In the quiet aftermath of my divorce, depression crept in like an unwelcome guest, uninvited but relentless. Some days, I couldn’t move. Other days, I wrote through the fog just to remind myself I was still here. In this post, I share the story behind my poem “Unwelcome” - a reflection on what it means to sit with pain, and how writing became my way of surviving it. If you’ve ever felt the darkness arrive unannounced, this is for you.

In March of 2020, I was supposed to take a solo writing retreat to Quebec City. A train ride, a quiet room, a notebook—just me and the words. But like so many plans that year, it never happened. What unfolded instead was something unexpected: I found a way to retreat inward, right where I was. This is the story of how a cancelled trip helped me create something even more meaningful.

After nearly twenty years away from the page, the first poem I wrote came pouring out of me like a prayer. It felt otherworldly—like something sacred had cracked open inside. Since then, writing has become my ritual. A space to be vulnerable, honest, and whole. In this post, I share how writing became a spiritual practice, and how it might become one for you too.