You Don’t Have to Be a Writer to Need to Write: A closer look inside Soul Vomit School

You’re allowed to say the thing.
The one that feels too messy, too dramatic, too intense.
The one that’s been looping in your mind or sitting in your chest.
The one you don’t want to admit — even to yourself.
You don’t have to be a writer to need to write.
You don’t have to be eloquent.
You don’t need to know where the sentence is going.
You just need a place for it to go.
Soul Vomit School is not about writing something beautiful.
It’s about letting go of what your nervous system has been holding.
It’s about using the page as a place to be real — without having to explain yourself, fix yourself, or turn your pain into something productive.
Soul Vomit School is where expression becomes regulation.
Where ritual becomes self-recognition.
Where writing becomes a kind of homecoming.
You don’t have to perform here.
You don’t have to earn your seat.
You just have to show up — even if all you can do is scribble a few broken lines or breathe deeply between them.
This practice came from survival.
I created Soul Vomit in the middle of my own unraveling.
I was burned out.
My daughter was struggling and needed deep care.
My son had left for college and I was still trying to mother him from a distance.
I felt like I was failing at everything.
And I blamed myself for all of it.
I couldn’t think clearly.
I couldn’t sleep — or I was sleeping too much.
My house was a mess.
I was a mess.
But something shifted when I let myself write. Not for clarity. Not for content. Just for release.
I started pouring things onto the page that I had been afraid to say out loud.
I let the fragments, the anger, the grief, the numbness — all of it come through.
And with that release came regulation. With that honesty came reconnection.
This wasn’t journaling.
It was something deeper.
It was a way back to myself.
What Soul Vomit School Actually Is
Soul Vomit School is a live, summer experience that blends expressive writing, nervous system support, and ritual.
Each week, we move through practices that help you regulate, release, and remember who you are.
It’s not about polishing your pain.
It’s not about storytelling for an audience.
It’s about giving yourself a structure to pour it out — and a gentle system that can hold you as you do.
You’ll be guided through a rhythm of tapping, writing, and reflection that meets you exactly where you are:
Tender. Fierce. Raw. Numb. Restless. Curious. Tired. Glorious.
And maybe, for the first time in a while, you’ll hear yourself clearly again.
This is where your voice comes home.
We’ve been taught to shrink, to silence, to smile.
To write what’s acceptable.
To say what’s expected.
But here’s what I know:
You don’t have to be small to be safe.
You don’t have to stay silent to be loved.
You don’t have to tidy up your truth before you let it live.
Soul Vomit School is a space to reclaim the parts of you that were too loud, too sensitive, too strange, too honest.
It’s a space to speak without apology.
To write without an audience.
To be witnessed by the page — and by yourself — with compassion, clarity, and care.
You don’t have to be a writer.
You just have to want to feel more like yourself again.
We begin this summer.
Come as you are.