Are We There Yet?

We officially hit the halfway mark of our 100 Days of Deservitude journey, and I find myself somewhere between "look at everything I've accomplished" and "ARE WE THERE YET?!" The truth about transformation? It's not just hard—it feels impossible most days. (Especially now when I’m actively trying to ignore the world burning around me so I can get myself together to do my part to pour water on the fire.)

For 50 days, we've been upgrading from accepting scraps to demanding our full portion. We've been excavating what deserving means beneath layers of gratitude that sometimes felt more like settling. We've been writing ourselves into deserving more because, let's be honest, "just be grateful" has been weaponized against us for far too long.

This idea of Deservitude changed my life dramatically, but the transformation was gradual—almost undetectable until suddenly it wasn't. Those breakthrough moments, when basking in the fruit of my labor makes the grind worthwhile, are starting to accumulate like seeds we've planted, gaining strength as we nurture an environment where our hopes and dreams can bloom.

Even amid our changing social landscape, we're still showing up. I'm reading your emails about shifting mindsets and weathering unkindness (mostly from ourselves)—I'm right there with you. And you know what? We don't have to hit the mark every day. I didn't this week. This post is late because I chose rest. I'm processing grief and generational drama, and I'm not pressuring myself to be perfect. (Also ignoring the enormous volume of idiocy all around us is another full-time job!)

So what have we learned in these 50 days of stretching, breaking, rebuilding, and sometimes flat-out rebelling?

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THE JOURNEY SO FAR

Week 1: We acknowledged that basic gratitude wasn't enough.

Week 2: We remembered our limitless childhoods—roller skates, concrete kingdoms, and the certainty that we deserved to take up space.

Week 3: We reclaimed our right to dream in technicolor.

Week 4: We acknowledged the invisible weight of emerging from collective trauma.

Week 5: We claimed space for both our need for solitude and our eventual return to community. I recognized that I am a revolution on these shores.

Week 6: We gave ourselves permission to linger in moments of peace. We recognized that sometimes self-care looks like hitting snooze and staying in dreams that "felt too sweet to leave."

Week 7: We started burning bridges and toasting marshmallows, acknowledging that peace sometimes requires a show of force.

Week 8: We met our wailing women. We learned that Deservitude includes not just deserving joy, but deserving the full depth of our humanity, including the parts that wail.

WOOOO CHILE! THAT'S A LOT! Can we just take a minute to breathe? Queue Doechii…

Let’s give ourselves a round of applause because that's some seriously deep work. It's work that I will continue because 9 weeks is not enough to get a grip on all of this. But it has been the topic of deep discussion with myself (higher self) in my journal. It's been the topic of discussion among trusted friends and family. It's been the catalyst for tangible change and created impactful action where there was none.

WHAT I’VE LEARNED

Fifty days into this journey, I've realized Deservitude isn't a straight line or an endpoint—it's a practice.

1. It's messy as hell. Some days I'm sipping piña coladas beneath sorbet skies; other days I'm launching metaphorical sunglasses at someone's head because "Deservitude is as much a revelation as it is a revolution."

2. It's not just about the good stuff. Deservitude honors the full emotional spectrum—including grief that refuses to be polite. Some days the crown is crooked—wear it anyway.

3. Burning bridges creates space for new construction. Declining meetings that could have been emails is a revolutionary act. Breaking generational patterns means "refusing to inherit other people's limitations."

4. Consistency doesn't mean perfection. This process hasn’t been flawless. There have been days where Deservitude felt distant and the world's chaos made it hard to believe I deserved peace. But we kept coming back, even when the words were hard to find.

WHERE WE’RE GOING

As we enter the second half of this journey, I'm setting intentions for what comes next. This is just the first of three 100-day challenges I'm undertaking this year, because transformation takes more than good intentions—it takes practice. JOIN ME!

In the next 50 days, I want to:

1. Continue to move from theory to embodiment. I want to live Deservitude, not just write about it—receiving what I deserve without apology or explanation.

2. Build better boundaries without requiring perfect words or endless explanations. Where "no" isn't the beginning of an evidence-based thesis but a complete sentence all its own.

3. Create more space for you—this community that's been journeying alongside me. To hear your stories of deserving, to witness your revolutions, to toast marshmallows together over the bridges we've collectively burned.

Deservitude may start as an individual journey, but it ripples outward. When I claim what I deserve, I create space for you to do the same. When you set a boundary, you show me how to protect mine.

So here's to the next 50 days. To walking the talk we're talking. To deserving days so good we leave glitter in our footprints, and nights where we don't apologize for the sparkle.

This Week's Deservitude Prompt:

Take a moment to reflect on your journey so far. What have you learned about deserving in these weeks? What old stories have you released? What new truths have you embraced? Where are you struggling?

Write this truth to yourself: "I deserve to celebrate my progress, even when the journey is incomplete."

Looking at the halfway point, what would you like to embody in the next 50 days? What deserving feels most urgent to claim? What boundaries need stronger protection? What joy are you ready to receive without apology?

Share your reflection on the journey so far, or keep it private in your journal (or send me an email). Either way, you deserve to acknowledge how far you've come while still honoring the road ahead.

-Leenadria