mother
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Letting Go: The Hardest Donation I’ve Ever Made
Today I took an enormous carload (literally packed from floor to ceiling ) of clothes to charity. I know it probably sounds simple, but it was honestly one of the hardest things I’ve done in a really long time. Handing over those bags felt like letting go of pieces of myself. And now, I’ll be Continue reading
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The Great Closet Purge
I decided to completely annihilate my wardrobe. Like, everything came out. Every hanger. Every bin. Every drawer. My living room is basically a fabric apocalypse right now. We’re talking over twenty years of clothes. Some of it belonged to my mom but most of it’s mine and they represent my moods, my body changes, and Continue reading
Authenticity, body image, clothes, connection, creative-writing, death, enneagram4w5, experiences, femininity, grief, Growth, healing, heartache, infj, inner-work, Intuition, life, love, MBTI, mental health, Mindfulness, moments, mother, my life, pain, positive thoughts, purpose, reflection, relationships, self care, Self Reflection, self-discovery, starting over, suffering, women’s health, Zen -
A Night of Opera and Old Glamour
Last night I attended a historic performance at Tacoma’s Pantages Theater; The first part of Wagner’s Der Ring des Nibelungen – Das Rheingold. It was a night filled with music, history, and emotion. But what made it truly special wasn’t just the performance. It was what I decided to wear. I pulled out my old Continue reading
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Four Years Later: Remembering My Mom
Today marks four years since my mom passed away. Four years and yet it feels like it happened yesterday. Her death was sudden, shocking, and completely flipped the world my dad and I knew. She had been having health issues during Covid, and because of the pandemic, she couldn’t get the care she desperately needed. Continue reading
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Words, Connection, and My Mom’s Legacy
I made my first vlog — something completely new for me. I actually love speaking in public, so that’s not an issue at all. It’s just that, like many INFJs, I often feel that my words come across more clearly and beautifully on paper than they do out loud. Still, I wanted to challenge myself to Continue reading
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The Breakfast Pizza That Reminds Me of Mom
This morning, I found myself craving something very specific: old school cafeteria breakfast pizza. It’s simple really. A soft crust, a layer of sauce, sausage crumbles, and melted cheese. Nothing fancy and nothing complicated. But for me, it carries the weight of memory, of childhood mornings, of my mom. She worked in the school cafeteria Continue reading
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Bracing For Fall
When I was little, every season in Washington carried its own kind of magic. Summer was blackberry stained fingers and stubborn sunsets that lingered long after bedtime. Spring was cherry blossoms scattered across wet sidewalks, tulips rising out of soggy earth. Winter was snow on the Cascades, holiday lights against dark evergreens, breath curling white Continue reading
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No Vacations, No Retirement —Just Grit and Grace
I grew up in what my mother called “working poor.” It wasn’t a label we wore publicly. It was just… life. At first, I thought we were like everyone else. I thought soup kitchens were just another kind of restaurant. I thought thrift stores were where everyone got their clothes. I thought rich meant your Continue reading
anxiety, Authenticity, blue collar, class, creative-writing, death, deep-thoughts, enneagram4w5, funeral, grief, Growth, health, heartache, inner-work, Inspiration, life, lonely, loss, love, mental health, mother, politics, relationships, Self portrait, Self Reflection, socioeconomics, suffering, tired, working class, writing -
The People and Forces I Look to for Guidance
List the people you admire and look to for advice… In life, we often find ourselves seeking wisdom, understanding, and direction from those who have shaped us, whether they are people, moments, or even invisible forces. For me, my guidance comes from a combination of both tangible and intangible sources that help me navigate the Continue reading
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Reclaiming My Health: A Journey Through Grief, Healing, and Transformation
Four years ago, I was strong. I was disciplined. I was healthy. And then, my world fractured. When my mom passed away, something inside me unraveled. Grief wasn’t just an emotion, it became a presence that lived inside of me, shifting my habits, numbing my ambitions, and slowly eroding the foundation of my well being. Continue reading
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The Inheritance of Ash and Earth
I was born from ruin, from hunger,a child of sorrow stitched from the remnants of history,woven together with the thread of survival.From the bones of a world broken and reformed,I rose, carrying the weight of two broken pastsand the hope of something that could heal the cracks between them.A body made from ghosts,an echo of Continue reading
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Becoming Me: Embracing Adventure, Freedom, and the Vibrancy of Life
For as long as I can remember, I lived cautiously, almost mechanically. My decisions, my actions, my very way of being, everything was shaped by an invisible, yet very real, wall of fear and responsibility. A wall I didn’t know I had built, but one that was firmly in place, holding me back from the Continue reading
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A Love Letter to Spice
I didn’t grow up with spice. My mom, born and raised in Germany, considered a lot of black pepper too bold, a reckless gamble on an otherwise perfectly balanced dish. Our meals were careful, deliberate, steeped in history. Vinegar for brightness, cloves for warmth, paprika for depth. Butter melted into broth, softening the sharp edges Continue reading
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Half of Me
There’s a half of me I keep in shadows,tucked beneath the surface where no one sees.A quiet hum of longing, a melody unsung,a bridge that spans the distance between who I amand who I might have been. Half of me craves roots,anchored in the soil of certainty,nurtured by stability,while the other halfdreams of flight—windswept freedom,the Continue reading
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The Home I Carry With Me
Home. It’s a word that holds so much meaning. For years, I thought it was simply a place like the house I grew up in, the rooms that felt familiar, the roof that kept everything out. I thought it was a fixed thing, a physical space that defined where I belonged. But over time, I’ve Continue reading
The Dreamer's Pen 