Honest storytelling as a form of healing.

Category: Posts

  • Searching for Identity

    As time passes, the veil falls away

    what I wanted to be and what was are two different rooms.

    I built a perfect scene out of hope and paper,

    a stage lit for someone who never walked on.

    In the backdrop I find no name for me,

    no introduction, no ceremony  only footsteps

    measured in stones that promised a path and stole my footing.

    There were flowers, yes, soft and bright at first;

    Being brave to bring the inside out.

    I stepped through them and watched them wilt beneath my soles.

    Memory blurs where longing crowded the light;

    the ache was haute couture, tailor-made illusion.

    Now the seams show. Now the truth is simple and blunt:

    I am not the audience, I am not the prize.

    I am the one who unties the curtain and walks out into my own.

  • Tell Me You Have ADHD

    Tell me you have ADHD

    without saying a word.

    It looks like three screens glowing at once

    phone, computer, Ipad

    all alive, all demanding

    all impossible to ignore.

    Notebooks Scattered

    pens uncapped

    pages scribbled with half born thoughts

    each one urgent

    each one waiting

    to be finished “later”

    But when is later

    What exactly have you begun

    and where does it end

    Your brain whispers this is fine

    this is how we work

    as chaos hums like background music

    Therapist nods, listens

    lets the words spill out

    and still you wonder

    if they will ever hand you

    the answer your mind

    has been chasing in circles

    Slowly, surely

    you try to stitch focus back together.

    But then comes the question

    if I tame this storm

    if I straighten the wires

    do I lose the spark that makes me, me

    So you sit, suspended

    between doing and dreaming

    between chaos and order

    asking the question

    that never lets go

    How am I supposed to be?

  • Embracing Autumn: A Seasonal Reflection

    The air arrives with a hush,

    crisp as if the wind itself

    has pressed reset.

    We reach for hoodies,

    familiar as old friends,

    wrap blankets around our shoulders

    like promises we’ve kept.

    A warm cup steams between our palms,

    its comfort rising in small clouds

    that mirror our breath,

    a quiet ritual on the couch

    where the season settles in.

    Outside, the leaves shift

    green surrendering to flame,

    gold tumbling into amber.

    Each crunch beneath our steps

    carries the weight of memory,

    reminders of childhood walks,

    bonfires, and a kind of nostalgia

    that only autumn knows how to stir.

    The world slows, softens,

    as if whispering:

    You are home,

    you are held,

    you are here.

    Welcome to Autumn.

  • Simple Question Complex Answer

    Have you ever been asked what’s your favorite food? I of course have been and so I have an answer that hopefully will stick to whomever asks me next that question.

    Loaded question, isn’t it? “What’s your favorite food?

    Actually you see it depends on the mood,

    my tummy whispers in shifting tones.

    Sweet or Salty? Who will call the shots today?

    Maybe Reese’s, frozen solid, chilled to perfection, melting against my lips.

    Sprite bubbling besides it,

    tiny sparks of happiness rising to meet me.

    But they warn, don’t eat too much sweets.

    So then what?

    A crisp chicken Cesar salad, greens soothing the tongue,

    or maybe wings, hot,messy, wild with Cajun fries and blue cheese on the side.

    How that makes my soul extra giddy.

    Food isn’t just fuel.

    It’s the love I give myself,

    the little joy I create and taste.

    So what’s my favorite?

    That’s a trick question,

    because the truth is simple:

    it just depends on the mood.

    What is your favorite food that makes you the happiest?

  • Deep Breathe In and Exhale

    It’s been a whirlwind of a year, but maybe that’s the best way to begin because life rarely slows down long enough for us to catch our breath.

    For as long as I can remember, I’ve been everything to everyone. A caretaker, a listener, a supporter, a provider of strength. And while I’ve carried those roles with love, I often forgot the one person who needed me most, myself.

    This space, this blog, is my way of taking myself back.

    Of saying out loud that I am more than what others need from me. I am a whole being in the middle of becoming, learning how to live in the quiet lines between giving and receiving, between surviving and actually living.

    Here I’ll share my reflections, my poetry, my struggles, and the messy truths of finding myself again.

    I know I’m not alone in this there are others walking this same path, whispering the same reminder: that we deserve to be here for ourselves, too.

    So welcome to Lines Between Living. It’s not a perfect path, but it’s a real one. And I hope that somewhere in my words, you find pieces of your own story.