A Return To Self
Black Romance Book Festival 2026 | Atlanta, GA
A few weeks ago, while setting up my table at Black Romance Book Festival, my friend, who just so happened to be assisting me, asked me a question you’ve probably heard times before.
“Do you even know you’re that girl?”
Now, I don’t remember the full context of what made her ask the question. Perhaps it was the realization that something we’d manifested a year ago was coming to fruition. Maybe it was the realization of seeing the three books I’d self-published on display for the literal thousands of attendees to snag. It could’ve been me saying I hope I’m able to sell a few and gain some new readers.
I laughed off the question, mostly because I’d thought it answered her question. But as I sat with it through searching for J. Holiday during the R&B Kick-Back or getting to shake hands with Lloyd himself, I realized I wasn’t entirely sure. And the question stayed with me while packing my bags, nestled itself in the too-small gaps of space between seats on the plane, then stared back at me in the mirror as I washed off my travel day.
For years, my life had been built around responsibility and humility.
Go to school. Get the degree. Have the family. And I did it, to some degree. I was taking care of my child, building my career in education, fighting to maintain relationships, checking off every box in hopes of becoming someone everyone thought I needed to be. Through it all, I became incredibly productive. Dependable. Ambitious. Capable.
I also became disconnected.
I’d decentered myself because there were deadlines to meet. Stopped dreaming because somewhere down the line, there’d be time to dream. My only focus was survival, while living sat in a dark corner in my closet underneath bags of too-tight clothes waiting to be dropped off at Goodwill.
So, as I stared at my mirror, the question reflected back to me:
“Do you even know you’re that girl?”
Not mother. Not wife. Not director. Not author.
Girl. Girlhood. Womanhood. Me.
A scary truth presented itself. Through all the accomplishments, promotions, and accolades, I didn’t know who I was at the center of it all. As I’m writing this letter, I still don’t know who that person is, but for the first time in my life, I’m prioritizing who that person is. The version of me freckled with grief, disappointment, loneliness, but holding on to the hope that the version of me I can become is waiting for me on the other side.
In the past, I’ve tried dramatic transformations with perfectly structured daily routines that never made it past the first 5:00 AM alarm. And because I’m not a crazy person, I will not be going down that road again.
Instead, I’m building slowly. A solo date here. A walk through nature there. Notebooks with recaps of daily life, I can look back on and enjoy later.
That’s what I’m building this website to be. A collection of moments where we can come back to ourselves. Whether you’re learning to be alone again, establishing wellness after years of burnout, dating yourself, building a life you love, or discovering who you are outside of any expectations you may carry, this is the place where you are held without judgment.
Here you have permission. To slow down, begin again, outgrow the version of you that no longer serves the direction you’re going. Some may say it’s selfish. Unnecessary. But I disagree. It is very necessary.
Your joy, curiosity, creativity, softness, womanhood deserve to be brought forth to the surface, not for others’ enjoyment, but your own.
This blog is my love letter to her.
If you’ve been feeling disconnected from yourself lately, moving through life on autopilot, carrying more than necessary, I hope these next few articles remind you that you are not alone.
Welcome to Sweet Freckled Olives.
Welcome back to yourself.
With love,
Alexandrea LeChelle
Founder & Editor-In-Chief
Sweet Freckled Olives
