Soft Life, Sharp Tongue: My Summer Recap

Real Talk Vol. 3

Summer 2025 wasn’t just hot, it was a seasonal reset.

The kind of summer that burns through illusions and peels back layers.

The kind that doesn’t ask for your permission, it just changes you.

Let’s start with the good stuff:

I celebrated my 28th birthday like the grown, glowing, don’t-play-with-me version of myself that I’ve become. No more shrinking. No more questioning. I showed up for me, and honestly? I looked damn good doing it.

But don’t get it twisted this summer wasn’t just sunscreen and sunsets.

There was some real-life bullshit too.

The kind that made me stand up for myself out loud.

I created distance where peace felt impossible.

I stopped making excuses for people who only showed up halfway.

I said what needed to be said even if it shifted the energy in the room.

I no longer avoid discomfort. I just prioritize clarity over chaos.

I completed trauma therapy. That chapter is closed.

Now I’m learning how to manage anxiety in real time without losing myself in the process.

It’s not always graceful. Sometimes it’s just me, spiraling in silence, followed by a pep talk in the mirror and a skincare routine that deserves its own award.

Speaking of skin…

I had a major breakout this summer, and this wasn’t a cute little stress pimple either.

It was giving “life is lifing” all over my face.

Shoutout to my anxiety, and my husband because both of them took turns stressing me out.

Marriage taught me things I didn’t expect.

About myself. About love. About how silence can feel louder than words.

I won’t get into the details (not today), but let’s just say: I see everything now.

And I won’t unsee it.

On a lighter note, I lost weight.

Not for anyone else. Not because of a goal. Just… because stress, grief, and boundaries will do that to you.

But the body? She’s giving.

Still soft, still strong, still showing up.

This summer reminded me that healing isn’t just journaling and deep breaths.

It’s confrontation. It’s walking away. It’s breaking out, breaking down, and still getting up the next day to romanticize your life.

I’m proud of this version of me.

She’s composed and unapologetic. She’ll pray for you and block you in the same hour.

She wears her red hair like a crown.

She knows what she’s worth.

So if your summer was more survival than vacation?

If it looked nothing like your Pinterest board?

That’s okay.

Maybe this was the summer you met yourself again.

The real you.

The loud, soft, fearless, flawed you.

Hold on to her.

–C