About

“I am meant for more.”

Those tiny, needling words have been an ever-present hum beneath the drone of life for as long as I can remember. They echoed in my head as a child, dreaming up stories on the school bus, writing during class, and believing that one day I’d write the kinds of books that made people laugh, cry, and learn things about themselves they didn’t even know they needed to hear.

They echoed every time I stepped on a stage and discovered that somehow — even as a painfully shy introvert — it was easier to be brave as someone else’s character than it was to be myself. And they were LOUD when I started learning that the safest way to exist in the world was to be quiet and small and comfortable, and folded myself up neatly to be packed away into a box.

As I got older, those words became quieter, buried beneath work, marriage, responsibilities, and eventually: motherhood.

But they were never gone.

“I am meant for more,” I would think as I spent eight hours every weekday working for someone else’s dream.

“I am meant for more,” I would think as I continued to abandon myself just to keep the peace.

“I am meant for more,” I would think as anxiety and depression stole years I can never get back.

“I have,” I would think, because to think it became the only way to continue forward, “to be meant for more.”

And yet, thinking was all I was doing. My fear was louder. It always won. Perfectionism convinced me I needed to wait until I felt ready. Life kept moving on, and I kept lying to myself: “Someday.”

Then my little brother died.

And the concept of time suddenly felt very different.

It wasn’t endless anymore.

The idea of looking back ten years from now, having never written the books I dreamed about, never created the life I imagined, never taken the chances I craved because I was too scared, became more frightening than failing. More terrifying, even, than to be seen trying.

So I just … started.

Not because I finally felt ready, but because after having a baby and losing a little brother in the span of seven months, I knew with a stark clarity that I would never feel ready. Not entirely.

I dove headfirst into content creating — something I had been wanting to do for years — with not a single clue as to what I was doing. And yes: to this day, I still live with the nasty cringy-ness of it all because I was (and still am) determined to exposure-therapy myself into living authentically.

I finally picked up the stories I abandoned years ago — or, more often than not, simply opened the Notes app on my phone, because that’s where most writing happens as a full-time working mom.

Little by little, I remembered something long forgotten: creating isn’t just a hobby for me. Especially writing. It’s how I make sense of the world: inhaling life, exhaling the words to process it.

This little corner of the internet is a reflection of both sides of that journey.

A place where my love of storytelling meets real life: the books I’m writing, the stories I’m reading, the outfits that make me feel like myself again, the messy middle of motherhood, and the moments that remind me life is worth romanticizing. I’ll say it now and many times over: becoming isn’t about transforming into someone new; it’s about finding your way back to the parts of yourself that were there all along — the dreamer, the creator, the child who believed anything was possible.

If there’s one thing I hope you take away from being here, it’s this:

You don’t have to wait until you’re ready. You don’t have to have everything figured out. You don’t have to become someone else — someone brave — before building the life you want.

Sometimes being who you were always meant to be begins with one small yet terrifying act of courage.

If you’re here because you love books, welcome.

If you’re here because you’re learning to romanticize life again, welcome.

If you’re here because you’re still figuring out who TF you are, you’re in good company.

I’m so glad you’re here.

I hope this space leaves you feeling inspired to chase every dream that won’t stop calling your name, to start being the main character of your own life, and to believe your best chapters are still waiting to be written.

Thank you for being here.