The Blog

Sometimes emotional neglect comes from the inside. From the way you silence your own needs before anyone else can. From minimizing what you feel. From convincing yourself you’re ‘too much' or 'too sensitive'. From abandoning your own voice to keep the peace. The peace within you. 

Lately, I’ve been noticing how the strategies that once protected me now leave me exhausted. How the habits that helped me endure are quietly burning me out. How staying in motion has become a way to avoid sitting with myself. As I look toward 2026, I’m realizing that I don’t want to live only as someone who endured. I want to learn how to live as someone who is present. 

I stopped working out. I cried in silence. I stopped meditating. I stopped living.  I thought that I had the whole self-love thing under control. I had figured that out in 2014 and was more than ten years into that journey, and so I forgot how easy it could be to slide backwards.  It started like it usually does.  With a small thought. A thought that I wouldn’t have even noticed because, after all, I was an expert at self-love.  A few days later, that same thought would come

Words are small, but they are mighty. We carry them, sometimes without realizing the weight they add. Some words lift us. Others linger longer than they should.

2025 became a year that broke me into a million different pieces. Pieces that are roughly glued back together. Pieces that, if any disruption occurs, may fall back out of place. In 2025, I had more days that broke me than any other year.

This is where writing, and particularly erotica, becomes a powerful tool for healing. On the page, I get to reclaim narrative control. When I write erotica, I decide what happens. No one takes that choice away from me. Consent becomes something I can explore safely in my imagination, practicing what it feels like to give, withhold, or change my mind without fear.

The moments I was brave enough to step into who and what I wanted to be don’t really matter anymore. BECAUSE they haven’t gotten me anywhere. Those steps, the ones that propelled me forward, are now thousands of steps in front of me.

This year isn't about setting resolutions I'll forget by February. It's about planting seeds of intention that reflect the woman I’ve become and the one I’m still growing into. These intentions aren't about perfection. They're about presence. They are a commitment to living with more clarity, compassion, courage, and curiosity.

That wasthehardest part. Pretending that something didn't happen while also believing that EVERYONE could see it written all over me.