It’s PRIDE y’all!

A time full of love, glitter, and rainbows. A collective celebration where we come together, uplift each other, and dare to live out loud. An invitation to be our most authentic selves, whatever that looks like.

This year, DC celebrated 50 years of Capital Pride, and baby, it gave what it needed to give! Music festivals, fun on every corner, and beautiful humans reminded me what we’re capable of when we come together. And guess what? June’s not over! We’re still in it!

But when the glamour fades and the music quiets, we’re often left to face the reality we carry year-round. Maybe the doubt creeps back in. The world, in all its mess, tries to pull us out of ourselves. Tries to convince us joy and pleasure are luxuries we must earn.

One may be asking themselves:

• Do I deserve to find joy?

• Am I worthy of experiencing pleasure?

• Do I think these are things that need to be earned?

Um…yes! F*ck YES! And a loud and rambunctious HELL to the NAW!

My relationship to joy and pleasure has been an interesting one, and honestly, it continues to be. I have no problem seeing the beauty in the world or finding joy in the little things. You could probably gauge my pleasure meter by how giddy I get over pretty much everything. But deep underneath the surface? There was guilt. Shame. Heavy emotions inherited from grind culture, purity culture, colonialism…all the systems of oppression that strip us of our joy. These systems weren’t designed for our freedom. They were built to mold us into something palatable. “Respectable.” Anything but our full, radiant, authentic selves.

Giving myself permission to show up as my authentic self is a daily battle. I have to remind myself that it is ok for me to feel alive. It is ok to be sensual. I AM Whole.

Pleasure is a radical act. It’s resistance. It’s reclamation. It’s joy as advocacy and joy as spirituality. It’s me arriving on my mat NOT to perfect a particular form, but to be present in that moment. To come home to myself as I am.

Yoga for My Whole, Neurospicy, Queer, Melanin-Blessed Self

When I say yoga, I don’t mean the asana centered version one may see in various studios or the media. I mean the healing, raw, practice of presence, connection, and liberation that has been passed down from our ancestors. Yoga is very personal to everyone. For me it shows up as:

• A deep exhale as I jiggle my thighs deepening my forward fold.

• A hip sway that produces a giggle.

• A slow breath that hushes the shame.

• A mantra with vibrations that wake my spirit.

My practice holds me. No need to mask. No need to shrink or hide. Just presence – starring me, embodying the messy and radiating the fierce.

The Sensual Practice: Body Scan for Pleasure & Power

If pleasure seems a bit distant, not to worry. This is a gentle way to call it back. Visualization and activating our senses will meet it halfway.

This practice is best done in a dimly lit room, preferably by candlelight.
The space should invite intimacy and comfort.

Suggested Items:
Soft music, blanket, body oils (butters and creams work as well), fruit, chocolate, beverage of choice, journal.

Settle into a comfortable seat – your mat, couch, bed, or favorite cozy chair will do just fine.
Close your eyes, or soften your gaze.
Take a slow breath in through your nose. Exhale through the nose humming “mmmm.”
Do this for three complete breath cycles honing in on the vibrations from your exhale.

Now drop into your body, one part at a time:

• Crown of the head: Do you feel any sensations here? Maybe there is awareness of the scent of your shampoo or hair cream? Do a light scalp massage to amplify those sensations.

• Jaw + lips: Do you notice any clenching? Take a deep breath in. On your exhale, soften. Maybe nibble on an available snack. Notice the sensations.

• Shoulders: Do you notice them greeting your ears, maybe holding a bit of tension? Take a deep breath in, rolling your shoulders forward and up. On your exhale, roll them back and down. Feel free to continue this for a few more breaths. Notice any feedback. Acknowledge it.

• Chest + belly: Place one hand on your belly, the other on your heart. Sit here and breathe naturally. Feel the rise of your belly. Feel the beating of your heart. Listen to your breathing. Is there anything in your heart that needs attention? Take note of it.

• Hips: Touch them. Notice any tension present. If you have room to do so, sway your hips by doing small pelvic circles. First in one direction, then the other. Stand and sway more if the energy calls for it. This is your power center. It knows what it needs.

• Thighs, knees, feet: Lightly massage. Honor them. Thank them. They have carried you through this world.

Now ask yourself:
Where in my body do I feel the tiniest spark of yumminess, ease, or curiosity?
Journal your response.

Pleasure Is Not a Luxury. It’s a Birthright.

This Pride Month, I am reminding myself to show myself grace. I’m not contorting myself to fit anyone’s expectations. I’m not shrinking to be digestible. I’m not masking my joy, and I for damn sure am not masking my tears. I am claiming Me. All of Me. 365 days of the year.

There is divinity in our practice no matter how we approach it. There is divinity in how we honor ourselves, how we see ourselves, how we show up in this world. There is divinity in all of us. It needs to shine brightly and with no shade. Authentic…for Us.

Remember that on this Sagittarius full moon.

Remember that the next time you feel like you don’t see yourself in this practice – it’s what you make it!
Remember that when someone tries to tell you who you are – they don’t know sh*t!
You know who you are. We all do.
The rest of the world will f*ck around and find out.

Your practice is yours. Your pleasure is yours.
Claim it.

Happy Pride, Beloveds.

There are days when my body feels like a brick wall I have to climb just to sit up.
Days when brushing my teeth feels like a heroic act.
Days when my anxiety is a silent scream, and depression wraps itself around me like wet wool.

And I’m supposed to be a yoga therapist.

It’s important to remember that healing is not linear. It’s not always graceful. It doesn’t always come with incense or playlists or perfectly timed exhales. Sometimes, it starts with a whisper:
“I’m still here.”

This new moon in Gemini brings the invitation to hold paradox: the light and the dark, the sacred and the messy, the teacher and the one who still struggles to breathe some mornings. And maybe that’s the real magic of yoga—not in the perfect forms, but in the moments we choose to stay.

The Practice: Stay With Me

One morning not long ago, I woke up heavy.
The weight in my chest made it hard to breathe, like I’d been crying in my sleep.
I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to feel. I didn’t want to do anything that even sounded like “self-care.”

But I could feel my nervous system begging for relief.

So I rolled onto my side. I pulled the blanket over my head like a cocoon. And I breathed.

Not the deep, luxurious yogic breath you see practiced on YouTube or TikTok.
Just a ragged inhale, and a tired exhale. Again. And again.

Then I placed one hand on my belly and one on my heart.
It was simple. I whispered to myself,
“You don’t have to be okay. You just have to be here.”

That was my yoga that day.

Yoga Is Not Performance

I want to be honest about this:
Yoga, for me, isn’t always a mat practice.
It’s not handstands or sun salutations or chanting Sanskrit at sunrise (unless that’s what you need, of course).

Sometimes, yoga is crying in Child’s Pose.
Sometimes it’s rocking gently in bed, trying to find my breath.
Sometimes it’s saying no to the world and yes to five more minutes of stillness.

Yoga is the return.
It’s the moment I remember that I still exist inside this body—and that my body is not the enemy.

A Tiny Practice for the Dark Days

If you’re in the middle of a hard day, here’s a practice that’s held me when nothing else could:

The “Still Here” Sequence (5 minutes or less)

• Lie down wherever you are—on the bed, on the floor, under the covers.

• Place one hand on your chest, one on your belly.

• Close your eyes if you feel safe. Otherwise, soften your gaze.

• Breathe however you can. No judgment. Shallow is okay. Quiet is okay.

• Whisper: “I’m still here.”

Stay as long as you need. Or get up.
Either way, you showed up for yourself.

That’s yoga. That’s enough.

New Moon Reflection

Gemini energy can feel like a flurry of thoughts and contradictions. But it also reminds us that we can hold more than one truth:

I am tired, and I am worthy.
I feel lost, and I want to heal.
I am messy, and I am sacred.

Here are a few gentle journal prompts for this moon:

• What dualities are present in me right now?

• Where can I practice self-acceptance, not self-improvement?

• What truth have I been whispering beneath the noise?

You’re Not Alone

If no one has told you lately:
It’s okay to feel like sh*t.
It doesn’t mean you’re failing. It doesn’t mean you’re broken.

You’re still you. You’re still worthy. You’re not alone.

I see you. I am you.
And I’m rooting for both of us.

Hi!

I’m a clinically depressed, anxious, ADHD-having yoga therapist with critically low self-esteem.

That’s the truth.

I’ve been trying to write something for a while now, but nothing felt right. I kept trying to make it prettier, or more profound, or useful. Something with an arc, a solution, a takeaway.

But today, under this May full moon, I’m simply here—messy, unsure, but present.

I’ve always found myself frozen when it comes to sharing publicly. Vulnerability sounds beautiful in theory, but the moment I sit down to write, I feel the old fears creeping in:
What if I’m too much? What if people see the cracks? What if my truth scares them away?

A short time ago, I told myself I was ready to start blogging again. I set up a new domain, found a clean theme, and made a plan to post regularly. I started off with intention. And then… I stopped. I froze.

I think it happened when I wrote a post about my self-esteem. It felt too raw, too close to the bone. Sharing it meant shattering the image I had been clinging to: the strong one, the wise one, the teacher with answers.

But the truth is—I don’t always have answers. I have questions. And fears. And trauma. And grief. I also have joy, laughter, magic, and healing tools that have helped me survive all of it.

This is where I’m at:
Wobbly. Real. Soft.
Trying to live honestly while still figuring it out.

Journal Prompts I’m Exploring Right Now

🪷What am I accepting about myself or my situation right now?
🪷How am I dealing with the things I can’t control?
🪷What is helping me feel grounded or alive today?
🪷How am I tending to my emotional, physical, mental, and spiritual bodies?
🪷What tiny thing brought me joy this week?

I don’t know if this post will resonate with anyone. I don’t even know if I’m writing it “right.” But I’m giving myself permission to just be here. To be honest. To be human.

I’ve spent years learning how to manage my inner world through yoga, spirituality, ritual, dance, and other healing arts—not as a cure, but as a way to stay with myself. I’ll be sharing those tools here. Not as a teacher above you, but as a fellow traveler beside you.

If you’re also tired, scared, healing, neurodivergent, curious, queer, kinky, melanin blessed, or just trying to find your footing—welcome. You’re in the right place.

Things You’ll Find in This Space

🧘🏾 Yoga That Goes Beyond Forms
📓 Journal Prompts for Inner Exploration
🪄 Rituals for Everyday Magic
🌈 Queer, Neurospicy, and Poly-Affirming Reflections
🎭 The Messy Middle of Growth
✨ Soft Tools for Hard Times

This blog is a work in progress, just like me. But I’m showing up. That’s something.

Thanks for being here.