Honest storytelling as a form of healing.

Author: Ellie Augustin

  • Why Share Anyway

    Why Share Anyway

    I want to talk about something that I think a lot of creators sit with but don’t always say out loud.
    Sometimes you put something into the world not because you know it’s going to land, but because you believe it’s important. Because something in you said this needs to exist. And that reason that one is enough.
    I didn’t create what I created because I was chasing numbers. I created it because I thought it could help someone.

    Because it meant something to me. And that meaning doesn’t disappear just because the response was quiet.
    We live in a world that measures worth in metrics. Likes, views, shares. And it’s easy to let that math talk you out of your own conviction.

    But I keep coming back to this: if you share something true, something you genuinely believe in, you’ve already done the thing. The reach is secondary. The intention is the foundation.
    Not everyone will want what you have. That’s not failure. That’s just how it works. Your people are specific. Your message is specific. And specificity takes time to find its audience.
    So keep sharing what matters to you.

    Not for the validation. Because it’s important. Because you think it’s important. And that’s the only reason you ever needed.

  • When Your Soul Has Been Speaking and You Haven’t Been Listening

    When Your Soul Has Been Speaking and You Haven’t Been Listening

    There is a version of you that already knows the way.
    Quiet, not because there is nothing to say, but because the noise of everything else has been louder. The to-do lists. The grief you’re carrying. The version of yourself you keep trying to be for everyone around you. That part of you has been waiting underneath all of it, patient as the moon, holding the truth of who you actually are.
    This is for that part of you.

    We talk a lot about finding ourselves, as if the self is something we misplaced, like keys or a good pen. But what if you were never lost? What if you just got… covered? Layer by layer. Year by year. Expectation by expectation.


    Alignment isn’t about becoming someone new. It’s about returning.
    It’s the exhale after holding your breath too long. It’s recognizing your own voice again after months of only hearing everyone else’s. It’s soft, and it’s sacred, and it takes exactly as long as it takes.

    I created 7 Days of Alignment because I needed it myself.
    Not as a therapist. Not as an expert. As a woman who has stood at the crossroads of who I was and who I was being called to become, and needed somewhere to put it all down. To write it out. To sit in the discomfort of my own becoming without running from it.
    Seven days. Seven affirmations. Seven invitations to stop performing and start listening.
    Each day holds one truth to carry in your body before your mind wakes up and tries to take over.

    One prompt that asks you not to have the answers, but to have the conversation, with yourself, with the divine, with the parts of you you’ve been avoiding.
    This isn’t a challenge. It’s not a program. It’s a clearing.

    You don’t need to be in crisis to use it.
    You need to be in transition, and aren’t we all, always, in some kind of becoming?
    Maybe you’re standing at the edge of something new and can’t quite name what’s shifting. Maybe you’ve been feeling the pull to go inward but don’t know where to start. Maybe you’ve been running so long you forgot what it feels like to be still.
    This journal meets you where you are. It does not ask you to be healed before you begin. It asks you to show up, imperfect, unsure, tired if you need to be, and write.

    The page is where I have always found my way back to myself.
    Before I was a poet. Before I was a mother. Before I survived the things that tried to take me out. I have always trusted the blank page the way some people trust prayer, because for me, they are the same thing.
    7 Days of Alignment is that: a prayer you write to yourself.
    And when you close it on the seventh day, you won’t be a different person. But you will be a clearer one. A little more anchored. A little more you.

    Download it. Light a candle. Begin.
    The version of you that already knows the way has been waiting long enough.

    Get your copy of 7 Days of Alignment HERE

    Can’t wait to hear about your journey.

  • It started with a Page

    It started with a Page

    I didn’t set out to create a journal. I set out to survive.
    There have been seasons in my life where the only thing that kept me grounded was writing.

    Not pretty writing. Not polished writing. Just honest words on a page that helped me figure out what I was feeling when I couldn’t say it out loud.


    That’s what 7 Days of Alignment is born from.
    It’s a seven-day guided journal for anyone who is in the middle of something grief, change, becoming, all of the above.

    Each day gives you one affirmation to hold in your body and one prompt to take you deeper. No experience required. No perfection expected.

    Will you take the challenge?


    Just you and the page.

    I’ve been working toward this for a while, and I won’t pretend it didn’t feel vulnerable to put it out into the world.

    But if even one person picks this up on a hard day and feels a little less alone because of it, then it was worth every bit of courage it took to hit publish.

    So check it out HERE if you are ready to give yourself 7 Days of Alignment.

  • When Life Pulls the Tablecloth

    When Life Pulls the Tablecloth

    Funny how it feels like time is slowly shifting, but still moving slow.

    Not gonna lie at first I thought it was just the season. All that glum, grey cold weather. The seasonal heaviness that was becoming a storm I couldn’t escape. I told myself that if we could finally get some warm sunshine, it would solve everything.

    Finally, March arrived. The trip I’d planned with my youngest to the Botanical Garden to kick off the month was a go. Color, warmth, making memories with my little girl. It was gonna be a win-win.

    But life had other plans.

    Friday night I had a slight cough but I also have asthma, and my body was achy from a long hard work week, so I brushed it off. Saturday arrived with a headache and that same cough still hanging around. I said nope, took a vitamin C, and even went for a run. Had to stop midway. I told myself I just hadn’t run in a bit and the cough wasn’t helping, so I went and got a pedicure instead. At least I’d do something good for myself to set the mood for the fun time ahead.

    But once I was done, I felt my body say: are you done?

    I’ll admit it, I’m stubborn. I took some cold meds and more fluids and kept the plan alive in my head. I got up early Sunday after doing asthma treatments through the night. That should’ve been my sign right there. Maybe going into the city wasn’t a good idea.

    But I mustered on, got dressed, and we headed out only to turn back midway because I got sick on the train.

    From there it snowballed into a whole week of missing work. I was that sick.

    And I still couldn’t see it. Couldn’t see that my body was trying to tell me to slow down.

    That is when we need to stop and listen. Or at least that’s when I need to stop and listen.

    You see, I have a lot of things on my plate. I admit I want them all done ASAP. But that’s the thing about life it doesn’t care about your timeline.

    Again, we are not in control no matter how much we plan. Sure, sometimes that works. But when it won’t, it won’t.

    You can have everything mapped out, color-coded, scheduled down to the hour, and life will still walk in, pull the tablecloth, and watch everything slide. Not to destroy you. Maybe just to remind you that you are not in charge of the pace.

    Sometimes the pause is the plan. And your only job is to rest inside it until it’s time to move again.

    I’m learning that no matter how carefully I plan, life will always have its own version of events. And maybe that’s okay. One moment at a time is still forward motion.

  • Just another day or was it

    Just another day or was it

    Opened on time.

    Lights on.

    Music playing.

    Everything with its usual humming.

    Members walked in like any other day.

    What they didn’t see?

    I couldn’t find my keys.

    The chunky keychain with all the charms.

    The one that’s impossible to miss until it’s missing.

    I called coworkers.

    No answer.

    I swallowed my pride and called to make .

    Drove to get a backup key.

    Watched the clock like it was a countdown to disaster.

    Adrenaline before sunrise.

    And still the doors opened.

    No one knew the scramble.

    No one felt the panic.

    No one noticed the recalculating, the rerouting, the quiet “figure it out.”

    They just saw access.

    And that’s the part that stayed with me.

    How much of life is held together by people who are internally sprinting while externally steady?

    Last night my coat snagged and fell apart.

    This morning my keys disappeared.

    For a moment, it felt like everything was unraveling.

    But nothing unraveled.

    The doors opened.

    Sometimes resilience doesn’t look glamorous.

    Sometimes it looks like solving a problem before anyone knows there was one.

    Sometimes strength is quiet.

  • Shifts in Mindsets

    Shifts in Mindsets

    Lent has already begun.

    The 100-Day Project is underway.

    I am also doing The Artist’s Way.

    This is not a warm-up.

    This is not preparation.

    This is the work.

    I am in it.

    I am writing this because I know myself.

    What stays in my head stays unfinished.

    What goes on paper becomes a vow.

    What is spoken becomes real.

    The Artist’s Way is my daily return.

    The 100 days are my discipline.

    Lent is my refinement.

    All three are one intention:

    focus.

    This is not about reinvention.

    It is not about performance.

    It is about consistency.

    It is about becoming the woman who does what she says she will do.

    I am showing up.

    Pages written.

    Project created.

    Spirit examined.

    Life throws curveballs.

    Focus adjusts.

    Feet stay planted.

    Eyes stay locked.

    This is my turn at bat.

    No waiting for perfect timing.

    No waiting for better conditions.

    I am already moving.

    I am already committed.

    And I am holding myself to it.

  • Before Resentment, There Was Expectation

    Before Resentment, There Was Expectation

    All right, we’re going to talk about something people usually suppress.

    Resentment.

    What’s interesting is that resentment rarely starts as anger.

    I say this not from theory, but from practice.

    I’ve had to learn how to catch expectation before it turns into resentment, and journal therapy gave me the tools to do that.

    It usually starts as an unspoken expectation.

    A quiet hope.

    A mental script.

    A version of events we never say out loud.

    And when reality doesn’t match that internal script, disappointment hardens quickly into irritation.

    But irritation isn’t the first emotion.

    It’s the second.

    The first emotion was expectation.

    When we don’t name it, the spiral begins.

    3 Ways the Spiral Typically Happens

    1. We Assume They Should Have Known.

    We expect others to intuit what we never expressed.

    2. We Attach Meaning to the Outcome.

    “If this didn’t happen, it must mean I’m not valued.”

    3. We React Instead of Reflect.

    Withdrawal.

    Sharp tone.

    Cold distance.

    Not because we’re cruel but because we feel let down.

    But there is another way.

    3 Different Decisions That Change the Outcome

    1. Name the Hope Before It Turns Into a Story.

    Ask yourself: What was I actually hoping would happen?

    Clarity interrupts resentment.

    2. Separate Fact From Interpretation.

    Something didn’t occur.

    That does not automatically define your worth.

    Pause before attaching narrative.

    3. Choose Conscious Action.

    Communicate the desire clearly.

    Or meet the need yourself without punishment.

    Expectation is human.

    Resentment grows when expectation goes unnamed.

    Journal Prompt:

    What small, unspoken expectation shifts your mood the fastest?

  • Matters of the Four Chambered Organ

    Matters of the Four Chambered Organ

    A couple of months ago, after watching a rom-com of all things, this poem arrived.

    It reminded me that inspiration doesn’t ask permission. It doesn’t care if the source is high art or a late-night movie. It simply taps you on the shoulder and says, pay attention.

    With a weekend that centers everything around love, this feels like the right moment to share

    Love is a chamber
    already loaded.
    One wrong trigger
    and something vital ends.
    They tell us it lives in the heart
    this soft red symbol
    we never see working
    until it fails.
    love can be known as euphoria,
    as breathless light.
    It’s also been known as being
    collapsed on a bathroom floor,
    tiles cold against the cheek,
    trying to remember how to breathe.
    From there love lives
    inside a clear bubble.
    Visible.
    Watched.
    Marked do not touch.
    Strong enough to exist.
    Fragile enough to shatter.
    Maybe one day
    it will swell with courage
    and burst.
    For now,
    it stays still
    beating carefully,
    on purpose    .

    Love isn’t always roses and violins. Sometimes it’s courage. Sometimes it’s caution. Sometimes it’s survival.

  • When Everything Feels Amplified

    When Everything Feels Amplified

    There are days when nothing catastrophic happens,

    yet everything inside me feels louder.

    The thoughts move faster.

    The body feels heavier.

    Ordinary moments carry more weight than they should.

    I’ve learned not to panic when this happens.

    Emotional intensity doesn’t automatically mean something is wrong.

    It doesn’t mean I’m unstable.

    It doesn’t mean I’m failing.

    Sometimes it just means I’m aware.

    Intensity is what happens when I stop numbing.

    When I’m no longer distracting myself enough to avoid what’s stirring underneath.

    When something in me is outgrowing the version of life I’m currently living.

    It shows up as restlessness.

    As heat in the chest.

    As a quiet refusal to keep settling.

    I used to interpret this feeling as a problem to solve.

    Now I see it as information.

    It’s asking questions.

    Where are you misaligned?

    What are you tolerating that you’ve already outgrown?

    What would it look like to choose yourself here?

    I’m learning that I don’t need to escape intensity.

    I need to hold it long enough to understand what it’s pointing toward.

    Not every strong feeling is a crisis.

    Sometimes it’s a compass.

  • Love is in the Air or is it?

    Love is in the Air or is it?

    Yesterday, on my way to therapy, I walked past the little shopping center near the office.

    Everything is hearts and “love is in the air” but what I saw felt different.

    Almost Valentine’s Day

    Almost Valentine’s Day

    and the lonely souls wander

    the small shopping center

    like prayers with no altar.

    One man stumbles toward the liquor store

    another exits, older,

    paper bag folded tight around his arm

    as if it might hold him back together.

    Companionship waits inside

    lined up in glass curves

    dark and gleaming

    all willing

    to offer warmth for a price.

    No roses.

    No cards.

    Just the romance of a bottle’s body

    whispering

    you’re never too old

    to feel something.