Being me is a full-time job. Equal parts therapist, former caregiver, accidental activist, and expert coffee drinker. I spent 20 years caring for my mother with Alzheimer’s, raised a child on my own, and still managed to build a life — even if most days it felt like duct tape and caffeine were holding it together.

This blog started as a pressure valve. I needed a space where I wasn’t explaining dementia to people who hadn’t lived it, or softening the blow for folks uncomfortable with grief. I wanted a place to be smart, sarcastic, occasionally petty, and deeply human….without needing a disclaimer.

I write about everything: love, loss, politics, beauty, parenting, mental health, race, aging, and everything in between. Some posts are raw, some are researched, some are just me processing the world out loud. I’m not here to brand myself. I’m here to tell the truth and maybe connect with someone who sees themselves in the mess, the magic, or both.

I believe in living out loud, even when it’s uncomfortable. I believe in naming things clearly. I believe in humour as survival. And I believe we’re all just trying to make sense of it as we go.

If that sounds like your kind of corner of the internet, you’re welcome here.