Sessi. Dancing Corners

Tag: rootedlife

  • My Body Needed the Pause: Yoga at Bryant Park

    My Body Needed the Pause: Yoga at Bryant Park

    I’ve been working nonstop lately with extra Saturdays because work is very short-staffed. Helping people get the right things done is important, but if you don’t give yourself the same care, burnout will come faster than you expect.

    No one wants to feel burnt out and do the same thing over and over again.

    I’m all for breaking the daily routine because I rarely use my PTO, and I almost never call out of work unless I’m really sick. So on June 3rd, 2026, I took a free yoga class at Bryant Park in New York City.

    The class started at 6 p.m., but I left right after work and headed straight to the bus. First stop: Juice Generation for the Blue Beauty Smoothie . It was delicious, and I’ll always support them.

    After that, I headed to MoMA to see the Frida and Diego exhibition. But, you know me your girl got lost before finding the location. Classic side quest behavior.

    I was on a time crunch, so I told myself I would go next time because I wanted a good spot for yoga. This year, Halara sponsored the event, and they had KeVita drinkable yogurt and Solely organic mango and guava fruit gummies. I got both and found a good spot for class.

    It was hot in New York, but I was able to relax during the class, and honestly, I needed it. I still think it’s interesting that they had influencers at a free event. New York has so many influencers now that it sometimes feels like they randomly pop up everywhere, telling you about the next viral restaurant or place to go.

    Anyway, it was a beautiful summer day to do yoga in the park, and it was exactly what I needed. I love a city reset.

    The next day, I was so tired at work and honestly, that told me everything. The reset worked. My body needed the pause, my mind needed the city, and I needed one small reminder that I’m allowed to step outside my routine and come back to myself.

  • Why I’m Done Explaining My Softness


    I still believe in grace. I just finally believe I deserve some too

    I used to think being soft meant I had to constantly prove I wasn’t weak. That if I cared too much, forgave too easily, or tried to understand people before judging them, I somehow had to explain myself. I had to make sure people knew I wasn’t naive, wasn’t blind, and wasn’t letting things slide because I didn’t see them.

    But the truth is, I saw everything. I felt everything. I just chose grace more times than people deserved it.

    And lately, I’ve realized my softness was never the problem. The problem was thinking I had to defend it to people who only understood kindness when they could benefit from it.

    My experience with softness has always been complicated. I’ve always been someone who feels deeply, listens closely, and tries to understand where people are coming from. I give people room. I give second chances. I try to see the good before I assume the worst.

    But over time, I started realizing that not everyone knows how to respect softness. Some people mistake it for permission. They think because you’re kind, you won’t get tired. Because you’re forgiving, you won’t notice patterns. Because you understand them, they don’t have to understand you back.

    I’ve made excuses for people who stopped showing up the way I needed them to. I’ve overlooked being dismissed, being treated like an afterthought, and being asked for more than I should have had to give. Whether it was someone not making time, constantly needing something from me, asking for money, or not caring about my position in it all, I kept trying to understand.

    I told myself maybe they were overwhelmed, maybe they didn’t mean it, maybe this was just temporary.

    But when something becomes a pattern, it stops being a one-time thing.

    That’s the part that changed me.

    I started realizing that some people get too comfortable with your grace. They assume you’ll always be there. They assume you’ll always understand. They assume you’ll keep bailing them out emotionally, mentally, or even financially, while barely considering what it costs you.

    And that hurts.

    It hurts when you value the friendship or connection more than they do. It hurts when you keep extending understanding while quietly feeling unseen. It hurts when you’re giving grace to people who can’t seem to give you basic consideration in return.

    That’s when I started learning that softness needs boundaries.

    Being soft does not mean shrinking your hurt so someone else can stay comfortable. It does not mean translating disrespect into “they didn’t mean it.” It does not mean overextending yourself just because you have a good heart.

    Sometimes, the softest thing you can do for yourself is stop explaining, stop overgiving, and let people meet the version of you who still has a heart but finally has a line.

    I still believe in grace. I just finally believe I deserve some too.

    I’m not less soft now. I’m just less available to people who confuse softness with weakness.

  • Being Too Understanding

    Being Too Understanding


    Learning that grace should not cost me myself.

    I’ve always been the kind of person who tries to understand everyone.

    Their silence. Their distance. Their bad timing. Their moods. Their excuses. Their “I didn’t mean it like that.” I can see ten different sides of a situation before I even let myself feel my own.

    And for a long time, I thought that made me kind.

    Maybe it did. But lately, I’ve been realizing something uncomfortable: sometimes when you’re too understanding, people start forgetting that you have feelings too.

    They get used to your grace. They assume you’ll always make room for them, even when they stop making room for you. They expect you to understand why they couldn’t show up, why they didn’t call, why they were too busy, too tired, too overwhelmed, too whatever.

    And because you’ve always been soft about it, they forget that softness still gets bruised.

    That weight gets exhausting.

    People really do forget about you altogether when they get used to you being the one who always understands. I’m talking from experience, and I still don’t change easily. I know life is lifing. I know everyone has things going on. I know people are tired, overwhelmed, distracted, and doing the best they can.

    But I also realize I’ve been too soft about myself for too long.

    I’ve let people pick other people over me and stayed quiet. I’ve watered myself down so I wouldn’t seem like too much. I’ve done the work in friendships, love, and even some family matters where I kept giving people the benefit of the doubt while ignoring how much it was hurting me.

    And here’s the thing: I don’t think those people are always bad people.

    I think sometimes people get comfortable taking from the person who never makes it hard for them. They get comfortable with the person who always says, “It’s okay,” even when it’s not. They get used to the person who forgives quickly, understands deeply, and rarely asks for much back.

    But being understanding should not mean being forgotten.

    Being kind should not mean being available for emotional leftovers.

    Being patient should not mean waiting forever for people to realize you matter.

    I can be understanding and still have boundaries.

    I can love people and still expect effort.

    I can know life gets hard and still admit when someone has hurt me.

    I can give grace without abandoning myself in the process.

    That’s the part I’m learning now. I don’t have to become cold. I don’t have to stop caring. I don’t have to turn into someone I’m not just because people didn’t know how to appreciate the softer version of me.

    But I do have to stop making excuses for people who keep making me feel small.

    I have to stop confusing empathy with self-abandonment.

    I have to stop carrying the weight of relationships where I’m the only one trying to understand.

    Because the truth is, I deserve the effort too. I deserve to be considered. I deserve people who don’t just assume I’ll be fine because I’ve always found a way to be.

    I’m still going to be understanding. That’s part of who I am.

    But I’m learning that understanding other people should never come at the cost of losing myself.

    And maybe that’s the real lesson: I can have a soft heart without being easy to overlook.

  • 3 Life Lessons My Mother Taught Me Without Even Trying

    3 Life Lessons My Mother Taught Me Without Even Trying

    My mother is one of the most selfless people I know.

    She loves with an open heart and giving hands, and in return, she has taught me what it means to love other people. Not just when it’s easy. Not just when life is perfect. But through the hard parts, the sacrifices, and the moments where you have to keep going even when you’re tired.

    Even though my mom did not have the easiest childhood, she never let that stop her from raising my brother, my sister, and me differently. She gave us what she never had, but in her own way. My mom made sure we went on vacations. She made sure my brother and sister stopped being bullied. She made sure we went to good schools. She fought for our education so we could learn better and not feel stuck.

    She did all of this while going to school to become a nurse and working. That alone taught me resilience. Watching her work hard, push through, and still show up for us taught me that I can have a lot on my plate and still reach my goals.

    I admire that about her. I admire her strength. I admire her heart. I admire the way she kept going.

    My mom also taught me gratitude and positivity. She taught me to appreciate what I have because tomorrow is never guaranteed. She taught us manners and all the little things that come with being kind, respectful, and thoughtful.

    She also taught us the importance of family.

    Growing up, we went to two different churches. On Sundays, my titi would come over, or we would go to her house. Both sides of the family showed me what it means to stay connected, to show up, and to value the people who love you.

    The last lesson my mom taught me is kindness and empathy.

    She taught me to choose kindness when I can. To forgive others. To help when someone needs it. To understand that life is too short to carry every heavy thing forever. You never know what life will take from you, give to you, or teach you along the way.

    I thank my mom, and I adore her.

    I hope she never feels underappreciated. I hope she gets to live her life fully and know how much she has given to us, not just by what she did, but by who she is.

    Because the truth is, my mother didn’t just teach me lessons.

    She became them.

  • The View Was Worth the Detour

    The View Was Worth the Detour

    I booked The Edge with my friend because I wanted to see everything New York had to offer from way up high. And honestly? The view was amazing.

    But let me rewind to how we even got to that moment.

    On Saturday, I had to work my usual Saturday shift, but I got to work with my brother, which always makes the day more fun. After work, we went home for a bit before heading out to meet my cousin and her boyfriend. They balance each other very well very cute together and it was nice getting to spend a little time with family before the city adventure officially began.

    Then came the rain.

    And New York has a full blown love affair with rain. I swear I am always there when it’s raining. There’s this saying about “rain writes stories sun could never tell,” and that stuck with me as I stepped into my new decade and made my way through the city.

    I took the walk to my friend’s apartment while it was still raining, slightly lost in the process, but somehow enjoying it anyway. There’s something about New York in the rain that feels chaotic, cinematic, and weirdly comforting all at once.

    Finally, I made it to my friend’s apartment after Google Maps decided to send me on a little detour before actually letting me arrive. Classic. We grabbed soup dumplings and fried rice at Nan Xiang, which is one of my favorite spots in New York.

    Because nothing says “rainy city adventure” like getting a little lost, finding your people, and rewarding yourself with dumplings.

    Saturday was the detour. Sunday was the view

    The next day was when the real Edge adventure happened.

    On Sunday, we went to Starbucks Reserve before heading to The Edge. And let me just say: espresso martini flights? A dangerous little blessing. We tried different flavors from ube to matcha, the original, and more and it felt like the perfect pre adventure stop.

    We sat, sipped, laughed, and had one of those good conversations about life that makes you realize how much you needed the moment. Sometimes the best part of a day isn’t even the big plan itself, but the little pockets of honesty and connection before you get there.

    After Starbucks Reserve, we headed to The Edge to finally take in the scenery. Seeing New York from that high up was unreal. The city looked endless buildings, lights, movement, stories everywhere. We took pictures, talked to some of the people who worked there, and just let ourselves enjoy being tourists for a little while.

    And honestly? Sometimes that’s the best way to experience New York with a friend, a loose plan, a little caffeine, a little chaos, and a view that reminds you how big life can still feel.

    After that, we headed home, tired but happy, with pictures, memories, and another New York story added to the collection.

    Maybe that’s what I loved most about the weekend. It reminded me that even when the plan shifts, the rain starts, or the map takes you the long way, there can still be something beautiful waiting at the top

  • What Cherry Blossoms Taught Me About Life

    What Cherry Blossoms Taught Me About Life

    I’ve loved cherry blossoms for as long as I can remember but I didn’t realize why until life got hard.

    Since I was 18, and even into my mid 20s, I’ve always had a thing for cherry blossoms.

    To me, they represent beauty, new beginnings, and the importance of living in the present moment. Their bloom is short and sweet, and maybe that’s what makes them so special. They remind me that life is fleeting, and that there’s something sacred about appreciating what’s in front of you while it’s here.

    Even though I don’t always get to see them in person as much as I’d like, when I do whether I’m on a run, out for a walk, or just passing by I really take them in.

    Because before you know it, they’re gone.

    And honestly? I think that’s part of why I love them so much.

    There’s something about seeing cherry blossoms when life feels heavy that just does something to you. When you’re spiraling, doubting yourself, or feeling like you’re not enough… and then you look up and see those soft pink blooms, it feels like a little glimpse of hope staring back at you.

    Like life is quietly saying:

    You’re going to be okay.

    There was a point in my life where I really needed that reminder.

    I was spiraling.

    I wasn’t feeling good enough.

    I felt like no one was willing to take a chance on me.

    And on top of that, life just kept piling on.

    I was grinding through so much and carrying it quietly because I didn’t want to burden my family or friends. So instead, I found little ways to pour back into myself. I went to New York. I took dance classes. I walked through parks. I found small moments that made me feel grounded again.

    And oh boy… did it work.

    It gave me confidence.

    A new perspective.

    A little spark in me that I thought I had lost.

    Just like cherry blossoms symbolize, I had to shed a little of myself to come back to life. Not lose who I was just let go of what was weighing me down so I could find my way back to me.

    Now, whenever I see cherry blossoms, I don’t just see something beautiful.

    I see hope.

    I see growth.

    I see perspective.

    I see a reminder that life can still surprise you in soft ways.

    And every single year, they bring me back to something I always say to myself and to anyone I end up talking to about life:

    Every year is an upgrade.

    Because you are not the same person you were last year.

    You are who you are in this moment.

    And that version of you matters too.

    So appreciate the moment.

    Take it in.

    Let yourself bloom while you’re here.

    Just like the cherry blossoms

  • 35 and Becoming

    35 and Becoming

    I’ve lived 35 years, and I’m still becoming.

    Not in a rushing, fixing, dramatic kind of way but in a quiet, rooted way.

    A way that stays.

    I don’t need to be more.

    I just need to keep becoming more of myself.

    This birthday doesn’t feel like a reset.

    It feels like a return.

    A return to the parts of me I abandoned when I thought I had to be perfect to be loved.

    A return to softness after years of survival.

    A return to beauty not the curated kind, but the real kind.

    The unmade-beds kind. Morning coffee. Laughing somewhere with friends.

    I don’t have all the answers, but here’s what I do know at 35:

    Life is messy.

    You’ll cry while working out at the gym with your friend or at the bar.

    You’ll laugh in the kitchen during deep conversations on nights you stay in.

    You’ll forget your worth, then remember it like a firework.

    You’ll lose people who swore they’d never leave only to realize you were doing all the heavy lifting. And yes… it’ll happen more than once.

    But then, you’ll find peace in unexpected places.

    New York.

    A dance class.

    South Carolina while visiting a friend.

    Mexico.

    Mexico City while visiting your uncle.

    Italy

    Spain

    And somewhere along the way, the glow-up happens but it’s internal.

    It shows up in how you respond.

    How you pause before reacting.

    How you protect your peace even when it would be easier to self-destruct.

    It shows up after two years of therapy.

    After learning how to communicate better.

    After choosing healthier bonds with friends, family, and whoever is brave enough to take a real risk on you.

    Now, I find joy in the small things.

    Coffee runs.

    Slow mornings.

    Loud dinners.

    Spontaneous photoshoots.

    Walking aimlessly through New York because I don’t want to go home just yet.

    I’ve also learned this:

    You can love your life and still long for more.

    You can be grateful and still hungry.

    You can be more than one thing at once.

    You don’t have to follow anyone else’s timeline only your own.

    If it feels right to me, that’s what matters.

    I met the most down-to-earth dancers, entertainers, and creatives in New York during my mid and late twenties. It felt community based. Real. Appreciated. And I’m grateful I experienced that because now, I know what genuine connection looks like.

    Thirty five isn’t the finish line.

    It’s the soft middle.

    It’s where I stop performing and start embodying.

    Where I hustle less for love and trust it more.

    Where I know who I am just a little less shy, and a lot more hopeful.

    Here’s to not apologizing for who I’ve become.

    To loving louder.

    Resting deeper.

    Laughing easier.

    Letting things unfold naturally.

    I am so ready for you, 35.