It usually starts in the quiet.
Not the glamorous kind—the after-dinner party hush with champagne flutes clinking in the background—but the stillness of 6:17 a.m., wrapped in a robe you bought yourself for no reason other than softness. Coffee half full. Phone flipped face-down. Silence not as a luxury, but a lifeline.
This is where becoming begins.
There’s a myth that becoming the woman you’re meant to be is some grand, glowing transformation. The truth? It often looks like unbecoming first. Letting go of narratives that no longer fit. Questioning what you once called ambition. Untangling your worth from your output. Saying no without guilt. Saying yes without explanation.
It’s not always beautiful. Sometimes it’s grief. Sometimes it’s boredom. Sometimes it’s the aching discomfort of growing out of friendships that once defined you. It’s walking into a room and realizing you no longer need to be the most impressive woman there—just the most honest one.
You’re not interested in performance anymore. You’re interested in alignment. Not what looks good on a vision board, but what feels true in your bones.
You dress for yourself. That wrap dress? Worn because the fabric reminds you of the softness you’re learning to allow. The wide-leg trousers? Because you like the way they move when you walk, like you’re allowed to take up space.
Your home isn’t curated for compliments. It’s curated for grounding. The art on your walls speaks to your children’s identity, not a design trend—a watercolor of a Black boy dreaming, a collage of faces that remind your daughter her curls are crown-worthy. The books stacked by your bedside are underlined and lived in. The throw blanket on the sofa isn’t Instagrammable. It just happens to be warm, and yours.
And the most radical part of your becoming? You’re no longer in a rush.
You’re not chasing the next version of yourself like it’s a moving target. You’re sitting with who you are now. You’re resting. You’re choosing ease. You’re asking: What do I want now that I’m no longer proving I deserve it?
Becoming you isn’t about ambition or arrival. It’s about expansion. Honoring every scar and stillness. Making space for joy and contradiction. Holding both the softness you crave and the strength you’ve built.
So if you seem quieter now, softer even—don’t mistake it for shrinking. You’re just rooted. In who you are. In what you know. And in the woman you’re still gently, powerfully unfolding into.
You’re not becoming for the 'Gram.
You’re becoming for yourself.
Xo,
Krystal Phillips