#findingmyvoice

Exactly a year ago today, I was laid off. April 8, 2025 my boss called me into a zoom meeting that I wasn’t surprised about. Especially since my boss’ boss had called a meeting in December warning us it may happen. She called to our attention that a whole department had been laid off and moved to India. That if anyone who likes to prepare to feel safe that getting your resume in order was a good…

Hello, I didn't see you there. What's your name? Oh that's an awesome name - it really suits you. You can call me Naomi Moore 🌿 You would like to know a little about me? I am so flattered

I'm 24-year-old artist, writer, and dreamer. My creative journey is all about exploring emotion, the nonsense we call living, and building a world better than the one I was born into. Here, you’ll find snippets of my literary voice as I discover it—short stories, musings, and moments rich with emotion and turmoil.

I want to share something meaningful with you all. Tumblr has been more than just a website for me—it's been a sanctuary, a place where I found solace amidst the turmoil. In those days, I'd lose myself in tattoo pictures, punk designs, and gothic aesthetics. It was my escape, especially during the darkest times when I was enduring abuse at home as a child.

Now, a decade later, I've come a long way. Despite the hardships, I've found my passion in tattooing. It's been a journey marked by struggles, but also by the support of my amazing girlfriend—who embodies the beauty and strength of the gothic Tumblr girls I admired back then.

I want to reach out to the world and to my younger self, the sixteen-year-old who made promises to herself amidst the chaos. I want her to know that I'm fulfilling those promises now. And as I find myself back on Tumblr, I want to showcase my work to the world and to that younger version of me, to make her proud of who I've become.

I've left my Instagram handle here for anyone interested in checking out my work and spreading some love. Thank you all for your support!

The Wednesday night Bible study was moved to Thursday nights. We boarded the “home-groups” train that was trending in those days, and we were grouped according to which Elder’s house was proximal to ours.  Logistics, naturally -the Elders were engineers.

I was impatient for that first meeting.  This Catholic girl gets a little unnerved by those Sunday services where the preacher reads a Bible verse, then fiercely expounds on it, sometimes with an intensity that yanks him out of his jacket in his frenzy over all that hellfire and damnation. Nope, all that fired-up hollering from the pulpit never edified my spirit.  I longed for a calm, contemplative study where exchanging ideas and perspectives would enrich our spirits and foster closer friendships among this earnest little band of Bible scholars.

Thursday came.  I stepped into a spacious living room, settled on a large floor pillow, and rested against an ottoman.  The atmosphere was casual and subdued; it felt pretty good.  After the initial prayer, we opened our Bibles to the chapter of focus in the study, and before I knew it, I was happily engaged in a lively discussion.  One deacon leaned my way as he spoke, inviting me into a dialogue. He was erudite and eloquent, with a keen intellect and a wonderful sense of humor -I genuinely liked him.  Never condescending, he offered his perspectives while validating mine as we looked to the practical applications of the scriptures at hand, and I appreciated his wisdom.  It was good, to feel connected and valid. The moment was short-lived.

Once the meeting was over, the women retreated to make coffee. The men remained. I stayed until I noticed a raised brow with a directional glance toward the kitchen. Oh. I got it. I stood and slipped through the door to find the Women in the Kitchen caught up in animated chatter about diaper rash ointment and -I kid you not- whether it is worth the effort to wash and reuse plastic sandwich baggies. It was made clear that my input was irrelevant when I was told that until I have a baby, I "can’t possibly understand..." anything apparently.  I understood this:  the Women in the Kitchen were not my tribe.

Easing back into the living room, I sidled onto the sofa armrest.  The men were discussing the current socio-political climate, the Church’s place in the world at large, practical ways we could best minister to our community, and whether to address our need for more space by expanding or moving... the big picture. 

Creative ideas, some lofty goals, and a good measure of healthy debate were happening in that living room full of men, with me precariously perched on an armrest -the only woman not in the kitchen.  They didn’t miss a beat.  No one noticed.  None of the men moved to make room for me on that sofa.  Not one.  Yet, there I sat like a glaring neon sign blinking in the face of their purposeful disregard.  Refusing to take the hint, I remained, invisible, silently swallowing swells of rage as those men planned our future and decided our places within it without any input from us -the Women in the Kitchen, and me.

On the drive home, I was confronted with my behavior.  Why couldn’t I sit quietly like the other wives, refrain from joining the discussion, and stay with the Women in the Kitchen where, I suppose, I belonged?  I wanted to scream, “Why aren’t the Women in the Kitchen invited to stay and encouraged to participate in the discussion?”  Instead, I tightened my jaw and muttered, “They weren’t talking about anything interesting, and since I’m not a mother, no one cares what I have to say.”  He asked me to try.  I bit my lip.

He doesn’t get it:  no one wants me, but the exclusion by the men is more than oppressive; it is insulting.  The Women in the Kitchen are their wives, the mothers of their children, and the ones who keep life going forward against all that would interfere.  They are the anchors in their homes, the very hearts of their families. It will be the Women in the Kitchen, without voices, bearing the burden of the men’s decisions.  Although the Women in the Kitchen are not seated at the table for discussion, they will be expected to strategize sacrifices from their household budgets to finance the men’s plans (imagine washing and reusing disposable sandwich baggies --do the men even know their wives do that?)  The Women in the Kitchen will be “holding down the fort” while the men devote their evenings away from their families to manage new and ongoing projects and church business.  After preparing breakfast to ignite the morning and ushering everyone to the day’s destinations, the Women in the Kitchen will be parenting solo until they get the children into bed.  Finally, once the men have returned home, these devoted wives (veiling their own weariness) shall cheerfully serve their husbands a carefully reheated dinner. 

Imagine.  Though they are the ones who create the very propulsion that provides the momentum to move the work forward, The Women in the Kitchen have no voices.

None, because the Women in the Kitchen are not invited to that table... except to serve it.      

Today I’m exploring digital tools to communicate in the ever-changing landscape of social media. I’m currently using Crowdfire and will try Buffer. Please share your favorites in the comments below. Would love to hear from you.

To whoever finds themselves with a kind enough heart to spend a couple minutes of their lives reading this. Thank you. 

I’ve been struggling lately. Well, not just lately. More like years, trying to find my thing. I am at an age where you should be settled in your career, married and having children. So far I am on point, but like many people I find that I am still unsatisfied. No children so far, and due to some circumstances out of my control, there won’t be for a few more years. I love my partner, and my marriage is a happy one. There is no one I would rather navigate life with than him. I like my job. Emphasis on the the word “like”. It pays the bills, keeps me active and is somewhat in the field that I went to school for (Health). Does it make my heart sing? No, but in a COVID world being essential is kind of important. 

I do all the things, the yoga, the gym, the running. I’ve been attempting for what seems like forever now to create that perfect before and after picture. I’ve tried to mold myself into an adult athlete, but my commitment is never 100%. I don’t know why. I like being active, and physically fit, but I honestly don’t think I love it enough for it to be my “thing.” If I am being truthful, I am tired of trying to force it. 

I’ve been racking my brain for a hobby that I can throw myself into. Something that is mine and mine alone. What do I like? What have I always liked.... cue jeopardy theme song. And I have to admit. It’s movies, television, actors, theatre. When I think back to a time that I was happiest, it was back in my high school plays. Even though I usually was just a minor character, but those times were the best, and if I can admit it, there was a time I dreamt of being an actress. Though coming from a small country town in the middle of nowhere Canada, the odds of that happening were definitely not in my favor. So I listened to my parents, guidance counsellors, teachers, and took the safe route, and went into healthcare. 

Now I work for a Pharmaceutical Manufacturing company. It’s stable, it’s safe. Where is the fun in that? 

Now I’m stuck in the routine, of go to work, come home, drink wine, eat, sleep and repeat. The hobbies I have are not cutting it. So I am going back to what I love, and that is movies. The art of story telling in pictures. It may be too late for me to become an actress, playwright, or director, but I can escape into some small part of this world on this platform. I can write about what I see, what I like, what I dislike, and what resonates with me. Movies, and television have always been a part of my life, but that is for another post. 

If you’ve read this far, thank you for your time and attention. It makes me feel a little less alone in this world. And I must admit, it feels good to be writing again (another hobby that I used to enjoy), and this is much more satisfying than journaling (which I’ve tried, but hurts my wrist). 

So please stay tuned, and check back in if you want to hear the ramblings of a small town film geek, trying to find her voice. 

‘For those trying to find their voice in a world where they have to speak louder, just so they can be heard’ – Ilana Estelle

When I found out I had cerebral palsy, I wanted to do something positive for the first time. I needed to get to grips with and explore my disability for the first time. It wasn’t a decision taken lightly, but it was necessary if at the age of 46 I was going to learn about my disability, learn about myself. I went from nothing to something with The CP Diary blog, and for the first time I was able to identify with my disability and my experiences.

Writing a book to get to know me, to understand my disability meant I would have my voice heard. It was important I come face to face with my disability, and for the first time. As a child with no voice, if writing a book meant me being able to come face to face with my disability, then it’s something I needed to do. I am sure anyone in my circumstances would have done the same thing.

But honesty requires us to be brave, for us to turn our lessons into universal truths and that is what I have done. People will always have opinions on other people’s writing, but an author needs to be true to themselves. They need to be comfortable, they need to understand their life.

Finding my voice, having a voice for the first time, has finally given me the freedom to choose. However hard or uncomfortable your journey is for others, it’s your journey. You must choose what is right for you. It is important for us to have people in our lives who care and who will listen, and who don’t stand in judgment.

Truthfully, I am relieved. Being able to choose, I am proud of what I have achieved, what I have been able to accomplish, what I needed to do for myself, to find the true me, without having to go to the grave without. Through my book I show you how.

My blog and my book is dedicated to all those who have yet to have their voices heard. That through my words that it happens for you too.

For anyone wishing to buy my book, it is available in a bookstores online and it is also available on Amazon – amzn.to/2qrpiy8 UK or http://amzn.to/2WPE2Vy US.