First and foremost, I’m a mom to two incredible kids, Lakelynn and Beckett. In late 2022, after years of wearing a brave face and pushing through silent struggles, I hit a breaking point with my mental health. Burnt out and emotionally exhausted, I made the difficult but necessary decision to step away from a 10-year career and begin prioritizing my own well-being for me, and for my kids.

I started this blog, Healing Not Yet Healed, as a way to process my own journey and to help others feel less alone in theirs. It’s a space where I share my experiences with mental health, trauma, motherhood, and the ripple effects of addiction and family dysfunction.

At the heart of it all is what I’ve come to call Healing on Purpose—the choice to show up for yourself, even when it’s hard, even when healing feels slow or uncertain. It’s about being intentional with your growth, facing the hard stuff with honesty, and deciding that survival isn’t enough. You want to live with meaning. Healing on purpose means refusing to go numb, even when it would be easier. It means choosing awareness, connection, and hope over and over again.

This blog is a safe space for the messy middle, the in-between moments where you’re not fully healed but still choosing to keep going. I want to offer validation, comfort, and encouragement to anyone navigating life after trauma, burnout, or simply feeling lost.

Here, you are seen. You are not alone. Struggling doesn’t mean you’re failing. And healing however slow, however nonlinear, is still healing.

I have always had that very common fear of being judged, of not being liked, of saying the “wrong” thing. There’s a layer I haven’t fully peeled back yet, and it’s tied to years of people-pleasing and staying small to make others comfortable. I know that in order to write as my truest self, I have to be willing to speak honestly—even when it’s messy, even when it’s not popular. That’s the work I’m doing: pushing through that wall, showing up anyway, and trusting that my voice matters. Because if I’m not willing to take a stance on the hard things, then what am I really writing for?

As I mentioned at the beginning, I am a mom. Being a mom comes first and foremost in my life. Motherhood cracked me wide open—and not just in the way people warn you about. It brought out the most tender, raw, and unhealed parts of me. It showed me where I was still carrying pain, where I hadn’t given myself grace, and where I was trying to hold it all together on the outside while silently struggling on the inside. Becoming a mother didn’t just shape me; it pushed me into the deepest parts of my healing journey. It made me want to break generational patterns, learn how to set boundaries, and show up as the healthiest version of myself—not just for my kids, but for me. Motherhood didn’t cause my mental health struggles, but it did shine a light on them—and in doing so, gave me the courage to finally face them head-on.

After going through a divorce and a mental breakdown, I honestly wasn’t sure I’d ever feel safe enough to let love in again—especially not the kind that sees the messy, healing parts of me. I had built so many walls in the name of self-protection, not realizing how much they were also keeping joy out. But with time, therapy, and a lot of uncomfortable inner work, I began to understand that I was worthy of love—not the performative kind, but the real, grounding, soul-deep kind. Learning to love again wasn’t just about someone else showing up for me—it was about me learning to show up for myself, first. And when I finally did, love found me in the softest, most unexpected way. Not as a rescue, but as a reflection of the healing I’d already started.

You are enough. You matter. You are doing better than you think.

With love,
Jess