I sleep like a newborn baby with a belly full of milk these days; peaceful with a clear mind. I do not take this for granted. At one point in my life, I could not sleep. I would have to be medicated to be able to catch some zzz’s. I would have to pop a sleep aid or guzzle a glass of wine. I have just recently been reminiscing about those sleepless nights in trying to fully gain an understanding of what changed. Ya see, sometimes we forget that a storm even occurred after the rain dries and the sun overcomes the clouds. At night, things are quiet, dark, even sometimes mysterious; just you and your thoughts. Even if you’re in bed or on the couch with someone else, you still have to lay down with yourself. You have to confront your thoughts and settle them, allowing rest.

There was a point in my life where I was not being one hundred percent authentic. I was just this lost girl who cared too much about perception. This girl that didn’t love herself enough. This girl that didn’t see herself as a queen. I was overly meticulous in everything that I did because I was so worried about how I would seem to others or what it would do to my overall image. I had a persona to uphold and what I was trying to uphold was less than the true me. So when it was time for me to turn off the lights and go to sleep, I would have an ongoing battle in my head: real Mila vs the one who cared about how she was perceived. This battle would go on for hours. It was me overanalyzing everything, caring too much, being stressed because I was living too far outside of my true self.

Fast forwarding to today, we arrive at the Mila that sleeps as soon as the room gets dark. I can only find one major difference between now and who I was then. Today, I am unapologetically me. I mismatch my clothes, I wear weave, my brows aren’t always perfect, my toes are ugly, I misspell things, I trip over my own feet, I cut people off sometimes when they speak, I’m compulsive, and the list goes on. But guess what? I have nothing to hide. I have nothing to explain to anyone. I am truly me. I love myself and I am true to myself. I’m an open book, so to speak. When I lay down at night, there is no longer a battle that occurs. I’m free from the war of me, the chains of perception that kept me sleepless.

The icing on the cake is that when I started to be myself, unapologetically, I felt a warmer embrace from others. I began to walk with my head just a little bit higher. My confidence grew just a little bit more. I became stronger as I walked in alignment with my truths.

“To Thine Own Self Be True” – Shakespeare

Hmmm, I think that quote may be my next tattoo.

Much love,






H-A-I-R. Hair. Defined by Webster’s Dictionary as any of the numerous fine, usually cylindrical, keratinous filaments growing from the skin of humans and animals. Hair is a multi-billion dollar business from products such as shampoo and conditioner to the actual purchase of hair such as tracks or clip ins. You’re probably wondering why in the hell I’m talking about hair huh? For many of us women, its defines our style and can be referred to as our crown in a sense. If I am having a bad hair day, I will for sure have a bad day in general and probably will be dressed in something frumpy and unbecoming. I alter my style of clothing to go along with my hair. It is quite ridiculous sometimes and I’m embarrassed. Why can’t I be like the wonderful India Arie who professed to the world through song that she was not her hair and that it didn’t define her? Simple, influence. I feel like I’m less beautiful when my locks aren’t up to par.

Now let’s talk about why I should NOT be like this…simply put, there was a point in time when I had not one hair on my head. Yes, the poison called chemotherapy wiped it out. I tried to hold on to my hair as long as I could and even stopped combing it, just letting it sit there on top of my head. I can remember it like yesterday; I finally took a shower and got up the gusto to shampoo it. My hair just came out strand by strand in my hands. The experience was by far one of the most traumatizing things for me to go through. From the loss of my hair, I learned to adapt and probably had nearly a hundred head scarves, wraps, and hats. I didn’t want to freak myself or my friends and family out so I always kept my dome covered. After my hair began to grow back, I often wore it braided and then moved on to wearing weaves, something I swore I would never do before I went bald.

I am a woman of different hair styles and usually change it up every few months. Even years later, I am very uncomfortable with my natural hair because it just doesn’t seem like it will ever be the same as it was before it fell out. I share my private hair struggle to make the point that we are often fixated on superficial things that we shouldn’t be. Over the past year or so, I have been making big strides towards accepting my “new hair”. Don’t get it twisted, women and men should take pride in how they look and grooming is essential but where do we draw the line? I have seen women be bashed for not having the most expensive hair weave or even having thinner hair than the average girl. It’s disheartening and I think we all need to check ourselves sometimes. Look in the mirror, you aren’t perfect but you are magnificent and beautiful.

Below I’ll share India Arie’s video that I mentioned earlier, its very inspirational.

I am not my hair. I am not my skin. I am not your expectation.