In-Between
“A mind is a terrible thing to waste.” — UNCF
My mom used to tell me that all the time. I never really understood what she meant—until now. These days, I find myself mentally checking out more often than I’d like to admit. My body is here, but my mind? It’s racing. Spinning like a hamster wheel. Always thinking about the next thing, the next place to go, the next outfit to create, the next idea I haven’t quite figured out how to execute. But even in all that mental activity, I still feel stuck.
When Life Feels Like a Loop
Let me be honest: Life at 28 isn’t what I thought it would be. Technically, I’m still a girl, but… how long can I keep saying that? I imagined I’d be further along by now—thriving in fashion and marketing, collaborating with brands, making moves. But instead, I feel like I’ve been starting and stopping for years.
Every day feels the same.
Wake up.
Work 8 hours.
Maybe work out.
Go home. Eat. Shower. Sleep.
Repeat.
It’s like I’m on this never-ending treadmill, and no matter how fast I run, I’m not going anywhere. Meanwhile, I scroll and see everyone else living their “soft life” dreams—traveling, getting brand deals, working from home, buying houses. And me? I feel like I’m doing nothing. No motivation. No momentum. Just trying to catch up with time that keeps slipping through my fingers.
The Storm I Didn’t See Coming
What I’m about to say isn’t easy to share—but I believe in being real, and someone else might need this. I used to be suicidal. Not because I truly wanted to die, but because I desperately wanted the pain to stop. I was silently suffering from depression, anxiety, fear—all while pretending to be okay. Life was hitting me from every direction:
A failed engagement.
A totaled car.
Moving back in with my mom.
Mysterious allergic reactions with no answers.
Trying to rediscover who I even was.
Building my relationship with God
Balancing friendships
Healing
At one point, I found myself imagining my own funeral. Wondering who’d come. Wondering if anyone would miss me. Maybe my mom, my dad, my brother… a few friends. Maybe I’d just become another Instagram post: “Gone too soon” or “Rest in peace.” That’s how deep it got. Then one day, my mom came into my room crying, begging me not to give up on life. She told me how loved, needed, and wanted I was. That conversation? It saved me. It was like God Himself spoke through her, and in that moment, I knew I had to hold on.
“The testing of your faith produces perseverance.” — James 1:3 (NIV) That word—endure—hit different. It means to remain firm under suffering without giving in. And that’s exactly what I’ve been learning to do.
The Fear of Becoming Who I Am
Surviving was just the beginning. Rebuilding who I am has been the real fight. When I transitioned from theboujeefoodie to Welexi Renee, I thought I was stepping into a new chapter. But instead, I spiraled. I started doubting myself, my voice, my creativity. I felt like I lost my identity. I asked myself: Who even cares about what I post? Why am I doing this? I was experimenting with marketing, testing out strategies, trying to be consistent. But I kept falling off—posting less, second-guessing more. I even stopped doing OOTDs because I didn’t want to “do too much” or step on toes. Imagine that—shrinking your creativity just to stay small enough to not bother anyone. Truth is, I’ve been afraid. Afraid of failing. Afraid of being seen. Afraid of my own potential. I’ve let fear silence me too many times. And every time I stop writing, stop showing up, stop trying, anxiety creeps back in. I lose motivation. I crash. And I hate it. But every time I come back, I remember: I was made for this. Not because I’m perfect. Not because it’s easy. But because there’s something in me that still wants to try.
Still Becoming
I’m not where I want to be yet—but I’m not where I used to be. Endurance doesn’t look glamorous. It looks like crying on the floor, then getting up anyway. It looks like writing again, even when you think no one is reading. It looks like showing up to your own life—even when it feels like nothing is moving. I’m learning that what we go through isn’t just for us—it’s so we can help someone else. So to the girl who feels stuck in her 9 to 5, creatively numb, or constantly comparing herself online: I see you. I am you. And I just want you to know—your story isn’t over. You are not too late. You are not falling behind. You’re just in the in-between. And you’re still becoming.
