The Creative Nest

Have you ever found yourself innocently scrolling through TikTok, minding your own business, only to emerge three hours later questioning everything you thought you knew about the universe? Because that's exactly what happened to me. I wasn't looking for ghosts. I wasn't researching the paranormal. I certainly wasn't planning on adding "ghost hunter" to my list of hobbies. But thanks to the mysterious powers of the TikTok algorithm, I somehow found myself watching one spirit box video after another. Before I knew it, I was completely invested. The videos were fascinating. People would ask questions into a little device, wait a few seconds, and suddenly words seemed to come flying back through the speaker. Names. Answers. Random phrases. It was spooky, entertaining, and just believable enough to make me think, "Well... what if?" Curiosity has always been both my greatest strength and my biggest weakness. It has introduced me to wonderful hobbies, crea...

Love is a powerful thing. It can make us laugh until our sides hurt, show up when we are exhausted, and remind us that we are never truly alone. Love can be found in the smallest moments—a phone call just to check in, a favorite meal made with care, or simply sitting beside someone when they need a little extra comfort. But sometimes love asks more of us. Sometimes love means becoming a voice when someone else struggles to be heard. Advocating for someone you care about is not always easy. It can mean asking difficult questions, seeking answers that are not always easy to find, or having conversations that make you uncomfortable. It can mean stepping into situations where you wish you didn't have to be involved, but you know you cannot simply look away. That is one of the hardest parts about caring deeply for someone. Your heart wants to protect them, but your mind knows that protection sometimes requires action. Advocating is not about being difficult. It is not about creating con...

I recently had one of those moments where I realized there is absolutely no point in denying it anymore—I am squeamish. Not the dramatic, movie-scene kind of squeamish where I faint at the sight of blood or need someone to fan me with a magazine. No, I'm talking about the kind of squeamish where certain conversations make me want to plug my ears, close my eyes, and suddenly remember that I have somewhere else to be. For me, one of those topics is toenails. Yes, toenails. I know they're a perfectly normal part of the human body, and yes, we all have them. That's not the issue. The issue begins when someone decides to tell me the life story of one of their toenails. They'll start innocently enough by saying something like, "You won't believe what happened to my big toe." Right about then, my brain quietly whispers, We're in danger. Before I know it, they're describing every detail, and then comes the sentence that strikes fear into my soul: "Wa...