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Who do you call when you get good news? Like, who is that one person you can't wait to share it with? Maybe you have more than one. Maybe you have a list. Maybe you have a list of people you feel obligated to tell. The ones who would never let you live it down if they heard about it from someone else. Or the list of people who get a text before you post it on social media. Do you tell the people you live with first? Because, logistics. Is there a person you call because you

A day late... and a dollar short. So much has changed in our society, but that saying still fits. When you've 'missed the boat', so to speak. Or 'lollygagged'. I'm late with this week's blog. That's the point. But, rather than 'beat a dead horse', I'll just get 'straight to the point'. In order for something to become a cliché it needs to be said so many times that it becomes commonplace. People forget that clichés are born of ordinary moments and experiences that everyone ca

"Thanks for the memories. Even though they weren't so great."- Fall Out Boy I couldn't tell you the last time I heard that song. But, I could tell you in great detail the time I played it at the bar just to sing it while we ordered shots. That whole time period feels like a different life altogether. I suppose in many ways, it was. I wouldn't even recognize that version of me. That girl was lost and looking for love in all the wrong places. Not once bothering to love herse

I tend to shy away from the parts that make me feel vulnerable. From the memories and experiences and feelings that make me uncomfortable in my own skin. The ones that are maybe hard to admit. That I would rather skate over than spend any actual time IN IT. Living it, remembering it, feeling it. I have no problem sharing the stories and adding some humor to show how healed I am. How evolved I am. I AM a strong and independent woman. I have overcome much adversity and heartac

Some days the writing just flows. Other days– it's more like trying to open the thick plastic they use to package batteries. Today is the latter. Bad for me, good for YOU, dear reader. Because instead of forcing something onto the page... I've decided to share a rough draft of a future chapter (the beginnings of it anyway). Please do, let me know what you think of it. I was standing at the stove, stirring the tortellini. One pan tortellini with sausage had become one of my fa

Yesterday was my birthday. If you don't know me in real life, I am really big on birthdays. I love them. And not just my own—I love all birthdays. This one day a year, we get to celebrate the odds-defying magic that a particular human came to be. All of the things that had to be right for it to happen. Not to mention all of the tiny cells, nuances, and character traits that make us up. Being YOU is a blessing and a miracle. I think that should be celebrated. So I do. I plan.

The very first time Julie met my children, we piled into her truck and went out to eat. It was a mild June day, and we chose to eat outside. The littles were enamored by her and insisted on sitting near her. When you have a party of five, you get used to pushing tables together to make room for everyone. That day, we pushed three two-tops together, Julie and the littles at one end, condiments in the middle, and Rhiannon and I at the other end. Julie played with the littles. S

I think I have always equated forgiveness with reconciliation. The idea of it, anyway. Like, once I’ve forgiven you, I must accept you and reconcile. It’s funny, actually, when you think of it. This idea that we must forgive (for ourselves), love and accept people as they are (to be holy), and reconcile to complete the circle. My 43rd birthday is looming on the horizon. That’s to say, I’ve been around the sun more than a handful of times, and I’d like to think I’ve learned a

Confession: I have never actually asked my mother for her opinion or thoughts about Julie. I may have asked her twenty-some years ago when I first introduced them. If I did, I am sure it probably went something like: "What do you think? Isn't she great? I hope you think she's great, cause I want to marry her!" Leaving her no way out or room to disagree. I didn't ask her when we started talking again. Didn't ask for her counsel when I was debating moving my children to Ohi

For a long time I felt like I had to explain myself. Had to justify my decisions. Had to let my side be heard. Yes, there are still moments that I want to scream from the rooftops and tag every person who sided against me… But, I don’t. I don’t demand to be understood. I don’t need the approval of strangers or fake friends or people I once thought of as family. Do I still miss some of those people? Absolutely. There’s a lifetime of inside jokes, catchphrases, and memories tha

Sixteen years ago I gave birth to a perfect baby girl. Surrounded by friends and family. My best friend, 9 months pregnant herself, slept on the waiting room floor while we waited for princess to show her face. My grandmother kept asking how long it would take. My mother assured me she had never been in the pain I was in and that I should just “get the epidural”. While my dad mostly looked uncomfortable. My would-be brother in law told the anesthesiologist that I had Tourette

When I was a kid I used to close my eyes and stare into the darkness behind my eyelids. I remember asking my Dad if he ever did this and being met with a puzzled look, "Do I close my eyes?". "No, like do you ever just close your eyes and try to fall further into the black? Do you see colors? I feel like I could get lost there." I was meditating before it was a thing. Before mindfulness became a household word. I would see if I could focus on one spot in my blank mind or if

A note from the author, written three days after release If this is the first thing you’re reading here, welcome. I’m glad you found your way. Three days ago, my first book went out into the world. And while I expected relief or celebration, what I mostly feel is something quieter—grounded, exposed, and deeply aware of what it means to let people see you. This isn’t a book for everyone. And it was never meant to be. While I was putting this collection together—deciding what b

It’s day one of the New Year. Time for reflection as well as planning for the future. I am grateful for 2025. It mostly sucked– in that kind of way that you can only appreciate it once it’s done. There were lessons learned and battles fought that I didn’t sign up for. But, as we closed out the year I felt nothing but gratitude for my life and my family and my friends (old and new). 2026 feels like becoming, emerging, and breathing life. It looks a lot like showing up authenti

When you’re living in survival mode, asking for help can feel impossible. Maybe you’ve already tried and weren’t believed. Perhaps you don’t even have the words for what’s happening yet. Or maybe you’ve been told that asking for help would make things worse. Here’s the truth: you are not overreacting, and you are not alone. There are people—real people—ready to listen, believe you, and help you find your next safe step. Today’s post isn’t a story. It’s a map. A guide to what’

Abuse doesn’t always leave bruises.Sometimes it hides behind apologies, inside jokes, or “that’s just how they are.” It can be quiet, subtle, and hard to name — especially when the world tells you to look for black eyes instead of broken confidence. The truth is, abuse wears many faces.It ’s not just physical. It’s emotional, spiritual, sexual, financial, and psychological. It’s control disguised as care, cruelty dressed up as love. Today, I want to talk about the forms of ab

Healing doesn’t happen on a schedule.There isn’t a finish line or a single “aha” moment when the pain packs its bags and disappears. More often, it’s a series of quiet, ordinary days that slowly begin to look and feel like peace. Some days you’ll feel strong, unstoppable even. You’ll wake up lighter, speak your truth with confidence, and believe—really believe—that the worst parts are behind you.And then, out of nowhere, a smell, a sound, or a tone of voice can pull you right

Brianna is a single mom of two—her daughter is seventeen, her son eleven. She left her abuser, her ex-husband, soon after their son was born. Their relationship began when she was just sixteen and he was twenty-three. “ Sixteen and twenty-three is a huge difference when you’re in high school. But I thought I was just so mature… turns out he was just a bum and nobody his age wanted him. ” Her parents disapproved from the start.“My dad hated him. From the gate. My mom had alrea

I start every interview the same, asking them to tell me about who they are as a person outside of the abuse. April laughs uncomfortably...

When I first spoke with Mary , she was ready to bare it all. Names, places, dates — nothing held back. But as is often the case with survivors, she later reconsidered. The risk of exposure weighed heavier than the relief of telling. She asked that we use an alias, and that is how I will honor her here. Mary has been in and out of therapy for more than two decades. Her chart now reads like a list she never asked for: depression, PTSD, complex PTSD, fibromyalgia, autoimmune di