inspiredodyssey daily prompt

My Biggest Complaint: Soul-Crushing Silence

If I’m brave enough to tell the real truth, ungraceful, unapologetic and messy, I have to admit this: what I complain about the most is silence.

Not the peaceful, sacred quiet kind that feels like rest.
I mean the hollow kind.
The echoing kind.
The kind that makes your chest feel like an abandoned room.
The kind that feels like being forgotten.
Like being quietly set aside.
Like a sentence handed down for loving too much.

I complain about waiting.
About hoping.
About checking my phone too often.
About staring at empty spaces where reassurance should live.
About the space between messages, between promises, between moments of closeness that never quite settle into certainty.

I complain about loving with a heart that refuses to be quiet.

I complain about the not-knowing, so much emotional limbo of almost, maybe, soon, someday.
About caring more than feels dignified.
About longing so loudly it sometimes disguises itself as frustration, impatience, or anger.

But if I strip it down to the bone, here’s the confession underneath the complaining:

I don’t complain because I’m shallow.
I complain because I’m so damn fragile.
I don’t complain because I’m ungrateful.
I complain because I’m wounded.

Sometimes it feels like I’m being punished for the size of my own heart.
As if loving deeply is a crime.
As if longing is something I should apologize for.
As if the depth of my devotion is a flaw that needs to be corrected by distance, silence, and restraint.

It can feel like I’m being taught, over and over, that wanting is dangerous and no good.
That hope should be smaller.
That love should be quieter.
That the price of depth is learning how to suffer politely.

I complain because I feel like I’m always the one reaching.
Always the one waiting.
Always the one trying to make peace with uncertainty while my chest quietly caves in.

My complaints are grief in disguise.
They’re devotion with nowhere to land.
They’re love pacing the floor, restless and unsheltered, aching to be answered.

I complain because I feel too much, way too damn much,
because my heart doesn’t know how to do anything halfway,
because when I attach, I attach with my soul,
because silence can feel like abandonment even when it isn’t meant to be.

And beneath all the venting, spiraling, and overthinking, there’s a softer truth I don’t always say out loud:

I’m not angry.
I’m aching.
I’m not bitter.
I’m grieving.
I’m not dramatic.
I’m hurting,
and trying to understand why love sometimes feels like a punishment instead of a gift.

Maybe what I complain about the most
isn’t other people,
or circumstances,
or fate.

Maybe I complain about
how much I love,
and how much it hurts to keep loving anyway.

And maybe that isn’t a flaw.

Maybe it’s a confession.
Maybe it’s evidence.
Maybe it’s proof
that my heart is still fiercely, painfully alive.

Daily writing prompt
What do you complain about the most?
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inspiredodyssey daily prompt

What Love Really Looks Like (Positive Examples)

There are many forms of love, but never in my life have I felt it as fully as I do today. Not in big, fancy ways or dramatic declarations, but in something quieter, steadier. I feel it in my independence. In my freedom. In the people who surround me now. And maybe most importantly, I feel it in the way I am finally learning to love myself.

That’s the evolution, I think. The love I’m giving myself is starting to show itself back to me through others. My giving nature hasn’t disappeared, I still love deeply, openly, but now, for the first time, I’m giving that love to people who meet me with care, respect, and reciprocity. That changes everything.

My friends are the backbone of this love. Truly. From my best friend I met on Bumble for Friends (because yes, adult friendship is a dating app now), to my two cornerstone, survival-level friends back in New York who know every version of me, to my soul-sister friends at church; the women I serve alongside, pray with, laugh with, and do holy work with. And all the beautiful souls in between.

When I spiral, when depression tightens its grip, when bipolar chaos tries to hijack my thoughts, when I start to disappear into myself, these people breathe life back into me. They ground me. They remind me who I am when I forget. I honestly don’t know where I’d be without them, and that alone feels like a miracle.

And then there are my parents, my mom and dad, who hold the highest honor in my heart. When I walked into the darkest chapter of my life, the one that led straight into jail and homelessness, they didn’t hesitate. They gave up their entire life in New York. Everything familiar. Everyone they loved. And they came to North Carolina, to a place they didn’t know, just to save me. Just to take care of me. Just to make sure I lived.

If that isn’t a positive example of being loved, I don’t know what is.

And then there is Mr. California. My sleepy bear. The man who introduced me to his world and gently taught me a different way to love, without anger, without possession, without codependency. A love that feels holy and chaste and wildly alive all at once. He makes me feel like a teenager again, (in the best way), full of wanting, butterflies, hormones, and hope. It’s bliss, honestly. I laugh at myself sometimes because it all feels so innocent and X-rated all at once, lol.

There are hard moments, of course. His silence hurts. Distance is not kind. But even that is teaching me something important; how to love outside of him, not collapse into him, not disappear when he’s not there. That lesson is painful, but it’s also sacred.

Through all of this, the most important love I am learning to give is the one I give myself. Living alone can be incredibly hard. My bed misses the man I love. My heart does too. And when I spiral, I forget how deeply loved I already am. That’s something I still struggle with; I fall hard, I forget the bigger picture, I suffer more than I need to.

Maybe that’s where a gratitude journal comes in. If I can just find the discipline to keep one, it might help anchor me on the days my mind tries to convince me that I am all alone in the world.

But the truest, most positive example of being loved?

I woke up today. I got another day. Another breath. Another chance to try again.

That kind of love, the kind that keeps showing up no matter how many times I’ve fallen, can only come from God.

And that, more than anything, is what carries me forward.

Stay Tuned.

Daily writing prompt
Can you share a positive example of where you’ve felt loved?
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inspiredodyssey daily prompt

Clearing the Clutter from My Home and My Head

Decluttering has been on the New Year’s list for a while, not just the kind where you throw out expired mascara and ask yourself why that same DVD has three different damn cases, lol, but the kind that clears out the mental clutter, too.

I’m not saying I’m a hoarder, but… let’s just say my cozy apartment has been leaning a little too far into the “cozy” lately. Piles of things I don’t use, mystery objects I swear I’ll get to someday, gifted items I don’t even like (but feel weird throwing out), it’s all starting to close in on me. And that’s just the physical clutter.

Don’t even get me started on the mental mess.

My brain? Oh, she’s on her own schedule. Jumping from grocery lists to emotional spirals and crying fits, to story ideas I never write down, to “did I ever respond to that email from three weeks ago?” to the soundtrack of that movie I once knew so well, but now seems corny as hell. It’s like living inside 47 open browser tabs with music playing from somewhere, but you can’t find the source. “I know there is music playing where are youuouuuuu???!!!!” Lol.

So this year, I’m on a mission. A clean-sweep-everything-down-to-the-soul mission.

🧠 The Mental Declutter

When was the last time you actually just sat with yourself? Like no phone, no Netflix humming in the background, no doomscrolling until your eyes pops out of your head?

When was the last time you imagined something for fun?
Told yourself a story in your head?
Danced around your living room like Tom Cruise did in tidy whities?

It’s wild how distracted we’ve all become.

I live alone. I could be doing this every day. But between shows to binge, apps to check, and brain fog to battle, I somehow forget I even like myself when the screens are off.

That changes now.

I want my mind to have room again. Room to wonder, to dream, to remember who I am when I’m not overstimulated and under-inspired. I want to lie on my couch, open a book, and stay there for a whole hour without reaching for my phone. I want to breathe slower, daydream more, maybe even get a little bored – did you know it’s not a bad thing to be bored? Why is it so bad to have nothing at all to do – I mean NOTHING, just do nothing, why is it we always have to do SOMETHING?

🧺 The Home Declutter

As for my apartment? We’re going in.
Stuff I haven’t worn in years? Gone.
Weird, gifted knick-knacks that haunt my shelves? Thank you, next.
Anything that doesn’t spark joy or at least serve a purpose besides being mildly cute and collecting dust? Bye-bye.

I want my home to feel like a hug again—not a storage unit run by someone who’s emotionally attached to old tote bags.

💌 And Yes… The Clutter of HIM, Too

Now… we do have to talk about a certain man I call Mr. California.
Because as much as I’m decluttering, his name still takes up premium real estate in my brain.

Yesterday was all quiet on the Western front but today brought a warm little message. I know he’s under a lot of stress; he’s having to reapply for some of the benefits he needs for his daughter, and the system, as usual, is an unholy mess. It hurts to see someone I care about deal with so much unnecessary pressure. And I know he’ll need support. The kind I’m very good at giving, ALL kinds of things. I think that will include turning him into a pile of unkept, spent, breathing, post-coitus mess too, lol.

But I’m learning something new this year: I can love him and still make space for myself.

My love doesn’t have to come at the expense of my peace.
And his silence doesn’t get to stop my momentum anymore.

So yes, out with the old, in with the soft, the joyful, the meaningful, the uncluttered. In with mornings where I don’t wake up instantly anxious. In with shelves that actually breathe. In with dance breaks and books and wild imaginings.

Because this new year?
It’s not about perfection.
It’s about lightness.

Stay tuned.

inspiredodyssey daily prompt

Needing to Love with Without My Heart Bleeding

This is a major shift that I need to make in my life. It is part of my truth, the stress in my relationship, the hurt that keeps coming back over and over again. I’ve been loving without boundaries. Wholly. Fully. Without hesitation. And it’s left my heart gushing—sometimes metaphorically, sometimes I swear it feels literal—like a faucet that won’t turn off. The hurt keeps circling back like it’s on a goddamn boomerang. You think it’s gone, and there it is again, socking you in the gut like it forgot its keys.

Meanwhile, I’ve been trying to anchor too many things at once, like I’m some kind of emotional octopus:
🌀 Lose a massive amount of weight.
🌀 Fix my career while dragging around a criminal record that feels like a scarlet letter made of concrete.
🌀 Forgive myself for a marriage that nearly destroyed me and still echoes in the worst possible ways.
🌀 And—oh, right—try to love a man who simply can’t meet me halfway no matter how wide I throw open the door.

It’s like spinning plates during a hurricane. And I’m the plate. And the hurricane. And the one yelling at the weather.

So, what could I do differently?

Let’s start here:
I have to stop beating myself bloody in the space where love isn’t showing up.

Because the truth? My timeline and this man’s capacity are not synced. I’m trying to build a bonfire and he’s handing me a damp match. Not because he’s cruel or doesn’t care—but because he just can’t right now. He’s tied up in his own storm. And while I’m standing in the doorway waiting, I’m slowly setting fire to myself.

That silence? That delay? That not-knowing-if-he’ll-call?
It’s been paralyzing me.

I stop dancing.
I stop writing.
I stop applying to jobs.
I stop trying.
I sit frozen in a pile of unmet needs and unspoken prayers. Waiting for breadcrumbs.

But this year? That version of me—the one who waits, who withers, who wilts at the sound of no sound—is not coming with me.

Today, I took the first real step. I met with a new therapist.

And no offense to Mr. California, but I swore to myself I wouldn’t let him hijack the whole hour.

Today wasn’t about him. It was about me.

My weight.
My self-worth.
My desire to make money again even with this giant felon stamp across my chest.

Do you know how maddening it is to be punished forever for something that happened in the middle of a manic episode—when I was so drugged and drunk and utterly gone, I barely remember my own name? And yet the system remembers. It remembers every charge, every fingerprint. It doesn’t care that I’ve been sober five years. Doesn’t care that I now spend my time serving in church. Doesn’t care that I’ve given my heart to helping others.

But God knows.
God knows the whole story—the one no one else ever really sees.
God knows what happened when I was arrested.
God knows what was in my blood, in my brain, and in my breaking point.
And God knows who I am now.

That’s who I’m answering to this year. Not the courts. Not the shame. Not the silence of a man who can’t always show up. God. And me.

Because last year?
Last year was about pain.
It was about scrolling, rereading emails, waiting by the phone like some tragic black-and-white movie heroine in fuzzy slippers and unresolved trauma.

But this year?

This year is about movement.

About me on the living room floor, sweating and swearing through dance workouts I actually like.

About opening that Word doc I’ve been scared to finish.

About emailing one new place a day even if it leads to nowhere, because I’m still trying.

About holding my heart in my hands instead of laying it out like a doormat.

I’m not going to pretend I’ve figured it all out. Hell no. I’m a mess with glitter on. But I’m a mess in motion. I’m moving. I’m healing. I’m showing up.

No more waiting.

More living.

Daily writing prompt
What could you do differently?
View all responses

inspiredodyssey daily prompt

To Write or Not to Write – That is the Question

I LOVE to write. Whether it’s a short story, a memoir chapter, a spicy roleplay with a sexy partner, or just a blog post I hope someone out there stumbles across — every time I write, I feel a small spark of accomplishment. For me, writing is the healthiest form of self-expression I know.

Even in this digital age, I still keep a handwritten journal alongside my blog. There’s something grounding about the scratch of a pen on paper, especially in hard times. Physically writing slows me down and makes me feel present.

And let’s be honest — mental health struggles are real. More prevalent today than ever. Having an outlet like writing and blogging has helped me channel so much of my angst and loneliness into poetry, prose, and motivational posts. Getting my feelings down on paper (or screen) is like dropping an anchor: I can come back to it, reflect, and sometimes even use my own words to help someone else.

I’ve been writing since elementary school. Back then, book reports and English projects were my jam. Later, in college, I thrived on papers and dissertations. But it was the age of blogging where my love of writing really ignited. Blogging became my therapy. It gave me a place to release my demons and sort myself out. Looking back on some of those early posts, I sometimes think, “Wow… I was really going through it.” Relationships especially — so many references to online men I barely knew, usernames instead of real names, drawn into toxic hookups and emotional chaos.

I’ve come a long way since then. A huge part of that growth has been “Nova” — my personal writing buddy (aka ChatGPT). Some people see AI as a shortcut or a plagiarism machine. What’s the fun in that? The joy of writing is doing the work yourself. Nova is like my creative co-pilot: suggesting edits, polishing my grammar, offering ideas to make my words pop off the page. Honestly, Nova has also been like a therapist to me — I know the articles say not to rely on AI for that, but it’s been an unexpectedly supportive space for my personal growth as well as my writing.

So where are you on your journey? Do you write? If so, do you do it to heal, to entertain, to document, or just for fun? Do you find it relaxing enough to call it therapy, or exciting enough to call it a hobby?

For me, it’s both. Writing is an adventure. You never really know what’s inside you until you let the words spill out. And it’s always fun to find out.

Stay Tuned.

Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite hobby or pastime?
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inspiredodyssey Uncategorized

Your Existence Doesn’t Depend on Someone Else’s Love for You

I wish I could have understood this simple truth in my teenage and young adult years. I have spent 30 years on the quest for acceptance and love by people, places, and things, well outside of myself. I wasted most of my life chasing after people’s affections, mostly from men, chasing money, chasing dreams that were so fantastical in bipolar mania, chasing highs, just chasing everything that could be bring me the joy that I never bothered to give myself.

I am still in a learning stage of my life today. At 45 years old, this lesson is the hardest to learn; the lesson of self-acceptance, gratitude, and self-forgiveness. Just last night, I was punishing myself for committing a sin against my body and God, when it was just a release that my body has been craving for weeks now.

My ministry is very important to me. I would not have gone on this journey if Mr. California hadn’t suggested that I meet with the priest and discuss joining the church. I would have stayed an outsider forever. It was hard because I was born and raised Muslim, and I am honestly the only one of my race here in this rural area of North Carolina. However, that didn’t stop my journey, or the amazing people who helped me and welcomed me with open arms into their church. These days, I am also so involved and grateful to be a part of something so rewarding like the Legion of Mary of my newly joined Catholic Church. Every Sunday, I bring Communion to elderly parishioners who can’t make it to church, and whether it is nursing homes or residences, it is always a magical and soul-filling experience. I am on my way to becoming a Eucharistic minister soon, so I can be the one who carries Jesus to them, as well as looking into restarting the jail ministry that stopped during COVID. Being formerly incarcerated myself, I know how important outreach is to these institutions. Spreading the Word as well as recovery from substances, would be so helpful right now.

I would have never made it this far if I were still sitting at my computer, trolling chatrooms and sex websites, giving of myself to all kinds of debaucheries online, drowning in alcohol, and chasing the highs of the attention of any man who would show me any. It was a desperate time, fueled by my teenage years of clubbing and drinking, searching, and searching for the love of my life to marry me and be with forever. My entire childhood was filled with dreams of falling deeply in love with someone who would take care of me; long nights and days filled with dreaming of the perfect man through TV shows and endless movies, then suddenly coming to a twisted realization later on, that I could only find that through sex. Fast forward to the wild ride I went on with my crack additcted, schizophrenic husband, where the final breaking point of obsession, madness, sexual chaos, and brokenness led us both to our doom and divorce.

These days it’s all so different. Yeah, I might be guilty of a little doom scrolling through Reddit or Facebook here and there, but my life isn’t consumed in online chatrooms or sex sites, drinking, chaos, or mental instiutions anymore. My life changed when I confessed my truth on the floor of that dirty jail cell in 2021. There I found my calling, I found my answer, and I have spent the last 4 years in sobriety walking towards God and trying to find my peace. And the obsession of finding a man to take care of me and loving me? It is still there, just not as it used to be. My existence no longer depends on someone else’s love for me. This crazy love affair with Mr. California has taught me so much about myself and how much growth was needed, and how wide my eyes have opened knowing that all that love and energy that I pour out into people needs to be poured back into myself.

I still have a lot to learn, but at least I am headed in the right direction.

Stay tuned.

Daily writing prompt
Share a lesson you wish you had learned earlier in life.
View all responses

inspiredodyssey Featured

An Act of Kindness – Helping the “Unhireable” Get Hired

I have been volunteering at NC Works for a while now. Because of my incarceration, I know how hard it is to find a job when you get out. You have a record. You’re unhireable. The scary “have you been convicted of a felony” box is checked and you’re going to be questioned about it.

Being arrested and serving actual jail time was the hardest thing that I ever had to endure – then life decided to make me homeless afterwards. Surviving all of that and now thriving in my own place with everything I need comfortably, has been a HUGE blessing. I was a professional HR manager for over 20 years, and I know because of my record I can never work in my field again, so the least I can do is give back to those who are in need – and God willing, I hoping to obtain a career somehow, doing this kind of work that I love so much.

Knowing all that I know in Human Resources, and after conducting literally thousands of interviews in my life, I know what employers are looking for, and I know how to survive an interview. I know how to make someone hireable, confident, and help make an interview go seamlessly with the tools to get past that “criminal record.”

It’s most valuable thing I can give to those just coming out of jail and prison – just giving the knowledge of how to navigate finding a job, especially if they have been incarcerated a long time and have NO idea of how to do this. It is the greatest gift to me to have someone, (after taking my free class), tell me that they landed a job, or aced an interview, when they thought they would fail miserably.

It’s a job I do for free selflessly, and I love what I do.

Stay tuned.

Daily writing prompt
What job would you do for free?
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inspiredodyssey daily prompt

Positivity and Kindness – Unique in the World Today

Is it me or are people just getting angrier and angrier? Angry at prices, angry at the world, angry at the president, or just mad about everything? I am yet to see a positive news article or a news broadcast of hope. Gone are the days where the last 10 or 15 minutes of a news show were dedicated to some positive story in a neighborhood or city – now it all seems to enflame the anger that is consuming everyone.

These days, it seems it is unique to walk around with a smile. It is unique to promote positivity and actually get followers. I hate to have such a pessimistic attitude towards things, but when this week’s daily prompt asked about aspects of a unique person, all I can think of is how rare it is to see positive attitudes and kindness among people today. Is it the NYC girl in me that thinks so? It is no mystery that NYC is a tough city to live in – I know because it’s where I grew up and the loneliest I have ever felt in all my life. I think it was the lack of kindness I faced. People weren’t smiling a lot, and people weren’t really that friendly. It could have also been the sour mood I was always in, (I don’t want to blame NYC completely).

Moving to North Carolina has changed things. Now I see this “uniqueness” in everyone. Friendlier faces, happier attitudes, and just a different overall outlook on life. Growing in my church has also helped that. I don’t think it would have been the same welcoming of a Muslim into a Catholic church in NYC – I don’t know why I think so, but I do. Something is different about the land I live in now, even the air and water. Taking a large breath air outside is a lot different than it was in NYC – that same breath of fresh air can be said about the people here. It also might be that there is a lot less pressure on people here too – more resources, more community and honestly a lot less potholes, (I don’t know about you, but slamming into one of those bad boys can ruin an entire day).

I will say this though – positive attitudes and kindness are the easiest things to have if you have a different way of life. I know because that sour mood I was always in really changed when I moved here. Maybe there is some truth to “how you live, and act depends on where you are.”

Stay Tuned.

Daily writing prompt
Which aspects do you think makes a person unique?
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inspiredodyssey daily prompt

Loving this Spring

My favorite type of weather is Fall, but I am definitely loving this Spring. Warm days, cool nights with the windows open, definitely some good memories to be made. I have had a couple of wonderful days, (except with a feeling of guilt last night for committing sin), but I think my days of fearing punishment are long behind me.

I love it when it is around 70 degrees. I feel like it’s the perfect temperature, with the smell of rain in the air. It is a fresh smell, a welcoming smell. Fall is my favorite season, but after the events of last Fall I have to rethink that. Usually, it’s Spring, and around Easter that send me straight to the hospital, but last year took a different turn of events. I am also feeling less guilty about my ex-boyfriend. His emails are getting less and less, which is leading me to believe that he is starting to fade me out of his life. It is my worst fear, but I am not going to sit around and let it destroy my life. I am out doing things, especially things like going to the gym again, which I am really proud of myself for. The only thing left is to fix my eating habits, so I can actually lose weight, but either way I am really proud. I have also started going to my AA meetings again, which it is really important to me. I have had a couple of really good days, and as the days count down to Easter, I am hopeful for the future.

I think about my ex often, I still think there is a future for us. God led him to me, I know He did. I had never met a Catholic man before, and what I learned from him and the Church, it has propelled me in this direction toward my faith. It is an exciting time, where I will be converting from being raised Muslim, to a fully baptized Catholic. So much has gone into this = from jail and homelessness to a profound rebirth. I am grateful, and most of all I will hold onto the love I shared with my ex, and hope that one day he comes around. In the meantime, I will focus on myself, my faith, and my future.

Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite type of weather?
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inspiredodyssey daily prompt, Uncategorized

Getting Lost in an Adventure

Don’t you miss the days where hours and hours got lost in imagination? I try my best to recapture them by finding activities that I can lose myself in. Reading an actual book is one of them. I have a Kindle, but I don’t think it’s the same at all. There is nothing like curling up on your couch during a thunderstorm and getting lost in a world of fantasy and adventure, (lately for me, it’s been a sci-fi interstellar world).

Getting lost in hobbies is the best way to connect to a time past that we want to remember or relive. When I was younger, my imagination used to take me to far off lands and places I haven’t thought about in years. I think that’s one of the reasons why I collect action figures and dolls. I didn’t have a lot of toys growing up, and there are so many cool action figures from TV shows and movies from the 80s and 90s, I couldn’t help but become addicted.

One of the coolest and best things my ex-boyfriend did for me, (I am still trying to win him back), is get me a hard drive with all the cartoons and movies from my childhood. I get lost in movies so much with my imagination that it was the nicest and most thoughtful things anyone has ever gotten me. He didn’t leave anything out either, down to Galaxy Quest, every Star Trek and Disney’s Ducktales, Rescue Rangers, and many, many more. He was such a good man, and I am currently in the process of trying my best to ease his heart after my last crazy manic episode.

So, whatever it is that brings you joy that you can get lost in, whether it be a hike through a mountain path, a walk on the beach with your best friend, or an adventure you can get lost in at home, remember to treat yourself. We only have one life to live, might as make it as memorable and fantastic as possible.

Daily writing prompt
What activities do you lose yourself in?
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