The past few years have been eye-opening for me. And by eye-opening I mean confusing, heartbreaking and a ton of other words ending in -ing. I’ve been trying to hone in on my passions and really figure out what I want to do with my life. When I think I have a clear idea, suddenly I’m left second guessing myself and back where I started. It seems like there are too many things to choose from. I’m a lover of the arts. I want to create whether it’s my photography, cooking or writing. I need to be doing something to express myself.

Although there’s always room to grow, I really feel like I’ve succeeded in photography. I’ve practiced and practiced, watched countless YouTube videos, forced Jack to model for me, played around with editing styles. And I’m pretty happy with where I am in that aspect of my life. Having an extremely talented photographer husband always helps too. But this year as I go along this journey of self-love, I’ve challenged myself to start doing self-portraits. I’ve been extremely hard on myself as far as looks go and it’s time that changed. Self-portraits are the perfect way to blend my need for expression and accepting who I am.

Cooking is something I didn’t always have a passion for but have come to love greatly. I remember spending weekends with my grandparents in Damascus, Virginia and cooking chicken stir-fry with my Gran. It was one of my favorite meals. Since then I’ve created my own recipes and tried countless cookbooks. Unfortunately, Andy and Jack aren’t as open to food as I am and I have to be mindful of their picky palates. But it makes the need for creativity in the kitchen even greater. On top of that, there’s my tendency to stray from healthy food. Your girl has a sweet tooth, I can’t deny it. But in the last thirteen months I’ve had four miscarriages and it’s time I made some changes. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t just eat junk food. I love proteins and vegetables. I just don’t take the time to always eat those things. I grew up on Ramen and Velveeta for God’s sake. But once your body has been through that trauma, you get to a point where you will try anything to get that little baby. For the remainder of 2021, I’m going to be more intentional about my cooking by trying at least one new recipe (as healthy as possible) a week.

Writing. My true love. Lack of words is something I’ve never had a problem with. Now putting words into a comprehensible sentence, that’s a different story. Jack gets his rambling honestly. I told myself that this is the year I will write. Whether fiction or non-fiction. I want to journal and create stories and let out all of my feelings that I’m sick of bottling up. In 2020 I endured more loss than one person should have to bear and I know there are others who feel the same. In my humble opinion, stories are meant to be shared so, that’s what I’m going to do. As far as my fiction stories go, well, maybe I won’t share those just yet. We’ll get to that later. But what you can expect from me and my writing in 2021 is this. My new blog. The one I’ll actually stick. The home of my thoughts, feelings, wants, needs, likes, dislikes. This is where I’ll be sharing my journey in photography, cooking, miscarriage, home renovations, self-care and more. I’ve tried blogging in the past and it never worked out, I think because my heart wasn’t really in the right place. I was just writing to write, I had no goal or intention behind it.

This is my intention: to give myself a safe space to create, express, and share. For those who take the time to read my thoughts, thank you! I’m happy you’re here.