A New World
For most of my life, I have believed one thing with my whole heart: I was broken.
I remember navigating most moments in my life with this quiet certainty that something in me was wrong. Too sensitive, too anxious, too weird, too much, not enough. When you start your life out being compared to someone else from your first breath, it is hard for your growing mind not to apply that standard to every part of who you are. For those who do not know, I am an identical twin. I can only speak to how my own brain learned to understand who I was. My mind grabbed onto that early comparison and kept using it for the rest of my life as a template for how I saw myself in relation to everyone else and the world around me. Always running mental assessments, always checking, even when no one else was asking me to.
Masking things well is not something I ever truly mastered. I found ways to help, to keep functioning, to keep surviving. I started to find small things that helped me stay present, and every now and again, I felt like I belonged. I poured myself into helping others, caring for animals, dog training, tarot, escaping into books, and writing the things I was afraid to say out loud. On the outside, it looks fine. On the inside, it feels like trying to build a life on a floor that keeps cracking under my feet.
None of those things “fixed” me. But together, they started to show me a different reality. Maybe I was not broken at all. Maybe I just was not finished yet.
Each of these pieces felt like a part of me that was right, something I could cling to. Working with animals has taught me more than I think I even realize. If you want lessons in loyalty, presence, and unconditional acceptance, look no further than the love of a creature eagerly waiting to bond with you. They respond to your energy without asking you to explain it. They meet you where you are. They offer a kindness and forgiveness you may not be ready to give yourself. Working with animals has also led me to meet some of my favorite people, finding company among the other “odd and broken” souls out there.
Tarot is misunderstood by so many, and I wish people could step away from their safe place of judgment and see it for what it truly is. Tarot is a way to explore big emotions, intuition, and meaning, instead of just feeling “dramatic” or “too sensitive.” I was raised to respect all religions, so I will not travel that road too far today. Just know that talking about the spirit, intuition, and guidance tarot can provide is not so far removed from traditional prayer and uplifting song. Tarot is a reflection, not a dictator. It helps you ask better questions of yourself and offers you a sense of empowerment at times when you feel anything but powerful.
That connection, learning to see my feelings as messages instead of flaws, led me to chase my childhood dream of being an author. Creating my deck and book, The Unbridled Spirit Tarot, became a turning point. It proved that my ideas are worthy, that my voice is real, and that I can finish big, beautiful things. I have wanted to shout about it from the rooftops, and yet I still feel the weight of the stigma behind the subject, afraid that others might see it as something shameful. So I have kept my cheering quiet.
Even with that proof in my hands, I have still found it hard to stand all the way in the light of what I have created. I have hidden my excitement away, the same way I have protected so many parts of myself over the years.
Now, another story has started pulling at me.
A different kind of project. A world, a girl, and a thread that will not let go. I am choosing to use it as a way to offer myself healing: through this character who feels too much, believes she is wrong, and is learning that her differences are a gift. Through her, I am giving myself the chance to process things I never had language for before.
She is not me, but I can still find healing through sharing her story. As I allow her to grow from thoughts of “I am broken” to asking instead, “What is this trying to tell me?” I am learning to let that same shift become my own peace. Owning my wellness journey comes with many messy days, panic, grief, battling a heavy dose of imposter syndrome, and trying again. Writing this novel is allowing me to say: I may feel broken, but I am on the journey to find the pieces that help me feel whole.
I have the bones planned for an epic romantasy trilogy, rich with world-building and lore, where the characters will become as familiar as old friends. It will be a place for me to process, to play, to explore outside my norms, to build hope, and to prove to myself that I will see this through. I envision finishing this as an act of care for myself, not just a productivity milestone.
And as I continue to write my protagonist, and her fear of being seen versus the cost of staying hidden, I can’t help but weigh that matter for myself. I know there are others like me out there, who feel broken and like they will never measure up. The ones that have recognized part of themselves in my words.
I’m choosing to speak up now: I’m writing this for us.
I am not sharing any of this because I expect this to be easy, or because I have it all figured out. I am sharing it because for the longest time my fears have kept me small and silent and hurting.
I am learning now that the parts of me I once called broken are actually where the light comes in. They are the places my stories are born. They are the reason animals trust me, why tarot speaks so clearly, why I care so deeply about search and rescue, mental health, and making sure no one feels as alone as I do some days.
This book I am writing is part of my healing, and I intend to see it through. If any of this sounds familiar, I hope you will stay. I hope you will let yourself want more, too.
We are not broken. We are still just becoming.