What's the difference between helping and controlling? Between care and erasure? An essay about marriage, inheritance, and painful recognition.

What happens when two people who love each other live fundamentally different lives? A dual-voice essay about marriage, contradiction, and staying.

What if not knowing what comes next isn't a weakness—it's your process? After 20 years of doubt, I learned that presence beats planning. This is the story of trusting your creative instincts, even when everyone around you has it "figured out."

What we're really saying is: my boundaries matter. Yours will, someday. Not yet.

What if math placement isn’t just about academics—but about how we define success, love, and worth for our children in an uncertain world?

I’ve discovered that being a “misfit parent” might be exactly what my daughter needs.

An emotional Father’s Day essay exploring daughter-father relationships, childhood betrayal, and generational healing.

A raw exploration of motherhood, identity, and intergenerational healing—my journey from crisis to finding wholeness as both mother and self.

An honest story about quitting exercise, making peace with softness, and finding joy in other kinds of movement.

In 2001, an email that should have landed in spam changed my life. A love story about connection across distance, defiance, and becoming who you are.

We mistake long-term partnership for knowing someone deeply.

But knowing is an ongoing act.

What if not knowing is its own form of care? A quiet reflection on curiosity, attention, and the things we choose to leave unnamed.

What if knowing isn’t the goal—but staying curious is? A story about humility, parenting, and learning to look again.

A new map for friendship

It’s not an exhaustive list but it runs the gamut from chocolate to petrichor.

Surrender has never been safe for me. It has never meant relief … only risk. My body does not associate stillness with safety. But here, now, I am trying.

What do these achievements really mean when we are 50, 60, 70 Do they validate us? Do they make us more credible, more worthy?

Each of us choreographs this dance of doing and being in our own way.

In The Ripple Room, we create side by side—not with rigid instruction, but with curiosity, encouragement, and the joy of simply making.

There’s a meditative quality in making repetitive marks or playing with colors. It’s all about immersing myself in the process—a process that reminds me I’m still here, still capable, still me trapped inside an uncooperative body.