After years of writing in a mess of scattered Word docs, chaotic folders, and documents named things like “WorldofThalindor.docx”, I downloaded actual writing software. I took my time researching different platforms, and in the end, I landed on Dabble.

It might not be what the bestsellers brag about using, but for me? It just fits. I can work offline (no more constant logins), and everything—characters, plot, world-building—is finally in one clean, easy-to-use space. For the first time in forever, I feel like my creative brain has a home. And right now, I need some part of life to feel like it makes sense.

Because while I’m organizing fictional chaos, my real world is a little more tender.

My youngest had her wisdom teeth removed yesterday, and the mom guilt is real. She’s hurting, and I can only do so much. Ice packs, medicine timers, soft food on rotation—it helps, but it doesn’t fix. And isn’t that just the worst feeling? Knowing your love isn’t a cure, even though you’d do anything if it could be.

As if that wasn’t enough, I start the gym this Tuesday. I know, I know... horror story material. I have no idea what I’m doing. But I’m going anyway. Because healing from trauma isn’t just mental or emotional—it’s physical too. It’s learning to strengthen the very body that carried you through the worst of it. This isn’t about aesthetics. It’s about becoming unshakeable in a world that tried to break me.

And in the midst of all this, my love and I are facing some other challenges. I won’t speak on them yet—they’re not mine to share—but what I will say is this: he won’t face them alone.

He has always shown up for me, long before he became my heart. He made sure I never carried my pain by myself, even when I tried to. Now it’s my turn. To be his steady place. His reminder that he is loved, valued, and never a burden.

He may feel like he has to carry the world—but I’m here. I might be short, but I’m mighty. And I’ll carry every part of this with him that I can. Because love isn’t about fixing everything. It’s about staying, no matter what comes.

It’s a lot. But so am I.