A little bit about me:

I told myself I’d never write a blog. Firstly, because literally everyone has a blog and secondly, I convinced myself no one would be interested in what I had to say. But as my Instagram posts became longer and my willingness to be vulnerable grew, I decided to venture into the world of bloggers and their dogs.

I decided I would share my story. 

When I was 14 years old, I suffered a traumatic incident where I was physically assaulted, assaulted with a knife, and asphyxiated. After three surgeries, thirty-or-so days at Sunnybrook Hospital, and three months of rehabilitation, I was given a pat on the back for a speedy recovery. Although I regained most of my physical abilities fairly quickly and the evidence of my surgeries began to fade, I knew that “recovery” was still quite far away for me. As a result of the trauma, I live with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

As an aspiring medical student, most people have the impression that I always have my sh*t together. That is almost never the case. I have had thoughts of, and attempted suicide. My eating disorder caused me to be hospitalized. I have had 9 years of therapy, and I probably will have many more. But that isn’t why I decided to create this blog.

I decided to create this blog because I am proud of me.

I am proud of myself for surviving, and sometimes even thriving. I am proud of myself for being vulnerable and sharing my story. I am proud of choosing recovery.


Managing triggers

I hope reading this post sheds light on the inner battles that some of us face on a daily basis. If anything at all, I hope this helps to explain why I likely won’t try to console you after your late night run to Mickey D’s.

Wigs for Kids

The first time I donated my hair, I cried. I cried because after having my head shaved for brain surgery a few years earlier, my hair had become this incredible source of anxiety. I remember vividly, seeing myself in the mirror after my surgery and thinking I was the ugliest person in the world (I …

inspiration behind the diaries


I remember the first time someone called me resilient.

It was like what I imagine discovering your superpower would feel like.

Suddenly, I felt invincible. I believed that no matter what, I would be ok.

I felt hopeful because I knew that even if things got dark, I would still push through.

I felt proud that as much as life tried to break me, I always had a little more strength to piece myself together.

So these are those diaries. Those moments of darkness, of falling, & of breaking.

But also, those moments of light, of picking myself up, & of putting me back together.

say hello