I will remember November 18, 2024 as the day I not only celebrated 39 yrs on this planet but a day I became a self publishing author for the very first time.
One random June night, I got this idea as I was watching Bob’s Burgers to write a book. I’m an avid journal writer, so the joke between siblings was they’d have to wait til later in life to read those journals. I told this sibling I’m thinking of finally writing out my story. Write a book. A memoir. Share my story of how I took my childhood traumas and used them as my motivation to heal. To break those generational cycles. To share my mental illness stories of how I don’t let anxiety and depression dictate my life.
Fast forward to today, my book is selling like hot cakes. Within the first 24 hours, my book sold over 30 copies. These last 30+ days, I sold 99 copies. One shy of 100! My message inbox is full of positive feedback. My text messages bring tears to my eyes. This heart of mine heals with each word these eyes read!
If you asked me a year ago if I would be an author, I would have told you absolutely not. I would have told you my story isn’t impactful like I think it is. I would make the remarks of whose going to read a memoir about healing and finding one’s voice. I’d just respond with such negative feedback. Haha!
Here I am, sitting at my weekend job writing about how I became a self publishing author on my 39th birthday. How I took that joke amongst siblings and made it a reality. Reading more positive feedback on my memoir about healing and finding my voice. Here I am, writing to you, the reader, about how you too can write that book about your story. About taking those traumas and turning them into motivation to heal. Inspiration for others on the same journey.
Let me leave you with these fancy words that were spoken to me at the beginning of my book process: “If you continue to joke about something, it is no longer a joke. It is a dream. It is your reality!”

The tree is still lit,
the walls are adorned.
We celebrated the day,
our savior was born.

The gifts are all opened,
The presents are done.
The family dinner,
is now left-overs for one.

Everyone got home,
safe and sound.
There’s still a few shreds,
of wrapping on the ground.

The house is so still,
everything is quiet.
I can hear my heart break,
amid all the silence.

I already miss it,
having my family all there.
The sound of their laughter,
filling the air.

But life must go on,
the world keeps on spinnin’!
I wish it would stop,
or slow down for a minute.

Going back to work,
feels somewhat surreal.
Coworkers are great,
but family is real.

One thing I’ve learned,
as I’ve gotten older;
The worst part of Christmas,
Is when it is over.

I will stitch a world from my verses,
Sewing these words of confidence into your hair like flower crowns of daisies.
To join these joints into sockets that would complete rivers.

This isn’t the story of Pangea.
It’s the tale of a seam unbroken,
Where each chain stitch holds together pieces of pain and hope.

A prick of sorrow, a stab of truth,
Threads unraveling, yet I sew them anew.

Binding scars into patterns, weaving triumphs through the cracks,
Every loop and knot a map of survival—
A tapestry of me, of you, of us.

Finally getting to a point
Of not giving too much
Attention to these fucked
Up situations. Everything happens
For a reason and I’m thankful
For my new found love!
No, it’s not a person.
It’s my art formation. Helps
Me alleviate some of the anger
Or sadness also helps me
Express when I’m ecstatic.
These fucked up situations
Only leads to new content.
So I guess instead of getting mad
About it I’ll start to give thanks.
So thanks to every situation that
Lead me to writing.

Love comes in many
Forms it doesn’t
Have to be sexual.
The concept of love
Is different for each and
Everyone of us.
Some love to touch
While others love to talk
Hear the reassuring sound
Of certain and specific sounds.
From the words that come out.
Love is expensive and expressive.
It’s addictive but don’t get it twisted,
The words “I LOVE YOU” don’t mean shit.
If it’s not coming from the right person.
Love is a feeling that is revealing through
The ears, the eyes, can be touched from
Vibrations of the frequency of the voice.
Once you hear that certain noise,
Ears perk up like a dog, now you’re filled
With joy. Even the scent can bring some
Love as your brain ignites and triggers
A wonderful feeling from inside.
Love struck like lightning from deep
Inside my mind, I had to express Myself.
I’ve felt love from plenty.
I’ve showed love also experienced
& expressed it gradually.
Without loving myself how
Could I show it,
Love is diverse
& driven from Emotions.

Once you’ve been “Awaken”
You’ll realize everything
Is just a simulation of your
Very own imagination,
Shaping your reality.
We’re all here and have different
Perceptions, if you hear em
And see em moving to
The words you think.
Or the words you read,
Maybe if you’re artistic
You see em play out the
Words you write.
So now it is what it is
Some go with the statement
Of “living in the matrix”,
Some Rationalized it
With quantum physics.
While others have a different
Representation or a different
Calculation, coming to another conclusion
Of how it started.
A conscious conscience,
Some are just a Con in science.
Is this a coincidence? Is it a theory?
Is it a fantasy?
The power of the mind
Is incredible, imagine
A thought coming to life
Images reciprocating through
The eyes. Now it’s more than a vision.
Those thoughts are being played
In the present through actions.
The Time it takes for the mind
To retrieve this information is astounding.

Dear Unsealers,

It’s Christmas Eve!

December has gone by so fast. It felt like it was five minutes since I was celebrating my birthday at the very start of the month.

Now, we’ve reached the conclusion of Advent and head into the twelve days of Christmas.

I hope that wherever you’re celebrating the holiday, it’s done in the company of people that you love. With an extra moments of arms held aloft for those that find this time of year difficult to celebrate.

For those of you that celebrate this day, I wish all of you a very Merry Christmas!

The following is my Christmas message for this year:

Time went by so fast, didn’t it?
December came in and went like a jingled blur

After twenty four days wait
A celebration of the savior’s birth

As the bells ring out, people gather
Friends, family and loved ones

For it’s Christmas Day at last
With love and kindness towards all

Wherever you are in the world
I wish for you all the peace today

Said many times in many ways
From me to you, from NYC to the world…

Merry Christmas!
¡Feliz Navidad!

Joyeux Noël!
Frohe Weihnachten!

Nollaig Shona!
Feliz Natal!

Buon Natale!
Καλά Χριστούγεννα

Sretan Božić!
Bon Nadal!

I can remember the feeling clearly. I can still taste it, I can still feel the weight of it dragging on my heels, filling my lungs, and chilling my bones.
I am grateful I made it out alive, because looking back I can see that I needed serious help, but help was not coming for me.
I lived with severe depression, suicide ideation, low self esteem, and a handful of other BPD/BP symptoms that went undiagnosed for years.
I was never introduced to the idea of coping skills, boundaries, self care, and I had never heard of things like self fulfilling prophecies, victim mindsets, and justification/avoidance/etc. I wish someone would have brought these things to life, because I think I may have realized sooner that I wasn’t alone or the one to blame for the awful sadness that clawed at my chest like some tortured animal.
I began self-harming as a form of punishing myself. I believed that I was selfish for even breathing. I hated myself so much that I truly, truly believed that I deserved to get hurt and I should feel guilty because if I loved my family then I wouldn’t poison their life by being present in it.
Often I would fall asleep in tears, praying to wake up as someone else or to not wake up at all.
It breaks my heart sometimes when I look back. As a child, I just wanted to be loved and important, and as a teen, I just wanted to be loved and beautiful.
I wanted to be beautiful more than anything.
To me, beauty was something unattainable and far away.
I really was an ugly duckling , so to speak. I don’t believe there are more than 3 photos of me from the time I was in 2nd grade to about 5th.
The summer before 2nd grade my babysitter decided to shave my hair off. On top of being malnourished and having extreme dental issues, having no hair was enough to push me to become a social outcast.
Those little kids treated me like I wasn’t even human.
But every day I woke up just hoping to have a good day. I could forgive my worst enemies without blinking. Every day I just wanted to have a good day.
But I started fighting a lot, partly because the other kids thought I was a boy and partly because I wouldn’t tolerate being bullied any longer. After some months went by, even the adults at school and around public spaces were confused about my gender, and a few had even asked me to stop saying I was a girl.
I felt betrayed and confused. I learned during that time that I could hurt people back if they insulted me, and that love is conditional to beauty.
I moved away after 7th grade for 2 years but was forced to move right back.
They acted like I was a completely different person.
Now people suddenly expected me to be female?
I couldn’t hang out with the guys anymore, and if I did they were trying to throw game at me? I couldn’t wear whatever I wanted anymore because people couldn’t control themselves? I’m supposed to do my hair and makeup and wear dresses and walk in heels now?
Deep down I yearned to be in touch with that femininity that had been denied to be so long ago, but it was hard.
I tried to be grateful, because I knew some people’s journey required surgery and years of hormone therapy. To be told your something that you know your not and trying to play pretend as something else causes a pain I can’t describe, so even though I was secretly relieved I wasn’t sure how to just “be a girl.”
I obsessed over my appearance, I would often stare at my reflection until tears welled in my eyes and whisper to myself these horrible things like, “you’re so freakin ugly. No wonder your mother drinks all the time. No wonder everyone hates you. Your so freaking stupid look at you. I wish so much that I could just beat you up, I hate you so much.”
… It was just one vicious cycle after another.

There are a lot of factors that led to my escape from the prison of that perspective.
But the main one I want to share happened on my own.
Its strange, because now I am considered “hot.” Sometimes I even feel beautiful, but not a whole lot. That’s okay with me, though. I wish that the younger me could feel even the small approvals I give myself, even the smallest kindnesses… But it wasnt until the day I came to this conclusion that any of my self esteem started to change.
I realized… There are worse things to be than ugly.
It may sound ridiculous or even obnoxiously obvious… But this thought had never actually occured to me before.b
There are better things to be than pretty. There are worse things to be than ugly.
I mean, id been through some of them. Being lost in the woods, feeling heartbroken, searching for a missing person that you care deeply about, losing a parent to prison, and being miserable were just a few of the things that I went through personally that I decided in that moment were much worse than being ugly.
This was a breakthrough.
I don’t NEED to be pretty. Sure I want to but do I NEED to be?
Hell no.
I was tired of chasing people’s love, tired of wasting so much energy on their approval. I was just plain tired.
I realized that people couldn’t see right through me. They couldn’t see the damage beneath the surface.
The day I stopped caring if I was ugly or beautiful changed my life. Because that’s the day I started caring about if my life was beautiful or not. I started caring about what I was doing and not about if others cared.
This led me to getting some painful dental surgeries that ended with dentures and a normal smile, some crazy tattoos, and a few hair color choices I could have left in the bottle but mostly it led me to freedom.
I don’t know if my story is unique or if anyone else out there is trapped by the beauty myth… But just in case I’ll say it again:
Beauty does not define value.
Others do not define your beauty.
Your value is yours to see and appreciate. You set the bar for how you will be treated and respected.
Beauty does not define importance, power, or entitlement.
Beauty is not just appearance.
Love yourself, you will see the change in your reflection yourself.
You are beautiful, you are worthy, and you are human.
There are so many worse things to be than ugly.
-a horrible person
-attacked by wolves
-evil and cruel
-dying
-mean
-lost
-sad
-going through the motions
-uncaring, inconsiderate
-starving
Etc. Etc. etc.

Energy from a feeling
Moving through the body.
Otherwise known as emotions.
The mind connects these Feelings,
Internally we think.
Ongoing about certain places or things.
Numerous times we feel with our minds
Sad, happy, mad, exited or frightened.

You show up without warning
Sparking my interest
I wouldn’t do this normally
But I choose to accept
I follow the narrow
Reluctantly I’m dressed
Checking over your shoulder
Stepping in walls of Magnolia
I proceed to regress
Caught speechless
Long by deviant
Leading me out further
Moments I feel descent
Going without reason
I sense meaning
Yielding for composure
I watch myself be
For seconds I am
Unto never again

Chillin like the
Winter breeze.
Watching the tiniest
Bit of me leave,
With the air I breathe.
Watching snowflakes fall.
Along with the steam rising
From a cup of hot co coa
Twirling it around in circles.
A breathtaking moment
Of the cold days in December.
Can you picture this
Written image?

dec 11
a journal on familial bonds.
the oddities in which the preservation of familial bonds has brought is an interesting notion worth unpacking. I keep one pillow sheet on a pillow here, and one there. as the matching florals bring comfort to both homes I go to. I use the locker in the gym of my father’s favorite number, as the unification of father and daughter presents itself in strange ways. but I somehow feel closer knowing my stuff is protected by him despite the distance. 3:33 is my favorite time to present each day as my mom and I share that in common, and I’m under the belief it keeps us closer. every store I go into, I’m on the lookout for new hello kitty themed items, as my sister recently took on the fascination for the cartoon that made an impact on a portion of my childhood too. as she grows older, our age gap seems to close, as if to be an illusion, as we begin to look more alike. I love that we carry each other with us every day.

I spend the days looking for ways to feel closer to my family, even though our distance keeps me humble.

growing up, I loved sitting in the kitchen with my dad as he would cook dinner. I learned a lot during those times. funny enough, my favorite thing I learned to cook from him was his scrambled eggs in the bowl passed down from my grandma. it’s the scrambled egg bowl. one day I’ll buy a bowl just to scramble my eggs in, but for now I’ll reminisce on that bowl knowing my eggs will never scramble as well as they do inside that bowl. he also taught me the importance of the preparation the night before. for anything, but specifically, he loves to prepare his coffee the night before for an easier wake up. I think a warm cup of coffee ready to go is a good reason to get out of bed in the morning, too.

I go through days holding onto random parts of the things that remind me of family, of the love we hold. for familial love is not one easy to replicate. and I don’t bother to replicate it, I spend my time attempting its infiltration into my daily life. to bring the love with me.

I am a mosaic of the people I love. pieces of them make up me and falter a greater sense of who I am. as I am only me because those who brought me here.

During the Big Bang, I was born,
Stardust from the cosmos, fallen to earth.
Evicted from the sky—a shooting star,
No place to call home.

When I reach for the heavens,
I’m still trying to return.

I stood at the ocean’s edge,
Longing for the ripples to embrace me.
Crabs taught me their secret—
To float away on the tide.
I prayed for my find,
But no Ursula came to grant my wish.

When I reach for the giant blue mass,
I’m still trying to return.

Through forests alive with kaleidoscope hues—
Orange, red, and yellow flush my path.
Strong thoughts flood my mind,
A deep yearning to live amongst the leaves.

In the trees, the birds perch on old branches,
Their wings whisper freedom—
A freedom I long to hold.

When I reach for the tall oak,
I’m still trying to return.

I’m still trying.
I’m still trying.
I’m still trying.

Still trying to shed this human existence,
To finally be one—
One with the world around me.

Although I didn’t participate in the recent Open Mic Night with the “Courage” theme, I was inspired to write this brief, lighthearted poem.

C in Courage is for committing
O represents Omitting whatever’s preventing you from committing
U – Understanding your role
R – Realizing the goal
A – Aligning with the purpose of what you need to be courageous about
G – Going for it with gratitude and without second-guessing and doubt
E – Energized, electrified, elevated to move…
Out of fear mode and into your courageous groove.

The mission can be smooth
When whatever is blocking your courage is removed…

Courage can be contagious
No, it’s not outrageous
I hope and pray you’ll be courageous and free
To do whatever it is you were sent here to see and be!

Dear Unsealer’s,
# What’s your love story
part 1

Originally Recorded February 2020 By: Taylor Vance
Our love Story began over a year ago at a point in my life when I thought my ability to love someone else was gone. Being a widow with two children was what I believed the rest of my life would always be not ever knowing or sharing true love again. This love came on blind, unexpected & pure. Not out of pity & without judgement which brought light back into my life. He gave me the opportunity to see and experience things I only dreamed of, but thought I would never do. Him well he was a Gypsy roaming wild and free, me well I was the pioneer never to venture too far away from home or family. He was excited to show & share his ways & worldly experiences with me mostly, more than he even knew he reminded me to LIVE & LOVE life again. I am very thankful GOD sent me a good man with only good intentions for myself and my children. I found this quote that resonates with me how I feel our relationship came to be & is the base of which we began on January 5,2019.

“Maybe she needed HIM to show her how to LIVE and Maybe he needed HER to show him how to LOVE”

ONE YEAR DOWN, FOREVER TO GO

love Taylor 2-2020
Taylor & Shane 2019

NOT THE END, INSTEAD TO BE CONTINUED…….

I avoid the light on brighter days. Should have known better than to look directly at my Grace. Now we speak of sons and who will be the last ones standing. I am not demanding but will seek out the answers. Debilitated by the bastards who’ve shown their face but never skin. Walked within the mental temple I begin but apparitions are the outlines of our sins.

I strolled with her in the sunrise
she sang to me in lullabies
I waited for her endless times
but I was never told.

We watched the clouds unfold how dare she be so bold hear my prayers, wipe my tears, watch me grow old. For years I waited on that block connecting time and youth as one. I circled like my childless mom waiting for my turn around the sun. It bled me dry from all I cry waiting for her to rise from the deadness inside as she collapses instead at the foot of the bed and we pray to what we cannot see the evidence will never be in the shade of yesterday I see what I’ve been circling and the beauty we are birthing

only to hand it over in the end.
I will not bend
I cannot go
I will not send him there.

My Grace you have outgrown me I wish you would have known me longer than our summertimes. I rise everyday like the Fourth of July hoping you will be a firefly a firework up in the sky or something that can never hide from me again. I live with your ghost I collapse as a host of your fragile soul I want to feel you near me but you fear me I fear my dear it’s now the end.