We expect people to fit into a box, to be something inherently beautiful. But the truth is, being human isn’t always pretty. Healing isn’t always beautiful. In fact, it can be pretty fucking ugly. My poetry explores just a small part of the human experience— the tenderness and the toughness, the grief, the brutal and the beautiful. It’s about embracing all parts of ourselves, even the parts we’re told are hard to love. Because true beauty lies in accepting yourself and loving who you are, flaws and all. And that’s what’s damn pretty.
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I published my first poetry book, Still Growing Wildflowers in January 2020. I didn't talk about it much because I didn't think it was "good enough." It was born from hurt and trauma and as someone who didn't have it "that bad" growing up, I felt embarrased by it sometimes.
But then I had friends and family and even strangers tell me that they saw themselves in those pages. That my books helped them feel less alone, even inspired some to write their own poems.
So I kept writing.
I kept writing through trying to heal a marriage that was never really whole, a separation, and divorce.
In June 2020 I moved into an apartment of my own, creating a new home with myself and two little wolves. I found myself on a path or redisovering and reclaiming my body. Healing from nine years of neglecting it. This is where I my second poetry book, The Lovers was created. Since then I've gone on to write two more books.
I write not just for me, but for you. I hope you find yourself in these pages. I hope they help you feel less alone, more inspired, and more free to express what you're feeling.
And I hope you're brave enough to feel.
♥
you're pushed into the dirt and everything is dark for a while. some days you feel like you're literally drowning, then you start to soften up. the soil around you starts to warm, you feel the sun and start to break out of your shell, pushing a little further each day, even when it rains and hurts like hell. you keep growing through the weeds and the wind. and one day, you bloom. not everyone will notice. not everyone will care and there will be others who don't even like you. but the thing is, you didn't bloom for them. You bloomed for you.