just arrived. Either way, I was finally still enough to notice them.

And perhaps that was the lesson I hadn’t expected:

Acceptance didn’t make the interruption disappear. It changed what I was able to see.

Peace doesn’t always require everything around us to behave the way we want. Sometimes it comes when we stop fighting the moment we’re in long enough to notice what else it holds.

So this month, I’m asking:

What keeps buzzing in my life?

Maybe there’s something buzzing in yours too.

You don’t have to fix it or figure it all out today.

Just become curious enough to listen—and open enough to notice what else might be right in front of you.

Want to go deeper? Subscribe to my FREE monthly newsletter for personal reflections, practical mental wellness tools, relationship insights, and lessons inspired by the movies we love.

This month’s theme: “What Keeps Buzzing? Learning to Listen to What You Can’t Ignore.”

Remember: Sometimes when we stop resisting what’s buzzing, we finally become still enough to notice the butterflies. 🦋

The Quiet Loss of Self

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Sometimes, losing yourself doesn’t happen dramatically.

It happens quietly.

You slowly become more agreeable to avoid conflict. More productive to feel worthy. More emotionally guarded to avoid disappointment. More focused on keeping everyone comfortable than understanding what you actually need.

And over time, you wake up feeling disconnected from yourself without fully understanding why.

In my 20’s and 30’s, I struggled with this. I had been conditioned to falsly believe that my worth was soley based on production. And that acceptance from others only came by ignoring my needs.

Many people silently shape-shift in relationships, workplaces, friendships, or family dynamics in order to keep the peace, earn approval, or feel enough. At first, it can feel responsible, loving, ambitious, or mature. But constantly adapting to external expectations can slowly affect mental health, emotional well-being, and identity.

That’s one reason the film The Devil Wears Prada resonates on a deeper emotional level. Andy’s transformation is not only about fashion or career success. It’s about how easy it is to lose connection with yourself when validation, pressure, and performance begin shaping your decisions.

As Andy becomes immersed in Miranda’s demanding world, the people closest to her notice changes in how she shows up emotionally, what she prioritizes, and who she is becoming. She gains approval, recognition, and status, but at the cost of feeling increasingly disconnected from the parts of herself that once grounded her.

Many people experience this same struggle outside of the workplace.

We silence our needs to avoid tension. We over-give to feel valuable. We become who we think others need us to be because rejection, disappointment, or disapproval feels emotionally unsafe. We convince ourselves we’re “just being flexible,” while quietly carrying anxiety, exhaustion, resentment, loneliness, or emotional numbness underneath the surface.

Mental health is deeply relational. The environments we stay in and the relationships we nurture shape how safe, accepted, and emotionally grounded we feel. When we constantly feel pressure to perform instead of simply existing authentically, emotional burnout often follows.

The good news is that reconnecting with yourself is possible.

Not perfectly. Not overnight. But intentionally and courageously.

Here are a few gentle ways to begin reconnecting with yourself again:

1. Notice where you perform instead of express.

Pay attention to the moments when you automatically say “yes,” over-explain yourself, minimize your feelings, or become who you think others expect you to be. Often, the quiet loss of self begins with small compromises repeated over time. Awareness is the first step toward change.

2. Practice honest self-check-ins.

Pause long enough to ask yourself:
What do I actually need right now?
What emotions have I been avoiding?
Do I feel emotionally safe being myself in this environment?
Many people become so focused on managing everyone else’s comfort that they stop listening to their own emotional needs.

3. Separate your worth from approval.

Approval can feel comforting, but it should not become the foundation of your identity. Your value is not determined by productivity, perfection, people-pleasing, or how useful you are to others. Real self-worth grows when you learn to value yourself even when everyone is not applauding.

4. Build relationships that allow authenticity.

Healthy relationships make room for honesty, boundaries, imperfection, emotional safety, and growth. You should not have to abandon yourself to belong. Healthy relationships will not require constant performance to maintain a connection.

5. Give yourself permission to evolve.

Sometimes, becoming healthier disappoints old expectations. Sometimes growth changes relationship dynamics. And sometimes healing means learning that peace is not the same thing as self-abandonment. Growth often requires courage before it creates comfort.

If you’ve been feeling emotionally exhausted, disconnected from yourself, or unsure of who you’ve become lately, you are not alone. Many people quietly struggle under the pressure to adapt, perform, and hold everything together.

But healing often begins with one honest question:

Who am I becoming?

And perhaps an even more important one:

Do I recognize myself in the process?

If this topic resonated with you, you may enjoy the free Blockbuster Love Monthly newsletter, where we explore relationships, emotional wellness, mental health, and personal growth through film-inspired insights and therapeutic reflection.

And for a deeper exploration of what happens after fantasy fades and real growth begins, Blockbuster Love: Lessons from the Movies on How to Create Lasting Love — Part 2: Reality offers practical and encouraging insights into communication, conflict, identity, and lasting love in the real world.

Choosing Love When The World Feels Dark

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February makes it almost impossible not to think about love. Hearts and roses line store aisles, pink and red dominate displays, and commercials promise romance and connection with the perfect gift. It’s nearly impossible to avoid. And yet this year, those glossy messages collide with something heavier. For many of us, love arrives alongside grief, exhaustion, uncertainty, or longing, making the season feel tender rather than celebratory.

Recent violence in Minnesota, ongoing political unrest, and the steady stream of distressing headlines don’t stay neatly outside our personal lives. They settle into our nervous systems and show up in our relationships under stress. We become quicker to react, slower to trust, and more tempted to shut down just to get through the day.

So if Valentine’s Day feels complicated this year, you’re not alone. For some, it brings pressure to feel happy or connected when stress is already high. For others, it highlights loneliness, heartbreak, or the quiet ache of wanting partnership. Even healthy relationships can feel strained by expectations, especially when the world itself feels unsettled.

As we honor Black History Month, I find myself returning to voices that speak honestly about suffering, not as something that isolates us, but as something that connects us. James Baldwin once said, “Your suffering does not isolate you… your suffering is your bridge…and hopefully we can bring a little light to that suffering and begin to live with it and change it.” There’s something grounding in that truth. Pain, when acknowledged honestly, doesn’t have to cut us off from one another. It can become the place where empathy, courage, and love begin.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, especially while watching the movie Sinners (2025). That tension between darkness and light shows up powerfully in the plot. Beneath its supernatural surface, the story works as a metaphor for emotional life. Vampires symbolize hunger, the fear of emptiness, and the danger of living without light. They survive in shadows, cut off from warmth and connection.

And in real life, emotional shutdown can feel much the same.

When the world feels unsafe, many of us retreat inward. We protect ourselves with distance, silence, or control. We tell ourselves we’re being strong when really we’re trying not to be hurt. Sinners doesn’t argue that vulnerability keeps us safe. It points to something more honest: choosing love, openness, and truth gives our lives meaning, even when the outcome is uncertain.

We see this in the quiet, grief-laden connection between Smoke and Annie. Their bond isn’t built on certainty or grand gestures, but on shared loss and presence. Grief doesn’t end their love. It deepens it, asking them to stay emotionally available even when nothing can be fixed.

That matters for our own relationships.

Staying open when the world feels heavy doesn’t mean ignoring reality. It means tending to your heart with intention. That can look like naming what you’re carrying, such as stress, fear, or sadness, without judgment. It can mean lowering expectations while raising presence, choosing one small connecting action today, or limiting emotional overload to protect your nervous system.

Love in heavy times isn’t loud or flawless. It’s practiced. It’s choosing presence when withdrawal would be easier.

That’s the heart of Blockbuster Love: Part 2 — Reality. Love isn’t a guarantee. It’s a practice, especially when stress and relationships collide.

This February, may love be gentle, brave, and real. And may you remember that even in the darkest seasons, light still matters.

If you’re looking for support in staying connected and emotionally present during stressful seasons, Blockbuster Love: Part 2 — Reality was written for moments exactly like this one.

Love, Heritage and The Storms We Carry

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I didn’t grow up in Jamaica, but Jamaica grew up in me.

I immigrated to the U.S. as a child, but the island never left my soul. I carry it in the rhythms that find my feet when music plays, in the way I season my food “from memory,” and in the quiet knowing that community is everything and home is not just a place. It’s people.

Some of my earliest memories are woven together like a tapestry of the senses: reggae rhythms floating through afternoon air, the warm laughter of my mom and aunties chatting in the kitchen, cousins running in the yard, my dad and uncles slapping dominos on the table, sweet mango juice sliding down my chin and fingers, waterfalls rushing over rocks as if in a hurry to meet the clear rivers rippling into the vibrant turquoise sea.

I remember the scent of my mom’s black cake baking, the simmering of ackee and saltfish in my grandmother’s open kitchen, the windows always welcoming in breeze, music, voices from neighbors, and the soothing sounds of nature. I remember my “granny” roasting breadfruit in smoky banana leaves in the yard and making sure I was sleeping under a mosquito net. And I remember her laughter and comforting voice. She passed almost thirty years ago now, yet her words are still with me. When I cried or felt hurt, she would hold me close and whisper in patois:

“Hush mi baby, nuh mine, darlin’.”
 Be still. You’re safe. Let your heart rest.

That tenderness shaped me.

Recently, while assembling care packages with Jamaican friends in response to the hurricane, I slipped into patois without even thinking. The words just came. The rhythm felt natural. My heritage rose to the surface, not as something I reached for, but as something that has always lived inside me.

Belonging remembers itself.

And while watching the heartbreaking news reports of Hurricane Melissa sweeping across the Caribbean, I felt that same remembering. Storms have a way of revealing what we carry, what has been passed down, protected, repeated, and survived.

In many Jamaican families—including my own—resilience is inherited.
 We learn to be strong early.
We learn to endure.
We learn to fix our face and carry on, even when we feel like giving up.

But as I write about in my new book, Blockbuster Love Part 2: Reality—in the chapter called It’s a Family Affair—the same strength that helps us survive the storm can sometimes make it difficult to let others in. We board our emotional windows. We reinforce our walls. We sometimes tell ourselves we can carry everything alone.

But we were never meant to.

Because the other inheritance in our culture is just as strong:
Laughter.
Warmth.
Shared meals.
Hands that comfort.
Music that heals.
The understanding that community is where the heart breathes freely.

Or as we say: one love.
 Meaning: we are in this life together. We take care of each other here.

When I think of my grandmother’s “Hush mi baby,” I realize she was teaching me something essential:
Strength is not just endurance.
Strength is soothing.
Strength is tenderness.
Strength is knowing when to soften.

If you come from a family or culture shaped by storms—literal or emotional—you may still carry those winds in your chest. You may love with caution. You may protect more quickly than you connect.

But healing does not mean abandoning where we come from.
It means choosing what to carry forward.

We keep the rhythm, the laughter, the community, the joy.
And we learn new ways to love that allow safety, softness, and emotional support.

So today, I invite you to pause and ask yourself:
What have I inherited that protects me?
 And what have I inherited that I am ready to release?

Remember, what is rooted in love can bend with the wind and still remain whole.

If this reflection resonates, I’d love for you to join my community.
Subscribe to the Blockbuster Love Monthly Newsletter for relationship wisdom, healing tools, and updates on my new book—Blockbuster Love Part 2: Reality, releasing December 8, 2025.

We heal best together. One love