I wrote the "I Am Enough" poem back in 2016 with a tattered heart after my dad died. I wrote it to remind myself that even though everything felt wrong, being alive wasn't wrong. I hope this reminds you, too, that you don't have to go it alone. That you're full of the light, you're here on purpose, and this is enough.

Coping with trauma, what happened in you in response to what happened to you, is a tall order. Especially when you’re coping by trying different ways to heal it rather than hide it. If you’re one of those trying, I bow to you, and I share these quotes about healing from trauma with you, because of who you've become.

You’re not supposed to be able to control how other people live their lives — that’s their thing, not yours. I wrote these affirmations to help us both keep our focus on what matters most in difficult situations and conversations: what we CAN control. And what we can control is enough.

True, wholesome, meaningful forgiveness doesn’t stop at saying a few magic words. But it could start there. Like every facet of healing, forgiveness is a process. If certain experiences in your past still weigh heavy on your soul, and you’re ready to confront them, then explore your own "things I forgive you for" list.

A large part of healing involves setting boundaries. Boundaries, in my own language, are the intersection at which I can take care of myself and be fully present with you. They’re guidelines for how I want to be treated and how I choose to respond. It’s when I don’t set those guidelines for myself that I lose myself in other people. Your personal boundaries communicate to others -- and to your own self -- what works for you and what doesn’t.

If you've ever thought things like "Why me?" or "What if... ?" here's another, more helpful question for you: now that you’re here, after all you've been through, what will you do? Instead of trying to change the past or escape the facts, this one simple question puts you in the present moment: where new life can grow.

Your inner child is that innermost part of you, the "original" you, that still sees and responds to the world as an innocent child does. It doesn't really matter if you're familiar with this term or not, though — this is an open letter to my inner child that might be everything you didn't even know you needed to hear.

I never thought I'd say "I don't drink," but this past Sunday marked six months since I've had a sip of alcohol. The most surprising part of it all? I'm happier sober. And I don't say that lightly. I've dealt with depression most of my life. But after my brother committed suicide, I made it a priority to take care of myself.

It's been 9 years since my brother's suicide. Life since then has been... everything. Heavy and light. Lackluster and full of wisdom. Somehow, still beautiful. I wanted to share some things I've given up and some things I'm still doing to take care of myself. May my self-help laundry list shed some light on your own.

When someone you love dies, you know how hard it is to grow through that. No matter how long it's been. If you're intent on making beauty out of the pain they left behind, but you still can't help thinking how good it'd feel to trade everything away, for just a minute more with them, here's a poem for that.