-
Wild & Rooted
Every day, I am becoming more myself. My time.My body.My mind.My space.My creativity. For a long time, I tried to make myself fit into a life that wasn’t meant for me — shrinking, editing, and smoothing my edges to survive in places that questioned my right to exist fully. “Why is your stuff everywhere?”“Why do…
-
Building Flowers in a Burning Room.
My kitchen table is covered in tiny plastic petals.Yellow, blush, ivory, sage.My hands are snapping together LEGO flowers while my life feels like it’s quietly imploding in the background. The world I live inside right now is loud.Emotionally unpredictable.Heavy with tension.Full of things that make my nervous system brace itself even when nothing is “happening.”…
-
A Level of Irony I Couldn’t Make Up if I Tried.
Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! This is one of the gifts my husband got me. You know… me living in the soft-launch home version of Gilead. Gilead the prequel. I laughed so hard and he didn’t know why. Of course I followed it with “Thank You.” He said, “well we never finished the show…
-
Small Voices, Big Reminders
I was organizing the house for Christmas — the quiet, in-between kind of organizing where nothing is actually finished, but everything feels like it’s slowly finding its place again. Half-sorted toys sat in wild piles that became more chaotic as the boys dug through them. The boys were doing their usual parallel play, where they…
-
Healing, But Make It Both Witchy and Well-Researched
For a long time, I thought I had “outgrown” my old interests. The books on witchcraft. The obsession with psychology and neuroscience. The quiet rituals that helped me regulate my nervous system before I had language for what that even meant. Somewhere along the way, curiosity got labeled as impractical, intuition as silly, and rest…
-
Love, Without the Game
Last night, my husband was on a solo trip… My nervous system was able to relax, even the boys were able to relax. I sat up thinking about my non-negotiables for myself. Coincidentally, yesterday, I picked up a sticker out of my prize box for my students. I had just gotten some new ones and…
-
How Light Escapes
It was evening, standing over the stove, like she did day after day. She felt it first as a crack— a hairline fracture, then something spreading beneath the surface. Her life had grown too small, her light too big. At first she thought it was a broken heart. Then she called it grief— mourning a…
Wild & Rooted 