This is me.

A thirty-something daughter, wife, mother, and friend. A lover of perfectly imperfect people and things, part-time designer of cozy spaces, and emotionally-motivated writer of words that I share here.

This space is where I unapologetically share the version of myself that I wake up to every day: the no make-up, no filter, hormonal acne, crooked nose, tired eyes, and behind-the-scenes work-in-progress I work annoyingly hard to accept every single day. This isn’t the watered down version or the curated highlight reel on social media or the protective armor I defensively hide under when I want everyone to think that I’m okay.

This is the space where it’s okay to not be okay and where I’ll tell you that I’m not. Because, the fact is that it’s okay to not always be okay. It’s normal to not always be happy. There are days I feel like I’m drowning within the prison cell of my own mind and the only thing that helps me feel better is to give that pain a voice and patiently listen out for the occasional yeah, girl. me, too.

Because life can be fucking ruthless. Being human with other humans only makes this one hard life we’re given exponentially more complicated which inevitably leads us to those stormy dark places where we don't always like or even recognize ourselves. But if there’s anything I believe in without question, it’s that we’re never too broken to be worth repair.

This space is where I openly admit that I'm never not trying to figure it all out: motherhood, marriage, friendship, self-acceptance, life... hell, simply existing.

My only hope is that my lack of shame and dedication to oversharing can help others feel a little less weird, a little less concerned with their messiness, and more accepting of others whose stories they may not instinctually understand. Sure, life is hard but keeping quiet about our shared humanity makes it so much harder.

"your mind is like an unsafe neighborhood;

don’t go there alone."

- Augusten Burroughs, Magical Thinking