If I’m Honest Is Here: What Healing Taught Me About Choosing Myself

Whew.

I wrote another book, y’all.

And If I’m Honest is officially out in the world.

Even typing that feels a little wild because this book came from a version of me who was trying to figure out what life looked like after disappointment, heartbreak, change, grief, and realizing that some things I desperately wanted were simply not meant to come with me into my next chapter.

If I’m honest, no pun intended, I didn’t know all of this was going to turn into a book. I was just writing. Writing through the silence. Writing through the questions. Writing when I was angry. Writing when I finally had clarity. Writing when God was showing me things about myself that I probably would have preferred not to see. 😂

And somewhere in all of that writing, I started meeting myself again.

Not the version of me who could tolerate anything. Not the version who thought being understanding meant having unlimited grace for everybody except herself. Not the version who made herself smaller so other people could remain comfortable.

Me.

The woman underneath all of that.

Healing Didn’t Look Like I Thought It Would

Healing wasn’t me sitting around waiting until I magically felt better. It looked like therapy. It looked like boundaries. It looked like prayer. It looked like being quiet long enough to hear myself think. It looked like accepting that closure doesn’t always come with an apology or explanation.

But healing also started looking like living.

I started creating again. I picked up watercolor paint. I made jewelry. I danced. I traveled. I took photographs. I joined a writing community. I tried new things simply because they sounded interesting.

And somehow, in one of the hardest seasons of my life, my creativity came alive.

That part still gets me.

Because sometimes we think healing means getting back to who we were before something happened.

I don’t want to go back.

I like who I’m becoming.

And Then There Was If I’m Honest

This is probably the most vulnerable book I’ve written. There are essays. There are interludes. There are pieces of my story that required me to sit with myself and ask, Girl, are we really putting this in the book?

Apparently, the answer was yes. 😂

So congratulations.

This is your opportunity to get all up in my business.

But underneath the humor is something much deeper. I wrote If I’m Honest because I know I’m not the only person who has had to rebuild. I’m not the only woman who has loved deeply and then had to learn how to pour some of that love back into herself.

I’m not the only person who has had plans fall apart and wondered, Okay, God…now what?

And I’m definitely not the only person who has discovered that sometimes the life waiting on the other side of disappointment looks nothing like the life we originally prayed for.

Sometimes it looks different.

And sometimes, different turns out to be beautiful.

🎥 Watch Me Read From If I’m Honest

  

In this video, I’m sharing a little piece of If I’m Honest, talking about what this book means to me, and saying thank you to everyone who has supported me along the way.

And yes, I misspoke in the video. I’m an ’80s baby who was raised in the ’90s. Y’all knew what I meant. 😂 I wasn’t recording it again!

The Silence Became Sacred

There was a time when silence felt uncomfortable to me.

Now?

The silence became sacred.

It gave me room to hear God. It gave me room to hear myself. It gave me room to stop chasing answers and start paying attention to what my life was teaching me.

Eventually, I stopped asking how I could get my old life back.

I started asking:

What can I create with the life I have now?

Apparently, quite a bit.

A book. Art. Joy. Peace. New experiences. A softer relationship with myself.

And I’m just getting started.

Thank You

To everybody who has read Brown Girl From Boston over the years, purchased one of my books, shared one of my posts, sent me a message, encouraged my creativity, prayed for me, or simply quietly rooted for me: thank you.

Seriously.

I don’t take any of it for granted.

And above everything else, I give thanks to the Most High for the gift of writing. For giving me something to say. For allowing me to turn pain into purpose without pretending the pain never happened. For reminding me that an ending doesn’t mean God is finished writing the story.

So today, I’m celebrating.

Not just because I published another book.

I’m celebrating because I stayed the course.

I kept living. I kept healing. I kept creating. I kept praying.

And I kept becoming.

If I’m Honest is officially here.

Come get all up in my business. 😂🤎📖

And maybe somewhere inside my story, you’ll recognize a little bit of your own.

Peace, Love, and Light,

Drea

📖 Get Your Copy of If I’m Honest

If I’m Honest: Essays on Truth, Healing, Love, and Becoming is available now.

The Art of Choosing Myself

                An excerpt from my upcoming essay collection, If I'm Being Honest

There comes a point in life when you realize you've spent more time waiting than living.

Waiting for the right season.
Waiting for the right relationship.
Waiting until you feel ready.
Waiting for permission to fully embrace the life that's already yours.

For years, I believed joy would arrive someday—that life would truly begin once everything fell into place. Healing taught me something different. It reminded me that life isn't something we postpone until the circumstances are perfect. It's unfolding every single day.

The Art of Choosing Myself is one of the most personal essays in my upcoming collection, If I'm Being Honest, because it tells the story of what happened when I stopped waiting and started living.

I hope these words encourage you to embrace the life you have today while trusting God with the life you're still praying for.

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There was a time when I believed joy had to be shared to be real.

I thought the best meals were meant to be eaten across from someone else.

The best concerts were meant to be experienced hand in hand.

The best vacations require company.

The best memories needed witnesses.

Then life taught me something unexpected.

Some of the most beautiful moments of my life happened when it was just me.

After years of surviving, grieving, rebuilding, and waiting for life to feel "normal" again, I stopped postponing my happiness.

I stopped waiting for someone to accompany me before I experienced joy.

Instead, I started asking myself a different question:

"What would make me feel alive today?"

Sometimes the answer was simple.

A walk through an art festival.

A concert under the stars.

A museum.

A solo road trip.

A quiet dinner.

A candle-making class.

Taking photographs of places that made me pause.

Watching people dance.

Laughing with strangers.

Buying myself flowers just because.

None of those moments were extraordinary by themselves.

But together, they became something sacred.

They became evidence that my life was happening now—not someday.

For years, I unknowingly postponed joy.

"I'll do that when I'm married."

"I'll go there when I have someone."

"I'll celebrate after I accomplish this."

Healing reminded me that life is not a waiting room.

It is happening every single day.

I realized I wasn't learning how to be alone.

I was learning how to enjoy my own company.

There's a difference.

Being alone can feel like absence.

Enjoying your own company feels like freedom.

The more I chose myself, the less I needed external validation to enjoy my life.

I became curious again.

Creative again.

Playful again.

I started saying yes to experiences instead of excuses.

I wandered through festivals with my camera.

I explored cities I'd never seen before.

I laughed out loud with no audience.

I created memories that belonged entirely to me.

And somewhere along the way...

I stopped feeling like I was waiting for my life to begin.

It already had.

One of the greatest gifts healing gave me wasn't confidence.

It was permission.

Permission to stop waiting.

Permission to stop apologizing for taking up space.

Permission to enjoy the life God had already given me.

Today, choosing myself doesn't look selfish.

It looks like stewardship.

It looks like honoring the woman God is shaping me into.

It looks like protecting my peace.

It looks like saying yes to joy, even when no one else is there to witness it.

Ironically, the more I learned to enjoy my own company, the more open I became to healthy companionship.

Not because I needed someone to complete my life.

But because I had finally built a life worth sharing.

Choosing myself never meant choosing isolation.

It meant refusing to abandon myself ever again.

Because if I'm honest...

The greatest love story I almost missed...

Was the one between the woman I was becoming and me.

---

Thank you for reading.

The Art of Choosing Myself is one of the essays featured in my upcoming collection, If I'm Being Honest, a book about healing, faith, resilience, and learning to embrace the life you're living while trusting God with the life you're still praying for.

📖 Pre-order your copy here:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H96JK4W7

Thank you for supporting independent authors and for being part of this journey.

Love,

Drea

 

If You Can't Court Me, You Can't Touch Me

We need to bring back courting. And before anyone gets confused, let me define it.

Courting is an intention.

Courting is an effort.

Courting is clarity.

It is real dates. Planned dates. Public dates. Not “your house or my house.” That is not a date. That is convenience disguised as interest.

How We Got Here

Somewhere along the way, we lowered the standard and renamed it flexibility. We started calling access connection and effort optional. We allowed people into our bodies, our beds, and sometimes our lives without ever asking them to show us who they were when it actually mattered. And then we act surprised by the outcome.

How do you build a life with someone who never took you on a real date?

How do you share a child with someone who never shared the intention?

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What Courting Actually Means

Courting is not old-fashioned. It is foundational. It tells you how someone values time. How they handle responsibility. How do they show care when nothing is guaranteed? Courting creates a container where discernment can live. It slows things down just enough for truth to show itself. It makes room for observation instead of assumption, consistency instead of chemistry.

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The Standard I Stand On

And here is the part people don’t like to hear: If they cannot court you, they do not get access to you.

Not your body.

Not your energy.

Not your softness.

Courting is not about being difficult. It is about being deliberate. And I am no longer confused about the difference.

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Why This Matters

Courting protects everyone involved. It gives space for discernment. It allows red flags to show themselves without being masked by chemistry. It creates room for God, wisdom, and time to speak.

If someone tells you courting is “old-fashioned,” what they usually mean is that it requires effort they’re unwilling to give. I’m not asking for perfection. I’m asking for presence. I’m not asking to be impressed. I’m asking to be considered.

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Love Doesn’t Rush

I’ve learned that love doesn’t rush. Lust does. Ego does. Fear does. But love moves with intention. Love shows up with a plan. Love honors boundaries instead of negotiating them away. So no, I’m not confused. I’m clear. Courting is the standard. And anything less no longer has access to me.

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Call to Action

If this essay resonated with you, I’m writing a book about healing, standards, and becoming whole after heartbreak. It’s about choosing yourself, protecting your peace, and never settling for convenience disguised as love.