About
The Unquiet Pages is an independent project focused on grief, memory, and the ethics of what we carry.
Born and raised in the Midwest, I’m a psychological researcher by trade. My work centers on identity, memory, and the ways individuals and communities make meaning of their lives. My path has taken me through criminal profiling, suicide prevention, and counseling psychology, shaping a deep respect for honesty, boundaries, and ethical care in vulnerable spaces.
I’m drawn to archives less as institutions and more as living systems of feeling. I’m especially interested in grief, affect, and the emotional afterlives of records. The stories we keep. The ones we inherit. The ones that continue shaping us long after they’re “over.”
The Unquiet Pages is where those threads meet.
Archivist + Narrative Researcher
Specializing in grief-informed archives and emotionally sensitive records.
What you’ll find here takes a few forms: essays, fragments, fieldnotes, and slow-built projects. Some pieces are personal. Others are research. Most are somewhere in between.
I’m interested in what lingers. The versions of loss people don’t always have language for. The quiet ways memory turns into evidence. The stories that refuse to stay neatly contained.
This is a space for unfinished thinking. For emotional precision. For people who live between structure and feeling, and still want to tell the truth.
What this space holds
The Unquiet Pages exists for what doesn’t fit neatly anywhere else. Not quite journal. Not quite research. Not quite story. Something in between.
Grief changes how you hold information. How you interpret silence. How you look at what’s missing.
This is what I built to honor that.
Why it exists
The Unquiet Pages is for those who live between story and silence, structure and emotion, records and ghosts.
For anyone who has ever felt the strange pressure to “move on” while something inside them is still cataloging what happened.
For those who don’t want to be fixed, just understood.
Who it’s for
A note on boundaries
This project isn’t here to perform grief. It’s here to hold it with care.
I’m intentional about what I share, what I keep private, and what I refuse to turn into content. I believe records deserve context. People deserve dignity. And not everything needs an audience.
If you’re looking for easy inspiration or tidy healing, this probably isn’t the right place.
If you’re looking for honesty, you’re home.
If you’d like to explore, start with Fieldnotes.
If you want the work, head to Studio.