At some point in our lives, we’ve all felt out-of-place, along with a sometimes-desperate longing to belong, to feel accepted. My youth was an aching quest to feel normalized, to confirm that I wasn’t alone in the world.

Whether comparing the breast development of my female peers or admitting to a close friend, in the security of a flashlight-lit tent under a gaping summer night’s sky, that I had wet the bed when I was younger, I couldn’t stop myself from sharing. It was a scab I couldn’t stop picking.

If the friend were to divulge something similar (jackpot, she had wet the bed too! —true story), the sense of satisfaction that came of this was enormous, enough to keep me venturing onward to my next dose of “I’m not so weird after all.” However, the sense of insecurity that came when someone—after one of my heart-felt confessions—looked at me like I was from another planet felt horrifying and left me feeling turned inside out, flies-to-the-meat vulnerable.

Well, I’m an adult now, but I do still have a longing to share all those thoughts that drift through my mind and cause me to think, “Do others think this way?” or “Does this happen to others?”.

My quotation on my Home Page, When we are vulnerable, we come together, represents a major part of my mission. When we can share one another’s thoughts, feelings, and behaviours, even when they may be perceived as weird or weak, this may encourage others to let go of their armour and we can come together being our true selves rather than who we’re “supposed” to be (per society, the media, our fearful though well-meaning friend, and so forth). For more on the topic of vulnerability and its value, check out Brené Brown’s inspiring book “Daring Greatly”.

Through writing this blog, I’m creating vulnerability for myself (yes, I’m an otherwise extremely private person, so this whole endeavour freaks me out) and in doing so, I hope that you can connect to my stories and thoughts… chances are, we’re all more alike than we realize! And when you can say to yourself, “that’s so not me”, it may at least open your awareness to others’ realities a bit more (which can hopefully foster compassion rather than judgement) and allow you to honour your uniqueness.

Finally, I’m also currently completing a novel aimed at middle grade readers—it has been both a fantastic and frustrating ten-year venture. It’s a story about a feisty, confused, awkward preteen girl driven by overwhelming curiosity about the complexities of life. She takes a fantastical journey, tinged with humour, sentiment and excitement, that challenges her perceptions and dramatically expands her awareness of her inner and outer worlds. My hope is that through exposing the central character’s vulnerabilities (that kids are often reluctant to expose the older they get), readers can feel both normalized by what they may share with her and gifted by the unique qualities that they don’t.