Black Is…

Despair weighs heavy today. It sits in my belly like a brick, wraps it’s fingers around my throat and squeezes until my breathing becomes shallow. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t think through the fog unfurling in my …

State of Affairs: Black & Blue in America

I have words about the grand jury indictment verdict in Ferguson. I have words about their choice to not indict Darren Wilson for Mike Brown’s death. But I’m not ready to share them here yet. I’ve shared some initial reactions …

Here’s a Little Story

An excerpt from an old art journal I was writing in at age 20.  “Here’s a little story about three people: a mother, a father, and their daughter. The daughter loved them both dearly, but the mother didn’t love the …

June 29, 2002: A Beginning

To this day there is only one other person who knows the exact whys and hows of that season and what had been happening over the two year time period that finally forced me to leave. That person was my closest confidant and more importantly, believed me when I told her what was happening. She was the only one who ever has. I didn’t always do right by her as a friend, I couldn’t I was too much of a mess mentally and emotionally, but I’m grateful for what she gave me: a place to stay, friendship, an escape through writing and art journaling…an identity. It was she who first told me I that really, I was an artist and was born to create. A poet. A wordsmith who’s words bore power. When I had told her that I was afraid to write because writing had always been dangerous for me, that my words unfiltered and raw on the page pushed others to silence my voice and invalidate my sense of being upon discovery, she gave me an alias: Nicole Paul. My middle name + my favorite apostle.

My Writing, Other Places

Last year I wrote here about my initial experience with the VA during my pregnancy with Austin. So many of you reached out and helped me make my voice heard online and the VA eventually heard me and decided to treat me throughout my pregnancy again. Dealing with their mental healthcare system hasn’t been easy since I gave birth a year ago. It’s been manageable, but it’s been a process that has challenged me significantly.

10 Beautiful, Amazing, Breathtaking Experiences I Want to Have With My Art This Year

“List ten beautiful, amazing, breathtaking experiences you want to have THIS YEAR with your art,” my friend and story coach Elora wrote on the wall of our writing community’s Facebook group last Monday. As I watched the women in our …

Ready For The World

Austin will be a year old on Wednesday. Half of me is consumed with relief, praising God I made it through his first year with my mental health (mostly) intact. My biggest fear as I approached his birth was that …

Rebel: The Beginning of This Artist’s Manifesto

Truth I’m learning to embrace as an artist: I didn’t come here to blend in and that’s ok. With my words and art, I’m working to own my peculiarities and desire to disrupt your notion of normal.

Four Years…A Look Back

I quickly scanned through my inbox this morning on my phone while getting dressed. My eyes rested on an email from LinkedIn, notifying me that people were congratulating me on a work anniversary. Puzzled, I logged into the site to …

Flow: My Goals for NaNoWriMo and NaBloPoMo

“She found hope laying in the street as she made her way across the unknown expanse before her. When she picked it up it burned hot her palm, leaving its truth imprinted on her being. She knew then she was ready for the journey that awaits.”