About

I'm thirty-something years old, married and living on the west coast.

Ever since I was little, the world has been overwhelming for me -- just as full of wonder and hope as it was sadness and frustration, overflowing with emotions. It was this that made me want to write, feel compelled to write. And then it was the same that made me stop, that made me feel like I wasn't good enough to write.

I'm going to try to prove it wrong.

Some things that might influence this...

I have several autoimmune conditions. I get botox injections every 12 weeks for chronic migraines. I've been diagnosed with anxiety and depression. I suspect I might have borderline personality disorder (although while talking with my therapist I've determined I'm not really sure if I want to know for certain). Yknow, fun stuff.

I have a job that I love at a company that supports me. It pays well enough (although if I didn't live somewhere expensive it would seemingly pay even better). My husband is unbelievably supportive, even when he's frustrated or doesn't understand.

And my cat is better than yours. Sorry (not sorry).