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From Survival to Soulwork: The Journey Behind My Poetry Book

Hey, it’s Alazé The Poet.

I know I haven’t been as consistent with blogging as I intended to be, but today marks a reset—one rooted in grace, healing, and truth. Life has been heavy lately, and I’ve been navigating a lot mentally, emotionally, and physically. Between chronic pain, hormonal imbalances, thyroid issues, and doctors not fully listening to my body’s cries—some days, I’m just trying to breathe. Add in emotional waves of grief, generational trauma, parenting through heartbreak, and finally allowing myself to love and be loved—and it’s safe to say, I’ve been feeling everything deeply.

But in the midst of the chaos, I’ve also found clarity.

For years, I said I was going to do something with my poetry. I talked about publishing, about sharing my voice, about turning pain into purpose. But talking turned into doing—and I finally did it. I started building my manuscript for my first poetry book. And y’all—it’s not just a book. It’s my soul in stanzas. It’s my scars in rhyme.

This project is my truth. Raw. Reflective. Rebellious. Healing.

The book is structured in three parts, each capturing a chapter of my life. Part 1 holds my aches, betrayal, depression, and the quiet battles I’ve fought in silence. But I didn’t want to just release trauma into the world. I wanted to guide my readers through the process of reflection too. That’s why every few poems, you’ll find a pause—a reflective page that invites you to sit with your own emotions, to breathe, to feel, and to heal.

This book wasn’t designed to be consumed in one sitting. It’s meant to be experienced. Slowly. Intentionally. With gentleness.

This is more than poetry. This is a mirror. This is medicine. This is me.

Thank you for being on this journey with me—from the girl in 6th grade scribbling verses, to the woman standing in her truth.

Let’s keep healing out loud.

With love and resilience,

Alazé The Poet

Keep pushing past the pain, doubt & trauma. Keep pushing through it with healing & love from within.

No Contact

    by Alazè The Poet

It’s been seven days of no contact.

Remember when I thought you were

my one and only true match?

It’s been seven days of no contact,

and I’m finally seeing what you lacked.

A selfish personality.

But I chose to see you

for who you could be.

You see—

my heart was bigger than my mind.

So I ignored every warning sign.

You strung me along,

claimed commitment,

but never offered a real relationship.

You devalued my worth.

And that hurt.

But it’s okay now—

I’m putting me first.

It’s been seven days of no contact,

and I remind myself daily

why I can’t go back.

Why it was never something I lacked.

I wanted love.

Time.

Attention.

Maybe even a Facebook mention.

But I was your bae, your lover,

your confidant—

behind closed doors.

You never really wanted more.

Scared to love.

So I gave my heart back to the Man above.

And I trust my genuine love

will come.

Seven days of no contact—

and honestly, I’m okay with that.

My back is no longer against the wall.

I’m no longer scared to fall.

I’m learning it’s okay to move on.

Not later—

but now.

Because playing with my heart

was hella foul.

Seven days of no contact.

Seven days of eye-opening moments.

Seven days of choosing myself.

Boundaries set—

and I’m back.

Back to being me.

Back to being free.

Back to loving me

the way it was always meant to be.

No contact needed.

Because this time,

love wasn’t defeated.

Alazè The Poet

Written: 1/5/26 2:45AM

Reflection: Balancing Psychoanalysis and Presence in My Social Work Journey

As a mental health professional with a background in psychology, I’ve noticed that I naturally tend to psychoanalyze people and situations. It’s rarely intentional — my mind simply seeks understanding. I’ve always been deeply curious about what shapes people: their experiences, environments, and emotional worlds. Psychology gave me the tools to notice patterns and defense mechanisms, but my MSW program has expanded that lens, teaching me to see people within their systems — families, communities, cultures, and institutions.

This dual perspective often feels like a gift. I can recognize both the internal struggles and the external barriers that influence behavior. The combination of micro-level psychological insight and macro-level social awareness allows me to approach individuals holistically — as more than a diagnosis or a story. It aligns with the person-in-environment perspective that social work emphasizes, reminding me that people are not problems to fix but lives to understand.

Still, I’ve learned that constant analysis can become exhausting — for me and others. There are moments when my instinct to interpret can interfere with simply being present. Not everyone needs to be understood on a clinical level; sometimes, they just need someone to listen without decoding. Part of my professional growth has been learning to pause the inner “analyst” and embrace genuine connection.

I’m practicing grounding myself in curiosity that’s compassionate, not clinical — allowing understanding to flow naturally without forcing insight. When I catch myself analyzing outside of a professional setting, I try to ask: Am I connecting, or am I evaluating? That question helps me remain self-aware and emotionally attuned rather than detached.

Ultimately, my analytical nature is rooted in empathy — in a sincere desire to help people make sense of their lives and believe in their capacity to heal. As I continue through my MSW program, I want to honor that part of me while also nurturing balance: knowing when to observe, when to intervene, and when to simply be.

I’m about my business, education and health. You are only as great as you see yourself. 🩷 Never stop working on you. Never stop working towards achieving your goals. You’ve got this! Accountability takes us far.

September Awareness Days: Healing, Hope & A Little Fun

Hey y’all,

Can you believe it’s already September? This month is stacked with awareness days that matter deeply—especially for mental health. But it’s also sprinkled with some fun ones that remind us to breathe, laugh, and not take life too seriously. You know I’m about to post on each of these, so let’s break it down.

Mental Health & Healing Days

Sept 10 – World Suicide Prevention Day 💛 Heavy topic, but necessary. I’ll be sharing resources, real talk about prevention, and how to show up for yourself and others.

All September – Suicide Prevention Awareness Month Expect posts that keep mental health at the center—coping skills, signs to look for, and encouragement when life feels heavy.

Sept 21 – World Alzheimer’s Day Honoring families walking this road and reminding us to extend love and patience.

The Fun Ones (because joy is medicine too)

Sept 6 – Read a Book Day 📚 Y’all know I’ll be sharing my current reads and asking for your recommendations. Books are therapy too.

Sept 13 – Positive Thinking Day 🌱 Perfect excuse to drop affirmations and little mindset shifts that make big differences. Sept 19 – Talk Like a Pirate Day ☠️😂 Yes, we’re gonna be silly. Yes, I’ll probably say “Arrr” way too much. Laughter heals too, don’t fight me on this.

Why This Matters

Life is a balance of deep healing and lighthearted joy. One day we might be unpacking trauma, the next day we’re giggling over pirate slang. Both are necessary. Both are part of resilience. That’s the energy I’m bringing to the blog this month.

Wrap-Up

So here’s the plan: I’ll be dropping posts all month long tied to these awareness days. Some will be reflective, some will be resourceful, and some will just be plain fun. Stick around, share your thoughts, and let’s make this September a month of awareness, healing, and joy.

With Love,

Alazè The Poet💚

Life Lately with Alazè: A Real Life Update

Hey loves,

It’s been a minute since I gave y’all a real update, and if you know me, you know I don’t like to sugarcoat life. I’ve been moving through a season that’s equal parts growth, grind, and grounding—and I want to let you in on it.

What’s Been On My Plate?

School Life: Grad school has been grad-schoolin’. Between papers, discussions, and diving deep into social work theories, my brain has been stretched in the best ways. (Shoutout to tea and prayer for keeping me going. 😂)

Work & Purpose: I’ve been showing up for my clients as a QMHP while still building my coaching and creative business. It’s a lot, but it feels aligned with my purpose—to heal, teach, and create safe spaces.

Creative Flow: Poetry and writing stay my heartbeat. I’ve been pouring into new projects—workbooks, journals, even some YouTube content. It’s wild how healing turns into art when you let it.

Family & Home: Whew. Homeschooling my kids, balancing motherhood, and still trying to take care of me—it’s not easy, but it’s beautiful. Some days are messy, some days are magic, and I’m learning to hold both with grace. I’m doing my best with what I have right now. 🙏🏾💚💜

What’s Next?

I’ve got some exciting things lined up—new blog series, courses, more raw reflections, and resources to support y’all on your healing journey. September is going to be a month of showing up consistently, sharing from the heart, and reminding us all that we’re not alone out here.

Closing Thoughts

I just want to say thank you. For reading, for supporting, for seeing me. Every comment, every share, every quiet read means more than you know. Stay with me on this ride—it’s only just beginning.

From Pouring to Balance: My Journey with Love Styles⚖️

I’ve always loved deeply.

The kind of love where I’m the first one to show up, the first to ask “Are you okay?” when someone goes quiet, the one who remembers the small things—like how you take your coffee or the song that soothes you after a hard day.

For years, I thought this was simply being a good partner, friend, and human. And in many ways, it is. But I recently learned there’s a name for the way I’ve been loving: Self-Sacrificial Love Style.

What Is a Self-Sacrificial Love Style?

Self-Sacrificial Love is when your love for others comes at the expense of yourself. It’s when you:

Overextend your time, energy, and resources without expecting reciprocity. Put someone else’s needs before your own consistently, even when it drains you. Struggle to set boundaries because you fear it will make you seem “selfish” or unloving. Feel unappreciated when your sacrifices go unnoticed or unreciprocated.

In this style, love feels like service. And while acts of service can be beautiful, this pattern can leave you empty—because you keep pouring into others without anyone pouring back into you.

How This Showed Up in My Life

I’ve been the one who rearranges my schedule, pushes aside my own needs, and gives—financially, emotionally, physically—without hesitation.

I’ve braided hair, cooked meals, given gifts, held people in their lowest moments, and done it all without asking for anything in return… except the basics.

And when those basics—like being held when I’m vulnerable, or having someone think of me on their own—aren’t met, it hurts deeper than I want to admit.

The hardest part? I’ve been ignoring the signs.

I’ve mistaken inconsistency for growth, and minimal effort for love because I so badly wanted the story in my head to be true.

Shifting Into a Balanced Love Style

Through a lot of reflection (and some hard truths), I’ve realized I don’t want to stop loving deeply—I just want to love differently. That means shifting toward a Balanced Love Style.

Balanced Love means:

Giving and receiving are both present. Love is mutual, not one-sided. Boundaries are respected, not punished. Both people put in effort to meet each other’s needs.

In a balanced love, you don’t have to beg for the basics. You don’t feel guilty for resting. And you don’t love from a place of depletion—you love from a place of overflow.

My Promise to Myself

I’m learning that I am not “too much” for wanting reciprocity.

I am not “needy” for wanting to be cared for as I care for others.

And I am not “selfish” for protecting my energy.

From now on, I will:

Recognize early when love feels one-sided. Speak up about my needs without apologizing. Remember that my love is valuable, and it deserves to be matched.

Because I’m no longer here to just fill cups—I want to share in the pouring.

Reflection Prompt for You:

Think about your own love style. Are you pouring more than you’re receiving? If so, what’s one boundary or standard you can put in place to protect your heart?

Living with Bipolar Isn’t Just Highs & Lows

It’s misunderstood. It’s exhausting. It’s navigating shame and silence. It’s learning your triggers, honoring your rhythms, and still loving yourself when you feel unstable. Bipolar isn’t who I am—but it’s a part of my story.

What do you wish more people understood about bipolar disorder?

Drop a 🌞if you’re navigating mental health with grace and grit.

Engagement Prompt: What helps you stay grounded when emotions feel extreme?

#BipolarAwareness #MentalHealthMonday #GraceAndGrit #HealingWithDisorders

Mental Health Monday Mental Health Isn’t Linear—And That’s Okay

Some days I journal, meditate, and feel aligned. Other days I barely make it out of bed. That doesn’t mean I’m failing—it means I’m human. Mental health isn’t a straight road. It’s messy. It loops. It teaches.

What’s something you’re doing today to support your mental health?

Drop a 💚 if your healing isn’t perfect—but it’s still happening.

Engagement Prompt: What does support look like for your mental health on hard days?

#MentalHealthMonday #HealingIsMessy #NonLinearHealing #AlazèThePoet

🧠 Mental Health Monday: I’m Back, But First… An Honest Apology

Hey beautiful souls,

I owe you an apology — not the kind that’s performative or rushed, but one that sits gently in your heart and mirrors the realness of this space.

I know it’s been a little more than a full week since I’ve posted here, and trust me, I didn’t forget about you. I didn’t disappear out of neglect or disinterest. I simply had to sit with myself.

Some weeks are heavier than others. This past one? Whew. It was a swirling storm of emotions, grief waves I thought I had already surfed, hormonal shifts that made my body feel foreign, and mood swings that made me want to isolate, cry, and protect my peace all at once. Add to that the pressure of completing a class analysis for graduate school — and let’s just say, life was loud.

But I’ve learned that healing isn’t always about pushing through. Sometimes, it’s about pausing. About letting the silence speak. About not performing your pain but honoring it in stillness. And that’s what I did.

I had to unplug. To cry without explanation. To rest without guilt. To grieve parts of myself I’m still learning to love. I had to give myself what I so often encourage all of you to give yourselves — grace.

So thank you for still being here. Thank you for understanding. And if you, too, have had a week that tested your strength or stretched your heart — I see you. I’m with you. Let’s remind ourselves that missing a week doesn’t mean we failed. It means we’re human. It means we’re trying. And that is always, always enough.

This space will always hold honesty, even when it’s messy. I’m back now, grounded and a little more whole. Let’s start the week off tender, intentional, and soft with ourselves.

With love and permission to rest,

Alazè 💛

🌱 Engagement Prompt:

Have you ever had to take a step back to protect your peace? How do you give yourself grace when life feels heavy?

Drop a comment and let’s talk about it. Let’s hold space for each other.

Soulful Saturday

I Don’t Just Want to Heal—I Want to Be Whole

Healing is beautiful, but wholeness? That’s the goal. I want joy without guilt. Peace without overexplaining. A life that feels soft and strong at the same time.

I’m not healing just to survive. I’m healing to live.

💬What does wholeness look like for you?

Leave a 🧩if you’re putting the pieces back together.

Breaking Through: A Rage Activity for the Soul

Yesterday, I picked up a bat and faced the door of my pain—literally.

I dragged an old closet door into the center of my space, wrote every word that’s been weighing me down—GUILT. FEAR. PAIN. GRIEF. SELF-DOUBT. Names I grieve. Feelings I buried. Moments I never got to process. I turned my music up loud enough to drown out the lies that used to echo in my head. And then… I swung. I screamed. I wept. I let it out.

This wasn’t about destruction.

This was about release.

This was about survival.

This was about me taking my power back—one swing, one sob, one cracked panel at a time.

Rage rituals like this one are sacred. They’re the moments we stop pretending to be okay. They’re the moments we let our bodies do the healing our minds can’t seem to reach. They’re the moments we cry from our bellies, not our eyes.

The bat in my hand wasn’t just metal and color—it was my voice. The door wasn’t just wood—it was a wall between who I’ve been and who I’m becoming.

This act wasn’t violent.

It was liberating.

For anyone who’s holding it all in, for anyone who feels like they’re one emotion away from shattering—this is your reminder that it’s okay to fall apart to find your way back to wholeness.

Let yourself rage. Let yourself feel. Let yourself be messy. Let yourself be human.

Because healing isn’t always pretty.

Sometimes it’s loud.

Sometimes it’s wild.

But damn, it’s real.

Engagement Prompt:Have you ever had a moment where you let it all out in a way that felt healing? Share your story in the comments—or tell me what word you’d write on your own “door” if you had one.

Alazè (Me) is speaking in the beginning. The song that plays is Yolanda Adams- The Battle is the Lords

#RageRoomHealingAtHome #GriefAndGrowth #HealingInMotion #UnmaskedHealing #AlazèThePoet

Fearless Friday

I’m Finally Taking Up Space Unapologetically

I used to shrink to be digestible. But now? I’m full volume. I take up space with my voice, my art, my story.

This is your permission slip to take up space, too.

💬What space are you reclaiming in your life?

Leave a 🔥 if you’re done shrinking.

🖤 Wisdom Wednesday: I’m Not Okay—And That’s Okay

Today, I’m sitting with a heaviness that words can’t hold.

Grief has wrapped itself around me again—unexpectedly but all too familiar. Today marks the birthday of my daughter’s father… my best friend… the one who was taken from us too soon. The pain doesn’t get smaller. I just get better at wearing the mask. But today? Today the mask cracked.

I cried. I screamed. I sat in my car because I didn’t want my babies to see me breaking.

I’m grieving more than just him—I’m grieving the version of me that had someone who got me in a way no one else ever did. I’m grieving the friendship, the laughter, the inside jokes. And I’m grieving for my daughter, too, because she deserves more memories with him.

And as if that wasn’t enough, July also reminds me of another loss. Someone else I loved died by suicide. It’s like this month is laced with sorrow and reminders that the people I thought would always be here… aren’t.

Some days, the pain whispers. Today, it screams.

But here’s the thing I’m learning and reminding myself of—even in the middle of all this:

✨ You don’t have to be strong every second of the day.

✨ Grief is love that has nowhere to go. So let it spill. Let it scream. Let it ache.

✨ You are allowed to fall apart and still be healing.

✨ Your children don’t need a perfect mother—they need a present one. Even if you’re quiet. Even if your eyes are puffy. Even if all you can say is “I love you.”

To anyone else who feels like the world is moving while your heart is paused in pain:

You are not alone.

You are not broken.

You are allowed to honor your grief without rushing your healing.

So if today you find yourself barely holding it together…

If you’re sitting in your car to breathe because the walls of your house feel too loud…

If your tears have dried but your chest still aches…

This post is your permission to feel it all.

And then—when you’re ready, not a second before—pick up the pieces, one breath at a time. Not to be who you were before the loss, but to become someone softer, wiser, and even more full of love.

I’m not okay today. And that’s okay.

I’m grieving. And that’s okay.

I’m healing. And that’s holy.

– Alazè 🖤

Wisdom Wednesday: 5 Reminders

5 Reminders for When You’re Doubting Yourself

1. You don’t have to do it all today.

2. Someone is rooting for you right now (me!).

3. Rest is productive.

4. You’re not behind—you’re on a divine timeline.

5. Who you’re becoming is worth the discomfort.

💚Save this for the next time doubt creeps in.💚

💬Which reminder hit hardest? Comment below.

Drop the number that spoke to your soul.

Truthful Tuesday (Joy + Identity)

Joy Isn’t Always Loud—Sometimes It’s Soft

Joy doesn’t always scream. Sometimes it whispers. Like the peace I feel when the kids are sleeping. Like the first sip of tea on a quiet morning. Like not needing to explain why I’m smiling to anyone.

I’m learning to make room for quiet joy. The kind that doesn’t perform, just *is*.

💬What quiet moment brought you joy recently?

Leave a 🌼 if joy showed up gently for you today.

✨My First Book Review Is In… And I’m Speechless✨

I’ll never forget this moment.

You pour your soul into every page, every line, every tear-soaked stanza — and then you release it into the world, praying someone sees you in it. Not just the words, but the heart behind them. The healing. The chaos. The growth.

And then… someone does.

I received my first review for What Bleeds Still Blooms: A Poetic Memoir of a Woman Unmasked, and y’all — I cried. Happy tears. Soft tears. Overwhelmed and humbled tears.

Here’s what my reader Brittani shared with me:

“Omg girlllll!!! I can’t put it down at work right now, it’s so good!!!”

Reading her words lit something up in me. She went on to ask where she could post her full review, because she wanted to share it publicly. That part. She didn’t have to — but she felt moved enough to do so.

Before that, she also told me:

“I’m waaaay too hard on myself so reading that makes me feel somewhat better! … I’m so very looking forward to delving into your poems & starting my affirmations 🥹🥰💖”

That’s exactly why I wrote this book. To create a safe space for us — for the overthinkers, the feelers, the women learning to hold space for both their pain and their power. For the ones still unmasking, still healing, still blooming.

This first review is more than validation. It’s confirmation. I’m walking in purpose. I’m reaching hearts. I’m not alone.

Thank you, Brittani. And thank you to everyone who has supported this journey so far. If you’ve purchased my book, I’d love to hear what resonated with you most — and if you haven’t yet, maybe this is your sign. 💌 (uniquebyshaquana.com)

🖤 With love and poetry,

Alazè