Talking to Ghosts
For years I made myself into a museum of evidence. I carefully held onto quotes and screenshots, ruminated on raw feelings, and replayed situations over and over in my mind to prove that yes The Bad Things really happened. And yes, they really were that bad.
But in the process of carefully preserving that pain, I found myself stuck. Talking to ghosts. Trying and trying to find resolution with someone who was no longer a part of my life
In some ways, those scars became so integrated with my identity that I wondered what would be left if they healed. I also worried that if I let myself forget the details, delete the screenshots, and mend the ache, it would be like nothing ever happened. It felt sacred to honor that experience through lived suffering. Like wearing the black clothes of mourning forever.
But with time and healing and support, I’ve come realized that the best way to honor what happened is to take care of myself. Forgive younger me for letting our heart get broken. For not leaving sooner. The person who harmed me had their own baggage and motives that have nothing to do with me or what I deserve. I have empathy for them, too. We live in a world where hurting others is easier than caring for them
It’s been a long and difficult journey, but it is incredibly liberating to finally put that ghost to rest.
The Leap
Wherever we go, I’ll find you in every palm tree and bowed lily, in the cracks of the sidewalk and the streaks of pale pink across the morning sky. We are shells washing up on the same shore, fruits blooming from a shared branch. I know I’ll never lose you because I feel you in everything. Love has left its permanent mark on us both
Alfred Lord Tennyson wrote a series of poems while processing the grief from losing a loved one and ultimately arrived here: “Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all”
Loving people is beautiful, terrifying, and so incredibly worth it.
The Way Out
It started when this 1914 Robert Frost quote got stuck in my head — “The best way out is always through.”
It felt like such a perfect reminder that difficult situations cannot be resolved through denial and healing cannot happen through brute force. Moving through any difficult situation requires tenderness and vulnerability.
And then I started to imagine, what if the fight can’t actually be fought? What if the only way through anything is through forgiveness - of both ourselves and others? What if the thing our younger self really needs isn’t yet another round of scolding and criticism, but a hug? And what if our angry neighbor didn’t need a cold word, but some company?
It’s also a reminder I suppose that we are all wounded in our own ways, and meeting violence with tenderness can be incredibly transformative. The best way to emerge from struggle is by moving through it — facing it head-on with your heart open. It’s a brave, painful, wonderful thing.
Long Distance
This comic was born from a journal entry I made sometime in 2022 when someone I loved was in crisis. I remember my therapist explaining to me that supporting someone with a severe mental illness is extremely nonlinear and that I may find myself moving through the stages of grief constantly. She said there would be moments of joy, anger, acceptance, denial, guilt — all in an endless loop.
I envisioned this state as a literal place, where time was measured by episodes and flare-ups rather than hours and days. The wins I celebrated were little bits of communication, a small smile, a moment of laughter.
I waited so long to make this comic because I couldn’t reach a resolution like this until very recently. It all boiled down to two things: establishing a new normal and taking care of myself. The new normal meant that life would look different, but that’s okay. And taking care of myself meant I could keep showing up for my loved one without burning out, building resentment, or falling ill myself.
With those two things in mind, things slowly improved. My loved one, through their own incredible strength and hard work, has not only been able to survive, but to thrive. And it turns out all the things I said, the ways I showed up, weren’t ignored all those years; they remembered and appreciated all of it.
Go With the Flow
Arts education is one of my biggest passions alongside illustration. I’ve used art as a coping strategy and form of self-expression for as long as I can remember, and because it has been so transformative for me, my goal as an educator is to help folks develop their own art practice to lean on. I’ve found that watercolor in particular creates an excellent opportunity to embrace fluidity and learn to work with “mistakes” rather than against them.
Atlantis
In the past few months, I’ve travelled more than I ever have in my entire life. When I first got back home, I initially felt like my “regular life” was drab and mundane by comparison. But then I realized that these new experiences could serve as a compass: a way to reassess my values and establish new priorities. The most wonderful things I picked up from my travels are a new lens and a fresh perspective: the ultimate souvenirs. I have a renewed, deepened appreciation for my loved ones, my community, and the beauty all around me.
Leaving the Nest
I knew when I left home to start my own life in a new city years ago, my heart would always be in at least two places. As I get older and friends move further, as we all turn from seeds in the wind to trees firmly rooted in new soil, those places my heart is pulled only multiply. I read once that you can choose to see the world through a lens of perpetual grief or gratitude; instead of viewing this inevitable shift as a loss, I am choosing to see it as a gift to have so many home bases. So many friends to visit and loved ones to return to. To leave home is to be forever changed — and that is an incredible transformation.
The Answer
In the search for meaning, I’ve started to find meaning in everything. The point of living is to call your loved ones late at night, savor that first sip of summer lemonade, remember your favorite novel and re-read it for the eighth time. It’s a tiny bumblebee rousing from sleep and walking slowly across the surface of a flower. It’s the love letters and peeled oranges, the dewy morning walks, the tender care after heartbreak. The answer, to me, is being present. Taking in all the beautiful, colorful, delightful things we have the privilege of witnessing — even if you have to look a little closely to find them.
On Healing
I thought of the first panel when I was laying in the grass one late afternoon. As I stared into the sky, I got lost in all the streaks of color and whorls of clouds. For just a moment, I felt so content, so present. My mind had calmed down. There was no latent urgency. The stillness settled over me like a blanket.
And then it occurred to me: this is what healing feels like.
To Love and Be Loved Fully
Questions
Sometimes it can feel like life is a never-ending loop of grief, then joy, then change, then longing, and so on. But hard moments pass and it reassures me to remember that something different is always on the horizon.
What If?
I’ve always known this phrase to be the prelude to an anxious thought; “what if this goes wrong”, “what if they leave”, “what if I’m not good enough,” etc. What I’ve realized recently is that this phrase can also allow me to daydream about positive scenarios. It can reframe worries into hopes: What if I am good enough? What if this goes well?
Spending even a few minutes a day living in a reality where maybe things can be good, or safe, or even just okay, has been so soothing. It’s hard to give ourselves, or anyone for that matter, definitive answers about the future. But what I can do is let myself wonder about the joyful outcomes as much as I do the scary ones.
