Note to self : {untitled}

 {Occasionally I will get on my phone and start typing to no one in particular. Mostly it’s whatever I have on my mind at the time. Thoughts. Hopes. Dreams. Regrets.  

Lots of times it’s regret. The thing I’m always running from until I’m forced to finally look it square in the face.  

I went through my writing drafts recently and saw the one below. Though it doesn’t speak to my state of mind at the moment, I think it’s valuable: because even though I am the same woman who wrote this months ago I don’t feel the same regret now.

I am the same but I have changed.

I am not my emotions and I am capable of change. Good gracious that’s a good thing. And looking back, even on hard times and bad punctuation, helps me remember that my low phases are not permanent. And that they are not the essence of me.} 


Looking through pictures  

remembering glimpses of sams baby-ness

larger memories of the stress and work of the podcast

wondering if I missed out.

Wondering if I screwed myself over.   Wondering if the podcast phase and the art phase were simply phases and I missed babyhood by hiding behind my projects.

Wondering if the things that matter to me now aren't as important as they seem. Wondering what, if anything, matters in my life in ten years other than him and my family. 

Wondering if this is me being blue. Or tired. Or the natural thoughts of. mom of a toddler. Am I dangling into creative apathy? Have the months of "he and me" atrophied my drive and desire? 

In both my phone note and today in this post I leave these questions unanswered. Because some questions can’t be answered in the moment. And I’m learning to be okay with the mystery.




Note to self: Let’s stop apologizing for writing “novels”

You’ve done it.

I have too. 

We spill our heart or mind or emotions via the tiptap of our thumbs on the tiny computer we carry in our back pocket or throw in our purse.


We open up in a way that seems too intense to do in person. We talk about how the relationship has changed and how we are a better person for it. We talk about the pain that comes from having to be strong. We talk about the anger, the hot burning volcano that we’ve pushed down a thousand times but can’t seem to swallow one more time.

We tell the truth. Via text or email or instant message. We tell the truth that needs to be free.

And then we apologize.

”Sorry for the novel,” we say.

Let’s stop: There is absolutely no reason to apologize for telling the truth. There is absolutely nothing wrong with opening ourselves up in a society that tells us to push it down and act like we have ourselves together.



My Journey : My One Word for 2019

Today I wanted to share about my word of 2019. Have you heard about this practice? Instead of resolutions {of which I’ve personally never had great success} one chooses a word to focus their year.


In the past I’ve had words such as “fearless” and “growth”, intentions that specifically spoke to where I was in regard to pursuing a more creative life.  This year I’m going with “open”.

One of the exercises I’ve practiced with the word of the year is to think about different phrases in which your word fits.

What comes to your mind when you think of “open”?

A few that come to my mind:

  • Open and receiving the goodness of the universe

  • Open mind

  • open heart

  • Open arms

  • Eye opening

  • Open for business

  • When one door closes another opens

All of these phrases excite me for their sense of possibility. And if 2018 has taught me anything it is that pursuing possibility is where the good stuff is hidden.

I’d love to know: do you choose a word to guide your year? If so, what is it? If not, how in the heck do you stick to your resolutions?  :)

Happy 2019 friends. 


The Imposter’s Society : Art Journaling Workshop

Once upon a time I painted 32 paintings in 32 days for my 32nd birthday. ✨ 


At the time I was the mom of an almost one year old. I didn’t call myself an artist because I didn’t make art. I mean, I had blogged before Sam was born and then I plunged myself into making a podcast after Sam was born in a weird “let’s fight post-partum depression/ anxiety by distracting myself” kind of thing, but putting things on the Internet didn’t count as making art. {Imposter Syndrome at its finest folks.}✨ 

And you don’t have to relate to any of the above to understand the near-ache that I had to make something physical. The slight drag of a brush across a canvas, the squish of paint under my fingertips, the {admittedly elementary school level} pride of accomplishment that happened when I could show someone a canvas and say, “Look!! See!! I made a thing!!” ✨ 

So I made 34 things. 4x4. They weren’t terribly complicated. Some weren’t even too good in a technical sense. 

But, in the way that matters, they were magical. These 34 tiny canvases helped me, for the first time in my life, acknowledge that I wanted to make art. That I wanted to pursue being an artist. To say that realization was life altering would be an understatement. ✨

Today, I’m opening up an art journaling workshop and I’m truly excited about it. I’m calling it “the Imposter’s Society” after that always present Imposter’s Syndrome I mentioned earlier. 

And its core, this workshop will help you break through the lies that inner voice is telling you about not being creative enough. It will, if you decide to go on the full six week journey with me, give you the instant gratification of making physical and tactile art. But most importantly, journaling can help you break through those ridiculous mental and emotional barriers that throw themselves in front of anyone trying to pursue a more creative life. ✨

I’d like you to read more about this hybrid online and in-person art making meet-up in this link. And, if you or a friend are truly interested, message me for a 50% off code that will be good until the balls drops on 2019.

I’d love to see what creative goals you achieve in 2019. Thank you for being on this journey with me. 

My Journey : The Little Craft Show


I hesitantly pulled up to a volunteer event for the little craft show six years ago this fall. As the new girl in town, despite both my introversion and shyness, I was here to make friends. {And to help make vendor tags or whatever else needed helping that evening...}

I wasn’t fully aware of it at the time, but I also wanted to be an artist. I wanted to surround myself with people who were making beautiful things. “If I’m not able to, at least I could support those who are,” my inner artist voice whispered, peaking out and hoping this would be a safe space.

And it was.

This year I’m ridiculously happy {and simultaneously scared} to tell you that I will be a vendor at The Little Craft Show at the Bentonville and Fayetteville events. More details to come but until then I will be over here giving my inner artist voice high fives for pushing me to do hard things.