Pollen, Pain, and a Published Book
I can’t breathe. Not metaphorically, literally. My nose is wrecked, my face is stitched back together, and Albuquerque pollen decided to show up like it had a personal grudge. But somewhere between the pain, the irritation, and the sheer stubbornness of it all… my book went live. And honestly? I’ll take that win.
Pain, But Progress
They fixed it. That’s the truth. Nerve endings waking back up, sensation returning to places that have been dead since October. That part is a win. But healing isn’t clean. It’s not gentle. It’s sharp, throbbing, and relentless. This is what progress actually feels like.
Cut, Stitch, Publish
On the same day I hand my face over to a surgeon’s knife, I’m waiting for something else to be born: my first book. One stitched back together. One finally set free. Either way, something changes today.
When You Start Questioning Your Own Mind
I wasn’t crying because of pressure. I deal with pressure every day. I was crying because, for a moment, I thought my mind was broken and I didn’t know if I could trust myself anymore.
It Is The Way
There is no middle ground. There is no “later,” because now is later. When something takes hold of you, really takes hold, you don’t get to ignore it. You either answer the call, or it drives you fucking insane.
Proof of Life
Holy fuck. I just ordered proof copies of my book. It’s real now. One last push, one last pass, and it’s out in the world.
El Paso, Heat, and a Little Bit of Healing
Sometimes you don’t need to burn your life down. Sometimes you just need to ride far enough to remember who the hell you are.
Running South
I’m coming up on five months since the accident. Five fucking months. And just when I thought I was clawing my way back, life decided to remind me that sometimes the hardest hits don’t come from the road… they come from people.
Fire, Fracture, and the Finish Line
My book is so goddamned close. And So, She Rose didn’t come together in a straight line. It came together through death, through failure, through pain, and finally, through fire. Turns out, sometimes the ending of your story doesn’t come from inspiration… it comes from impact.
The Pain You Don’t Notice
Sometimes the most dangerous pain isn’t the sharp kind that makes you scream. It’s the quiet kind that hums in the background for so long you stop noticing it. After months of recovery from a crash, I discovered just how much pain my body had quietly learned to live with.
I Accidentally Built a Publishing Team
I accidentally assembled the most incredible team to push my memoir, And So, She Rose, across the finish line. In three days I went from draft cover concepts to final layout, bought my first batch of ISBN numbers, and learned more about publishing than I ever intended. Turns out writing the book might have been the easy part.
So Fucking Close
After years of recovery, reflection, and writing, my memoir And So, She Rose is finally approaching the finish line. And along the way I’ve discovered just how much work, and how many incredible people, it takes to turn words into a real book.
The Moment the Anger Leaves
There’s a strange moment after betrayal when the anger finally disappears. It’s the moment you realize the person who once held your heart no longer holds your gravity.
Defiance
Some betrayals can’t be spoken aloud. Not because they don’t matter, but because telling the full truth would burn more lives than it would heal. Tonight isn’t about revenge. Tonight is about defiance, integrity, and the quiet strength it takes to walk away while still protecting someone who never protected you.
A Night for Broken Hearts
Sometimes the deepest heartbreaks are the ones you can’t explain. The ones you have to carry quietly, because telling the truth would destroy someone else’s life. So you sit with the pain, question everything you thought you understood about love, and ask God why the tests never seem to end.
I Assure You, I Know I Have an Appointment
I survived three cardiac arrests. My life revolves around follow-ups, imaging, and cardiology check-ins. I promise you, I’m aware of my appointment. So why does the medical system feel the need to remind me eight times in forty-eight hours?
Stop Calling It An Accident
We use the word “accident” like an emotional airbag. It cushions the blow, softens accountability, and blurs the line between negligence and chance. But most of what we label accidental is entirely predictable, and preventable.
Memento Mori, Memento Vivere
I died three times in 2022. When I came back, I stopped fearing Death and started honoring it. The Reaper isn’t my enemy, he’s my reminder to live urgently, honestly, and without apology.
The Long Way Around Ego
I lost my temper at a Harley service counter over a warranty repair. I wasn’t wrong to be frustrated, but I didn’t love who I was in that moment. Sometimes humility takes the long way around, but it usually gets there.