When I was younger, I wanted to own a crepe shop in New York City where people could come, sit up at the bar, and feel seen. Today I don’t even know how to make a crepe (so I suppose that dream is out) but I’ve always regarded this corner of the internet as a place where you can always come, with a cup of coffee between your hands, and find yourself known, loved, and seen through writing. 

For the last 10 years, I’ve been filling this space with words for the brokenhearted and the defeated, for the hopeful and crazy dreamers, for the ones who are torn and the ones who are planting down roots, and for the ones who are looking for God and those who have found something worth holding onto. 

If you have a dream in your heart then I want you to know this: my dreams started small and they’ve grown through small actions on repeat. Don’t let anyone tell you your dreams cannot happen.

At the age of 22, I moved to New York City for what I thought was a dream job and ended up spiraling into a deep depression. As a way to cope with the sadness, I began writing letters on the 4 Train and leaving them around the city for others to find— bookstores, coffee shops, libraries, everywhere. Today, I run a global organization called More Love Letters, inspired by those first letters to strangers in the lonely city.

I never imagined I would grow to become an author of two books, a TED Speaker, and an online educator teaching others how to sit down and write. Words are still my everything and nothing fires me up more than teaching others how to become more disciplined so they can make space for what matters most to them in life. I’m on a mission, and partnering with God daily, to be a light in the growing conversation about mental illness. 

I’m a proud New Englander living in Atlanta (that’s a longgggg story) with my best friend and husband Lane. You can find us trying out new restaurants across the city, getting dangerously cutthroat over playing Battleship, and cozying up to watch a thriller with our rescue pup Tuesday.

I hope this space finds you and keeps you. I hope you discover the words you need to read. No matter who you are, or where you are going, I hope you know you’re never alone and that it matters (more than you can imagine) that you’re here.

tying you closer than most,

hb.