Honest storytelling as a form of healing.

Lines Between Living

  • A new Never ending Wave

    A new Never ending Wave

    Today marks 20 years since my oldest daughter’s passing to SIDS and I thought I’d share 20 things I wish people understood about grief:

    1. “They’re in a better place” doesn’t make the missing stop. Both things can be true and still hurt.
      1. “Don’t be sad” is not comfort. It’s a request for your silence.
      2. “They wouldn’t want you to cry” maybe. But grief isn’t about what they want anymore. It’s about what love does when it has nowhere to go.
      3. “You’re lucky you have other children” is one of the cruelest things you can say to a grieving parent. Children are not interchangeable. Every single one is irreplaceable.
      4. “Just smile” means make me more comfortable with your pain.
      5. Grief has no expiration date. None.
      6. Twenty years later, that is still your person. That is still your baby. Time does not shrink that.
      7. It comes in waves. I can be fine right now and crying in an hour for no reason other than love.
      8. Sometimes the wave hits in the middle of a grocery store. Or a gym. Or a Tuesday morning.
      9. You learn to carry it, not lose it. It becomes part of how you walk through the world.
      10. Anniversaries are not just dates on a calendar. They are full-body experiences.
      11. The ones who feel it most are the ones who say the least about it.
      12. Grief is lonely. Not because no one cares, but because no one else loved them exactly the way you did.
      13. Sometimes I just need someone to say I’m here. That’s all. No fixing. No advice. Just I’m here.
      14. Silence from the people you expected to remember hurts in its own quiet way.
      15. Putting up a face is exhausting. But sometimes it’s how you survive the day.
      16. You don’t grieve less over time. You just get stronger between the waves.
      17. A favorite book, a song, a smell any of it can bring them back in a rush. That is not a breakdown. That is love.
      18. Grief is not weakness. It is the proof of how deeply you loved.
      19. My child will always be my child. In this world and the next. No amount of time, distance, or “looking on the bright side” changes that.


    If you are grieving today, I see you. You don’t have to explain yourself. You don’t have to be okay. You just have to keep going, and you are.

  • When You Don’t Know How You Feel and That’s Okay

    When You Don’t Know How You Feel and That’s Okay

    When’s the last time someone asked how you were doing and you just… didn’t have an answer?


    Not because nothing was happening. But because everything was happening and none of it had a name yet.


    Some days arrive heavy. Not dramatic, not falling-apart heavy just the quiet kind of weight that settles in your chest before you even open your eyes.

    You go through the motions. You show up. You do the thing. And somewhere underneath all of it, something is asking to be felt but you don’t know what it is yet.


    That’s not a problem to fix. That’s actually the beginning of something.


    Journal therapy doesn’t ask you to have it all figured out before you sit down to write. It meets you exactly where you are including the days when where you are is I don’t even know. One of the first things journal therapy teaches us is that the body often knows what the mind hasn’t caught up to yet. So when words won’t come, we start there.
    Try this: before you write a single sentence, pause and ask yourself what does my body feel right now?

    Not your thoughts. Not the story. Just the physical. Tight shoulders. Heavy eyes. A breath you keep forgetting to finish. Write that down. That’s your entry point.


    From there, let yourself go a little deeper.
    Ask yourself what you’ve been avoiding thinking about. Not to force it open just to acknowledge it’s there. Sometimes naming the thing we’re circling around is enough to release a little pressure.
    And then ask the question that changes everything: What would I write if I knew no one was reading?


    That’s where the real stuff lives.
    You don’t have to perform your healing. You don’t have to arrive at a conclusion by the end of the page. Some journal entries are just proof that you showed up on a hard day and that counts.


    So if today is one of those days where the feelings don’t have labels yet, grab the

    journal anyway. Start with your body. Follow the thread. Trust that clarity comes through writing, not before it.
    Start here three prompts for the unnamed days:
    ∙ What does my body feel right now?
    ∙ What have I been avoiding thinking about?
    ∙ What would I write if no one was reading?


    You don’t need the whole answer. You just need the first honest sentence.

  • April is National Poetry Month

    April is National Poetry Month

    Poetry is the language we reach for when nothing else is enough.

    It lives in the grief we can’t explain, the joy that breaks us open, and the silence between what we mean and what we say.


    A poem doesn’t ask permission to tell the truth. Neither should you.


    This month we celebrate the ones who bled into stanzas, who turned pain into pages, who refused to stay quiet.


    Every poet started with one line they were afraid to write. Write yours.

  • The Difference Between Venting and Journal Therapy

    The Difference Between Venting and Journal Therapy

    Let me ask you something. Have you ever journaled your heart out, wrote until your hand hurt or your phone battery died, got everything out that you were feeling and then closed the notebook and felt exactly the same?

    Yeah. Me too. And for a long time I thought that meant journaling just wasn’t working for me.

    What I didn’t know was that there’s a big difference between venting on the page and actually doing journal therapy. And once I understood that difference, everything changed.

    Venting is dumping. You’re getting it out, releasing the pressure, letting the words catch what your body couldn’t hold anymore. And listen sometimes you need that.

    There’s nothing wrong with it. But venting alone doesn’t move anything. You drain the tub and it fills right back up. Because you never asked where the water was coming from.

    Journal therapy is different because it asks you to do something after you write. It asks you to slow down and get curious about what just landed on the page.

    What’s really going on here? What is this feeling underneath the feeling? What does this remind me of? What do I actually need right now? Those questions are where the real work is. That’s where things start to shift.

    It’s not about writing beautifully. It’s not about having the right words or the right format.

    It’s about being honest and then being willing to look at what you wrote. The journal stops being a trash can for your emotions and starts being a mirror. And mirrors show you things that are true even when they’re uncomfortable.

    If you’ve been journaling for a while and still feel stuck, this might be exactly why. You’ve been releasing without reflecting.

    That’s not failure. That’s just a missing piece. And the good news is you can add it starting today.

    TRY THIS TODAY:

    Write about something that’s been bothering you for five minutes, no filter. Then stop, read it back, and ask yourself one thing: What is the feeling underneath this feeling?

    Write for five more minutes from that place. See what opens up.

    Do you want a structured way to go deeper?

    I created 7 Days of Alignment : A journal that takes you from surface-level writing to real, soul-level clarity. You can purchase it here

  • Go Bloom: A Love Letter to the First Day of Spring

    Go Bloom: A Love Letter to the First Day of Spring

    There is something almost magical about the way the earth just decides to shift.

    No announcements. No countdown. Just one morning you step outside and something in the air feels different. Lighter. Like the world exhaled.

    Today is the first day of spring, and I need you to feel the full weight of what that means.

    The spring equinox is the moment when light and dark are perfectly balanced, and then, just like that, the light starts to win. Day by day, little by little, there is more brightness than shadow. That is not just science. That is a message.

    Whatever you have been carrying through the winter, whatever felt heavy, stuck, frozen in place, the season is literally changing around you. The ground that looked like it had nothing left in it is already doing the quiet work of becoming something new. That is what seeds do. That is what we do.

    New beginnings do not always arrive with fanfare. Sometimes they arrive on an ordinary Friday, with a cup of something warm in your hand, and a feeling in your chest that says this is it. Something good is coming.

    I believe that feeling. I am choosing to believe it today.

    If you have been waiting for a sign to start again, to try again, to hope again, let this be it. The first day of spring on a Friday, the end of one week and the start of everything new.

    Happy Spring. Happy Friday. Happy new chapter.

    Go bloom.

  • 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.