Fuck A Like—This Is Legacy
I’m doing something big here. And I’m doing it completely alone.
I created Truth Serum. I’m building a platform from scratch—no handouts, no roadmap.
Just my story, my scars, and my soul.
I posted about it. Shared it. Put it out into the world with my whole chest.
And not one fucking person I love liked it. Not one “congrats.” Not one “I’m proud of you.”
And ya I felt that. It hurt.
But I get it—growth makes people itch. Not everyone’s gonna cheer this on. Especially the ones rooted in their own excuses—you know what it is.
It’s clear some of you are struggling to grasp the magnitude of this. And let’s be honest—it’s not just what it is, it’s who it’s coming from. Me.
And that’s fine. It wasn’t built for the shallow. And neither was I.
This isn’t some hobby or ego trip.
This isn’t surface work.
This is soul work.
When you speak from that place—the place that’s been cracked wide open and still chose to build—it hits different.
It cuts through the noise.
I’m not just making content.
I’m making truth resonate.
This is warrior work.
This is sacred work.
It’s exhausting work.
I’m breaking generational silence.
I’m making truth louder than shame.
I’m holding space for other women to release what’s been buried inside them for years—while no one’s holding space for me.
But I keep showing up. Because this isn’t just a podcast—it’s a fucking movement. It’s change in motion.
I’m trembling as I write this. Not because I’m afraid—because I can feel it—just like when I started the blog.
This thing I’m building… it’s not just mine. It’s bigger than me.
There’s something inside me guiding every step, every word, every breath of this.
And I know it’s real because my body’s shaking with truth.
This isn’t just a podcast—it’s a calling.
I didn’t just find my calling—I earned it. I fought for it. I bled for it. And it’s moving through me, whether I’m ready or not.
I never planned any of this, eh. But Wednesday—it came on like thunder and lightning. The brand. The concept. The name. I was lit up, wired, unstoppable. By mid-day—Truth Serum was born.
While my body’s been healing, my spirit’s been working in the background—manifesting all of this without me even realizing it.
Just like after my first surgery, when I laid on the couch in a daze, unknowingly meditating, letting something bigger move through me.
Truth Serum. The movement. The clarity. The words. It’s just pouring through me—unfiltered, unstoppable, relentless.
Because it’s meant to. Because I’m ready. Even if I didn’t think I was. Even if part of me still doesn’t feel ready—the rest of me knows... it’s time.
I’m carving out a path that didn’t exist before me.
I’m building a room that never existed—one where the truth can be spoken, screamed, whispered, cried through.
Yep, it’s lonely.
But someone had to go first—and let’s keep it real, it was always gonna be me.
I wasn’t put here to be liked. I was put here to disrupt.
To hold the mic steady for women who never had the chance to say:
“This happened to me.”
“This hurt me.”
“This is who I am now.”
So even if nobody claps—I’ll still keep going. I see you. I’m not asking for permission. And I’m sure as fuck not shrinking to make anyone feel better about themselves.
The women who need Truth Serum—they’ll find it. And when they do, they’ll breathe different.
They’ll finally stop carrying what never should’ve been theirs to hold alone.
This is healing.
This is fire.
This is Truth Serum.
Call me a Truth Doula. I help them deliver the pain they’ve swallowed in silence—and finally let that shit go.
Whether you get it or not? Doesn’t change the fact—I’m crystal clear on my role.
I know exactly who I am. And I know why I’m here. How many people can say that? Really say that?
The ones who need this—get it. The ones who don’t? Probably never will. And that’s fine. This wasn’t built for them.
Not sure if you’ve noticed—shit, it took me a minute to figure it out myself—but I’ve been in a state of becoming.
Started this blog in September—and I haven’t stopped growing since. Just shedding what doesn’t fit, and stepping into what does.
Do you know what it’s like to know exactly who you are? To receive your calling—didn’t think so.
It’s a lot. It’s not calm. It’s heavy. It’s chaos—but not the unkind kind.
It’s like a jar full of fireflies gets cracked open, and you’re trying to get them back in—laughing while you do it.
It’s sacred.
I feel empowered, unshakable, protected.
It’s like I’ve got an electric voltage running through my entire body—and it’s not leaving. It lives in me now.
And I’m still learning how to carry it. How to hold its weight. Its power. That’s force. And there’s no going back.
And if you need a metaphor to help you understand—It’s like I got struck by lightning and survived. But I didn’t come back the same.
I see some of you struggling to see me in this light—focused. Locked in. Even though I’ve bared my entire soul in this blog.
I’m sure it was a lot easier to accept me when I was a ‘going-nowhere, sloppy ass drunk. Broken.’
That bitch has left the building. She’s long gone. She burned down to ashes so this version could rise.
It’s me now.
You don’t know me—yet. But you will.
What I’m doing here isn’t for validation. It’s for liberation.
By Tuesday, the ‘PODCAST’ page will be updated—and there’ll be a button in place where you can join—take your place on this platform, if you choose to.
There’s already a line-up out the door just waiting to unload—and I’m here for it.
TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@memoirsofalashartist?_t=ZM-8yC5qAsj5Rl&_r=1
YouTube: @ButterflyJaye
