From Ramble to Real Talk
How My Unhinged Word Vomit Turns into Articles That (Hopefully) Help Someone
PSA before we begin—
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Let me be real with you: I don’t sit down at my laptop, light a candle, and channel divine, structured wisdom through my fingertips.
No. I sit down like a woman on the edge—coffee in one hand, emotions in the other—and I spill. I ramble. I cuss. I contradict myself. I start on supplements and somehow end up sobbing over spiritual neglect. There’s no outline. Just an emotional landslide with punctuation.
And that’s exactly how the real stuff starts. The kind that turns into the things I eventually share with the world.
This is what that looks like:
Supplementation is supplementing what you are lacking in your diet and lifestyle to help your body do what it should be doing on its own.
When I started this journey 15+ years ago I started with our food and lifestyle. Along the way my mental health took a toll and I took unhealthy measures to accomplish things I thought would bring me happiness. Spoiler it did not because I did not put in the work to truly fix what was broken to heal.
I have never really talked about faith or spirituality on here. Not because I am ashamed but because I dip in and out and never really stay with it at the forefront of everything. I recently saw a video or something—I do not remember exactly thanks perimenopause—but it was telling me to listen to Savannah Chrisley’s podcast Unlocked. She truly is a woman of Christ—take that however you want—but it really hit me deep down that I have not been praying enough and truly showing up as a woman of God like I should be.
Does that mean I will stop cussing, dial down my sarcasm, or sass? Absolutely not. But I will be more empathetic, less judgmental, and releasing the control I try so hard to hold over so many things.
I have been so consumed with my writing and making some form of funds from it. At least enough to cover the costs it takes to continue sharing my story, and that is not why I started it. I started this to let others know they are not alone. Because I felt so alone and still do—which is partly my fault. I feel like everything I’m doing is for not at times, like no one is reading or that this is just letters to the universe that are lost somewhere.
I feel this way because there are no comments, shares, likes on the articles or socials, and I know that does not mean that people are not reading or feeling heard or seen. But to me it does, especially because the only support I have is from my husband and children. I do not get “way to go” or “that’s awesome” or “you rock” from any other family members or friends. That right there is very hurtful and quite frankly a blow to my mental health.
We all just want the “atta girl” or “you are killing it”—those words of affirmation and encouragement along the way. Not silence, because silence is deafening. It makes the mind spiral and second guess ourselves. Like, am I that bad of a writer? Am I even helping anyone? Am I making a difference? What is the point in continuing?
So I am releasing the anxiety, control, and worry about my writing. I want to get back to enjoying it. Writing my feelings and thoughts out and releasing the pressure. Will I stop sharing? Absolutely not—this has become my journal, my safe haven, my space to rant, cry, and pour out all the good and the bad so I am not holding on to that toxicity.
I am leaning into my faith and belief in a higher power. I have been given this path for a reason and even if I do not understand it or can’t make sense of it at times—it is mine. I want to show up gracefully and humbly. I THINK I was meant to do this to let others know they are not alone—if I am wrong in that, well, eventually I will find out.
Thanks for coming to my bitch fest. And know this: YOU ARE NOT ALONE! If you need a support system, a pat on the back, or “atta girl,” hit me up and I will show up to be that external encouragement!!
Messy? Yep. But that’s where the truth lives.
That’s the unfiltered version. The storm before the calm. The brain dump that usually happens before I ever sit down to craft something “readable.” And I think it’s time we stop pretending like creative work is linear or serene.
It’s not.
It’s raw. It’s emotional. It’s often unhinged.
And then I go back in, breathe, break it into sections, and ask:
What am I really trying to say here?
Which parts feel like a universal gut punch someone else might need to read?
What could become its own article? A podcast episode? A healing post?
So when you see a blog from me that feels thoughtful, motivating, or somehow strung together like I had it all figured out—know this:
It probably started as an emotional tornado, fueled by hormones, lack of sleep, and a heavy heart.
Meanwhile, in the real world...
I’m currently tossing most of my supplements in the trash. Yep, you read that right. More on that hot take coming soon. 👀
Still deep in the trenches of a parasite cleanse—don’t worry, I’ll be oversharing all the juicy (and probably horrifying) details in an upcoming post. Spoiler: it’s wild. Like wild wild.
Also gearing up for my much-needed staycation. Manifesting sunshine, warm breezes, and coming back a bronzed, glowing goddess who doesn’t need a vacation from her vacation. (I’ll probably burn on day one, but let me dream.)
What This Turned Into
From the chaos above, I pulled the thread that tugged hardest on my heart—and turned it into something I hope helps someone else.
👉 Read the article this became → 💛 When Silence Feels Like Rejection (Read This If You’ve Ever Posted Your Heart and Heard Crickets)
✨ SHARE THIS TO HELP A GAL OUT ✨
If this hit you in the feels, made you laugh, or made you whisper “same” under your breath—share it. Post it. Tag me. Comment something spicy. Boosting visibility = boosting my confidence = me crying happy tears instead of into my mocktail. 🥲💛
Because sometimes the algorithm is louder than my inner critic, and I just need to know someone out there is vibin' with this chaos.
Let’s remind the internet that real, raw, and a little unhinged is still beautiful AF.