08/18/2026
Writing is a practice that’s sustained me nearly all my life. I kept diaries as a young girl, where I’d write about boys I liked, my dreams, and what it felt like being the only mixed kid in my family. My Godmother (who now rests with the ancestors 🕊️) contextualized the importance of capturing our memories in a journal she gave me when I started college in 1995. She was an English professor and she always told me my greatest gift was in writing.
I started journaling as a therapeutic practice in 2000, when I was 23 and first moved from Jersey to Maryland. I wrote about boys I liked, going to grad school in DC, and what I wanted my life to look like in my 30s. I captured my experience on paper during my trip to Africa in 2005. When my 30s rolled around, I wrote about motherhood, divorce, and still searching for meaning in my life. I started a blog in 2012 that I kept for three years. Somehow always managing to still write about boys I liked but also coming to the place in my life where I had stories to tell, experiences to share, and wanting to be a light for others through my words.
I always want the words I share to serve as inspiration. But writing has always been for me. I love taking the words I see in my head and putting them together. And I feel so much release when I sit down to journal. It’s a place where you can just be yourself without any judgement. Journaling was a space that held me deeply when my father passed in 2021. It’s a space that continues to hold me as I navigate this very unique space of being a 48 year-old woman who still has big dreams.
Whenever you’re feeling angry, write. When you feel sad, write. When you feel joy, write. When you feel lost, write. When you’re traveling, write. It doesn’t have to be formal or perfect. Just take pen or pencil to paper and let the words flow. I promise, you will feel so much better on the other side. And as my beloved Godmother said, your written memories are the windows of your life.📝💛✨
