The Creation

The wreckage didn’t end me. It revealed the road home.

Who are you when you’re not defending, proving, protecting, surviving? I asked myself that question after the store was gone. After the adrenaline had nowhere left to go. After the avalanche ended, and I was still alive. My worth, stitched into my work. My energy, powered by pressure. My direction, determined by demand. For so long, I was driven by crisis. Crisis made decisions easy. Crisis gave me purpose. Crisis kept me upright. But crisis wasn’t the only thing that moved m

Sick days are the worst.

No contact is really hard, especially when the person you cut off was your number one person. This is my story of living through it.

I’m tired of turning hard things into lessons. I don’t want to grow through loss. I want peace. I want softness. That’s not bitterness. It’s honesty. And I’m allowed to want that now. And I do.

After months of holding it all together, I broke. Not from rage—but from longing, from truth, from the weight of everything I hadn’t let myself fully feel. This is the story of the tidal wave that undid me—and the quiet courage that followed. A story of grief, reckoning, and slowly remembering that I get to choose what comes next.

The brutality isn't just what he did to me. It's that I had to become someone I never wanted to be.

When his dog died, I didn’t reach out. But I felt it. Grief doesn’t care about no contact. It just arrives. Quiet, uninvited, and honest.

I wasn’t a huge Taylor Swift fan. I’m still not, exactly. But I stood there, watching a sea of people sing their hearts out, and I realized—there’s something sacred about turning your pain into something you can carry. I didn’t get closure. I got clarity. And like Taylor, I’ve started telling the truth with a little more sparkle.

I didn’t just lose my father. I also lost the man I loved to lies I never saw coming. Grief and betrayal collided, and I cracked open in a way I never had before. This isn’t a story with a tidy ending. It’s a raw account of surviving when everything sacred is stripped away. If you’re in the fire, if you're unraveling or rising, this is for you.

The first half of the year was a triathlon for my soul. An emotional Everest. I’m not waiting for clarity anymore. I’m already on the move.

My therapist looked at me and said, “The world needs more heroes. Be your own.” I didn’t know how much I needed to hear it until I realized that’s exactly what I’ve been doing all along.

Someone once gave me diamonds. Disguised as love, but laced with poison. For a while, I believed they meant something real. I thought...

Coming to Belize was a last-minute decision. I came because life had kicked my ass, and I needed space away from reality.

I didn’t recognize it as abuse until I was out. That’s how covert abuse works. And this is how I reclaimed my life.

We don’t just reinvent our lives. We reinvent how we hold rage. How we hold power. How we hold ourselves.

I once bought a book called How to Sit. Now I don’t need the book. I have this room. I have this body. I have this life I’ve learned to live from the inside out.