The Confession Hiding in the “About Me” Section

When I first built my author website, I was thinking clean, professional, predictable — a digital business card for my books. I didn’t plan on bleeding all over the keyboard. I figured I’d post a few updates, maybe some behind-the-scenes thoughts about writing. Simple. Safe.

But something shifted. The blog started whispering louder than the books ever could.

High school friends used to tell me, “You need to write about your life.” And for years, I shrugged that off. Who would care? But the truth is, I stopped feeling seen. Somewhere between motherhood, survival mode, and holding up everyone else’s sky, I vanished a little. Writing here felt like leaving breadcrumbs back to myself.

What began as an author platform turned into therapy disguised as storytelling — a place where I could exist in full color again instead of living in grayscale.

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The Part Nobody Likes to Admit

I realized that I started this blog because my marriage felt like being ghosted in real time.

I’ve done so much in my life — theater, concerts, film, college, travel, photography, writing, music, literal survival — and yet my husband never seemed curious about any of it. The stories that built me never mattered to him.

And the worst part is, I know what it feels like to be seen. My ex-husband was endlessly curious about my history, proud of every creative risk, and grew beside me through so many milestones. He respected the hell out of me for the same things that were later ignored.

That realization hurt at first. Now it feels like a wake-up call.

Because this space doesn’t just exist for my soon-to-be ex-husband to see what he missed — it exists for me to remember who I am.

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The Real Answer

So, why did I start this blog?
Because I needed somewhere to exist that wasn’t defined by someone else’s version of me.
Because storytelling has always been my rebellion and my release.
Because even if nobody read a word of it, I’d still need to write it.

It started as an author website. It became a heartbeat.