Memories

Soft light through the trees—real, imperfect, deeply in love.

Memoirs

The Truth About Happily Ever After

Sometimes marriage looks like grand gestures, and sometimes it looks like a man hiding an “I Voted” sticker in my underwear drawer because apparently that's our love language right now.

A woman walking away form her office for the last time—symbolizing endings, clarity, and new beginnings.

Memoirs

The Best Thing I Never Got

That "no" shredded me inside, but it also ended up rerouting my entire life, which...feels a little rude in hindsight, but I'm not mad about it. (Not anymore, anyway.)

Pop Culture

Movies: Escape or Compass?

I grew up losing myself in movies thanks to my mother’s annual Wizard of Oz night. When I became a mother, our own tradition started with the MCU.

A kettlebell-shaped weight constructed from crumpled food wrappers, cans, and packaging, resting on a dark floor.

Memoirs

The Easiest 50 Pounds I Ever Lost

I lost the weight. Yay, me. But the real flex was finally giving up on the whole "my body is the enemy" schtick. That changed everything.

A sky with clouds, representing the emotional turmoil that lingers after physical change.

Memoirs

The Weight I Still Carry

I changed my body twice, and the hardest part was realizing my mindset still hadn't changed. I really thought it would feel easier by now.

A woman standing in the dark with her finger to her lips, symbolizing silence and unspoken family secrets.

Memoirs

The Silence Was a Choice

I’ve spent years watching adults avoid difficult conversations and then wonder why everything fell apart. I wish that surprised me more than it does.