The Aftermath

The Route

You know that moment when GPS reroutes you mid-drive?

You were committed to the road you were on.

And then: "In 300 feet, turn right."

Your first reaction is frustration.

Why didn't you tell me sooner?

But sometimes the turn you didn't want is the one that saves you from something you couldn't see.

Life has a funny way of doing the same thing.

The Aftermath

After my car accident, it felt like my entire route had changed overnight.

My body wasn't healing the way I expected. My plans were unraveling. And the future I had carefully mapped out no longer looked the same.

At the same time, I was struggling to keep up with everything on my own.

My injuries had left me mentally and physically depleted in ways I hadn't fully admitted to myself yet.

I knew I needed support.

The Old Plan

So I did something unconventional.

I posted a Craigslist ad for a social media producer.

Maya responded. We met. I canceled the rest of my interviews.

At the time, the plan was still the visual album: my version of Lemonade, minus the singing and the reconciliation.

It was the project that inspired me to start Lily House Studio in the first place.

The reason for all of it.

But it no longer fit the story I wanted to tell.

The Fork in the Road

Still, Maya and I started preparing.

I reached out to my cinematographer to reschedule the shoot around my recovery. We changed the dates three times before finally landing on one.

Then, the week before production, Maya and I sat in a coffee shop, waiting for our cinematographer to arrive for our production meeting.

Ten minutes passed.

I texted her.

She forgot.

She was at work.

It sounds small.

But it wasn't.

It was the moment every concern I had been quietly carrying finally had a name: the missed deadlines, the delayed responses, the growing sense that we weren't aligned.

Suddenly, I found myself standing at the kind of fork in the road we often meet during transitional seasons.

Do we keep moving forward with the plan we first set out on, simply because it was the plan?

Or do we trust the unexpected detour?

The Reroute

As I sat with that question, another idea began to emerge.

Instead of documenting the behind-the-scenes of a visual album, what if I documented the healing journey I was already living?

After weeks of going back and forth with myself, I let go of the old route.

I rerouted.

That decision became In Search Of… Healing.

The Problem

There was just one problem.

It had been a month since the accident…

…and I still didn't have a car.