Sometimes the biggest changes aren't visible. A memory from the Army, a lesson from Burning Man, and the realities of stroke recovery led me to a simple question: after all the complaining, what are you actually doing to fix it?
Sometimes the biggest changes aren't visible. A memory from the Army, a lesson from Burning Man, and the realities of stroke recovery led me to a simple question: after all the complaining, what are you actually doing to fix it?
The hardest part of grief isn’t always the catastrophe itself. Sometimes it’s realizing the world quietly resumes while you’re still standing in the wreckage trying to understand what survived.
A reflection on spirituality, grief, healthcare, and the lingering emotional imprints people leave behind long after they are gone.
A raw letter to my mother three years after her death, reflecting on grief, sobriety, domestic violence, regret, family, military service, faith, and the complicated process of learning to forgive yourself.