Choosing Myself Again

This month has felt like a trial by fire — a crucible of emotions, losses, and reckonings. Calling it a rollercoaster would diminish the sharp edges and free falls we’ve endured. Fires blaze. Despots ascend to power. The air feels heavy with grief and fear, and yet, somewhere amidst the ash and chaos, I turned 30.

Thirty feels both momentous and tender, like a milestone and a reckoning all at once. I managed to find joy in it — fleeting, hard-won, and defiant. And joy, as many of us know in moments like these, feels like a rare currency. It’s a flicker in the darkness, not because the darkness isn’t real, but because joy reminds us that we are too.

When the world feels like it’s caving in, I turn to community. The people who remind me that even when hope feels scarce, the act of reaching out — of holding on to one another — is the light. These are the moments where we learn, painfully but clearly, whether we are in the right company.

That’s why I’m inviting you into a conversation that feels like part of my own healing, part of my own reclamation. Today, I’m launching my podcast, In Good Company, and the debut episode features a friend I’ve admired for years. Charles is someone who radiates a joy that belies countless private battles. He embodies resilience, the kind that comes from choosing oneself over and over again. I hope you’ll listen.

Because here’s the truth: I know about those battles. I’ve lived them too. Years ago, I abandoned my passion for journalism because someone I loved told me my dream wasn’t enough. He was older, Ivy League-educated, a banker at Goldman Sachs. I was young and searching. He said I had potential but that I’d waste it in some “no-name town,” chasing stories no one would care about. And so, I left my dream behind, thinking I was choosing ambition.

Last year, life came full circle. I left an abusive relationship and an organization I had built from the ground up. I had to unlearn everything that told me my worth was tied to someone else’s validation. I had to choose myself again and again — sometimes in ways that felt like breaking apart before coming back together.

This podcast feels like a small, but significant, comeback. It’s a return to my voice, my dream, and the power of storytelling. And in many ways, it’s a mirror of the conversation Charles and I share in this first episode — one about resilience, rediscovery, and the private battles that shape us.

I hope you’ll give it a listen. I hope it reminds you, as it did me, that joy is possible even when it feels far away, and that every time we choose ourselves, we make space for the world to meet us where we are.

We’re in this together.

With love,

Tiana Tukes