My Language

I am the woman behind the words.

I didn’t set out to be a writer—or a lesbian.

I was married for 21 years. Raised eight kids. Became a grandma. Lived a whole life I thought was mine.

Then came the plot twist: clarity. The kind that unravels everything you thought you had to be.

It didn’t come pretty. It came with pain, unlearning, and about 437 missed signs.

But once the truth landed, it landed hard—and I followed it. Not just into love, but into language. Into storytelling. Into building something that could hold space for other women like me: the late bloomers, the question-askers, the ones who love women but had to learn how to love themselves first.