There is a quiet understanding in a house full of animals: life is fragile, loyalty is real, and love asks something of you every single day.

Over the past few years, my home has become less of a house and more of a refuge. It has been a place of healing, resilience, and the occasional chaos that comes with loving creatures who cannot explain what they are going through.

One of the hardest chapters began with Sugar.

Sugar was more than a pet; she was family. She came into my life when I needed her the most. That’s usually when the four-legged angels find you. She wasn’t with me for long, but she had such a strong impact on my life. When illness began to take its toll on her, the days became a rhythm of care, worry, and hope. Watching someone you love fade is never easy, but loving them through it is the truest thing we can do. When Sugar finally passed, she left behind a quiet space in the house and a permanent place in my heart.

Not long after, my two gray tabby brothers—Neo and Anakin—were forced to give up their outdoor adventures. What began as a simple decision to bring them indoors permanently soon proved to be the right one. When Neo was attacked and returned home gravely injured, everything changed overnight. The days that followed were long and frightening. Neo ultimately lost an eye, and nursing him through that recovery meant sleepless nights, medications, and learning just how resilient a small animal can be when love and patience carry it through.

More recently, our challenges continued when Anakin developed a tumor on his leg as a reaction to a vaccine. Thankfully, it was not cancerous, but surgery was still necessary to remove it. Once again, the house slipped back into the familiar rhythm of vet visits, careful monitoring, and quiet hope during recovery. Watching him heal was another reminder of how strong these little lives can be—and how much they teach us about resilience, trust, and care.

Through it all, both boys have adapted to their new indoor world with remarkable spirit, reminding me daily that sometimes the safest path forward requires difficult changes.

It also meant learning how determined I could be when something I love needs protection.

That determination turned into a project: building a safe outdoor catio so the cats could enjoy the outside world without the dangers that come with it. What began as a practical solution quickly became another reminder that sometimes the best response to hardship is simply to build something better.

Our little household continued to grow when Tiger entered our lives. Tiger came from a difficult past and carries the marks of early abuse. Because of that, his integration into the family has required patience, understanding, and creativity—including transforming my guest bedroom into what can only be described as a full-fledged cat cave. Every step forward with him feels like a small victory.

And because life seems to enjoy surprising us, a new member has recently joined the family: a young Akita–Pit mix who is still under a year old and already discovering the complicated social dynamics of living with several cats.

Meet Coco.

She is an aggressive chewer with a love of all things cat related.

Life here is rarely quiet.

But it is full.

Before I ever stepped onto a college campus, I had already spent years learning how to build things—sometimes literally.

I attended trade school first, becoming a licensed cosmetologist, a certified sous chef, and earning an NCCER certification in carpentry. Each of those paths taught me something valuable: how to work with my hands, how to solve problems creatively, and how to meet people where they are.

Cosmetology gave me the privilege of helping women feel confident and seen. Cooking taught me the discipline and artistry of a professional kitchen. Carpentry taught me patience and precision—and the satisfaction of watching an idea become something real.

These skills might seem unrelated on paper, but together they formed the foundation of how I approach life: practical, creative, and always willing to build something new.

Eventually, that journey led me to Lipscomb University, where I graduated with a 3.96 GPA.

But it was one particular class that changed everything.

During a literature course taught by Professor Robbie Spivey, I encountered a poem that would leave a permanent mark on me: John Donne’s Holy Sonnet 14, often known as “Batter my heart, three-person’d God.”

The poem is a fierce plea for transformation—a desperate request for something greater than ourselves to break through our defenses and remake us.

Reading it felt like being struck by lightning.

Donne’s language is urgent and visceral, full of images of warfare, surrender, and spiritual struggle. The speaker describes the soul as a captured city, pleading with God to overthrow it in order to restore it.

That intensity fascinated me.

I began writing sonnets obsessively—about everything I saw, everything I felt, and everything I wondered about.

Something had shifted. Writing had stopped being a hobby and started becoming a calling.

Batter my Heart (Holy Sonnet XIV)
John Donne

Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you 
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend; 
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend 
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new. 

I, like an usurp'd town to another due, 
Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end; 
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend, 
But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue. 

Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov'd fain, 
But am betroth'd unto your enemy; 
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again, 
Take me to you, imprison me, for I, 

Except you enthrall me, never shall be free, 
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me. 

For nearly two decades now, writing has been the quiet constant in my life.

It began with letters and journals. Over time it expanded into stories, essays, and the literary nonfiction that now shapes my work. While I continue to work in the salon world—styling hair, managing, and connecting with clients every day—writing remains the place where my curiosity and imagination come fully alive.

My work is deeply influenced by the things that fascinate me most: human nature, moral complexity, resilience, and the strange ways our lives intersect with darkness and grace.

These interests ultimately led me to the stories I now tell in my Southern Gothic true crime series, where the focus is not sensationalism but understanding—how people become who they are, and how communities carry the weight of tragedy.

Today, my days are divided between the salon, the writing desk, and the lively chaos of my animal-filled home.

There are always animals to care for, projects to build, stories to research, and pages waiting to be written.

It is not always quiet, nor is it easy.

But it is a life full of purpose, curiosity, and love.

And in the middle of it all, I continue doing the thing that first began with a single poem in a literature class:

I keep writing.