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“the good I’ll do”

—

Standing in the kitchen

Once was lying on this floor

Tear filled eyes and too much wine

Couldn’t see truth or anything at all

Time passed as if it marched on

Not waiting for me to say when

The same space feels like a new place

With a sting of familiar pain

I almost miss the sadness

Why is life such a flawed game

It easy when you learn the rules

But when you start to win you miss the pain

So yesterdays sad song plays on repeat

While todays smile longs to feel peace

Do I say yes to residing in the calm

When chaos has been the light of my flame

It’s messy, I am a mess, I’ve said it by name

Never again or forever and always

Questioning which doors to open

Harder question which to keep closed

All while the “good I’ll do” lights a fire in my soul

But the sadness found in being lost

Is a spark I keep craving to fuel

The battle between what’s meant for me

And what comforts me is an on-going war

Running mind racing me back and forth

From the highest of highs to the familiar kitchen floor

Freedom is felt in letting go of who I was

Fearful jump to make way for who I am

Like learning to dance to the sound of a new band

Here it goes, the healing hit

From this melody, I never can go back

Ready for the good I’ll do

While grateful for the past

  • Heather Dyan Morgan

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● About Me

I’m Heather Dyan Morgan, a writer, speaker, and podcast host who left behind everything I knew to start over from scratch.
Literally the definition of wandering the wild mess.

Born and raised in Utah (yes, I grew up Mormon), I walked away from the only life I had ever known—including a good man who simply wasn’t meant for me, and moved to Tennessee with no friends, no family, and no place to call home. I had spent over a decade climbing the corporate ladder, and one day I simply told my boss: “I’m moving. Keep me or don’t.”

A little wild? Maybe. But I’ve always felt like a caged bird waiting to be free.
And once I finally jumped, there was no turning back.

Those early months, bouncing between Airbnbs, navigating heartbreak, identity shifts, and deep solitude, were more than a leap. They were a rebirth.
And somehow, they became the beginning of everything.

Now I share my journey through my podcast (Wandering the Wild Mess), I’m working on an aligned project of digital healing guides, and continue to pour into the written word—because storytelling has always been my way of making sense of the chaos and helping others feel less alone in theirs.

I’ve been writing since I could hold a pencil and asking deep questions since I could form a sentence. I’m endlessly curious about the human experience—how we think, feel, and move through this world. I believe we don’t fail; we just evolve.

I’m here to remind you that it’s okay not to have it all figured out. You’re allowed to grow, grieve, start over, and still be wildly worthy of love and joy.

I enjoy deep conversations, acoustic music, mountain views, and campfire moments that make you feel something. And I believe that if you’re reading this, you’re here for a reason.

Thanks for being part of my wild mess. Let’s wander it together.

And in case no one told you today—you matter

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