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Maybe I will

—

My thoughts—relentless,
rushing, running, never resting.
They consume me,
wrap around my mind like vines
twisting, growing, reaching for release.

So maybe I will.
Maybe I’ll carve out a space,
a quiet corner in this noisy world,
where words can breathe,
where I can spill what lingers inside.

Why a public space?
Why not?
You only live once—
why not let people know you,
the real you,
the ever-changing, still-becoming,
never-quite-finished version of you?

I can’t say I know exactly who I am.
So many pieces of me remain untouched,
waiting to be seen,
felt,
understood.
And I like that.

Maybe I need to go—
far away,
Across the pond, maybe,
some foreign place,
where I can sit at a corner table,
watching the world move without me,
sipping something warm,
letting the city tell me who I am.

Is that how we find ourselves?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Not everyone meets themselves
over a cappuccino in a café.
But for me, that feels right.

They say I am missing
the moments that define a life—
no child’s laughter echoing down hallways,
no rings exchanged in forever promises.
Does that mean I understand life less?
I don’t think so.

Because I have lived,
tumbled through the good and the bad,
walked with my own thoughts,
stood steady with friends and family,
loved deeply,
lost freely,
and still, I remain.

But they do not define me.
I am who I am.
And even I don’t always have the words
to explain my odd edges,
the way I bend and reshape with time.

What I know is this—
I crave purpose.
Not just motion,
not just busy hands and passing time,
but something that means something,
even if I don’t yet know what.

And maybe, just maybe,
letting my words spill into the world,
letting them take shape,
letting them find the hearts they are meant to find—
maybe that is enough.

Maybe I will.

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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