Life happens moment by moment. And every day that passes leaves behind both missed opportunities and close-call mistakes; regrets for things that have happened and those that have not.
Each moment, the mind loses a little clarity of what exactly those “priorities-du-jour” were; lost to time, uncaptured by reflection.
I have thought about writing since the last time I published here. I had so many things to share, thoughts to discuss, memories to preserve.
But I didn’t.
Time is precious, and you only get so much of it. As beautiful as living in the moment is, I was consumed by it so much that I didn’t have the time to sit down and type.
And when I had the time, the words wouldn’t come.
I had big plans; a whole campaign, even. But one month became three, became a year, and now we’re entering the fourth month of 2026, and I still haven’t written a word.
I have prompts. Ideas. But that’s all they are, in the end.
- “To new beginnings and continuations” — celebrating my marriage November 23, 2024.
- “I’m tired of being tired” — a phrase I’ve often said myself; the final known sentence my mother said before she passed away May 23, 2025.
- “Something about advocacy” — a barely conceived plan to carefully express the lessons learned from a job that truly changed me, circa October 2025.
- “More Phoenix symbolism” — the new birth of this blog; whoopie!
- “Taking that first step” — today.
I was never one to journal as a child. I enjoy writing fiction; telling stories. But talking about my own thoughts and opinions wasn’t something that was ever welcomed by others, so I never thought there was much worth in trying.
But then the plans I had for myself metamorphosized into the life I’m living now, and I’ve realized that there are more people willing to listen than I would have thought.
And I have much to say.
But more than that, the closer the world gets through the magic of the internet, the farther humans get from real connection. And no, this isn’t a rant against “technology” and how we should go greet your neighbors. I still hide behind the couch when an unexpected knock comes at my front door. And when I do answer, I’ve got a carving knife in my hand behind my back and a bat one lean-over away. (And no, I’m not joking. Yes, I do know that’s not normal.)
What I mean is, the age of finding your tribe anywhere in the world has been in full bloom for decades, yet so many are still lonely, looking for someone to understand. There are gaps in the conversations.
I’m referring specifically to mental health advocacy. Not the shallow “thoughts and prayers” someone posts after they hear about someone taking their own life. Stamping “I’m here if you need to talk” on their socials as a metaphorical nod to fulfill their virtue-signal quota that week.
A real discussion. Beyond the “just stop worrying” and “go for a walk.” Or the “it’s just a phase” and “they’re doing it for attention.” How many violent cries for help will it take until society wakes up and realizes their efforts aren’t enough? You can take aspirin for the toothache, but it won’t cure the decay.
I’m trying to help alleviate that, as much as one person can. I’m not a medical professional or a therapist, but I am someone who cares; someone who has been through it personally. And that, I think, is enough.
I knew early on in life that I couldn’t be an actress on TV or in movies. And I was forced to accept that voice acting will never be in the cards for me, either. But beyond entertaining lies one passion that could very well be my purpose; and that is the catalyst for this blog’s revival.
Nothing has changed. Life still happens moment by moment, and there just doesn’t seem to be enough time in the day. But I’m nothing if not determined.
All I need to do is take that first step.