Category: Wilds Within’
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Twelve Septembers Later
Twelve years ago, I flew across the country to rescue my daughter—and everything changed. This isn’t a fall story. It’s the after. A reflection on survival, motherhood, healing, and why I’m finally building something that’s mine.
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The Wrong W: Between Camp Trunks and Cracked Hearts.
Every time I open my phone, there’s a new post about the Texas tragedy—and every time, I am a sobbing mess. I don’t know these families, but I feel it in my bones. The weight of it is just… sitting on me. I can’t scroll past it. Can’t shake it. I think of my girls.…
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The Ripple.
What if I had believed her? What if shame wrote the ending? This is the story of what didn’t happen—because God ripped the pen from their hands. And we kept walking.
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Chapter 4. Part 1: When the Levee Breaks
People love to praise survival. They rarely mention what it costs. This is the story of what cracked open the levee in me—and what rose from the wreckage
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The Levee
I held peace like it was the air in my lungs.I mistook the calm for foundation and trusted the quiet for safety. I believed that if I didn’t make waves, nothing would break. But beneath what I could see the pressure was building.And when it gave—it didn’t just take everything I loved. It took me too. What…
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What Seventeen Never Taught Us
The Red Flags That Didn’t Look Like Red Flags A story about the quiet kind of abuse no one warns you about.
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Chapter 1.5: Rescue
How to Read This Blog The way I’m writing these posts is the way I would one day write my book. This is not just a blog. It’s a record. A reckoning. A testimony. Each post represents a chapter. Told in chronological order. Raw, real, and rooted in truth. Some stories are heavy. Some are…
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Fires Floods and Breaking the Silence.
For years, I lived in survival mode—gripping evidence in courtrooms, silencing my own instincts, and praying that the truth would be enough. I played the game, stayed quiet, and made myself small because the system demanded it. But silence was never safety—it was just another weapon used against me. Now, I write from the space…
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Finally Kinzer.
Our dream wedding on October 14, 2022 in our favorite place (Dead Horse/Moab, Utah) surrounded by our favorite humans. I’m still not over it and this is my attempt to put last week to words.
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One of these days…
One of these days I’ll sit and I’ll give it a voice. I’ll name it. I’ll feel it again and for the very first time. One of these days I’ll have eyes to see this clearly and I’ll have the courage to process. One of these days I’ll have the courage to speak out and…
The Wilds Project. 