Let’s Start Here
I’ve been writing down my feelings for as long as I can remember. Back in the day, it was one of those voice-activated diaries with invisible ink (because obviously no one could be trusted with my fourth-grade inner monologue). Even then, I felt protective of my thoughts—like they were sacred and mildly dramatic secrets meant only for me and my gel pens.
Fast forward to adulthood, and I still resonate with that protectiveness. Only now, my “invisible ink” looks more like a Notes app or an emotionally chaotic Google Doc titled something like "Clearly a Crash Out."
I’ve always been the type who wants to connect—really connect. Not just brunch with the girls connect, but soul-level, say-the-quiet-things-out-loud kind of community. And honestly, that’s what I love about blogs: they feel intimate without the performance. Personal, but with just enough emotional distance that I don’t spiral wondering if you think I’m annoying.
Because hi, I’m an adhd girly who overshares like it’s my part-time job… and then lays in bed wondering if I’m “too much.” This blog? It's my solution to that little dilemma. Here, I can say what I need to say and let it breathe without wondering if you’re reading it with a judgy vibe. (And if you are, you won’t tell me, which works beautifully for my nervous system.)
At my core, I’ve always felt like I was meant to help people. Hence, the nursing degree—and the emotional whiplash that comes with it. But if we’re being real (and we are), I suck at saying how I feel out loud. Ask me in person and I’ll shrug; text me and I’ll send you 16 paragraphs. It’s a mystery. A flaw. A feature? Who knows. But that’s part of why I’m here.
This blog is my way of showing up—not just for others, but for myself.
The name Waves of Wellness came to me while dreaming up something else entirely (a concept I still hope to bring to life one day). But when I thought about my roots—Seattle girl turned desert liver—I realized how much I miss the salt air, the sound of the ocean, the knowing that something vast and healing was always nearby. I’ve felt drawn to the idea of waves ever since: they rise, they crash, they retreat, and yet they always return. Just like us.
So what is this blog, exactly?
It’s kind of a public journal, kind of a therapy-aftershock zone. I plan to write about grief, identity, everyday challenges, therapy breakthroughs, deep rants, book recommendations, and whatever my brain won’t stop spinning about. Sometimes it’ll be funny. Sometimes it’ll be heavy. Sometimes it’ll be a ramble that was only supposed to be a paragraph (oops).
What it won’t be is filtered to perfection. I’m not here to go viral—I’m here to be real. Because let’s face it: social media has us thinking we need curated lives and thousands of likes just to feel worthy. And I’m over that. You’re worthy. I’m worthy. Even if we’re only operating at 5% on a random Tuesday.
If you know me in real life, you know nothing about my life has ever been “normal.” I tell one story and people’s jaws drop—and I still have 12 more in my pocket that could raise your blood pressure. But that’s who I am: someone who’s found strength in the chaos and clarity in the aftermath.
What’s to come? Honestly, I don’t fully know. I hope to write weekly, but I’m giving myself permission to rest when needed. This space isn’t about having all the answers—it’s about asking better questions. It’s about showing up real, messy, and in-process.
I hope something here makes you feel seen or at the very least, less alone. You’re welcome here, just as you are. Even on your 5% days.
With love,
Taylor