The
Broken
Poet

Sometimes I’m a bit anxious. Maybe even a little undone.

So, I just entered my 40s, and spoiler alert: life didn’t come with the fairy tale ending.
No ring. No white picket fence. No Pinterest-worthy love story.

What I got instead?
A messy, unpredictable ride featuring heartbreak, hard truths,
and the emotional equivalent of a PhD in What Not to Do.

I’ve loved hard, sometimes too hard.
Put others first like it was a sport.
And yeah, I’ve lost myself more than once trying to keep someone else whole.

People like to call me a diamond in the rough.
Personally, I think I’m more of a moody gem, still shining,
just with a little side-eye and an unfiltered playlist.

I write like I live. Blunt, honest, and not for the emotionally fragile.
My words might sting sometimes. They’re supposed to.

But don’t get it twisted. I’ve got a wicked sense of humor
and still carry the kind of hope that only comes after surviving the storm.

By day, I help others rebuild their lives after everything falls apart.
By night, I’m still learning how to do the same for myself.

I’ve known the kind of love that looks harmless at first,
but slowly erodes your heart in silence.
The kind that teaches you to shrink yourself.
Recovery from that isn’t glamorous.
It’s slow, honest work, and you’ll fall a thousand more times before the clarity comes.
It comes in waves or those sharp aha moments as you unlearn the bullshit you were fed.

This space is part healing, part confession booth, part “WTF just happened?”
Where I turn pain into paragraphs and chaos into poetry.
It’s not polished or pretty. Just honest AF.

I find inspiration in heartbreak, good music, bad decisions,
and all the shit people don’t usually say out loud.

This chapter wasn’t part of the plan.
I bet it wasn’t part of your plan either.
I’m starting over.
This is my comeback.
Pull up a chair.

XOXO

Therapy? Out of budget.
Psychic hotline? Tried it. (She said he was trash. She was right.)
Memes? Spiritual guidance at this point.

The Dirty Laundry Project is my unapologetically unfiltered corner of the internet. Born from the moments when telling the truth had consequences, but silence felt like suffocating. It’s where I finally say what needed to be said.

"This is what happens when you stop pretending, air the damage, and finally face the shitshow."

The
Undoing

Come
As You
Are

It’s for the ones who spiral in silence, serial overthinkers, and anyone who’s ever whispered,
“Is it stalking if I still care?”

If you’ve ever looked back at your life and thought,
"Damn, I survived that?"

Here, nothing’s too messy to air out. Especially not the stuff we swore we were “totally over.”

Tell
Me
Yours

Got a story you’ve never said out loud?
Something messy, honest, or just too good to keep to yourself?

I’d love to hear it.
Drop it in the DMs, send an email, or scream it into the void—I’ll be here either way.

Curious? Start Here

Read “What I Never Said Out Loud… Until Now”