I’m so grateful to be the one who gets to tell my own story. To know that for the rest of my life I’ll be able to say: I allowed myself to go from recruiting for a leading recruitment company, supporting Google, to have a homeless social experiment. Betting on my self and the heart of people. I slept in a storage unit with my two cats. I made it work while I built my empire. That’s not shame. That’s my badge of honour.

Because resilience isn’t a buzzword when you’ve lived like this. It’s muscle, bone, frequency. And one day, when I sit across from my wife—especially if it’s a baddie we want to attract, she won’t take a lightweight in life, no, she’ll want that which has gone through hell and fought their way out with dignity, confidence and passion,—I’ll be able to tell her the truth. Not that I had it all easy, but that I fought my way through hell with dignity, confidence, and passion. That no matter how many times I thought about giving up, or even giving away my cats, I never did, even when I had a home for myself, let alone now. We made it through. Always.

And that’s who she’ll know I am—the woman who will take care of her, our family, our future, no matter the storm.

No matter how hard it gets, my wife, my business, my community—everyone I love—will always know one thing about me: I don’t quit. Unless you quit on me. I give chances, I rearrange roles, I rewrite scripts if I must—but if you put pride aside, there will always be a seat at my table. My families, will always know I have the capacity to hold the door for them with dedication. It’s a dream I’m leaving lucidly. That is my dream. That is my life. A blessing that no longer wears a disguise.

This is what life should be about, to see everything you go through as the build up of your own story, the greatest story you’re directing and producing, from your own generator. Your own dreamer self.

Yesterday I went a bit dramatic and used a word I don’t really rely on, but for sake of editing-care kept there. I used “humiliating hygene practices”, when really and truly there’s nothing humiliating about this whole experience.

I’m grateful to it all! Even the “setbacks”—Lottoland, Gibraltar, Foxtons, landlords, and everyone else that might have appeared as a hindrance, a hiccup, a turmoil, a setback or delay or just a branch in my wheels. —every single resistance has become the most layered part of my documentary. Without them, I wouldn’t be able to say I lived through this, none of it. Without them, I wouldn’t know the sweet simplicity of sleeping on my back, finding my way around the physical pains, with morning stretches and sleeping without a pillow using the natural shape of my body as cushioning, having me question if I even want a bed in my new place, by how good I slept tonight.

I wouldn’t have had these moments:

• Losing Stella in the storage unit and finding her again with the help of a random cat mum and the staff girl.
• The couple catching me half-in, half-out of the storage unit sitting at my laptop, staring like I was an exhibit.
• The men who underestimated me at the right time— these two who were packing up and one kept asking me if I was holding milk, while going to empty cans of piss, lol. He wanted milk, yes and his friend after I asked him if they wanted a hand, he replied with “Darling, all I need right now is a hug and a kiss.”, and the friend goes “She might be able to give you the hug, but i don’t think about the kiss.”. My comeback? “Ha, you read my mind there!”
• My cats constantly sabotaging my bags setup like mischievous interns, forcing me to rebuild my storage Tetris until I found the perfect arrangement.

These are moments I’ll treasure forever. The kind of absurd, raw, unforgettable stories you can’t buy with comfort. My greatest discomfort brought me my greatest gift. A paragraph, a chapter of my life that will forever be the catalyst of my rise. A momentary fall and illusion of loss, for a solid forever stable foundation. Thanks to all resistance encountered and apparent ignorance, I was able to experience one of the most sickening life stories possible. Thank you, really.

Even this morning—talking outside Sainsbury’s before opening with a woman still hungover who’d lost her phone, another who had driven through the night after fighting with her husband of 35 years, from the southeast coast of UK, as he left in anger via train and how she knew he was a “Dick” month 6, but decided to stick around “The Devil You Know”…

Their stories cracked me open to gratitude. They reminded me of my dad, walking five hours home after a party just to prove himself capable when my mum wouldn’t let him drive, after drinking too. And I realised: I’m doing that same walk right now. Proving myself. Reaching exactly where I need to be in perfect resonance.

Being here also reminded me how vital my work is. Sitting in cafés, watching people’s unconsciousness act itself out through their movements, their faces, their choices, their expressions. Meeting other homeless people and remembering how blessed I am to have Source as my provider. No begging. No despair. Just trust. And choices, as I’m not homeless because I have nowhere to go, I have multiple options, which I have allowed to be my plan Bs, if anything was to happen here. They don’t have the same grace, unfortunately, but they will, for however long I live, I will give it to them.

And through it all, I get to say the greatest truth of my life: I get to live me, the greatest blessing of my life every single day, as Susan Ndinga Wright.

This time clarified my desires, too. When it comes to love, I don’t want someone to elevate me—I’m already elevated. I don’t need a spiritual “bae” to pull me up. I am the elevator. I am the merkaba. I raise others. What I need is a floor and a ceiling—a woman who grounds me in her roots and crowns me with her strength.

I don’t want a good girl. I want the bad one, who chooses to be good. The baddie who’s unafraid of her devil. A woman who knows her shadows and owns them with confidence and respect. Someone ratchet and raw who still extends unconditional love. Someone who lives with vision, who embraces both macro and micro with equal reverence.

Get me a devil with dignity, a baddie with sense—and I’ll be all hers.

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