I’m Taylor.

Since I can remember, I’ve been writing. Since I can remember, people have been telling me I could write, and thankfully somewhere along the way I started believing them. Writing has gotten me through a lot of seasons of life: my college days, engagement & marriage, and the aftermath of being wounded in and surviving a school shooting. These days I am taking care of toddler and trying to find space to write in the cracks of this new life.

I’ve learned a lot the past few years. I’ve learned about trauma & grief. I’ve learned about the ways that the body stores trauma and memories and how PTSD and anxiety can take over a life. I’ve learned what it’s like to walk in contradicting emotions— grateful to be alive, yet struggling with the pain of living; feeling hopeless, yet knowing new mercies come as surely as the sun. I have experienced deep suffering, the kind that makes you wonder how all those cracks you feel could ever possibly be glued back together again. And yet, through all of it, I have known the joy that is found in feeling God’s guiding hand as you take one step after the one before it, trusting that you’ll one day find healing and redemption.

So I’d like to take you all on this walk with me, if you’re up for it of course. We’re going to talk about both the good things and the hard things and how they aren’t mutually exclusive. We’ll talk about things that may make us a little uncomfortable sometimes, but that’s only because we’re trying to grow. We’ll go slow and steady and take some breaks here and there. Don’t worry about catching up, I’ll meet you where you are

The Nitty-Gritty.

I currently live in Charleston, South Carolina with my husband Eric, our sweet dog Molly, and our son Henry who is an actual doll-baby. I graduated from Virginia Tech in 2012 with a degree in Human Development, and worked in roles as both a social worker and administrative programs specialist at a community college until I was injured in a shooting in 2013. You’ll see me write about this often.

I love to read— thrillers are my favorite. I write in books and make notes in the margins. I love coffee & tea equally, and recently acquired a Nespresso machine which is maybe the best thing I’ve ever owned? I subscribe to too many podcasts and own too many matching pajama sets. I let the dog sleep in the bed always. I’m an enneagram 2 wing 1, HSP, and INFJ, and yes, I do want to talk about it. If you’re wondering what I’m watching, it’s probably Parks & Rec.

I’m grateful you’re here and I hope to serve you well.

follow me on instagram & twitter

It’s not surprising that the shooter claimed “sex addiction” and not racism as his motivation. Claiming a hate crime is not a great defense. What is surprising is the swiftness with which white people have chosen to believe this ad
Just an hour after I got home from my surgery, my pharmacist called and said she had one dose leftover of the J&J vaccine, and if I could get there before 4pm it was mine. So we loaded up the gauze and the pain medicine and drove 5 minutes to the
Happy Friday my friends! If you are new around here (thanks @lorewilbert!) I’m so happy you’ve decided to follow along. Here is a little about me! ➕I’m Taylor! I live in Charleston, SC with my husband, our 2 year old Henry, and ou
I am learning to be kinder to myself. I would never tell my friend that she isn’t doing enough. Or that she doesn’t deserve rest. I wouldn’t tell her that if she just tried a little bit harder, she could probably do everything and
puppy at puppy day care ✅ child at human daycare ✅ quiet house to work ✅ After this past year, I will never take this for granted. Ever.

Official Bio

I have always been a writer, but it was a spring day in 2013 that made me an activist. The bullet that tore through my left hand on an otherwise average afternoon at New River Community College in Christiansburg, Virginia, redefined the trajectory of the written word for me, assigning mission to my passion and essential, urgent purpose to my page. In the split-second moment of the shooting, and the long work of healing and trauma recovery that followed, my beliefs about gun reform, thoughts and prayers, and the role of the church in our nation’s historic and future violence were irreversibly altered. Alive in the gratitude of the aftermath, I write the truth of my own story, and the stories of the countless precious lives affected daily by the crisis of gun violence, to implore others to join me in meeting the suffering around us with whole-hearted attention. I write to ask, simply, that we resist the impulse to look away.

As the mother of a young son, Henry, I’m compelled to hold the American Christian church accountable to its pro-life claims. At home in Charleston, South Carolina, and across the nation, I’ve witnessed the entrenchment of church and gun culture, and the apparent moral disconnect wreaking havoc on our ability to effect positive change. It is my hope that story will be the place we join hands and ignite in passionate advocacy to create a better future for Henry and the rest of our children. It is my desire to write our swords into plowshares, our apathy into action, and the distance between us into common ground.