I've been lucky & blessed enough to work from my passion. Creating art, which has mainly been writing for the last several years, has meant that working has always felt like a pleasure and even an indulgence. I love words! I love arranging them so that they are meaningful to the people reading them. Because of this, working has never felt quite like working- it's felt like a privilege. An honor.
This space, right here, the one I'm standing in, peering over the edge, is all MINE. The thoughts I want to share, without any worry or consideration for "appropriateness". Or even editing. What I want to write, how I want to write it.
Total freedom.
Huge, sh*t eating grin.
Maybe you weren’t meant to be a mother, I was told.
Keep trying, it’ll work eventually (maybe), I was told.
Get a hobby, I was told.
Relax, I was told.
The seasons and weather fascinate me, as the metaphors, figuratively and literally, of our lives. Infertility is a season that feels so vast that time changes shape and size. Winter was my most soothing season with my own fertility struggles.
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