I write to make sense of what silences us—grief that lingers unspoken, the ache of generational wounds passed down like heirlooms, the quiet corrosion of narcissistic abuse, and the roles we’re assigned long before we understand we can step out of them.

My stories follow the quieter arcs: the slow, often invisible reckoning with buried rage; the tender, awkward negotiations we make with our own bodies; the strange, unscripted poetry that emerges in the midst of healing.

Sometimes I write about cooking, memory, or plants—about fermentation, flavor, or the scent of something that reminds us we’re still alive. But beneath it all, the thread is always the same: finding our way back to ourselves, one word at a time.

Featured in: Middle Pause, Break Breathe Become, One Table One World, Bloody Sweet Writers.

If my work makes you feel seen, stay. If it stirs something weird and unnameable in you, you're in the right place.