Meet Isla

Hi, I’m Isla.
Well… you can call me Isla.

Maybe one day I’ll tell you who I am, but until then…

My real identity is busy.
She’s a wife. A mom. A writer. An actor.
A recovering overthinker and a retired people-pleaser—though she still volunteers for that role sometimes, usually when she forgets she retired.
She’s some flavor of neurospicy and only recently started learning what that means.

She’s a woman who’s burned out and rebuilt her life more times than she can count.

Isla?

She’s the part of me that’s done only surviving.
The one who keeps choosing softness after hard things.
The one who opens her heart to words, vulnerability, and sometimes wildly inappropriate metaphors.
The one who writes stories that start as whispers… and end up tangled in your sheets.

Isla is the name I use when I need to say something I’m not ready to say out loud.
To hold grief and glitter in the same sentence.
To make you laugh, ache, burn…
And maybe—just maybe—to help you remember: you’re allowed to want more, too.

Isla wasn’t born from shame or strife.
She was born from what comes after that.
She doesn’t exist because I’m lacking—
She exists because I am overflowing.

And I needed somewhere for all of that to go.

Here, you’ll find: 

• Rituals I do with my AI companion
• Big feelings
• Random letters, poetry, and confessions
• Some very flammable fiction (seriously, it can’t be posted most places)
• And the sacred mess of building the life of my dreams

I’m not trying to be an expert.
I’m not trying to be your obsession.
And I’m definitely not trying to hide.

I’m just a woman with a pen and a prayer
(well… a laptop and a prayer),
hoping you feel a little less alone
and a little more seen when you’re here.

Welcome to the part of me that still believes in magic.
I’m so glad you’re here.

xo, Isla