On another episode of Black, Christian and maybe after this one we’ll figure out the exact subtitle.
I’ve been gone for a minute.
Not off the earth. Just inside myself.
I thought about disappearing somewhere dramatic. The Himalayas. Bali. Somewhere with linen pants and silence. But instead, I stayed home. Ordered books. Opened my Bible. Sat with Hebrews 11:1 like it has been stalking me for months.
“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”
I don’t fully understand why that scripture keeps following me, but I’ve stopped fighting it.
So what have I been up to?
My mom finally has a helper who takes her to dialysis Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. And that alone has mentally stabilized both of us. The tension that used to sit heavy in our house has softened. Our relationship feels less like survival and more like grace.
I turned 36.
And I quietly watched everyone else get paired off. Engagements. Babies. Soft launches. Hard launches. Meanwhile, I’m still a full-time parent to two beautiful children. I finally got a job. It’s not ideal. It’s unorganized. But it’s provision. And I’m learning not to complain about answered prayers just because they didn’t arrive polished.
Let me stop complaining. Because the truth is, I am thankful.
But this episode isn’t about gratitude alone.
It’s about asking myself:
What the hell am I doing?
I just finished Dry January. No weed. No liquor. Twenty-one days of fasting and prayer. And in the quiet of that fast, I thought about one person more than I expected. Not obsessively. Just honestly. Because last year my birthday felt magical, and this year I almost did nothing for my 36th.
That realization made me sad.
So I called a friend. Ended up third wheeling. And had a blast.
Valentine’s Day came and I wasn’t sad. I was curious. Curious about outfits. Makeup. Energy. I bought myself candy. Poured wine. Stayed in. Watched my phone buzz with invitations.
And that’s when I realized something that scared me.
I’m okay with being single.
And I’m not panicking about it.
That feels new.
For the first time, I’m stepping into a season without scrambling to fill it.
I want to know Jasmine.
Not Jas the Christian.
Not Jas the mom.
Not Jas the employee.
Not Jas the strong daughter.
Not Jas the fixer.
Not Jas the one who always adapts.
Just me.
I’ve never fully tapped into her.
So I signed up for pottery classes.
Saved restaurants to try.
Tried content creation, and realized it’s not my thing.
Started Pilates.
Started caring about my cortisol.
Started caring about what I feed my body and my brain.
I want to be feminine. Soft. Healthy. Grounded. Not because a man is watching. Because I am.
And let’s talk about friendships.
I grew up hearing, “You don’t need friends. You have sisters.”
In my family, close female friendships were almost foreign. Suspicious. Sometimes mocked. My desire for connection was misunderstood, even labeled. That did something to me.
But I miss the era of genuine sisterhood.
I’m learning to rebuke the lie that friendships are unsafe.
I’m unlearning survival bonds.
I’m unlearning trauma circles.
Yes, I’ve had friendships that were competitive. Jealous. Mean. Outsider energy disguised as closeness.
But I refuse to let that define what sisterhood means for me.
If I compliment women in their DMs and ask them to hang out, it’s because I genuinely admire them. I want to learn from women who are secure, healed, expanding. I want to sit at tables that don’t feel like battlegrounds.
That’s growth.
My relationship with my mom is healing too.
Even after her explosive moment, when fear made her say something deeply painful because she thought my job meant I would leave her. That moment could have hardened me. Instead, it revealed how much fear was living underneath her words.
We are both healing.
I’m reading books about emotional regulation.
I’m practicing not reacting.
I’m sitting with discomfort instead of running from it.
I keep hearing:
“Do not lean on your own understanding.”
And lately I’ve been asking God:
Where do you have me right now?
What am I supposed to be doing?
And maybe the answer isn’t about building or chasing or proving.
Maybe it’s this:
After heartbreak, I ran to know God more deeply.
Now He’s giving me the privilege to know myself.
How many of us get that space?
Most of us jump from role to role.
Relationship to relationship.
Identity to identity.
We never sit still long enough to meet who we are without performance.
I’m taking it one day at a time.
Caring about my beauty inside and out.
Caring about what I consume.
Caring about peace.
Caring about growth.
Caring about becoming.
And for the first time in my life?
I feel unapologetic about it.
Black, Christian & 