- Based in Overtown Miami, FL
- info@nicolecrooks.com
I love them.
And I don’t trust them.
That is the truth I carry in my body,
like a prayer I didn’t ask to memorize.
Like a weight I’ve been trained to smile beneath.
And I feel the resistance.
That sacred tension between love and boundary,
between care and clarity,
between what I wish was true and what is.
And I name it now because I want to live.
Not just survive.
I want to Live. To Thrive.
Authentically.
Fully.
Without the slow, silent suffering of swallowing–that’s killing us.
We don’t talk about this enough—
how swallowing truth becomes sickness.
How performance becomes pressure.
How politeness–and rage both become poison in the body.
This is the stress that’s killing us.
The stroke at 26 and again at 42.
The autoimmune flare.
The cancer.
The fibroids.
The weight.
The headaches.
The back pain.
The burnout.
The anxiety.
The exhaustion that not even Cuban coffee can jolt.
The agitation.
The addictions–whether to social media, substances or even Hawaiian sweet rolls.
The heartbreak we push down so hard it calcifies in the bone.
The smiles we give while our blood pressure climbs.
The grief we carry in silence so the room can stay “safe.”
But safe for who?
And beyond all that— The fury we call righteous—but that actually corrodes us from within and punishes those we’ve mistaken for enemies.
The indignation we weaponize and misname as power—when really, it’s grief dressed in armor, doing more harm than healing.
The anger we spiritualize while it eats through our bones and burns bridges we were never meant to cross alone.
Is it safe to sacrifice my health on the altar of other people’s unprocessed ego?
Is it honorable to silence my discernment just to keep the peace?
Why am I calling things community when what I’m actually feeling is harm, wrapped in strategy?
I want to love and be loved genuinely.
I want to learn and lead with grace.
I want to dream and build alongside people I’m aligned with and trust.
Is it possible to build a future with someone who refuses to do the work of repair?
Is it naive to think that trust isn’t just a vibe, It’s a practice…
…and when it’s broken, something must be done—not just said—to rebuild it…?
I still love them.
That’s the hardest part.
Not because I’m gullible.
But because I believe in who we could be
if we actually told the truth.
If we said:
“Yes, something broke here.”
“Yes, I hurt you…or you hurt me.”
“Yes, I stayed silent when I could’ve said something…or said too much when it would have been more loving to be silent.”
If we allowed grief to speak.
If we let the rupture be a doorway.
If we stopped using “the work” as an excuse to avoid the real work.
Because it’s not the rupture that breaks us.
It’s the refusal to name it.
To sit in it.
To ask the harder questions:
What would this dream look like if everyone felt safe in it?
What would restoration require?
What if we slowed down long enough to actually feel what we keep trying to skip over?
I’m not asking for perfection. I don’t even think that’s a thing.
I’m asking for presence.
For truth.
For grown-up love that knows how to be accountable.
We will never be flawless.
Yet I desire us to be honest.
To stop pretending.
To stop performing repairs we’re not willing to practice.
And if we can’t?
I bless and honor our sacred boundaries.
I express gratitude for the “blessons”
I still hold love.
…and I will not keep betraying my body to stay in spaces that refuse to hold me with care.
This is my liberation practice:
Loving with truth.
Leading with discernment.
Protecting my peace like the sacred medicine it is.
Not because I’m emotionally detached—
it’s because I’m choosing to love deeply and authentically.
I choose to heal into joy.
I choose to live into liberation.
I choose to move through the pain into something real.
And I invite us all to come too—if we’re willing to do the work.
So I say again:
Return to the circle.
Not the pretend one.
The real one.
Where no one is above truth.
Where no one who is committed & ready is left behind.
Where rupture isn’t avoided, it’s transformative.
Where love is fierce, honest, and wide enough to hold even our hardest moments.
Because I believe we can heal.
I believe we can repair.
With truth.
With accountability.
By honoring the wisdom our bodies have been whispering and screaming for years.
Let us sit.
Let us rest.
Let us feel.
Let us be…
Let us write, process, and dream.
Let us tell the truth.
Let us unclench our jaws and relax our foreheads.
Let us move our bodies with intention.
Let us breathe, breathe, breathe again.
Let us surrender to the magic of transformation.
Let us become the healed, the healing, the whole.
Let us be like water.
Let us live.
Let us thrive.
Let us Love-More!
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