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There is that word again: hope.

We aren’t waiting around for a Valentine to bring love on Valentine’s Day. Treat yourself how you want to be treated. How you treat others. No guilt, not hesitation, just pure love.

Dabbling Dreamer was never about pretending the world was fine. It was about learning how to live inside it without losing myself. Lately, though, the disconnect has been impossible to ignore.

One of the most powerful (and underrated) acts of self-care is learning how to release what isn’t yours to carry. Not in a dramatic, life-overhaul kind of way — but in small, intentional moments that gently bring you back into alignment with how you want your life to feel.

The cold still calls us to rest and restore. The calendar marks a new beginning of months, but our season is yet unchanged. Why call yourself to unnatural expectations?

Intentions and visions often get lumped together, but they serve different purposes—and they work best as a pair.

Together, let’s agree-nay, let’s promise each other, in the gleam of lingering Christmas lights, to allow ourselves to be comforted.

As we step into the new year, we wanted to offer you something simple and steady. No resolutions, no expectations — just a small collection of affirmations to return to when the world feels loud or uncertain. Consider this a gentle companion for the days ahead, a reminder that you’re allowed to move at your own pace and begin again as many times as you need. May these words meet you exactly where you are.

Building a community, having people to rely on is essential to the human experience. Everyone needs people around them when life is challenging.

“ Just one shot of espresso please, I value my life. ” This is a statement I made in the Starbucks (I know, I know) drive-thru a few days ago, regarding my dirty chai latte. It seems simple, a passing little joke to the barista, but it actually held huge weight for me. I value my life. That is the part that brought me to reality. See, I do my journaling and my mindfulness, I go to my therapy and I take my meds, but this is one of the first instances in, probably as long as I

Some mornings, the world feels like it’s already moving faster than you can keep up. You open your eyes and the list begins—emails, errands, expectations. For years, I treated every day like it was a green-light day: go, produce, achieve. It worked—until it didn’t. Burnout taught me what rest never could: that slowing down is not a failure, it’s a rhythm. Now, before I even step into the shower, I check my lights. It’s a simple ritual that asks one small question: “ Where am

Why dabble? Because sometimes, the most profound healing comes from the freedom to explore without expectation. To try a brushstroke here, a word there, and to find joy in the process rather than the product.

November holds no secrets. The mystic whimsy swirls away with the leaves and we are left with the bones. The claws of bare branches reach towards the sky, worshipping the perfect, crisp blue or scratching the foggy gray blanket of autumnal storm clouds. Look up and take in the stark contrast. What do you feel? November demands that we sing praises. The message of thankfulness runs unchecked through our lives, but with no real root in gratitude. No anchor in true, accountable

Let’s light a candle or three. What if we were sitting together on an oversized corduroy couch. Each with a fluffy blanket that is just the right size to wrap our shoulders and tuck our toes. You have a mug of warm apple cider. It’s a glass mug that is beautifully hand-painted with falling leaves and gourds on swirling vines. I have a pumpkin shaped mug of perfectly spiced chai. We might trade sips while we trade secrets.  “I’m not sure where to go from here.” ”I can’t keep g

Come in, dear Dreamer, come in. I had so much planned, so much to say for this piece. Yet, I found myself deleting it all. Writers often know that, at times like this, nothing can be said beyond what weighs heavily on our hearts. The Weight of Our Hearts You may feel confused. Our hearts are prepared for love, yet they seem distant from their natural state. How can so many hearts feel so far from warmth? When we lead our lives with compassion, it becomes our first inclination

If there’s one thing life has been teaching me, it’s that showing up isn’t always neat, tidy, or perfectly consistent. Sometimes the rhythms of family, work, or simply being human take the lead

**Note: When this post first went live, an editing/scheduling error cut it short. We’ve since updated it so you can read the full version, just as Jess wrote it. That’s what I like to call them: The ‘Bers. You know, September, October, November, December. I could say I’m guilty of making them my favorite, but I won’t. Cuz I don’t feel guilty at all. I feel pleasantly proud. Think of the last time that someone asked you what your favorite was. Your favorite movie, book, food,

Every artist space I’ve wandered online has felt loud to me. Too many things to click, too many voices competing for attention, too much urgency disguised as inspiration. I longed for something quieter—something that didn’t demand my energy but offered it back to me.

This won’t be a blog that shouts. It will be a space to pause, to feel, and to gather words that meet you where you are.