Wow. I haven’t written in this space since the end of 2014. I intended to write this particular post in January, but I kept putting it off while I focused on new projects and settling into the new year. Every time … Continue reading
In 2015, I’m committing to a new kind of resolution, and so is my family. Continue reading
I didn’t post regularly, but the blog still had a really great year thanks to my posts being Freshly Pressed here on WordPress as well as being featured on BlogHer, Everyday Feminism, Awesomely Luvvie, and Upworthy. It was a big … Continue reading
It is a night for rebirth.
A night for rending and tearing.
A night for exposing the soft flesh of our underbelly and gutting it.
A night for bloodletting and transfusion. Continue reading
Despair weighs heavy today. It sits in my belly like a brick, wraps it’s fingers around my throat and squeezes until my breathing becomes shallow. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t think through the fog unfurling in my … Continue reading
I have words about the grand jury indictment verdict in Ferguson. I have words about their choice to not indict Darren Wilson for Mike Brown’s death. But I’m not ready to share them here yet. I’ve shared some initial reactions … Continue reading
An excerpt from an old art journal I was writing in at age 20. “Here’s a little story about three people: a mother, a father, and their daughter. The daughter loved them both dearly, but the mother didn’t love the … Continue reading
To this day there is only one other person who knows the exact whys and hows of that season and what had been happening over the two year time period that finally forced me to leave. That person was my closest confidant and more importantly, believed me when I told her what was happening. She was the only one who ever has. I didn’t always do right by her as a friend, I couldn’t I was too much of a mess mentally and emotionally, but I’m grateful for what she gave me: a place to stay, friendship, an escape through writing and art journaling…an identity. It was she who first told me I that really, I was an artist and was born to create. A poet. A wordsmith who’s words bore power. When I had told her that I was afraid to write because writing had always been dangerous for me, that my words unfiltered and raw on the page pushed others to silence my voice and invalidate my sense of being upon discovery, she gave me an alias: Nicole Paul. My middle name + my favorite apostle. Continue reading
Last year I wrote here about my initial experience with the VA during my pregnancy with Austin. So many of you reached out and helped me make my voice heard online and the VA eventually heard me and decided to treat me throughout my pregnancy again. Dealing with their mental healthcare system hasn’t been easy since I gave birth a year ago. It’s been manageable, but it’s been a process that has challenged me significantly. Continue reading
“List ten beautiful, amazing, breathtaking experiences you want to have THIS YEAR with your art,” my friend and story coach Elora wrote on the wall of our writing community’s Facebook group last Monday. As I watched the women in our … Continue reading