WE'RE NOT DOING IT WRONG, WE'RE DOING IT HUMAN

Here’s what nobody tells you about the in-between: it’s where you actually find yourself.

Captured by Mitchell Royel in the fashion district. Vibes are immaculate. We're listening to Your Song by Rita Ora on repeat—that track still hits different every time. Pure energy.

We’ve been living in this liminal space—you know the one. Where we’re not quite together, not quite apart. Where “friends with benefits” becomes code for “we’re terrified to name what this is.” Where every makeup feels like a small resurrection and every breakup feels like we’re learning to breathe underwater.

And we’re done apologizing for it.

Frequency of Transition

There’s this thing that happens when we’re in the thick of transformation. The world gets loud. Everyone has an opinion about what we should do, who we should be, how we should heal. But lately, we’ve been learning to tune into a different frequency entirely.

We only want to hear the songs that make us feel alive.

Not the sad ones. Not the bitter ones. Not the “I told you so” anthems from well-meaning friends who think they know our story better than we do. We’re talking about the songs that remind us that even in the mess—especially in the mess—we’re still capable of feeling everything.

On Makeups+the Art of Returning

We’ve broken up three times. Maybe four, if you count that week in March where we “took space” but still texted at 2 AM.

Each time we come back together, people ask us why. Like we owe them an explanation. Like love is supposed to be linear. Like growth doesn’t sometimes look like circling back to see if we’ve both changed enough to try again.

Here’s our truth: Sometimes the person who breaks your heart is also the person who teaches you how big your heart actually is.

And sometimes? We’re not ready the first time. Or the second. Sometimes we need to leave and come back and leave again before we understand what we’re actually choosing.

Flow State of Feeling

We’ve been leaning hard into hyperfocus lately. When everything in our relationship status feels uncertain, there’s something sacred about finding the things that make us forget time exists.

For us, it’s been:

• Writing at 3 AM when the words pour out like confession

• Running until our thoughts quiet down to just breath and pavement

• Creating things with our hands—pottery, paintings, playlists that tell the story we can’t speak out loud yet

This is where we’ve learned the difference between distraction and devotion. Distraction numbs you. Devotion wakes you up.

In flow state, we’re not running from the complexity of us. We’re running toward the fullest version of ourselves. The ones who can hold paradox. The ones who don’t need everything to be resolved to know we’re whole.

Friends with Benefits+
the Lies We Tell Ourselves

Let’s be honest about what “friends with benefits” really means:

It means we’re brave enough to stay close but too scared to go all in.

It means we’re practicing intimacy with training wheels on.

It means we’re both hoping the other person will be the first to admit they want more.

We’re not judging it. We’ve lived it. We’re in it. But we’re also not pretending it’s casual when our hearts do backflips every time we see each other’s names light up our phones.

The benefit isn’t the physical part. The benefit is getting to keep each other in our lives while we figure out if we’re strong enough to risk losing this by wanting everything.

This Transitional Season

Spring is doing that thing where it can’t decide if it’s still winter. That’s us right now.

And we’re learning to be okay with not knowing. With the fact that some seasons are just about transition—not destination. Some chapters are just about becoming—not arriving.

We used to think we needed to have it all figured out. The relationship status. The five-year plan. The clear narrative that makes sense to everyone watching from the outside.

But now? We only want to sing the songs that feel true right now. Even if they’re messy. Even if they’re complicated. Even if they change tomorrow.

What We Know for Sure

We’ve changed the frequency we operate on. Before this, we were all minor keys and melancholy. Now, even in the uncertainty, even in the back-and-forth, even in the “what are we doing?”—we feel alive.

That’s not nothing.

That’s not casual.

That’s not something we’re willing to diminish just because it doesn’t fit into neat categories.

So here’s our open letter to anyone else living in the in-between:

Your transitional season is not a failure. It’s a composition.

The breakups taught us what we won’t tolerate. The makeups taught us what we can’t live without. The friends-with-benefits phase taught us that intimacy is complicated and that’s okay. The hyperfocus taught us that we’re whole even when our relationship status isn’t.

And all of it—every messy, beautiful, confusing moment—is writing the song only we can sing.

We’re choosing to sing it loud.

Even if we don’t know how it ends yet.

With love and zero apologies,
Ryder

P.S. — If you’re waiting for permission to feel everything while you figure it out: this is it. Feel it all. You’re not doing it wrong. You’re doing it human.

From the struggle bus, faith mentors awakened the soul of Gospel Glamour

Captured by the talented Mitchell Royel in the vibrant fashion district, this moment is now accompanied by the soulful sounds of "For You" by Toly Braun, creating a perfect blend of style and artistry.

About six months ago, collegiate male leaders alongside faith mentors came together and crafted our comeback photoshoot themed to Toly Braun's "For You" after hearing the journey of our brand—the struggles, the setbacks, the absolute refusal to quit when everything and everyone said we should just let it go. They didn't just show up with cameras and good intentions.

They believed.

Like, truly believed. They saw something worth investing in, worth championing, worth breathing life back into when we were running on fumes and faith alone. And that kind of recognition? That kind of solidarity when you're at your lowest? Man, it changes everything. We're eternally grateful.

Thank you for seeing us when we desperately needed to be seen. Thank you for recognizing not just what we are in this moment, but what we're becoming—what we're fighting to build.

This wasn’t just a photoshoot. It's was statement. A declaration that we're still here, still building, still rising from the ashes of whatever tried to bury us. And we couldn't have done it without you. Real recognizes real, and you recognized us when it mattered most.

We won't forget that.

-Gospel Glamour Collective

Actually, I Was The Villain

Captured by Mitchell in stunning 1080x1080—raw, unfiltered, the kind of frame that stops you mid-scroll. Now playing: "it's not u it's me" by Bea Miller, because sometimes the soundtrack says what we can't. The light hits different when you're finally telling the truth. The composition feels intentional, intimate, like you're witnessing something you weren't meant to see. This is what honesty looks like when it's not performing. This is what accountability sounds like when it's set to the right song.

It’s been years since it ended. Years since I popped off, and all hell broke loose.

You know the moment I’m talking about. The one where I went nuclear. Where I said things that couldn’t be unsaid, where I burned it all down with the kind of righteous fury that felt so justified in the moment. I was the wronged one. I was the one who had every right to detonate.

Except.

Here’s the thing about time and distance and doing your own work: eventually, the smoke clears. Eventually, you stop rehearsing your case. Eventually, you get quiet enough to hear the truth that’s been waiting underneath all that noise.

It was my fault.

Not all of it. Let’s be clear. But the part I’ve been conveniently forgetting? The secret affair we had before everything imploded. The one I somehow managed to erase from my own narrative. The one where I was the one crossing lines, making choices, saying yes to things I knew would complicate everything.

Funny how memory works, isn’t it? How we can airbrush ourselves right out of our own stories. How we can make ourselves the hero or the victim, but rarely the person who actually participated in the mess.

I had this aha moment—you know the one. That gut-punch realization where you’re just going about your day, and suddenly your own bullshit catches up with you. Where you see yourself clearly for the first time in years, and you think: Oh. Oops. I forgot about that part.

The part where I was complicit.
The part where I chose this.
The part where I knew exactly what I was doing.

And here’s what’s wild: this isn’t just about us. This pattern—this convenient amnesia, this selective storytelling—it shows up everywhere. In friendships that imploded. In business partnerships that went sideways. In family dynamics that feel irreparable.

We all do it. We all rewrite history to make ourselves more palatable, more innocent, more right. We forget the affair. We forget the lie. We forget the moment we chose our comfort over someone else’s truth.

But the body remembers.

The soul remembers.

And eventually, if you’re paying attention, if you’re doing the work, if you’re willing to get uncomfortable—you remember too.

So here’s what I want to say: I’m sorry. Not the performative kind of sorry that’s really just a bid for absolution. But the kind that says: I see it now. I see what I did. I see how I contributed to the wreckage.

I don’t need you to forgive me. I don’t even need you to read this. This is for me. This is me owning my part. This is me saying: I was wrong. I forgot. And now I remember.

And maybe that’s the whole point of these years-later revelations. Not to go back and fix what’s broken. Not to resurrect what’s dead. But to finally, finally, tell the truth.

To ourselves.
About ourselves.

Because that’s where the real liberation lives. Not in being right. Not in being the victim. But in being honest about the whole messy, complicated, human story.

The one where we’re all just doing our best and fucking up spectacularly and occasionally, if we’re lucky, waking up enough to see it.

I see it now.

And I’m grateful for that.

With love and truth,
Ryder

We Started Matching His Energy and What Happened Next Will Shock You

And speaking of raw, unfiltered truth—this entire vibe, this whole feeling I'm talking about? It got captured. Mitchell Royel shot it in the shower on an iPhone, 1080x1080, no filter, no bullshit. Just water and mascara and that specific kind of beautiful that happens when you stop performing. And the soundtrack? Promises by CANNA maaple. Because of course it is. Because some songs just know. They know that moment when you're sitting there, soaking wet, finally letting yourself feel everything you've been holding back. That's the energy. That's the mirror. That's what happens when you stop pretending the crumbs taste like cake.

This year I'm done with the mental gymnastics. Done with the "but maybe he meant..." and the "I think what he's trying to say is..." I'm taking it all at absolute face value. However he dishes it—that's exactly how I'm receiving it.

He texts back in three days? Cool. I'll match that energy. He's vague about plans? I can be wonderfully non-committal too. He's hot one week and distant the next? Watch me become a master of temperature control.

And here's the thing—this isn't game playing. This isn't strategy. This is self-preservation dressed up as self-respect. Because I've spent too many years translating, interpreting, making excuses, filling in the gaps of someone else's half-assed effort with my full-hearted hope.

The mirroring is medicine. It's showing me, in real time, what I've been accepting. When I pull back to match his energy and suddenly feel the chill of that distance—that's information. That's my body saying "see how this feels? This is what you've been tolerating."

I used to think love meant meeting someone where they are. And maybe it does. But it doesn't mean staying there when where they are is barely interested. It doesn't mean contorting myself into smaller and smaller versions of my needs just to make it work.

So if he's showing up inconsistent, I'm mirroring inconsistency. If he's showing up half-present, I'm reflecting that right back. Not to punish. Not to teach him a lesson. But to stop teaching myself that crumbs are a meal.

And you know what's wild? The right person won't require this. The right person will feel the shift and lean in, not pull back. The right person will say "hey, what's going on?" instead of just matching my distance with relief.

The mirroring isn't about him at all, really. It's about me finally believing that I deserve the same quality of attention, effort, and presence that I've been giving away for free. It's about letting my actions align with my worth instead of my words claiming it while my behavior betrays it.

However he dishes it. That's the menu I'm ordering from now. And if I don't like what's being served, I know where the door is.

-Ryder+MitchellRoyel

DISCLAIMER:

This blog post presents a perspective on relationship dynamics that is intentionally provocative and may not resonate with everyone. The "mirroring" approach described here is controversial and should absolutely be debated. Some will see it as healthy boundary-setting and self-respect in action. Others will view it as manipulative, passive-aggressive, or a barrier to authentic communication.

Healthy relationships thrive on direct conversation, vulnerability, and expressing your needs clearly—not on strategic withdrawal or tit-for-tat energy matching. What reads as "self-preservation" to one person might look like avoidant attachment or emotional withholding to another.

This content is meant to spark reflection and discussion, not to serve as universal relationship advice. Your situation, your attachment style, your partner's communication patterns, and your relationship goals are unique to you. What feels empowering in one context might be destructive in another.

We encourage you to think critically about these ideas, discuss them with trusted friends or a therapist, and consider multiple perspectives before applying any relationship strategy to your own life. The comments are open—let's debate this.

AFTER THE END

Captured by Mitchell Royel in stunning 1080x1080, this moment radiates the energy of possibility and resilience. As we immerse ourselves in the visuals, the soundtrack of "Unstoppable" by Atale plays, reminding us that we are fierce, bold, and ready to embrace whatever comes next. Let the music fuel our spirits and propel us forward, as we celebrate our unstoppable journey together.

We’ve all been there, haven’t we? That moment when the weight of heartbreak and loss feels like it’s crushing us, yet somehow, in the quiet aftermath, we begin to see the glimmers of something new. It’s as if we’ve been wandering through a dream, and suddenly, we wake up to the realization that what we thought was our reality was merely a fleeting illusion.

In the depths of our sorrow, we often cling to the remnants of what was—those memories that haunt us, the “what ifs” that echo in our minds. We replay the moments, the laughter, the love, and the dreams we once held so tightly. But here’s the truth we need to embrace: what’s left isn’t just the pain; it’s a blank slate. It’s an invitation to step into our power, to redefine who we are without the shadows of our past.

We stand at the crossroads, looking back at the heartbreak, the loss, and we realize that those experiences, while painful, have shaped us. They’ve carved out space within us, a space that’s now ready to be filled with possibility. We’re not diminished by our experiences; instead, we’re expanded. We have the freedom to choose how we move forward, to decide what we want to fill that blank slate with.

Let’s take a moment to breathe in this new reality. We are not our heartbreaks. We are not our losses. We are bold and unstoppable, the architects of our own lives, and this is our opportunity to build something beautiful from the ashes. We can fill our blank slate with dreams that resonate with our true selves, with desires that ignite our spirits and propel us forward.

Imagine the possibilities that lie ahead. We can cultivate new relationships that nourish us, pursue passions that excite us, and create a life that reflects our authentic selves. This is our chance to explore the depths of our potential, to embrace the wild and wonderful journey that awaits us.

So, let’s embrace this moment of awakening together. Let’s shed the constraints of our past and step boldly into the future. We have the power to create, to love, and to live fully. This is our time to rise, to transform our pain into purpose, and to celebrate the beauty of starting anew. The end of one chapter is merely the beginning of another, and we are ready to write our story. We are bold and unstoppable, and nothing can hold us back from the life we are destined to create. Let’s step into this new chapter with open hearts and fierce determination, ready to embrace all that life has to offer.

“Dear Me,

As I sit down to write this letter, I want to take a moment to reflect on the journey we’ve been on together. We’ve faced heartbreak, loss, and moments of doubt, but through it all, we’ve emerged stronger, wiser, and more resilient. I want to remind you of the beauty that lies within you, the dreams that still flicker in your heart, and the endless possibilities that await us.

So, what’s next for you? What’s next for us? I want you to dream big and embrace the unknown. Let’s explore new passions, seek out adventures, and surround ourselves with people who uplift and inspire us. We deserve to chase after what sets our souls on fire, to fill our lives with joy, and to cultivate a sense of peace within ourselves.

Let’s commit to nurturing our well-being, both mentally and physically. We’ll prioritize self-care, practice gratitude, and celebrate every small victory along the way. Remember, it’s okay to stumble; it’s part of the journey. What matters is that we rise again, stronger than before.

I want you to know that you are worthy of love—love from others and, most importantly, love from yourself. Let’s continue to build a life that reflects our true selves, where we can express our creativity and authenticity without fear.

As we look to the future, let’s hold hands and step boldly into the unknown together. The world is waiting for us, and I can’t wait to see what we create.

With all my love,

You”

-Ryder+Gospel Glamour Collective

P.S Reflect on a pivotal moment in your life that sparked profound personal growth. Dive deep into that experience—what did it teach you about yourself? What lessons emerged from the challenges you faced, and how have they shaped the person you are today? Embrace the journey of self-discovery and the wisdom that comes from embracing both the light and the shadows.