Emotional Dumpster

I thought I was writing about caregiving.

No One Is Ever a Finished Story

Every Family Is Building Something.
and along the way... we are building memories. ♡

Come walk with me.
This is what life taught me. ♡

This isn't a book about having all the answers.
It's about paying attention.

what you'll find in these pages...

  • family
  • love
  • betrayal
  • caregiving
  • grief
  • boundaries
  • healing
  • becoming
  • ordinary moments that mattered more than I knew

how would you like to read it?

♡ signed copy from Tracy →

I'll sign this one myself. ♡ — Tracy

No One Is Ever a Finished Story

I used to think becoming meant arriving somewhere.
I don't anymore.

I've been too many versions of myself.

The girl with the brown leather journal.
The young woman waiting for Jeff after a football game.
The wife.
The mother.
The betrayed woman.
The woman who stayed.
The woman who separated.
The caregiver.
The widow.
The friend who helped too much.
The woman learning to put the big purse down.
The woman drawing circles in a journal and wondering why everything seemed connected.

Every one of those women was me.
None of them was the final version.

From My Journal

Maybe there isn't a final version.
Maybe I just keep meeting myself.

I smiled when I wrote that.

Then underneath it:

Still becoming.