Welcome and Thank You!

Grief, a relentless tide, threatened to drown me. Effective two years ago, I lost both my family's matriarchs.  In my teens my grandmother, the sweetest, most huggable, most grandma-est of all grandma's succumbed to Alzheimer's. In 2022, the rug was ripped out again.  My mother, eccentric, vibrant and full of life, gone in an instant. Therapy became my lifeline, a hand to pull me from the undertow, but therapy's focus on my purpose in life left me yearning for something more.

When I chat with my therapist, A, A always highly encourages me to write down and/or repeat what I am grateful for on a daily basis.  For whatever reason, the thought of starting a gratitude journal makes my skin crawl. And I, being the black sheep that I am, refuse to hop on the Gratitude train and follow the "herd" in writing down what I am grateful for every day.  A also educated me on the emotion types of "Triggers" (stressors) and "Glimmers" (joyous moments).  Hearing "Glimmers" makes me think of all things shiny and glittery, so I compulsively gravitate toward this exercise.

One day, amidst an existential crisis, I had an epiphany. When I mention therapy to almost anyone else they get weird and say they, "could never do it for the fear of knowing what might be uncovered."  (But isn't that the point!?) I figured if they didn't want to help themselves by paying for therapy, I will offer tools that can help them take steps toward their happiest life journey.  My dream is to provide a way for people to capture the everyday magic, the quiet joys that fight back the shadows in a "Glimmer" journal,  Glimmers are now my mission.

The path wasn't easy. I poured my heart, my blood, sweat, and hope into creating the perfect journal. Therapy, once a crutch, became my compass, teaching me resilience, self-compassion, and the power of vulnerability.
Over the past two years, I've shared my story. The rawness, the Triggers and the Glimmers lead me to a community yearning for the same light.

Today, Glimmer journals grace nightstands, backpacks, and purses. They are filled with sunrises, silly jokes, and the comfort of a warm hug. Each entry, a tiny victory against the darkness, a testament to the human spirit's ability to find joy, even in the cracks.

My journey began in loss, but it's fueled by love. The love for my grandmother, my mother, and the beautiful world they taught me to see. And with every Glimmer journal filled, I know their light continues to shine.