Last week, something happened that I honestly never expected to affect me as deeply as it did.

I sold my very first painting.

Not a journal.
Not a bundle of gathered papers.
Not a class.

A painting.

And when I say I cried… I truly cried.

As a mixed-media artist, I’ve always created from feeling more than perfection. Layers of paper, texture, marks, fragments, and emotion have always felt natural to me. But painting? Painting felt different. Vulnerable somehow.

Especially growing up surrounded by incredible artists.

My daughter and my mother both went to art school. They can paint portraits and landscapes so beautifully that they almost look like photographs. Their talent has always amazed me. And if I’m being honest, for a long time I quietly convinced myself that because I didn’t paint like that, maybe I wasn’t really an artist at all.

But art has a funny way of teaching us where we belong.

Because the truth is, creativity was never meant to be a comparison. It was meant to be an expression.

My work is layered and imperfect. Emotional. Textured. Collected. Worn around the edges. It tells stories in a different language.

And last week, someone saw value in that language.

Someone connected enough with something I created with my own hands and heart that they wanted to bring it into their home.

I cannot fully explain what that felt like.

It wasn’t really about “selling” a painting.

It was the quiet realization that there is room for all kinds of artists. Even the ones who doubted themselves. Even the ones who create differently. Even the ones who are still learning to call themselves artists out loud.

I think sometimes we wait for permission to begin. Permission to create. Permission to share. Permission to take ourselves seriously.

But maybe the real magic happens when we simply start anyway.

This first painting sold may seem small to some people, but to me, it felt like opening a door I’ve been standing outside of for years.

And for that, I am deeply grateful.

Maybe creativity isn’t about mastering perfection. Maybe it’s about having the courage to leave pieces of yourself behind in what you create. What are your thoughts?

​Until next time...

You don't need trips, expensive tools, or adventures to have a life worth recording.

The most meaningful journal entries often come from regular days.

From your quiet cups of coffee.

From your laundry hanging in the sunlight.

From your time in waiting rooms.

From your walks around the block.

From memories sparked by an old receipt found in your purse.

Your story is important now. Real life, worth remembering, happens today, even when things feel ordinary or resources feel limited.

Record everyday details before they fade. Consider journaling about:

• The meal you keep on making lately
• Morning routines
• The view outside your kitchen window
• What your hands look like right now
• Your favorite blanket or candle
• Songs you replay often.
• Conversations with children or grandparents
• Your current worries
• Your tiny joys

You don’t need a vacation to explore. Try a local park, library, thrift store, or farmer’s market. Even a grocery trip can become a story.

Capture the life you’re truly living, not just special occasions. Everyday moments are where your story unfolds, even between milestones.

Journaling reveals the extraordinary in your ordinary days. It’s about seeing your real life as remarkable while you live it.

​Until next time...

About the posted photos:
1. Journaling setup - taking some photos for future content. 
2. The ghost in the sunlight. I just got these little cuties in and I looked over to see him/her enjoying the sun and smiling.
3. The mama bear who ruined one of my bird feeders. Her babies are so small and so adorable. They remained up the tree until she came back.
4. The recent stack of Amazon happy mail. I'm about to go on a no spend few months now!

This is one of the first questions people ask.

And the answer is simpler than you might think.

You don’t need a theme.
You don’t need a plan.
You don’t need the “right” supplies.

You just need pieces that feel like something.

A receipt from a day you want to remember.
A piece of packaging that caught your eye.
A torn book page.
A handwritten note.
A photo.
A scrap of fabric.

You can add words—or not.
You can layer things—or keep it simple.

There’s no right way to fill a junk journal.

Only your way.

If it feels overwhelming to gather everything yourself, starting with a small curated collection can make it easier—giving you a place to begin without the pressure of figuring it all out.

Because truly, the hardest part isn’t what to include.

It’s allowing yourself to start.

​Until next time...

There’s a quiet shift happening.

More and more people are stepping away from fast, polished, perfectly curated creativity—and moving toward something softer. Something slower. Something a little more real.

That’s where junk journaling lives.

At its heart, junk journaling is the art of gathering the overlooked—scraps of paper, worn pages, receipts, tags, textures—and giving them a place to belong.

It’s not about perfection.
It’s not about rules.
It’s not even really about the journal itself.

It’s about noticing your life.

A moment.
A memory.
A feeling you don’t want to rush past.

In a world that constantly asks us to move faster, junk journaling invites us to pause.

To hold onto the small things.

To create not for display, but for ourselves.

And maybe that’s why it’s resonating so deeply right now.
​
Because we’re craving something real.

Have you tried junk journaling, or are you thinking about starting? What draws you to this creative trend—or what’s holding you back? Share your thoughts, experiences, or even your favorite journaling supplies in the comments below. Let’s inspire each other!

​Until next time...