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eduardo-gorghetto-mmCcVZjmPZw-unsplash.j

what are you afraid of? how does it feel? and how are you holding those feelings? how are you making sense of ‘em? how are you tangling yourself in the knots of ‘em? and as you allow yourself to be in the thick of that which scares you the most…are you also able to get loose? can you see the light? can you believe…that everything will work out…the way it’s posed to?
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they always say we can ‘do’ hard things. but just know…when the tides are rough…you’re capable of ‘feeling’ hard things, too. so i ask you again…what are you afraid of?
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. Link in bio.
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#instagram #writersofinstagram #blackwomenwrite #liberation #youdeserve #healingjourney #fear #courage

me to me: “anything you want, mama.” 💋
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travel with meeeeee on a (brief) solo trip to richmond. 🤸🏾‍♀️
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it’s been a lot of ups, downs, work, losses, and wins over here the past couple of months. finally took a beat to celebrate it all. let it soak in a little. booked a overnight stay…to reserve some time with me. to remind myself in a world that may not be capacious enough to hold me…imma damn sure make room for myself. carve out space that’s dim-lit, wide-open, and? … fully mine. ✨

i hope you reserve time for what’s fully yours.

#freedom #travelgram #solotravel #blackgirlstravel #selflove #virginia #virginiatravel

from my journal to you. 💭💚

it’s mental health awareness month, and oh the difference a year can make. i spent some time this week remembering where my mind was this time last year. and the year before. like everywhere i went trying to find the sun…grief and anxiety kept pulling me to dance in the dark. and instead of just letting it flow…i resisted. god, i resisted so much. 😮‍💨

sometimes we really gotta claw ourselves toward light. digging deep when everything around you is literally threatening to collapse. the biggest lesson i’m learning in this fierce, i-think-i-got-the-hang-of-it-but-i-still-fail kinda way…is…you ain’t gotta dig alone.

so. if your load is heavy, and you’re reading this…let someone hold it with you. it won’t make the scars vanish…or bring the dead back…but it makes the weight lighter. the breath easier. and maybe, just maybe, you..a lil free’er .

keep digging.
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. Link in bio.
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#mentalhealthawareness #wellbeing #mentalhealthmatters #writers #blackhealth #lifeafterloss #healingjourney #healingvibes #freedom

to the most beautiful parts of me…and you:
you’re braided of soft and steel. courage taking up space in every rib. aliveness taking root in every tear.
you may have grew from jagged stones,
but look at you now. blooming like petals at dawn. i hope you fertilize and wither.
over and over again.
i see you.
i love you.
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. Link in bio.
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#instagram #writersofinstagram #blackwomenwrite #selflovematters #blackwomanhood #liberation #youdeserve

end of the month dump. april 2025.
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oh april. you were a right-on-time revelation and reminder that i don’t have to do anything in this life that involves catapulting myself constantly into doing “grand” things. i don’t have to pay with “excellence” if the price...is misalignment. i can make attempts (even if i “fail”, even if i’m rejected)...and keep attempting. and that, my god,...that is what’ll make my life worth it, fun, and tethered to whatever road leads me to beauty, bliss, love, reflection, community, and...nonconformity.
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“It’s a nice big fat philosophical question, about: how do you get through? Sometimes you don’t survive whole, you just survive in part. But the grandeur of life is that attempt. It’s not about that solution. It is about being as fearless as one can, and behaving as beautifully as one can, under completely impossible circumstances. It’s that, that makes it elegant. Good is just more interesting, more complex, more demanding. Evil is silly, it may be horrible, but at the same time it’s not a compelling idea. It’s predictable. It needs a tuxedo, it needs a headline, it needs blood, it needs fingernails. It needs all that costume in order to get anybody’s attention. But the opposite, which is survival, blossoming, endurance, those things are just more compelling intellectually if not spiritually, and they certainly are spiritually. This is a more fascinating job. We are already born, we are going to die. So you have to do something interesting that you respect in between.” - Toni Morrison

from my journal to you. 💭
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out of everything there is to be proud of outside of me right now…truly…i’m MOST proud of what’s happening…internally. the grief and shedding that hasn’t taken me…but has been tilling at my soil. and wrapping me all up in its embrace just to show me…i’m human. i’m alive. i’m divine. i’m living a life that i’ve dreamed of, prayed for, left people/places/things for. and transmuted generational pain. i am…free.
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. Link in bio.
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#blackwomanhood #blackstoriesmatter #griefjourney #healingjourney

permission. the minute i extend it to myself…. i reclaim my birthright to pause.

it’s not easy. getting on the hamster wheel again and again…just to remind myself why i’m opting out in the first place. and constantly reassuring myself…that my worth is not measured in productivity.

but then my breath always tells the story.

tells the hums of my worthiness, enough-ness, and capability to resist. and resurrect.

i don’t need to logic my way into rest..and you don’t either.

if you’re reading this…permission granted.
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. Link in bio.
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#rest #resurrect #instagram #wordsofpower #healing #freedom #blackwriters #blackhealth

(not me posting random pics cause i feel good)
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meet your favorite easter bunny 🐰✨
here to bounce it biggity bounce it! 🥕💃
swipe for more joy ➡️💙
(📸: @_jasmineer; 👗: styled by @maryyseoull )

it is my prayer, in this moment, that when we run into ourselves over and over again…and the parts we are most negligent in facing…that we are better equipped to plant our toes firmly in courage and accountability. i pray that even when we hide…we also make the conscious choice to seek. even when we’re afraid of what we’ll find. i pray…we remain patient…and with purpose.

and alignment.

be patient while you get that monkey off ya back.

if it took a lifetime to climb on, it may take a lifetime to detach.

i just hope we make our untethering worth it.
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. Link in bio.
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#instawriters #wordsofig #selfhealing #liberation #blackwritersofinstagram #patience #growth #wisdom

here’s to the city that never sleeps. here’s to bright lights and nuance. here’s to lingering heartbeats in harlem…and living with responsibility, wild abandon, and reflection. here’s to new york city. thank you. 💋

#freedom #travelgram #newyork #newyorklife #blackgirlstravel

end of the month dump. march 2025.
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march was a dance with disruption and pivoting. with pausing…and making these attempts to truly listen to my body. i set a goal to play and i definitely followed the fun. from long nights…to resting under bright stars…to bold moments in the gym that made me feel alive. i embraced creative chaos, vlogged my mardi gras shenanigans, and even took a solo date…for the first time in a long time…that wasn’t the movies.

as always, there were days of deep reflection. days of needed solitude. days of feeling grief and perfectionism. and moments when isolation crept in…when what i really needed…was community. yet, in speaking in the tongues of my truth no matter how sweet or salty, i can tangibly see how spring isn’t the only thing about to bloom. i, too, am growing. with even more self-compassion, kindness, playfulness, and curiosity.

so, drinks up. here’s to evolving in the messiest of situations, to shining even when people deem you too much, and carrying forward always…imperfection. ✨🌸

“i said my n****s don't dance; we just pull up our pants and, do the rockaway; now lean back.” ~ fat joe, remy ma, & terror squad
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i saw a very young, Black boy cry yesterday. i saw him literally break down and have a panic attack. and all the while during...his father talked to me...about how...he doesn’t want him to grow up thinking...he has to ALWAYS be okay. and my god...it hit me, i hope he doesn’t either. and that right now...none of us really are.
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many of us are not capable of leaning in right now. many of us…desperately need to lean back.
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when all is lost...when all feels lost...i hope we find our way. i hope we find our rage and wholeness. i hope we release perfection and grab progression in our reach. when we cry out...for god to help us all...i hope there’s grace in our attempts to help ourselves. i hope there’s faith...for brighter days ahead.
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. Link in bio.
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#instalove #wordsofwisdom #freedom #wellness #blackgirlswrite #selfhealing #liberation

[BONUS POST]

ok, let’s talk fr. about confidence. cause i’ve been thinking a lot about the word actually. and the feeling of self-assurance we’re “supposed” to have. and how that shit is actually…NOT easy. how it isn’t this switch you flip on. but the world will have you thinking…either you have it...or you don’t. like, much like everything else,…there’s no in-between. no room for the struggle of building it. no room for the battle scars that may come with it. you’re damned if you don’t have it. and if you do have it? ESPECIALLY if you’re a (self-identifying) Black woman…you’re too much.

as you walk, stumble, and fight your way through and to “confidence”…believe in yourself. believe in your beauty. and when all that feels impossible… believe you’ll keep trying.
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. Link in bio.
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#igdaily #wordstoliveby #blackwomen #healingjourney #selflove #confidence #confident #affirmations

they don’t know what to do…when they can’t control you.
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some time ago, i wrote four words. “who got the strings?” i penned this as a question prompting my own reflection over what…or who…i relinquished my control to. who did i give my “strings” to, to move my story? who was jerkin my dreams? who was in charge of…and colonizing…and terrorizing…the things i’d think? and speak?

i ask of you, the same thing.

whose puppet are you?

i ask of you. nah. i beg of you to think…what is manipulating you?

is your mind free?

and are the things that you hate, the things that make you uncomfortable, the things you wish you could change about other people, the things that keep you alive, awake, and brooding…is it your own self-loathing?

is it the master’s tools you used to build yourself a home?

do you need new ones?

make yourself great again. and again. and again. and again.
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. Link in bio.
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#writerslife #liberation #instagram #blackwomenwriters #healing #selfhealing #stayfree

✨ weekly post...but make it a mood board. and take it from my journal entry. ✍🏾
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in a recent session with my therapist, she asked me a question- how old were you when you felt like you got all these messages from the world?

i said...11 or 12.

right now...when i think of 11 and 12 year old me...i think of the time i got fooled after school into thinking this boy...[redacted]...really liked me. it ended up being a prank. but...it stuck. it’s still...been here with me. i think...that’s when i really knew...i wasn’t pretty. i’m not an image of beauty... in the conventional sense. or in the...hayden panettiere-kim kardashian-beyonce-rihanna-celebrity-ig model-influencer-fitspiration- kind of pretty... and any and every other thing and body i’ve been warped into pining after.

it’s also when i knew...i needed the world...my world...to tell me otherwise.

so. i picked up the ball.

i picked up the ball that america rolled my way...with all it’s messages about beauty, achievement, and intellect...and i carried it with me ever since.

sometimes it rolled right over me. often, it was heavy. but most times?

most times...i leaned on it. i leaned on it something fierce. in fear that if i let go...if i lost control of it...i wouldn’t know what i’d be. who i’d be.

and ultimately? ... i wouldn’t be accepted. i’d be rejected...again.

but it’s time to roll that sh*t back now. i’ve been working on letting that sh*t roll by me. or at the very least...i’m continuing to work on how much i pick it up. because in a world hyper-obsessed with defining work, wealth, bodies, and identities...the only pronouns i need ascribed to me, as best and memorably said by @_tbross , is...

“she/her/bad bitch.” respectfully. 😘

#women #blackwomen #girlpower #womenempowerment #words #freedom #instawriters #blackwomenwriting #selflovematters #selflovejourney #affirmations #youdeserve #confidence #healingvibes

it’s women’s history month.
and...
if you’re reading this.
here are my wishes for you.
i’m wishing slowness on all the present girls making strides.
making HERstory.
i’m wishing stillness.
hope.
sisterhood.
i’m wishing restful thinking. 💋🩷

#women #blackwomen #girlpower #womenshistory #womenshistorymonth #womenempowerment #instalove #creativewriters #blackwomenwriting #collectiveliberation

play. pleasure. desire.
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i made a post on my IG story recently that shared how i wanted to play more in the month of march. that i didn’t f**k around enough in february. so. i’m tryna find out this month. 😛

well.

we did just that…in a place that is one of THEE places for play. i went to NOLA, baby. and for the first time…i experienced mardi gras.

highs? the music that wraps around you like a lover. the parades that turn the streets into adventure, magic, and risks. the freedom of moving, laughing, drinking (perhaps too much), dancing. without explanation or hesitation. the people, the energy, the way joy feels when you let it greet desire.

lows? the exhaustion that comes from chasing pleasure with all gas and no breaks. the moments where bourbon street chews you up. and recovery spits you out. the reminder that even in a city built for indulgence, the weight of the world still lingers. asking you to dream of it. and only it.

but that’s the thing about play, about pleasure. no matter what’s happening…it has a way of demanding its presence. it pulls you back into your body. back into the now. it says…there is no rush. you deserve this. you deserve to feel good. you deserve to let go.

because what is freedom really… if not the ability (and privilege) to chase what makes you feel alive?

so here’s to that. to march. and the next month. and the next moment …after moment…of more play, more pleasure, more saying yes. because yeah…we owe it to ourselves to feel good…as much as we can.

💜💛💚

#travelgram #travel #freedom #liberation #play #pleasure #desire #neworleans #nola #mardigras #mardigras2025

[BONUS POST]

✨just another reminder✨

are you struggling with letting life just happen to you? are you suffering...because you’re not using your voice?

may this find you in your truth...that you can speak up for you. you can live for you. and disregard anything and everything...that’ll make you believe this isn’t true.

may your “no”s be just as full-body, firm, and free as your “yes”s.

may you have active and intentional agency.

#freedom #instawriters #wordsgram #selfhealing #youdeserve

✨ just a reminder ✨

i know, i know...we’re all ready for spring.

but are you REALLY?

and by ready, i mean...how is your soil? how is your roots?

are they nourished? or are they clinging to what no longer feeds them?

have you cleared your weeds of doubt? your vines of terror?

or are you rushing the bloom, forgetting that even the sun... takes its time?

spring is coming. and summer is calling.

but growth. that real, deep, hard, excruciating, lasting , soul growth? that starts underground.

be patient. be present. be ready...to bloom. 🌱✨

#spring #instagram #wordsofpower #blackwomenwrite #growth #liberation

end of the month dump. februrary 2025.
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fertilized and flourishing. ✨
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february brought a watering of my roots, a shedding of what no longer served me, and letting my body remember. i ran, i rested, i pivoted, i trusted. in my process. in my timing. in me. on the sweet days, i held space for joy. on the salty days, i held space for grief. for rage. i learned that care isn’t just what I give. sometimes, it’s letting myself be cared for.

i put some shit on and looked TF good. i danced between solitude and community. i re-binged Teen Wolf and sobbed like i was 16 again. and most importantly? i returned home. back to baseline. again. 🏡❤️

i send me. 😍

more february “glows” and “grows” below.

“Glows”
- went the longest stretch between my therapy sessions. 4 weeks. And it’s not to say I didn’t want/need it…or that I “should’ve” went. But it does say…I can trust me.
- I started a new chapter that im REALLY excited for, inspired by, and aligned with.
- I noticed a mental + working pattern. 🎉 I got wisdom.
- Went on a couple solo dates.
- I opened up when I had “salty” days. 🥹 I chose not to go at it alone. I chose to be cared for. I forced myself out of thinking I “should” be the one people don’t have to worry about to thinking….nah, it’s okay if they worry a lil bit. 🤷🏾‍♀️
- I put some shit on that fit wayyyyy better than it did last summer.
- I adored my body.
- I reflected on the influence of the ABSENCE of pleasure and play…on perfectionism and suffering.

“Grows”
- I disconnected from my body damn near entirely by “getting on the hamster wheel” and overworking. and it felt like it wrecked havoc mentally.
- There were bouts of hopelessness, helplessness, despair, and toxic empathy brought on by our shifting / uncertain political climate. In a nutshell, much like a lot of folx, I’m still just tryna figure out what I need. Still tryna figure out how to stay aligned, on purpose, and of service. Still tryna figure out how to be “in” advocacy…without losing me.
- I got frustrated that the scale isn’t moving on MY timeline. That my body isn’t budging. That something might be wrong with me.

(late post) 🙃
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commune. 🙏🏾
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it’s sunday and pots are on the stove, love is going in the oven, and the smell of unspoken emotions fills the air.

this is more than a meal. this is your residential altar. it’s a ceremony. a tradition born from our ancestral bones, grandma’s hand, and where scraps were stretched into feasts. and every bite carried a tune, a longing, a prayer. from church pews to crowded kitchens, we gathered. and we still…gather. to laugh. to heal. to remember. to just…be.

commune.

i hope that sacred gatherings find you in the midst of mental, emotional, physical and (attempted) political captivity.

i hope you make yourself a feast. pull up a chair. get free.
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#igdaily #sunday #sundayreset #blackhistory #community #wordsofpower #blackwomen #blackwomenhealing

your frustration is leaking.
.
and maybe that’s okay. maybe it’s necessary.
 frustration is the weight of work unseen. the burn of trying when the world won’t bend. it’s the breath held too long in your throat. the feeling of running when the ground keeps shifting. sinking.

but frustration is not failure. it’s a signal. a pulse. a truth that needs tending to.

what are you gonna do to tend to it?

some of us weren’t handed silver spoons. we got wood, silver, and whatever else…to forge our own. we get work that is tiring…but also…real.

take your time and feel. name your frustration. nurture it, and find what you need. and then? just keep on moving.
it’s all good. 💙
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio.
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#igdaily #blackhealth #words #selfhealing #liberation

all kinds of love, singleness, and desire is in the air today.
and I couldn’t let the 14th pass without naming the other things swirling, too.
frustration. grief. endings.

when i sit with the nostalgia of my black girlhood, i can feel it. the writhing, the longing, the disappointment. of all the things we aren’t ready for when black womanhood comes knockin’.

of how our maps change. and our destinations, too.

of the grief that comes not just from losing something, but from realizing…you may not even want it anymore.

so if your frustration is knocking today…and grief is out there with it? let it in.

and i guarantee…love is also still tryna come over. and it’s not asking “who all ova there?” it’s simply…coming. all of it. in all its forms.

question is…when you peep outside for it…what do YOU see gazing back at you?

#valentineday #instalove #writersofinstagram #blackwomen #wordstoliveby #wordsofpower #healingvibes #youdeserve #love #lovestory

peace and pan-africanism, yall. 🤣❤️🖤💚
here to spread some love, joy, and just a lil bit of chaos. 💕❤️
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they say love is in the air. and so was some bowling balls and whiskey shots last night. 😂🎳🥃
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it’s black history month. and it feels like i “shouldn’t” be celebrating this european a$$ holiday buttttttt if you know my history…you’d know that valentine’s day has always been a special ting to me. a day where black women always seemed to rally behind me, show up for me, and pour, pour, pour. so of course i’m still out here doing the same.

last night, everybody was in the bowling alley gettin tipsy andddddd…loved on. and? held down with joy and care.

so. if you’re reading this, i hope the same for you. i hope love finds you, too. in all its forms. and that it’s not predicated on whether it slides its way into your bed. it’s fine if it does. and? love is capacious enough to extend to the friends that sit silently while you weep. the family that sees you when the world sees past you. and the laughter that clenches your stomach to give you a break from the anxiety gripping your chest.

it’s vast, i’m finding. love, that is. and it’s truly everywhere. and most importantly…it’s y(ours). happy valentine’s/galentine’s day. ❣️

#valentine #valentineday #love #galentines #blackgirljoy #sisterhood #love

there’s frustration looming. blooming all around us. and it’s being watered with chaos, hate, misinformation, missteps, political mishaps, and global disenfranchisement.
the price we paid for rage and bad days way back when, was high. and we paid in blood.

well ✨ just a reminder ✨

this country hasn’t paid you back. and the nation as we know it…won’t. so the cost of our frustration now? it’s still high. but our well-being? and the deflation of it if we hoard our rage? …it’s way more expensive.

✨ just a reminder ✨

you’re allowed to let it out, sweat it out, sleep it out, crash out (not too much now)…just as long as it doesn’t consume you.
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio.
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#instagram #wellness #writer #blackgirlswrite #healingvibes #blackliberation

dr. thema bryant made a post last week that resonated w/ + inspired me so much. i’d like to use today’s post to acknowledge her words, piggy back, and send an echo that i hope reverberates all around us.
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the precarity of our survival (these next four years especially) is at an all time high. and if you juxtapose that with the collective fear(s) of the future, poverty, deprivation, unemployment, loss, violence, being outed, being closeted, censorship, and/or standing on, in, and around the business of your truth…you’ll find that it’s all entirely…a lot. terrifying. frightening.
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i hope you’re building you a home. because you already got the tools. and if you don’t…or you think you don’t…i promise…you do. you got centuries of ancestors and altars in you. you got rituals, orishas, hoodoo, voodoo, and conjure there, too.
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build yourself a home. happy black history month.
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio.
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#instawriters #instalikes #writing #blackwomenwriters #healingjourney #hope #collectiveliberation #freedom #blackhistorymonth

✨ “It feels…like I’m finally waking up.” ✨

it’s short story saturday! this one’s for the (self-identifying) girls. and strictly for the girls. seraphine’s journey is here! and it’s just in time for valentine’s day season. another one of my favorite times of the year. when love, desire, friendship, and self-reflection are in the air. i’d say…seraphine’s story is one about rediscovering yourself, reclaiming your joy, and ultimately…asking, “what does it mean to have my way?”

through seraphine’s eyes, we explore this entanglement of pleasure, healing, and balancing our dreams, relationships, and identities. inspired by audre lorde’s definition of the erotic as a “resource within each of us that lies in a deeply female and spiritual plane,” seraphine’s story invites us to consider how our erotic. our joy, our passion, and our connection to our fullest selves…can guide us toward healing and liberation. i hope she makes you think about your own relationship with pleasure, with others, and with yourself.

REFLECTION QUESTIONS:
💭 audre lorde also defines the erotic as “the measure between the beginnings of our sense of self and the chaos of our strongest feelings.” how does seraphine embody this definition? how do you tap into your own erotic power in your day to day life?
💭 what does “having your way” look like in this season of your life? 💭 how do you define pleasure, and how has that definition evolved? 💭 how has seraphine’s journey inspired you to think differently about healing or reconnecting with yourself? 💭 have you ever felt like you were waking up to a new version of yourself? what triggered that for you? 💭 what part of seraphine’s story resonated with you the most?

comment or dm me so we can chat. would loveeeee to hear your reflections! 🖤

#valentinesday #love #wap #blackstoriesmatter #pleasure #pleasureactivism #selflove #blackwomen #storytelling #shortstories #shortstoriesofinstagram #liberation #blackwomenmatter

end of the month dump. january 2025.
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whewwwww y’all. when i tell yall i feel like i done already lived 9 lives this year. is anyone else feeling the same? like january, with this country country’ing, winter winter’ing, and adulting mollywoppin’ my ass,….the month/year really came in swinging. there’s been harshness, hustle, collective fury, and grief. nonetheless though...there were still meaningful moments, connection, fun, school/career wins, and honestly? beauty.
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“glows” of the month:
- brought in the year litty bootys af with @astoldbytvy
- i listened to, screamed, and sung my heart out to “i always wanted a brother” all month long. somebody please tell @disney to send me my contract. i’m tryna be on the soundtrack when they give us raifiki’s backstory next. 🙄
- stepped on the scale at my annual physical and gained 11 pounds since last year. and for the first time? the weight gain DID NOT deflate my self-esteem. prada me. 👏🏾
- captured nature in all it’s… winter-leaveless-snow-birds still flying-skies still blue-sun still out-sun still rising-sun still setting…glory, too. and my god. it may be on fire, but the world is still beautiful.
- re-downloaded “myfitnesspal” and have been using it consistently…along with making sure i’m feeding myself good tings. 😋
- started my first random side quest this year (always for the plot, of course) 😂 and got enrolled in The Magic Wand Study. Here’s to good vibes…literally lmao. 🪄
- started my vision board and set the intention to NOT rush the process in making it or crafting lofty goals
- cried while reading 📖
- drank while bowling 🎳
- allowed myself to cry on my hoochie’s last night in NC 😞
- listened to my intuition + my body
- tried a “dead hang” for the first time

“grows” of the month:
- bought into a spiral of fear-based + catastrophic + WORST-case scenario thinking (that lasted for days)
- pidgeon-holed myself into doing things because i thought i “had” to instead of allowing myself to pivot
- despite setting the intention to be more patient/steady this year...there were still moments where it felt like i was sprinting
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good-tf-bye january. as fantasia said…it’s all good. 💋

anybody else struggle accepting the totality of themselves? 🙋🏾‍♀️ the good and the bad? the beautiful and the ugly?
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the darkest parts of us—the ones that make us question our “enoughness”. the ones that push us into fear or self-doubt. they deserve acknowledgment, too. they deserve…seeking. instead of incessantly hiding. or running. because they’re not separate from who we are. or the chapters we write. they, too,…are a part of our stories.
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instead of fighting, instead of avoiding, instead of distracting...i’m learning to listen, love, and fold myself into every part of me with radical acceptance. i hope you do, too. i hope you gather you. then tuck yourself into the stillness of self-approval, self-welcoming, and self-governance. and then? i hope you leave the door open.
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio.
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#instalove #writersofig #blackstoriesmatter #blackwomenwriting #healing #liberation #youdeserve #selflovematters

[BONUS POST]

✨ just a reminder ✨
. the year is still young. and so are y(our) possibilities. let this be a gentle nudge to all of us (including myself) to breathe. to take y(our) time. and to trust y(our) journeys. the only price freedom and fulfillment need to come at…is intention. and slow living.
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slow and steady can win the race. just as long as we’re moving forward. allow yourself the pace you need…to keep on moving. 💛
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#instalove #writersofig #healing #blackwomenwriting #healing #liberation

often our overwhelm is not at all because of external things. sometimes, i’m learning, our most anxious states are because we’re tryna do those external things...perfectly. tryna do those external things...at a rapid rate instead of a steady pace.
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allow yourself room. (can’t you see you’re a living, breathing, growing thing?)
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio.
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#igdaily #writerscommunity #blackwomenhealing #blackwomenwrite #selfhealing #collectiveliberation

what’s your relationship with fear? are you partnered to it? is fear your ‘lil yeah’?
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on a mission this year to put what scares me most in the passenger seat while i drive towards freedom. to keep my worries in their place. as side pieces. not mains. may we treasure the grey area of honoring what frightens us the most AND refusing to give it more power than our faith and vision.
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how do you navigate fear along your journey? ✨

in 2025… i hope we keep unraveling ourselves. one layer at a time. untethered, unboxed, and unafraid of the wildness, waywardness, and boldness within. may we reignite our connections, reinvent our journeys, and reclaim the art of being and becoming.
this year, we continue. we grow. we rest. we dream. we trust the process.
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio.
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#instagram #instalikes #writers #blackwriters #healingvibes #liberation

end of the month dump. december 2024.
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“glows” of the month:
- i cranked dat soulja boy and let it crank me.
- i’m still showing up to therapy even in moments when..to be quite transparent…i don’t want to.
- a solo date happened. a book was read. a time was had.
- i leaned into curiosity more and spent time questioning/exploring my identity, sensuality, and ideas regarding pleasure.
- found pleasure in silence, cleaning, moving, fresh sheets, and redecorating.
- i took a much needed break from working.
- it was a joyful holiday season with friends and family.
- i had grace, compassion, confidence, and kindness for my body.
- i got litty boots with @astoldbytvy
- ended the month/year acquainting myself with and accepting parts of me i used to shame before.

“grows” of the month:
- i dropped it like a thottie and damn near couldn’t get back up. it’s giving “bad knees, bad knees”…and life alert, too.
- i said “yes” to things/people when my energy was telling me “no”.
- there were moments of hyper-fixating on my body.
- i’m still managing my fears/expectations around visibility, authenticity, and letting friends + family + the people that matter most really SEE me. and questioning does it really matter if they do…or don’t.
- i’m realizing there are still areas in my wellness journey where consistency + discipline is still lacking, causing me to sit in the discomfort of accountability and question…which hard imma pick.

december was an ongoing lesson in letting go, digging, and leaning in. a reminder that growth is definitely NOT always linear. and that sometimes…it’s wrapped in moments of suffering, self-discovery, witnessing, and truth-telling.

as i send off 2024, i’m taking all the new ways of knowing, laughter, pleasure, joy, and love with me into 2025. this year taught me that curiosity can also be a form of self-care. that the important shit is on me AND in me. that the work of loving and accepting myself is ongoing. and that even in my “grows,”… there’s room for grace.

here’s to the new year: more softness, more alignment, more delusional confidence, more radical acceptance, and… more choosing me. ✨

⭐️ 2024 WRAPPED. but make it writing. ⭐️
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✍🏾 not every word made it on here. some (as always) stayed tucked away in my journals. unfinished thoughts. quiet reflections. ideas still lingering and searching for…something.
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as the year closes, i honor the drafts, the scribbles, and the musings that didn’t see the spotlight. here’s to the words that’ll shape us and carry us into and through…2025.
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio.
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#instawriters #writersofig #blackwomenwriters #spilledink #liberation

[BONUS POST]

📚✨ as 2024 closes, i’m reflecting on the pages that held me this year. the stories that challenged me. freed me. taught me the art of seeing myself more clearly. the romances i got lost in (and yeahhhhh…it was a lot of em).
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growing up, books were my refuge. so much so, that a running joke between nana and i is that maybe i could do wayyyyy more in the kitchen if i wasn’t reading so much then. you see. i devoured books to escape. to lose myself in other worlds. to learn how words could dance on a page and whisper truths about life. about...me. reading wasn’t just a pastime. it was my first step toward freedom.
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this year, yet again, every book i picked up felt like a small revolution. here’s to ‘em all for making 2024 unforgettable. and here’s to the ones that will guide me into 2025.
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what books did you get lost in this year? was it any of these? let’s talk, if so. 😘
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#BlackStoriesMatter #Bookstagram #instagram

shedding dead weight & reclaiming the truth of my body, my spirit, my existence. i’m unbecoming. and redefining, too. stepping into a space where freedom feels familiar and the knowing of myself is full. may you drink from this same cup, and get your fill. may your truth runneth over.
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio.
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#embodiment #liberation #wellness #unlearning #instawriters #writerscommunity #blackwomenwriting

this christmas… felt like joy. and it’s all thanks to friends, family, and as of today…my auntie. 😊❤️
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growing up…holidays have always/normally felt a bit umm…”off” for me. and recently they’ve also carried a weight—heavy with loss, memories, and the quiet ache of what felt missing even before grief arrived. i started to wonder if that holiday, child-like, wondrous magic was gone for good. if this season would always feel like just another day and/or something to get through instead of something to embrace.

but today…was different. today, i was expectant. excited. hopeful. today, my aunt, the hostess with the MOSTEST (and the biggest heart, too.) reminded me that intention can shift everything. that love, when poured with care, can turn tradition into something alive—dynamic, joyful, new. it wasn’t about trying to recreate or replace what was…but about making space for what could be.

my heart is moreeeee than full. not because everything felt or is perfect…but because family made it…and constantly makes it…possible to laugh. to savor. and to heal. grief is still here, of course, but so is love. and oh boy…this year? love won. from mines to yourz—merry christmas. 💚

#christmas #holidaymagic #family #holidayseason #lifeafterloss #instagram #healingjourney #blackfamily

our freedom ain’t always a loud declaration. sometimes, in the quiet, it’s an uncomfortable confrontation with the parts of us that are still married to fear. the places we’ve hidden. the dreams we’ve stifled. the truths we’ve tucked away to survive.

for so many of us, this isn’t just personal. it’s generational. we carry luggages weighed down with the skeletons of what we’re told it means to be Black, man, woman. in a world that demands we contort ourselves for acceptance. sometimes, the hardest battle of gettin’ free isn’t solely against the systems outside us. it’s the fight to let go of the terror we’ve learned to unleash against ourselves.

what if we chose liberation? what if we stepped into the heat, knowing that the glow waiting for us on the other side…is worth it?

this is an altar call. to kneel down…and see yourself. to hold yourself accountable with grace. to untether from your plantation of expectations. to believe… you are worthy of being whole.

here’s to basking in the brilliance of you. 🌻
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio.

#instalove #writer #blackwomenwrite #spilledink #selfhealing #collectiveliberation #supportblackcreatives

oh don’t mind us. the hoochies just ending the year with joy, glorilla, laughter, and grinchmas fun.
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sometimes that’s all you need. breaking bread and creating memories. here’s to the people that are y(our) soft places to land, friends, and family. happy holidays. 🎄♥️💚

#grinchmas #freedom #connection #love #friends #holidayseason

the end of the year always brings even more reflection outta me. as i think about this year alone, i think about…how much i cried. i think about a moment back in may specifically. there was a storm coming and i didn’t care. i was overwhelmed, anxious, and i needed to be outside to move my body. with the rain coming, i was reminded of janie starks in Zora Neale Hurston’s “Their Eyes Were Watching God”. in the film’s final scene, janie (halle berry) runs after water. her face in the water first, then to the sky. and as she looks at the clouds…we hear the voice of her husband, Tea Cake (micheal ealy). he asks, “whatchu doin’ janie?”. to which she replies….”i’m watching god…”
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that scene stayed with me. water, in all its forms, has a way of calling us back to ourselves. the rush of rain. the flood of a storm. the unrelenting fall of tears. for janie, the water wasn’t just water. i think…it was a mirror. a reckoning. a baptism. a new beginning. it marked her liberation. and her surrender to the fullness of life and love, even when both had left her scarred.
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that day in may…i felt like janie. running to find something. to feel something. as the rain fell, so did my tears. and i didn’t stop them. i let them flow. because sometimes? sometimes you gotta pop out and… let what’s inside you spill over. no matter how messy. or no matter how inconvenient it feels.
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as i reflect on this year… i think about the storms we’ve all faced. the sunshine that (hopefully) came right after. and how…we’re still standing. we…survived. the tears we cry aren’t a sign of weakness but rather…our own lucky charms…for becoming. for peeling back the layers to discovering more of who we’re meant to be. free and unbound. unbowed. unbent. and for damn sure…unbroken.
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here’s to the storms, the tears, and the water that carries us toward freedom. and most importantly…here’s to the “janie”s in all of us. watching god. and… watching ourselves evolve.
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#igdaily #instalikes #writing #blackwriters #healingvibes #liberation #lifeafterloss #supportblackcreatives

in this chapter of my life, i spend my time writing about the complexities of Blackness. what it means to embody that reality in this country. how it’s all tied up in our health and what makes us well and free. and violence in our community. and also... how we commit violence against ourselves.
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there was a long time when i couldn’t see myself beyond the gaze of others. when i literally prayed to be pretty. to fit into the molds the world deemed worthy. i wanted to be admired, desired, chosen. but in all this seeking. seeking proximity to whiteness, to eurocentric beauty, to the expectations of who i was supposed to be…i was hiding from me. the real me.
it’s taken years to unlearn that the real betrayal wasn’t in not being enough for the world. it was in convincing myself that who i already was could never be enough for me. and that journey still isn’t “over” for me. it’s still…concurrent…with all of my other life paths. it’s just that now…i don’t pray to be anything else… other than MY version of solid. and to love what i see when i look in the mirror…without apology. to stand on my truth, my people, and my freedom.
and most importantly? to never again kill parts of myself to keep other people comfortable.
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this world will tell you who you need to be. but your liberation? that’s in remembering who you already are. do you know who you are?
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donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio.
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#liberation #truth #identity #collectiveliberation #youdeserve #wellness #beauty #instagram #writersofig #storiesmatter #healingjourney #selflovematters

grieve with me for a sec? 😞😤🥹♥️
what are you doing to honor the things you’ve lost?
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from my journals to you- letters to my papa- on the anniversary of his transition. December 6, 2022.
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grief has no manual. no roadmap. no guide to tell you when it’s time to stop screaming into the abyss. or whispering to the dead. the past two years…i’ve been both student and subject. writing my way through the wreckage of losing my grandfather + surrogate father. these letters are raw. they’re messy. they’re full of rage, regret, love, longing, and truths too heavy to carry in silence.
grief cracked me open. it dragged me through the shadows of suicidality, swung on my ass in the ache of loneliness, and mollywopped me numb and into exhaustion. and sometimes. well…a lot of times. joy snuck in, too. uninvited but necessary. a small reminder that life doesn’t stop even when it feels like it should.
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in this world that doesn’t give a damn about Black pain, i’m learning to sit with me and mines. to hold space for it. to scream when i need to. to shed when i must. to honor the rage, sorrow, AND the moments of hope and light. THIS is how i care for myself. THIS is my self-preservation.
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this post isn’t just a look into my grief though. it’s a critical gaze into the weight we carry in a world that denies us the right to mourn fully. it’s an unflinching reflection on the agony, resilience, and humanity…we’re often forced to suppress. for every person carrying loss in their hearts, caskets to the ground, and tattoos of loved ones we’ll never see again… what’s dead may never die. so, i hope you honor them. and i hope you honor your grief, too. give it a name. write it down. let it take up space. grief doesn’t have to break us. but it will change us. we should let it. over and over again…until we’re home again within ourselves.
✨

can you be faithful to you…even when you’re lost?
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for generations, we’ve been shackled. not just in body..but in the essence of who really are. what we’ve been told who to be. how to move. what to desire. how to love. we’ve folded ourselves into cages made by hands that use iron fists. and we forgot and/or neglect…we have the keys.
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here’s the thing about freedom. it doesn’t ask for permission. it whispers. then roars. then it dares us to ask: who am i…really? and what is it that I want? not what our parents told us to want. or what we heard from pulpits. not what keeps us safe. but what is our real…truth?
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i’m finding that the more we evolve and the more we are really honest with ourselves..our search for our truth is never…stable. we grow, and maybe it’s even messier. we meet new people, and maybe it gets a lil slippery. we experience new things and truth can be like water. shifting back and forth. flowing. refusing to be held in shape for too long.
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it’s terrifying to think when you ride truth’s wave though…you might ‘get it wrong’ (whatever ‘it’ is for you). to untether yourself from generations of “shoulds” and “supposed to’s.” but i think… despite everything we’ve been socialized to think/believe…we can choose what “wrong” is. there is only me. there is only you. we get to choose. not history. not insecurity. not patriarchy. not religion. and definitely…not fear.
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whoever is experiencing this season of unfolding with me, let’s be steadfast. let’s be patient. and… let’s let the storm clear the way. no matter how long it takes.
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#instawriters #writerscommunity #wordsofpower #blackidentity #embody #liberation #truth #identity #collectiveliberation #youdeserve #wellness

end of the month dump. november 2024.
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i could feel it. this month asked me to embody. to commit. to balance. i did my best to listen. through discomfort, i trusted. i tried to find solace within. i discovered patterns of my becoming and gave grace for my being. i said year 28 was all about “rebuilding”. and even with the salty and sweet days this month…i’m still growing. i’m still coming home to myself.
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i ain’t the same woman i was. it’s all love and fun here. 🧡

this time in 2022...was the last time i got a “piece of money” from my grandfather. it’s something he always did. sliding me money before i left home. nothing more than $20-$30 usually. thanksgiving ‘22, his vision slightly impaired, he offered me a 50. and i told him...”you sure? i’ll be back for christmas.” well...i was back for christmas. he just wasn’t.
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it’s thanksgiving. and the holidays just remind me of...what’s missing. papa. my uncles. my granny. and this being a now...fragmented family. it reminds me of change. and how much we’ve undergone the past couple of years. i miss everyone. i miss my grandfather. i miss the gatherings at my aunt shirley’s house. i miss traditions we never had.i miss...old versions of me. i still miss...who i was before grief.
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today…i’m letting myself feel it all. the love that lingers. the ache that sharpens. the gratitude that feels like a quiet thread…holding it all together. grief and gratitude. they go together real bad when you think about it. they sit side by side. uninvited guests at the table, both asking to be heard.
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if your heart feels full and fractured all at once…please. pretty please. know you’re not alone. make space for the memories, the tears, the silent prayers. let what’s missing…remind you of the love that still lives within you. and maybe. just maybe… the best thing we can do today is be. be messy, tender, grateful, grieving, and everything in between. sending love to you and yours. keep your hearts loaded. carrying both light and loss. love you.
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#instalove #thanksgiving #grief #griefjourney #healingjourney #lifeafterloss

✨ no one can validate us 24/7. that’s not their job…it’s ours. ✨
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some will choose to see only fragments of us. or previous versions of ourselves. holding on to their limited view. that’s fine. as long as you see yourself whole. as long as you hold yourself. as long as you…can always come back home to you.
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i pray we all take up space as we grow. as we question. as we unfold. let ourselves evolve without rushing to box in our identities. or abandon the truths we’re just beginning to hold.
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not everyone will choose us. our hopes. what we could be. or what we choose to embody. and it stings. sometimes…deeply. but rejection doesn’t rewrite our worth. or our journey towards freedom. feel it. process it. and remind yourself…you are more than someone’s half-hearted offering of crumbs. we deserve altars of love, authenticity, and reciprocity….because we are the feast. 🍞✨
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✨ donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio. 🙏🏽💫
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#instalove #writers #writerscommunity #wordsofwisdom #blackwomenwrite #affirmations #youdeserve

some days…the journey inward is a quiet rebellion. other days…it’s a loud revolt. against fear. against self-doubt. against the parts of me that despise…visibility. lately...i’ve been choosing to expand. to hold the messy, the tender, and the critical. with love. with safety. with…capability.

(for anyone else who needs it…you can do these things, too.)
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✨ donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio. 🙏🏽💫
. #igdaily #writersofinstagram #wordstoliveby #blackwriters #affirmations #collectiveliberation

in a world obsessed with big egos and bigger achievements, there are actually things i don’t want to accomplish. things i don’t want to strive for. things i don’t want to be proud of.

- self-abandoning
- being perfect
- ignoring grief
- overworking
- hoarding money
- gatekeeping love
- avoiding conflict
- escaping alone time
- leaving...over and over again

my real wins…are about staying true, staying still, staying authentic...witnessing myself…letting myself be seen. and most importantly…committing…to me. over and over.
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✨ donate (what you can) when it resonates and support my writing and content at ko-fi.com/adiarlouden. link in bio. 🙏🏽💫

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@adiarlouden

Writer. Researcher. Storyteller. Soul-Searcher.

I am not your average graduate student by day. I am not to be confined to boxes. I am a Black woman, mad woman, sad woman, bad woman, and everything else all at once. I believe Black women are the most overworked and exhausted people in the nation. Yet, still we rise everyday...to the occassion, to our jobs, families, and everything else but ourselves. So, I write Black women into existence. I help Black and Brown people leak onto pages. Bleed between fine print. And spill the emotions the rest of world tries to wipe away. I tell our stories. Welcome. Come on in. Stay a while. The wonderful photography, aesthetics, and Black people greeting your eyes on this site would not be possible without Black-owned businesses (One True Shot Photography is located in the Triangle Area of North Carolina) and Black and other photographers of Color on Unsplash (Obi at pixel6propix, Oladimeji Odunsi, Eduardo Gorghetto, Mike Von, Zach Vessels, and Inatimi Nathus).

Barbershop: A Short Story (re)Imagining Community-Based Interventions

Author’s Note: Thank you for taking the time to read my story. It means the world to me that you’ve shared in this vision of reimagining...

Mar 1118 min read

“It Ain’t Safe, It Ain’t Safe”: Community Violence, Perceptions of Safety, and Systemic and State Harm in Black Communities

DISCLAIMER: In writing this piece, I utilized AI assistance (ChatGPT) to help revise and generate additional ideas for clarity and...

Dec 28, 20246 min read

My Tiny Griefs & Me: Lessons Learned in Year 2 of Grieving

Writer’s Note: I don’t see a lot of Black people holding space for (or writing about) mourning. They’re a lot of white grief therapists...

Apr 21, 20247 min read

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Adia r. louden, mph

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Writer. Researcher. Storyteller. Soul-Searcher.

Barbershop: A Short Story (re)Imagining Community-Based Interventions

“It Ain’t Safe, It Ain’t Safe”: Community Violence, Perceptions of Safety, and Systemic and State Harm in Black Communities

My Tiny Griefs & Me: Lessons Learned in Year 2 of Grieving

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Follow Me Online!

Writer. Researcher. Storyteller. Soul-Searcher.

Barbershop: A Short Story (re)Imagining Community-Based Interventions

“It Ain’t Safe, It Ain’t Safe”: Community Violence, Perceptions of Safety, and Systemic and State Harm in Black Communities

My Tiny Griefs & Me: Lessons Learned in Year 2 of Grieving

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