Whew. Season Two is finally here — and let me tell you, it already feels different.
Not because the format’s changed or the guest list isn’t fire (because it is), but because this season is personal. It’s deeper. It’s more intentional. It’s starting with me.
A few months ago, I met up with my friend and mentor, Kourtney Perry — owner of Ladie Lex Scented Candles and one of the most grounded people I know. I was rambling about my ideas for Season Two: themes, guest interviews, storytelling goals — and she stopped me mid-sentence and said, “Emili, I need you to share more of your story.”
At first, I was confused. Like, huh? I thought I did that already. Thirty-six episodes in Season One, eight of them solo. I’ve talked about my divorce, dating, healing from a domestic situation, moving, working, grad school — what else is there?
But then she said something that stuck with me: “Even the messy parts of your life. The ones without the bow. Those quiet, raw parts — that’s the connection.”
And whew. That hit. Because she was right. I had been sharing, but I was curating too — skipping the parts that felt too vulnerable, too unresolved, too… untethered.
That’s where the title of this episode and post comes from: Black. Girl. Untethered.
What does it mean to feel untethered?
Untethered: unbound, unfastened, free-floating. Like a balloon let go from a string — drifting, unsure of its direction, vulnerable to wind, waiting for gravity to call it back down.
Since the beginning of the year, that’s been me.
Not sad. Not hopeless. But not grounded either. Just… floating. And for someone like me, who thrives in structure, schedules, and survival mode — this stillness has felt uncomfortable.
I wrapped up a whirlwind three years of major life changes:
- Divorce.
- Selling my home (the one I thought I’d build a family in).
- Moving six times in Des Moines.
- Leaving a stable job because it didn’t bring me joy.
- Starting over — professionally, personally, emotionally.
- Finishing grad school (shout out to the 3.7 GPA!)
- Landing a job I love.
And now? Now that the chaos has quieted? I don’t know what to do with myself. There’s no fire to put out. No exit plan to map. No diploma to chase. I finally have what I asked for — peace, purpose, stability — but I don’t know how to sit in it.
Learning to sit in the stillness
Stillness can feel like emptiness when you’re not used to it. But I’m starting to understand that it doesn’t mean I’m lost — it means I’m free. Free from constant motion. Free from survival mode. Free from someone else’s timeline.
And yet, I’ve felt lonely. I’ve been hesitant to reach out — to my parents, my friends, even my community — because I don’t want to feel like a burden. But I’m learning that this self-inflicted isolation doesn’t serve me. I’m reminding myself that people want to support me, want me to reach out, and want to show up — I just have to give them the chance.
So if you’re like me — floating, drifting, unsure — let me say this clearly:
You are not alone.
You are not broken.
You are not behind.
You are just… untethered. And that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.
Reclaiming real self-care
The version of self-care that’s been sold to us — bubble baths, brunches, mimosas, manicures — isn’t bad. I love a good spa day. But lately, I’ve needed something more soul deep.
I’m talking about the kind of care Audre Lorde meant when she said:
“Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.”
That’s where I am. In a world that is loud, violent, and suffocating — especially for Black women — rest is resistance. Silence is power. Boundaries are sacred. And presence? Presence is a gift I’m learning to give to myself.
I’ve been journaling more — not just about what others did to me, but about how I feel. I’ve been in therapy, every week, challenging myself to unlearn old habits and nurture new ones. I’ve been reclaiming my energy, my peace, and my purpose. And I’ve been more honest when people ask, “Are you okay?”
Sometimes the answer is, “No. But I will be.”
And that’s enough.
Reconnecting with my faith
One of the biggest shifts for me has been my faith. After years of praying from a place of desperation, I’ve started praying with intention. Not just asking God to fix something — but sitting with Him, learning from Him, and building a relationship for me.
I’ve been going to church again — Corinthian Baptist here in Des Moines — and reading the Bible in a way that feels accessible and meaningful. The Bible in 52 Weeks by Dr. Kimberly D. Moore has been such a helpful guide. Paired with my New Living Translation Filament Bible and audio devotionals, I’m slowly learning the stories and lessons that shape so many of our lives.
This journey back to God hasn’t been perfect. But it’s been honest. And that’s more than enough for now.
Holding tight to what grounds me
In this season of stillness and reflection, I’ve clung to what brings me joy. I’m building Legos, doing diamond paintings, binge-watching documentaries, and laughing my way through The Office and The Golden Girls.
These aren’t distractions — they’re tools. They’re sacred. They remind me that joy is holy, hobbies are healing, and Black girls deserve soft lives full of delight and discovery.
I’ve also become fiercely protective of my energy. If something (or someone) disrupts my peace, I speak on it. I set the boundary. I take my energy back. Immediately. Without apology.
Because this untethered version of me? She deserves to feel whole — even while floating.
Let’s talk
So I want to ask you the same question I asked on the podcast:
Have you ever felt untethered?
If the answer is yes, I see you. I feel you. I am you. Let’s keep the conversation going:
- What grounds you?
- What’s helping you feel whole?
- How are you navigating this strange, sacred, beautiful space between healing and becoming?
Drop a comment here, find me on Instagram or TikTok @blackgirliowa, or visit www.blackgirliowa.com to read more, connect with the community, or explore the brand-new Date with a Journal kits — available now on Etsy.
You’re not walking through this alone. I promise. Let’s float, heal, and grow — together.
With love and light,
Emili
Black. Girl. Iowa. 