Journeys With Jani

Last week, a friend of mine asked me—genuinely and with no sass—“Why are you writing a blog anyway?”

Now, I could’ve tossed out a quick one-liner or shrugged it off with something funny (which, let’s be honest, is my default setting). But I didn’t. Because her question deserved an honest answer.

Truth is, it’s not a simple answer.

Or maybe it is.

I’ve been writing in some form since I could string thoughts together. My earliest memories of writing go all the way back to that little pink diary with a heart-shaped lock that thought it could keep out a nosy sibling (it couldn’t). But to me, that diary was a sacred place. I spilled my secrets, my fears, my big dreams—and sometimes just what I had for lunch and how mean my step-monster was being. It was mine. All mine. And it felt safe.

Maybe it’s in my blood. My Paw was a writer. So was my Daddy. His two sisters too. And my cousin Jessica? Lord, she can write like poetry pours out of her fingers.

Me? I’ve never considered myself a beautiful writer. I don’t craft prose like some well-trained novelist. What I write tends to tumble out exactly as my brain and heart think and feel. Sometimes messy. Sometimes a little tangled. Always honest.

Over the years, I’ve worked hard to shape those thoughts into something more fluid, more readable—because Lord knows, not everyone speaks fluent “Jani brain.” But no matter how polished I try to be, my writing is still me. It’s my therapy. It’s how I process the world—past, present, and even the chaos I haven’t met yet.

Some of what I write will be shiny and lighthearted.

Some of it will come from the deeper places—the childhood that wasn’t all sugar and spice, the teenage years that required more strength than anyone should’ve had to muster, the heartbreaks, the healing, and all the getting-back-ups.

Writing is how I breathe when the world feels heavy.

It’s how I hold on to the moments that matter.

And yes—it’s honestly for me.

But—if something I write makes someone laugh out loud, or feel less alone, or stop and say, “Well, damn, me too…”—then I’ll feel like I’ve done something right.

So yeah. That’s why I’m writing this blog.

Not for the likes. Not for the algorithms. But that’s cool, FR!

For me.

And maybe, just maybe, for you too.