Let the signs lead the way

Welcome to the blog! I’d like to chat about some things in response to the Charlotte Agenda article that was released last week.

I took part in this interview sitting at the mural with Michael back at the end of June, the types of questions he asked allowed the conversation to flow fluidly and the dialogue we had was interesting and enriching. It allowed me to talk about my story out loud and think of all the steps that led to painting that street. Now that it’s been out for a week and I’ve reread it a couple of times, there are a few thoughts I want to express and connections I’d like to share that didn’t make it into our conversation. I realize that this is a lengthy post but I sincerely appreciate all that read it, and I’m glad that that article is what led me to dust off my ol blog skills to bring this to you now.  

The article mentions that I went to the barbershop to get my lifelong locs cut off before basic, and for brevity’s sake, that line could almost serve its purpose, that to join the Air Force I had to cut my locs, which weren’t allowed. Which is true, although thousands of people may remember that it went down a little differently. I didn’t go to a barbershop to get them cut, but I gently combed them out, tediously undoing the 5+ years of intertwining that my hair did naturally. It was 5 years prior that I’d started making Youtube videos. I’d attracted up a sizable audience right at the emergence of the natural hair movement, where many black people were looking for resources and ideas about how to embrace, manage, and care for their hair in its natural state. 

During those years, people that I didn’t even know around the world became invested in the hair growing from my head. Although my channel wasn’t centered on hair, my hair became what drew so many people to me. So not only was removing these now mature locs a huge moment for me, it was for thousands of people that watched my videos and only knew me with them. I documented the combing out process in a video tutorial that I posted for other people that wanted to take out their locs on their own, without going to a barbershop to remove them. I wanted to show another option of parting ways with your hair and the people who had been around from when my hair didn’t quite touch my ears, now got to bear witness to me removing them, one by one as they cascaded down my back. 

  To get a sense of just how impactful that process was, 8 years and close to 400,000 views later, if you do a search on how to remove dreadlocks without cutting them, this video is still sitting on the first page of results that populate. 

Without even going into just how much removing my hair affected my identity thus having to form a new one outside of my hair, that video and that journey was a huge catalyst for me since I was cutting them off to join the military which was a decision that shocked me just as much as people who knew me both from the web and those that knew me beyond the screen. I spent years inviting others to embrace the hair that grew out of their head then willingly joined an system that created rules that stated that my hair in its natural state of deemed as forbidden, unprofessional and unkempt. The impact my hair left on people was (and still is) real and I’m glad I have this space to clear that up. Whew.

4 years in, and now I’m just days shy of being 4 years out. 

I’d say that I couldn’t imagine what my life would be like when I returned to the civilian world. But I knew what I wanted my freedom to feel like, for sure. And it’s only now on the other side of that, that I continue to make connections between how I move in the world now, and the situations that led to allowing me to do it with ease.

For instance, I think of how I didn’t meditate much before the military and that it wasn’t until after that I realized I’d developed what I feel is a high level skill being able to center in my own stillness,  a call back to having to do that while standing formation in temperatures that were both sweltering and frigid, or amidst reciting a reporting statement while standing in a gas chamber without a mask on, or living in extremely close quarters with 50+ other women for 2 months. I admire how I’m able to go to a place of centeredness at will, where I allow a sense of peace to wash over me no matter the external circumstances. I think of how my work as a live figure model ties into that same stoicism and discipline I learned in the Air Force. Whether I’m fully nude or in full uniform, I’ve mastered the art of being able to be solid and hold physically and otherwise for large swatches of time.  

Following my training, I did work at what we could call an office job albeit not at a cubicle, which is an important distinction to make because honestly, I would’ve preferred a cubicle! I would’ve loved a carefully placed partition to relegate me to a designated space in which to work away from the view of others. However, I worked in an open space environment, sharing computers and desks with those who were on shift before or after mine.  As someone who tends to float in their own world and thrives in their own bubble, working in an open concept workplace was tough for me. Having to see or talk people, and drown out other’s conversations on top of the CNN (although muted) imagery that was constantly in the background. It was a lot, but I got through it. I accepted. I adapted.

Night shift has it's own pros and cons, but I spent a good portion of my service working nights and I preferred it to day shifts because it meant for reduced interactions and a quieter time. It was more low key and more my speed.  Sitting at my desk is when I got my best drawing in. I’d buy special pens that I’d only use at work as a way for me to look forward to being there and load up on snacks to keep me goin through the morning. I brought in an exercise ball to use instead of an office chair to switch things up a bit, and I’d sit there and draw at 3 in the morning to stay awake. Meandering my pen across the pages of the paper as the ever present CNN feed in my peripheral vision shifted from the endless loop of inescapable doom to *new* episodes of Anthony Bourdain’s Parts Unknown which I appreciated. 

It took me years and therapy to get there but eventually, I began to learn how to accept and adapt to my situation and get the most out of it while simultaneously counting down the days until I could truly live my best civilian life again. 

2012. 2014. 2016.

That same adaptability that I gained in the military spills over into fluidity I’ve kind of always had about my life, landing in situations and opportunities that seem to be made for me, revealing  themselves to me at the most opportune time. Now I’m aware of this dance, and I continue to waltz toward the scenarios and people and circumstances that always exceed my expectations. When it comes to looking for the magic, I like of guess what’s going to happen before it happens. I envision what the perfect outcome would be, and oftentimes I walk right into that. Because the scenarios that I want to experience, also want to experience me. 

And that’s why I had a strong feeling that I was bound to be a part of a large collaborative and impactful project at some point. 

They day of the mural I chuckled in a moment of realization as I was getting ready to paint next to John Hairston Jr. , but there were layers to that full circle moment. I was also having a flashback to a few seconds before I even opened the email to see what letter I’d have, and asking myself which letter I’d want. It was easy, I’d want the first or the last letter (B or R) or a letter that I’m familiar with already, such as one in my name (A or R or I). 

And there I stood in the center of that R soaking in every moment of this actualized manifestation to my core.  The moment was so right for me and every single person I shared space with out there. It was right for us. 

Photo and edit by John Roberts IG @cray.ward

I want to wrap this up by talking about what it means for me to look for the signs. Whether in the form of colors, shapes numbers or animals or anything really. It varies and I have to define that for myself.  A few weeks ago I was looking up at the sky, having a bit of a low day. A gazed at the clouds with my head back and tears in my eyes, reaching a familiar point that so many of us have felt before. I asked out loud and telepathically to be shown a sign that I was okay and on the right track. I mean, I knew I was on the right track. But I just needed some confirming reassurance that day. I need a real boost. I thought of what kind of sign to ask for and I knew it had to be distinct that I would know without a doubt it more than a fluke.

At first, I asked for a specific shape to be shown in a cloud. 

Nah, that could easily be misconstrued. I thought. I needed a definitive sign, to know that I was good and all was well. I changed my sign from an abstract cloud formation to something specific. So I asked the sky, to not only show me a perfect circle, but for it to be in an unlikely place, and in a place that only I can see.  A tall order, but that, my friends is the level of confirmation that I continue to seek and I’m never let down. My belief in the external is validated by my experience and the magic I speak of is those requests that I put out returning themselves to me in mind-blowing, peculiar and comical ways. 

I’ve learned that I have to validate this relationship to the divine/source/The Universe in ways that is fitting for me. I ask and I receive it. Time and time again. I stated my request once more, mentally and out loud, rooted and firm and thanked the skies in advance and held tight to the fact that my request would be granted just like I asked.

The following day, less than 24 hours later, I’m in my studio preparing to paint, I opened up a container in a set of paints that I’d had for a couple of months, I just hadn’t used the red yet. Today was the day for red, because I was recreating that same color scheme from the R, and as I took the top off of the container, I sat back in amazement. A wave of knowing washed over me. I wrapped myself in the moment, relishing that the reminder I knew I would get, would produce this same feeling. I was once again sitting in scene that I’d imagined. I chuckled.

There it was. Clear as day. Perfect circle. (x2!) For my eyes only.

Well played, Universe.

02022020

welcome to twenty-twentyyy

whew. we made it. we’re here. we’re doin it. hope you’re feeling great and this blog finds you well.

I used to have a blog. And then I didn’t .i’d been toying with the idea of bringing it back, and I guess i still am. But in the meantime, and while this is all still fresh I figured it was time. so here’s a blog, for today. day by day. that’s how we move over here.

2 days ago was World Palindrome day. The date read the same forwards and backward. A palindrome is a word that can be read the same forwards and backward, like ‘mom’ or ‘racecar’, but in addition to that, this particular instance of true visual perfection, the image remains the same once you flip it upside down.

Peak satisfaction. I’ve been a lover of numbers since I was young. Math had always been my favorite subject for years, until there were letters thrown into the mix and made it difficult and unfun. I’ve lived through lifetimes just to come back to be here now. I had to be here, with this passion, these skills, the resources to do it. I’m no stranger to drawing daily and cementing that days drawing into form with the date. This time of my life, feels significant. And I’ve been documenting it with words and images for as long as I’ve felt led to. This felt like a significant drawing on a significant day. The only one of its kind. AND ON TOP OF THAT, as if my optical appetite wasn’t satiated enough, that second day in February marked the 33rd day of the year, with 333 days to go of this leap year. Wow right?

oh andandand I’m turning 33 this year.

the numberssss. oh the numbers. i couldn’t even begin to explain the things that I see. the pieces align. the code so prevalent in all that we do and al that we are that so easily is overlooked until, you tap in. It’s all so divine. My life consists of what I now know not to be a string of mere coincidences. But a strategically well thought dance with the unknown. Of course I’d want to be here for date like 02022020. Just so I could draw that.

We’re constantly reminded how precious this time here is. Sometimes subtly, and sometimes shockingly. It rattles your core. And then we’re collectively jolted once more as we remember the fragility of life, and our humanity and we’re reminded how fleeting this time here is. Because people we probably assumed would be here for palindrome day, aren’t. How marvelous it is that we get to do this every. single day. Until…we don’t? Until we go back to wherever it is we were before we were here as we are now?

And every day that I draw, I feel like I’m doing what I’m here to do. So, I draw.

I will continue to draw because it continuously leads me to things I’ve never drawn before which is great because not only am I a constant quest to drew what I haven’t drawn before, I want people to see art in a way they’ve never seen before.

02022020 was significant. But so is today. And the following one. Every day is significant. But then they all run together and days fly by and months do to and what day is it? What year is it? Where has the time gone? It led us here.

The more I draw the more there is to discover. Endless potential flows from my fingertips at will.

New Sketchbook. New Me. The energy I can feel bursting at the seams of these blank pages that hold space for the infinite. Turn the page. Another day. Another moment to capture. Here’s to being the creator, the writer, the artist, the producer, the director and the star of the story of your life.

To more seemingly significant drawings of 2020 and beyond.

Bittersweet Introspection

*This was written in September 2017. Almost 2 years ago. SO MUCH HAS CHANGED SINCE THEN. However this is still one of my favorites and one of the only older blogs I have so. Enjoy.*

I talk about past Dari and future Dari often, for this post past Dari is Dari from 2011ish-2016ish. Present Dari is basically Dari of 2017. Yes, all 2017.

This post is also about Air Force Dari and it's also about my ex-boyfriend. That's a lot to throw in one post, but that's how it's gotta be. It all goes together. I don't know if it's going to be more about the upgraded Dari or about my relationship, but they're so intricately intertwined that I can't talk about the latter without the former.

I've been in one relationship. It lasted 4 years. Then, he broke up with me. We even had a breakup dinner, we went and dined on delicious bread topped with honey butter and he told me we'd be both be better apart.  I teared up. I did that often though. The news wasn't completely out of the blue so I wasn't surprised, I mean we were at a breakup dinner. But this was it. This was the moment. No amount of delicious (they were so delicious) honey butter bread can diminish the pain that comes with the ending of a 4-year relationship. I mean, especially since now I can never enjoy honey butter carbs in the same way.

At the time of the dinner, we lived apart after previously living together in Georgia. I was still stationed in Georgia and he was back in Charlotte, where I'm from and where we'd met. (We met online because duh, that's where I've met most of the people I know even though we went to the same college at the same time and we were both art majors. ha.) We were doing the long distance, 'see you on my off days even though we don't have the same off days', thing. It was pretty wack. Not only was I in Georgia seemingly alone, doing a job I hated, but the person I liked the absolute most no longer lived there with me.

It wasn't until this year, that I realized just how drastically different I was then. Going through my old journals (I'll have a whole post about journals and journaling in the future) and reading what I wrote and reliving how I felt, for the first time I fully understand his reasoning for the breakup. I was depressed. I was actually depressed. I never owned up to it because surely I'm not depressed, I thought, "I don't have all the symptoms and I'm not suicidal and my boyfriend lives with me, and we even have a dog!" How could I possibly be depressed? I didn't feel it was right to call myself depressed. So I didn't. I was just sad sometimes. A lot of times. You know what that's called? Depression. *mind blown*

I only went through a few pages of one of my journals for the sake of this post but...there's a lot of passages similar to this one. And it's sad for me to read, but...GROWTH!

 I began seeing a psychiatrist that we both called "couch lady" (cause I'd go and sit on her couch. clever). I was on medication. The medication turned me into a zombie and obliterated my libido, even in a long distance relationship (no bueno). I got off the medication. She'd help me get to the root of my thoughts and what I'd been feeling and why, and we did a lot of Cognitive Behavior Therapy. What I could do and how I could change my thoughts and in turn change how I felt. I'd relay all my new helpful information back to my boyfriend who of course had been telling me some of the same. damn. things she was telling me. It sounds different coming from someone else though! Just like hearing stuff from another adult sounds better than when it comes from your parents. Plus she was like, a real doctor. (Sorry bruh.)

I didn't have any real motivation to do anything. I went to work and came home and ate and laid around. We lived together for a while and looking back now all I can do is apologize because I wasn't that great of a girlfriend really. He was so good to me and good for me but I was just....stuck. I wasn't bad at all. But I could've been so much better. I just didn't see it. I didn't see any of it while I was living it. He would always try to get me excited about doing things, learning how to play tennis or learning how to cook, but nothing really stuck. He tried to get me back into making Youtube videos because I loved to do it for years before. He'd bought me art supplies to try to get me to be creative again, he shared podcasts with me to make me feel better, he got me mood enhancers to boost my mood and I bought happy tea. We'd gone on trips and they were fun but they always ended with us going back to our respective states and me having to go back to work.

When I talk about being in the military and how it doesn't leave the best of tastes in my mouth, it helps to know all of this. Because by default, I automatically equate the military to my depression and my depression to the ultimate demise of my relationship. My relationship ended because I wasn't as good of a girlfriend or a partner as I could've been and to me, I wasn't that because of the military. Now I don't mean to place all the blame on it, but for me and for the reason I went in, my heart was never in it. I went in to get out. From the moment I signed on the line, I counted down the years and the months and the days until I'd be out. And it showed. It took a toll on my relationship and on my mental health, not 100% because of the job or the Air Force itself (but that definitely played a part too) but because of me and my own feelings about it.

A perfect example was my hair. I had to cut off my locs of almost 6 years to join. I knew I was going to have to do it, and at the time I was looking forward to a change and a new look but afterward, I don't think I ever reached a point where I truly loved my hair out. It was stressful. Trying to stay in regulation. Trying to embrace it. Trying different things and styles to feel good about myself.  Trying to get my hair from knotting on itself. It was more than I wanted to deal with every day.  I like locking my hair because it's what works for me, it's easy, I don't have to think about my hair when I go to sleep and I don't have to think about what I'm going to do with it when I wake up. I missed that. It was a look that fit me and I look that I missed. I've never been the most confident person in the world, but if I feel like I look good on the outside, then I feel good on the inside and the times I felt like I looked good on the outside with my hair how it was during the military, were few and far in between.

He'd actually tried to talk me out of joining the military. I'd made a list of the pros and cons of joining and he gave me alternatives. He didn't want me to go. I ignored his alternative suggestions and went in anyway because somehow my pros outweighed my cons on paper.  Somewhere down the line, he told me that he wished he tried harder to keep me from going (yikes), that he knew it wasn't me, (it wasn't) and that I wouldn't like it, (I didn't). But, what do you do when someone you love makes a decision you don't necessarily agree with? Do you cheer them on and support their own decision or do you try to talk them out of it because you don't think it's what's best for them? It's tough, no doubt, but had I not gone, I wouldn't be where I am now. I made the decision and I had to deal with it. It sucked. And it ultimately ended our relationship. My one and only relationship with the person I liked the most.

But had I not gone through all that, I wouldn't be where I am now.

People come into our lives and teach us things. Good things. Bad things. He taught me so much, about myself, about relationships and compromise, and about motivation. He taught me about Rubik's cubes, and outer space and how to peel garlic and cut an onion (ew).  And even though our relationship didn't continue, none of that will ever change. The good things I learned during those 4 years even though I was super blah for a lot of it, outweighed the bad. Although more recently, I've learned firsthand that sometimes you learn the other way around and the bad in a relationship or friendship heavily outweighs the good, but after it's all said and done you still get something from it.

We talked about everything, even when we disagreed, we never raised our voices at each other. Turns out, I'm a writer. As much as I don't like to admit it, this blog and the box of journals I have from my teenage years until now, I like to write my feelings. Whenever we'd get into a disagreement or a situation, we'd take our time apart and I'd write to him. I'd give him letters or I'd send him emails. I taught him how to communicate better and he taught me that I was greater than I was allowing myself to be. How many arguments take place because of a lack of communication or a misunderstanding? We aren't mind readers. He didn't know why I didn't want to go in the portapotty.  (Our first argument had to do with a portapotty, it always kept coming up in subsequent discussions too).  Sometimes you don't understand why someone is in a mood they're in or what you can do to make it better or what happened in the first place, but just telling someone how you feel helps. A lot. Only if the other person is willing to listen, though. We listened to each other, and we did it well. Even if we completely disagreed. If I ever find myself in another relationship, the communication has to be on point because the bar is already set really high from my last one.

He tried to get me to work out, go to the gym with him, play tennis and go running. I ran my first 1.5 miles when I was preparing for the Air Force. He pushed me and motivated me the whole way and I did it. I ran a whole 1.5 miles without stopping because he knew I could do it and assured me I wouldn't run out of breath and pass out. He believed in my talents and my abilities before I ever even believed in myself.

He bought me clothes and jewelry and I dabbled in makeup because we'd had a conversation about me never feeling beautiful before. I didn't think I looked like a troll or particularly undesirable, but beautiful was never an adjective I used to describe myself. Now I know that those things still aren't really what I feel the most "beautiful" in, but I do know that I don't automatically hate all the things I thought I hated before. (Sandals, shorts, lipstick etc) I was always so attracted to his confidence and I wanted some of it. He told me his secrets but I just chalked it up to that being who he is and that I can't be that because I'm not him.

The Dari I am now is the Dari he wanted me to be when we were together. Except now I'm single and he's in another relationship.

Life, amiright?

It's bittersweet on both sides and I don't know who it's worse for, the person who made the decision to finally break it off to set the other person free and figure things out on their own, or the person who catapulted themselves into an upgraded ALL 2017 version of themselves and finally realized everything that was being said to her all those years.

It took me a while to get over it, it wasn't a bad breakup so even though I didn't understand why he did it at the time, I still didn't hate him or anything for it, I was just sad. Really sad. I didn't get why he wanted to break up with me if he loved me and thought I was great. But I wasn't really great then. Not like I am now.

But, like, it was so good. Even the bad, looking back, was so good. For me and for him and for us. Because lately I really, truly feel like a different person, but the same person. An upgraded version of myself and I owe a lot of that to him. Not because he's responsible everything I am right now, but to be honest, he jumpstarted a lot of it.

He would always talk to me about getting better, having hobbies to get better at, to live more out loud because time is precious and we could die tomorrow and now, I echo those same things he said. I travel.  I'm making art and honing my talents. He practically used to have to beg me to go to the gym with him. He knew I didn't like it but he loved spending time with me, and he liked to go to the gym so he suggested we go together because going with each other would be better than going alone. He was right, but I still wasn't thrilled about it. He tried to hype me up and get me pumped for it and I most of the time,  I wasn't having it. Now I go to the gym and look up recipes to make on my own.

I wasn't a terrible girlfriend by any means, but I wasn't in the best of places. I wasn't the best Dari. He knew I couldn't be the best Dari being with him, so he let me know. I was sad and angry but.... I'm the best Dari I've ever been, right now because of it. Alone yes, with no bae and no dog, but not lonely. only sometimes.

He's a great person. We're still friends, we still exchange songs and artists we think the other would like. We share dope tattoos and ideas and keep each other in the loop. Just because our relationship ended, our friendship didn't. Although our friendship isn't the same as it was prior to us dating, because of proximity and new boos, barring something ridiculously out of character or devastating happening to one of us, I don't see why we wouldn't remain friends for a long time. I mean, we do kinda have a dog together and just because we aren't together anymore doesn't mean we can't appreciate a good beagle puppy video.

New Dari, 2017 Dari, Upgraded Dari, is great and I feel great but, the seeds of so much of this was planted by him. He knew I could be this person years before I did and I thought he was just expecting me to be someone I really wasn't. The main reason we broke up is so that he could let me be the person he knew I could be. He wanted me to spread my wings and fly. And for a long time, I didn't understand that. And now I AM that, I get it. I'm flying.

So it wasn't bad. It was bittersweet. It's still so bittersweet. It will always be bittersweet. But whenever I find myself daydreaming and asking myself questions like "What if I never joined the military?" or "What if he stuck it out until I was released back into the civilian world and felt better?" or "What would've happened if I moved back to Charlotte instead of moving to Richmond?" There's no way for me to even imagine that scenario because I am who I am now because I did join the military and because he did break up with me over yummy bread and because I did move here and because I am single making my own decisions for me and doing what I want.

When I was in a long distance relationship I wanted to travel and I wanted to see him, I wouldn't have traveled on my own because I used that time off work for us be together. Without work and without him it catapulted me into an exploration phase. Yes, I'll go to Jamaica by myself because who else am I going to go with? Yes, I'll go to Germany to meet a stranger because why not? Spend my birthday in Brazil with strangers? I'm there.

It all ties together and it more than likely wouldn't have been possible without that breakup.

He would encourage me to draw and to find out what I liked etc, I would draw things or make things every now and then as a way to appease him and show him that I did like art! and I was an artist! that made things! but even though I wasn't doing these things just for him, I did feel like a big part of me was doing it just to let him know that I did it so that I could prove that I was fun and an artist. This same thinking and scenario happened multiple times over a host of topics and subjects and activities.

But now, if you've been keeping up with what I've been up to the past three weeks or so, I can't stop painting. It's all I want to do, and I'm doing it. On my own. 

So as I was getting this all together, (I told him I was writing it), I asked him one question. "What was the most frustrating part about our relationship?"

His answer? "The fact that I couldn't help you."

*clutches chest in despair*

But he did help me, so much. I'll love him forever for that.

Yeah, our timing was off, but the result of just how much that relationship impacted me is evident in many parts of my life and I'm so appreciative of it.

Not all breakups are bad. Was I sad? Yeah. For a long time. I still get sad about it every now and then. And then I get more sad because I'm still  not "over it". But before I just thought he just secretly hated my guts and didn't understand the true inner workings of a real Dari, when really, he did. He saw more in me than I saw in myself and I still don't know how, but I'm glad he did.

Chapter 31.

31. Whoa. I'm more than 30 now. 

I'm sure we've all heard multiple times that life stops being fun when you're not in your 20s anymore, that you're supposed to settle down and also have everything figured out and be a real adult and know and do adultlike things. When I was younger, I was almost certain that 30 meant you get a briefcase. Because real adults have briefcases. 

Well, I'm here to let you know, as someone who has done been there and done 30 for a whole year, none of that is true. Whaaaa? I know right? 30 (and everything else) is exactly what you make it. I made a decision to make my 30th year here great, and it was. Of course, it had its moments of ups and downs because #life, but overall? It was everything I wanted and needed it to be.

Last July, I spent my 30th birthday in Rio. The day after? I went hang gliding. As I was floating in the sky, drifting amongst the breeze next to this kind Brazilian man I'd just met, I felt so free. I felt hopeful. It was like it clicked that I could do anything. I was ready to make this the best year yet. 

You know, just casually hovering over the earth. 30 year old things.

In fact, it was last summer, after that Brazilian birthday, that I was so inspired by the murals and street art there, that I started painting on the back of a cardboard box in my room. I've kinda been painting ever since. 

RAW: presents MAGNIFY. April 2018 Photo Cred- IG: @the_damianriggs

At 30, I was the most lonely I've ever been. I was in a city where I didn't know many people, and because I wasn't working or going to school, I spent a lot of time just in my own company. There were moments when I didn't leave my house or talk to anyone for days at a time. There were times when I was okay with that, and there were other times when it got to me. I haven't always been the most extroverted or social person, but this year has also been the one where I've actively worked to overcome that. I Googled how to make friends and applied what I learned to my actual life. I put myself out there to meet people and I swiped right on some top-notch finds. I made an actual effort to go out and make friends and have adventures and do things and because of that I've met so many people and made connections that wouldn't have been possible had I not stepped out of my cozy lil cave. 

Of course I have to talk about my confidence too. In addition to Googling how to make friends, I spent hours watching Youtube videos (and taking notes!) on how to be confident and how to build confidence and it actually started to make sense. I slowly began to change. Now I feel differently. I carry myself differently. I'm not nearly as nervous and anxious about situations as I once was. Not to say I never get nervous or anxious because I definitely still do. But the more I use my newly acquired confidence, the easier it gets. I'm also more aware of how I speak about myself and how I talk to myself and how I think about myself. I made changes where changes needed to be made and that's something I'm constantly working on improving. Issa process.

Photo cred- IG: @reese.bland

Year 30 has brought about a confidence in myself and my body that wasn't there before. I've enjoyed being naked before but now? I really enjoy it.  I'd much rather not wear clothes than wear them. I've done nude photoshoots, I'm a nude figure model, I've been photographed nude outside and I've had a photoshoot while I was having sex. The sex photoshoot tho? Easily one of the highlights of my year. It was something I wanted to do, and I did it and I loved it.  

I've found myself. I've reinvented myself. I've stayed true to myself.  I'm settling more and more into who I wanna be.  For now at least. Living unapologetically. Doing what I want with the people I want to do it with.  Dropping unfavorable habits and picking up favorable ones. I'm (mostly) hydrated. I could write multiple blogs about the various ways I've changed. All for the good. All to be a better me and to consciously create and become the best version of me. 

Photo cred- IG: reese.bland

I don't believe in the same things I believed in a year ago. I don't eat the same as I did a year ago. I don't consume the same content I once did.  I've intentionally attracted several dope ass people into my life since then. What a difference a year makes. Richmond, although I'm leaving you very soon, this is where 30-year-old Dari become her 30-year-old self. This year was definitely a turning point for me and it happened here. (EDIT: As of 2 days ago, I no longer live in Richmond, but I did move back to Charlotte!) 

I needed to experience this age this way. Single. Childless. Isolated from everyone I know. Exploring myself. Exploring my body. Rediscovering my creativity. Discovering my magic. I love me. I really do love myself and I'm proud that I am who I am at the time that I'm it. 

People will tell you on in your twenties to have fun now because when 30 hits it's over. I'm here to assure that if 30 is a place you have yet to be, don't fret. It was fun. 10/10. Highly recommend. Your 30 will most definitely look different than my 30 just as your (insert your age here) looked/will look different than my (insert your age here again). But changing your entire outlook on an event or a situation before it happens can change everything. 

Anyway. 31. Another year on this rock. Another chance to make it great. Boy am I happy to be here. I'm glad you are too. 

Shoutout to Ki for this pic though. Arizona Adventures.