There’s power in naming what we want out loud.Even when it’s messy.Even when it feels like too much.Especially then. But I won’t pretend it’s easy.I’ve spoken my desire and watched everything fall apart.I’ve asked for more and have been met with endings.I’ve used my voice and then questioned if I should’ve stayed quiet. So for… Continue reading What I’m Learning About Wanting
She thought she was blooming late.She even called herself a late bloomer. But perhaps the most important realization is the one that lives deep in her bones now: She isn’t blooming late.She’s blooming exactly when she’s meant to. And right now, she’s waiting. Sitting in the pause. Holding space. Not rushing to grasp, clarify, define,… Continue reading A Love Letter to the Woman Who Waited
I thought I’d know who I was by now. And while I know myself more deeply than ever, there are still pieces of me shifting, reshaping, becoming. But maybe the most honest thing I can say is: I’m in the in-between. Not lost. Not broken. Not spiraling. But not fully arrived either. On the cusp,… Continue reading The Art of the In-Between
Confessions of a Late Bloomer Part 16 I used to think desire meant surrender.That if you felt the heat, you had to follow it.That wanting someone meant saying yes with your body,even when your heart hadn't caught up. I’ve learned better. These days, I’m no longer rushing toward the spark without checking where it leads.I’m… Continue reading Wanting Without Losing Myself
Confessions of a Late Bloomer Part 11 For a long time, I thought love was supposed to feel like butterflies, that quickening, that rush, that tingle in your gut that made it hard to breathe. I thought adrenaline meant attraction.I thought chaos was chemistry.I thought if it wasn’t all-consuming, messy, magnetic, heart-racing… it wasn’t real.… Continue reading Calm Isn’t Boring, It’s Safe
Confessions of a Late Bloomer Part 6 Before I ever learned to shrink myself inside relationships,I learned to shrink myself inside a system that told me it was love. Before the heartbreaks with names and faces,there was a different kind of heartbreak.A quieter one.A belonging that asked me to be small. I started going to… Continue reading The Places That Made Me and Unmade Me
Confessions of a Late Bloomer Part 4 When I was younger, I hated hugs. It’s not like I grew up in a house without affection. But somewhere along the way, a hug became something that made me freeze. Like my body forgot what to do. Arms stiff. Heart racing. Eyes wide. I would default to… Continue reading The Girl Who Hated Hugs
Confessions of a Late Bloomer Part 3 I had my first boyfriend as a freshman in high school. I’m still not entirely sure how it moved from noticing him across the cafeteria to him being my official bf. Maybe it was the “fresh meat” effect at a small school. I was new, wide-eyed, and visibly… Continue reading First Kiss, Last Straw
You don’t have to shrink to be held.You don’t have to earn rest, or softness, or love. You are not the weight of old stories.You are not the voice that says you must be smaller to be chosen.You are not a project. You are a beginning. A spark. A sovereign.You are the risk worth taking.You… Continue reading A New Archetype
Last night was a hard one. One of those moments in parenting, especially solo parenting, that leaves you raw and questioning. Am I doing the right thing? Am I too hard? Too soft? Is she pulling away because I’m showing her the boundaries she needs, or because I’m getting it all wrong? I sat with… Continue reading Rooted in Love, Even When It Hurts
