Category: Roots & Remnants
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I’ve been on both sides of body shaming. When I was bigger, people said I should lose weight.Now that I have, they say I’ve gone too far. Funny how no one ever stops to ask how I feel—they just measure their comfort against my body and call it concern. The Familiar Voice of “Concern” It’s…
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The Man and the Child None of us actually remember seeing them.My mom told us about it years later—at least a decade after it happened. Apparently, when we were really little—around three to five years old—all three of us kids saw the same thing: a man and a child. Different years.Different rooms.Same description. We each…
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What the Body Remembers I don’t have many memories of my Grandpa—I was eight or nine when he passed—but the ones I do have are vivid. Cemented.And the clearest of all? His energy hugs. Whenever we walked into the house, my Grams was there first—ready with her lipstick kisses and her “Hi, sweetie!”—and then we’d…
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The One Where I Finally Stopped Settling for “Good Enough” Dave still says therapy doesn’t work for him.But here’s the thing — therapy works. He just hasn’t found the right therapist. And honestly? It took me years—and seven therapists—to find mine. The first one talked more than I did.The second gave me whiplash — one…
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When Sleeplessness Isn’t Mania — It’s the Weight of Everything Anybody who knows me knows I don’t do all-nighters.Jamie used to make fun of me for it — no matter what we were doing, I’d hit my wall by 2AM like clockwork. My brain would just…power down. So when I stayed awake for nearly a…
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The Ghost of the Girl I Used to Be That girl in the photo? She’s a stranger to me now. She was in her first year of homeownership and her first “grown-up” job. Working on her bachelor’s degree. Juggling a goofy dog and an even goofier fiancé. She battled her own demons, sure, but she…
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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…
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The Magic That Stays Behind Some houses just feel enchanted. Not because of ghosts or spells or cursed dolls in the attic (though that would make a killer blog), but because of what lingers long after the owners move out—love, memory, and a touch of theatrics. There’s one house here in Charlotte that’s earned the…