In honor of Women’s History Month, I dedicated March on MEL À LA MODE to being all things female, but as usual, life had a curveball twisting around in it’s hand.

I lost it, and by ‘it’ I mean my mojo - my inspiration and inclination to express myself. I’m used to losing one at a time and just thuggin’ it until I get back on track, but this time I lost both. I thought, THAT’S IT. I’M WASHED OUT. I’M GOING TO HAVE TO STOP WRITING FOREVER…and then I stopped being so dramatic and took a seat. Sometimes it’s better to look at things from afar because staring at them up close for too long causes blurred vision.


In an effort to loosen up I went out dancing last Saturday and was unexpectedly approached by a few women. They wanted to meet me. I thought, “why?” I want to meet Oprah for obvious reasons, but why would some random young women want to meet me? Their reasons were synonymous…

“I love reading your blog”
“You inspire me”
“You’ve changed my life”

I had been there before. I had been at this exact moment where I wanted to give up after being drained by life, but was pinched by it shortly thereafter. Not like a bully pinches you, but kind of how your grandmother pinches you to remind you of your posture. This time was just as bewildering as the first and further solidified that the joke’s on me. I’d been slouching and needed to stand straight, not only for my own stance, but to keep the women (and men) who read my site upright. To keep them aware, consoled, reassured and enlightened.

So I went home and back-tracked.

What’s going on?

What had I learned?

How can I make sense of this problem?

I still don’t know the answer to most of these questions, but only one thing stuck out to me: I am transitioning.

It sounds simple enough to the irreflective mind, but it’s much more complex than most take it.

Humans go through changes, both physical and mental, in their maturation. But we also transition. We wake up and we’re different entities than we were when we woke up the day before. We meet and surround ourselves with diverse people in different environments and experience an array of situations. These aspects influence our decisions, and like the universe’s clay, we are molded. Whether we choose to notice or not, we shape-shift. Fortunately and unfortunately for me, I always choose to notice.

My mother has always given it to me straight. Growing up, she assured me that all the “your twenties are the best times of your life” talk was half bullshit. From an early age, she made sure that I knew that my twenties would come with more than just experimenting with haircuts and dealing with growing body parts. She assured me that it was nothing to be afraid of. I would be alright if I listened to myself, but everything would change thoroughly. It’s April 1st, 2015 and all I can attest to is that sooner or later, we all quote our mothers. She was right. I feel different. I won’t go into detail about the physical aspects of all this because…weird…but my brain is a different brain. The brain is essentially the nucleus of the body, so it’s normal that I feel like I’m a different person. I’ve been many versions of myself, versions I’ve been able to become familiar with and take out to the mall for new clothes or to have coffee, but this one is almost like waking up with a Siamese twin. I’m transitioning into a completely different woman than the one I thought I would be by now.

This is an ode to transitioning; from one version of yourself to the next. It’s inevitable and forces you to take a look at the endless piles of expectations and guidelines you had for yourself at a certain age and burn them. Don’t succumb to feelings of inferiority and worthlessness. Learn to dance around the fire you started rather than sit and stare at it.

Bear that pinch from the universe. Look within yourself. Start that fire. Get to dancing. Dance your way to self-fulfillment. It’s there. Don’t worry - I’m looking for it with you.

Art by unknown artist.