#HEYGRRRLFRENNNS You ever look back at an old photo and barely recognize the version of you staring back? Not because of the hair or the outfit, but because of everything you were holding that nobody else could see. Maybe she was smiling through burnout, performing confidence while second guessing every decision, or just trying to get through the week without crying in public. Felt! Maybe she kept going because she didn’t think she had a choice. And maybe, just maybe, you’ve spent more time judging that version of you than you have thanking her for surviving. The more we grow and heal, the easier it is to cringe at our past selves. We notice the people pleasing, the emotional reactivity, the way we overextended to feel needed or worthy. We try to distance ourselves from old patterns because we don’t want to get stuck in them again. But healing isn’t about becoming someone entirely new, it’s about making peace with who we were when we didn’t have the tools we have now. And that version of you made it possible for you to become the version reading this post right now.So, before we spend another summer trying to prove how evolved, unbothered, or rebranded we are, let’s pause and hold space for the grrrl who got us here. The one who survived off vibes, playlists, and maybe even a little delulu. She might not have had boundaries or balance, but she had courage. And she deserves love too.

When we talk about healing, we often focus on the future, as in who we’re becoming, how to break cycles, what it looks like to be “that grrrl” who journals, hydrates, and doesn’t text back toxic people. Been there, done that! But real healing also means looking backwards with compassion. It means choosing to understand the old you, not just correct her. For Black grrrls especially, survival mode is not a personality flaw. It’s often a byproduct of navigating a world that doesn’t always protect us, even when we’re doing everything “right.” That fight-or-flight response, the urge to push through instead of pause, or the fear of seeming “too emotional” at work or in relationships? Those weren’t random. They were strategies. Flawed, exhausting, and sometimes unhealthy, yes, but also deeply human. Once we start healing, it’s easy to want to throw the whole past version of ourselves away. We want to forget the messy moments, the coping mechanisms that didn’t serve us, or the patterns we now know better than to repeat. But that’s not grace, that’s perfectionism. Radical self-care means tending to the parts of you that feel unfinished, unloved, or unhealed, not just hiding them under vision boards and soft life aesthetics. Healing isn’t a rebrand, it’s a reckoning. And summer is the perfect time for that kind of honest reflection. This month’s blog is a love letter to your past self. Not a highlight reel, and definitely not a makeover. Just a gentle reminder that you were always worthy!

New Rules, Same You

Sometimes healing feels like you’re running from your past self with a broom, trying to shoo her out of the room before someone sees her. You cringe at the decisions she made, the people she let back in, the ways she shrank or performed just to feel safe. But that version of you wasn’t a mistake, and if you’re reading this right now? It worked. Survival mode kept you going, even if it didn’t always look pretty. Even if it left behind a mess, you’re still cleaning up. Even if you still flinch a little when someone asks, “Why didn’t you just leave?” or “Why did you let that happen?” Respectfully… STFU! Instead of trying to exile your old self, try getting curious. What did she need that she never got? What did she learn too early, or forget too soon? What was she afraid would happen if she stopped smiling, apologizing, and explaining? Sometimes the reason we can’t move forward is because a part of us still thinks survival is the safest bet. It’s like your body’s still waiting for the next threat even when your life is finally starting to slow down. That’s not dysfunction, it’s your nervous system doing what it was trained to do. But now that you’re in a more stable place, you get to teach it something new. That’s where radical self-care comes in. Not just the skincare nights and playlists, but the deep stuff like grace, compassion, and safety. When you revisit your past without shame, you stop trying to erase her and start understanding her. Maybe she didn’t trust anyone because no one ever taught her what safety felt like. Maybe she ghosted people because she couldn’t imagine being fully seen. Maybe she over-explained everything because she grew up in a world where her emotions were always “too much.” The more grace you give her, the less power those old stories have over you. You’re not obligated to “honor” every bad decision or stay loyal to old versions of yourself out of guilt. But you are can remind yourself to be gentle with her and to thank her for doing her best with what she had. She might not have known how to ask for help or say no or choose herself first, but now you do.

Soft Doesn’t Mean Stupid

One of the scariest parts of healing is realizing how much your identity was built around protecting yourself. You might have been the friend who never cried, the coworker who never said no, the partner who kept the peace even when it cost you everything. You were sharp, self-aware, quick to clock a red flag, and even quicker to pretend it didn’t bother you. That edge helped you navigate a world that didn’t offer many soft landings. But when the threat level starts to go down, that edge can start to feel less like armor and more like a cage. Letting yourself soften doesn’t mean you’re slipping. It means your nervous system is learning to believe in safety again, and you’re no longer confusing peace with boredom or quiet with danger. You can let someone show up for you without spiraling. You can say, “That hurt my feelings,” without thinking it makes you weak. You can start trusting your own voice again, not because you’re healed beyond harm, but because you finally believe you’re worthy of being whole. But what no one talks about is that the shift can be uncomfortable. You might feel embarrassed when you cry at a commercial or annoyed when a small comment ruins your day. You might even grieve the version of you who used to “handle anything” without flinching. But emotional range isn’t regression, it’s regulation. It’s your body learning it doesn’t have to stay numb just to stay functional. You don’t owe anyone the bulletproof version of you, especially when that performance was never sustainable. This kind of growth will have you rethinking everything. The friends you used to trauma bond with. The spaces where you felt invisible unless you were performing. The relationships where love looked like endurance. And in the process, you might start to see how little softness was ever modeled for you in the first place. It’s not just about rewiring your reactions, it’s about unlearning who you had to be in a world that confused survival with strength. So take your time. Some days you’ll show up soft and open. Other days you’ll need a hoodie, a playlist, and a solid cry in the car. Actually, most days. It’s not linear, and it’s not aesthetic, but it’s yours.

Don’t Hide, Heal!

There’s a reason healing gets harder the more you try to curate it. When you spend so much energy trying to look okay, it gets really easy to confuse performance with progress. Maybe you’re posting aesthetic routines, giving the “life is good” update in the group chat, and pretending you’ve got closure when really, you’re just tired of explaining the same heartbreak to people who stopped asking. But if you keep skipping over your real feelings for the sake of looking functional, you’re not healing, you’re hiding. Tough love, table for one? We’re taught that healing is supposed to be pretty and that if we do it “right,” it’ll be quiet and quick and polished enough to package. But real healing is raw. It’s confusing and unglamorous and sometimes deeply inconvenient. It’s crying at brunch. It’s being triggered by something you thought you were over. It’s getting better, and still feeling stuck. You don’t have to rush to clean that up for anybody. Your mess is not a moral failure. The version of you that had to survive probably didn’t have the time or tools to process anything in real time. You might still default to shutting down, brushing it off, or making a joke when something stings. But unlearning that isn’t just about feeling your feelings, it’s about letting them be seen. That means reaching out when you’re not okay, setting boundaries even when your voice shakes, and letting yourself be witnessed in the middle, not just after the glow-up. And you don’t have to explain your whole story to earn support. You’re allowed to ask for space without over-apologizing. You’re allowed to need help without a perfect reason. You’re allowed to say, “This still hurts,” without rushing to add, “But I’m fine.” You are not too much for being in process. You’re just a grrrl getting real about what it takes to grow.

This summer, let your softness be a sign of strength. You are allowed to release the need to be strong all the time. You are allowed to pause before reacting. You are allowed to not know what comes next. And you are allowed to take up space as someone who is still learning how to be safe inside their own skin. Hot grrrl healing doesn’t mean you have it all figured out, it means you’re finally giving yourself permission to feel it all without fear of judgment. There will be moments when your old patterns call you back. When you feel the urge to people-please, to pretend, to go quiet. Let those moments be reminders, not roadblocks. You are not regressing, you are reckoning. And every time you choose to stay present instead of disappearing, you’re proving that peace is possible, even in progress. So keep going, even if it’s messy. Keep choosing yourself, even if it’s unfamiliar. Keep holding space for your joy, your rage, your grief, and your hope. You are worthy of a life that feels like safety, not survival. And you don’t have to earn it by being perfect, you just have to believe you deserve more than what hurt you. Now go and be great you lil grrrly pop! TTYL!