Entry 10: From Surviving To Thriving

Prompt: The moment I realized I was no longer surviving… but actually beginning to live.” You can approach it from a single moment — something seemingly small, like laughing without guilt, resting without apology, or trusting someone and letting it feel good. Or from a slow realization — like when your joy stopped needing to be earned, or when you made peace with who you used to be.

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I think I eased into the land of living when, in 2021, surprisingly, in the midst of the pandemic. I was 21, still unsure about a lot of things, and still worrying about all things, but I felt like I’d lay my hustle down and set it aside.

Me surviving is me hustling — to get through the day, to check off the to-dos and the expectations, and carry multiple loads that reach the heavens. It’s the nights I plop into bed feeling mentally exhausted, with each ounce of my bones aching in fatigue. Then it’s waking up the next day and doing it all over. 

Living was the bit of calmness I felt in slowing down — true, I didn’t really choose to, I had to — but I enjoyed it. 

Living was taking a virtual Creative Writing class during last semester of college and wondering why haven’t I done this before? Joy emerged from coaxing myself from the comforts of short stories and dipping my feet into poetry. Not the poetry I grew up reading, that may be iconic, but lacked connection to where we’re at now, at least where I was at. The poems I created back then surprised me, and I praised myself because I didn’t think I had it in me. I didn’t think I could or that I was capable.

I proved myself wrong. 

And now I don’t shy away from poetry. I know it doesn’t have to be like the Greats before me. It can look different, sound different. It doesn’t need to be structured in a certain way, or contain a rhyming scheme. It’s that flexible creativity that I always felt was lacking way back then, now in 2021, it all clicked and infused my own. Now, I have that in my writer’s toolkit, and I bring it out even then and know. 

One of my favorite discoveries in that class was braids poems, followed by definition poems. The braid poem mixed poetry with storytelling in a way I’ve never done before. My first braid poem was about my black hair — first, what it looks like Monday to Friday, the days I spent as a child getting it braided, and the big chop when I was 18. All reflecting my relationship with my black hair. It’s discoveries like this that brought me joy. 

Oh yeah — where was I again? 

Living is setting my hustle aside, realizing it served me well when it needed to be, and allowing it to manifest in different ways: a healthy drive, a pursuit for excellence and not perfection, and getting things done.

Living is unleashing the creativity within me that speaks louder than any word I could ever speak. 

Living is turning inward to tend to the needs that have long been ignored, or silence — still working on that, but that in itself is healing, don’t you think? 

And I say that with a touch of guilt, but honestly, it's because I didn’t know better or see any other way in between the hustle to survive. 

But I’ve always believed that once you know better, you do better, and that’s the kind of life I’m trying to live. 

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Note: Lessons from My 20s is A reflective series by Black Bonnet Girls. Lessons from My 20s is a journal-style series capturing the unfiltered truths, tender moments, and tiny awakenings that come with growing up and growing into yourself.  These entries are for anyone who’s ever felt stuck between who they’ve been and who they’re becoming. For the overthinkers, the late bloomers, the quiet dreamers, and the loud feelers. Through storytelling, reflection, and honesty, I hope this space becomes a soft landing—for me and for you.