From My Journal..

Living Through Trauma: You’re not going crazy, you’re just grieving.

⚠️⚠️ I want to warn you, this is a very raw, very real post. Read at your own risk- but I felt like sharing this. ⚠️⚠️ .. When I was 11 years old, I woke up to screams. My mom’s screams. At 11 years old I called 911 as my father lay in my parents… Continue reading Living Through Trauma: You’re not going crazy, you’re just grieving.

From My Journal..

Flashback to Richmond:Appreciating the Chimborazo hospital site.

I wrote the below post one year ago during a research trip to Washington D.C. and Richmond, VA studying Civil War medicine. This memory popped up today on my Facebook memories and I figured it was worth the share. I am so passionate about what I do. God has truly blessed me with the best… Continue reading Flashback to Richmond:Appreciating the Chimborazo hospital site.

From My Journal..

“Follow your heart, follow HIS signs- everything else is noise.”

Four years ago, I stood in front of this fireplace. I stood in awe of the brickwork that had remained intact since 1733, the musty smell, the history of the family who had lived there that I left feeling like I knew, the goosebumps, the energy. It was majestic. Today, scrolling through Instagram, seeing that… Continue reading “Follow your heart, follow HIS signs- everything else is noise.”

About Me, From My Journal..

Everlasting Memories: The Making of the Inman Ink

The time I spent with my father truly changed my life. I’m not sure if it was the change in social status, the public recognition or the fact that I finally felt like I had made a difference that was the most impressionable. I do however, know this: My father was the most extraordinary person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Battling multiple mini strokes, heart surgery and the repercussions of unimaginable amounts of dollars in medical bills during that time in my life, my father never lost hope. During that time in my life, my family had lost everything. Our home, our cars, but we never lost each other. I remember catching my father digging in the couch for extra change and quarters or selling his favorite watch, scrounging for anything he could find so we could print my newspaper. He never gave up, not on himself and most importantly, he never gave up on me. He was my biggest fan, mentor and best friend. No matter the challenges we faced, my father always led us with a smile and a warm, considerate heart.