Melodie Joy Artistry

07/05/2026

I haven’t written in a while.
Life pulled me into the beautiful chaos — planning my daughter’s wedding, reimagining my company, and myself. But in it all, I knew the day was coming. The day I’d have too. Face all of it in one weekend — the pain, the fear, the years I spent making myself small.
I spent months preparing. Reminding myself that that I was not alone. When the moment came, my body, once trained to shrink in his presence, stayed still. My breath, steady. The therapy. The work. The relentless rebuilding of myself, worked. I didn’t hide. I didn’t turn away. I simply stood. His charm that once blinded me, was a worn-out mask. I watched him work the room with that familiar, frantic energy, and I felt something I didn’t expect. Nothing. Not the inner scream I had nursed alone. Not the abuse, not the sharp sting of panic. I looked at the person that had caused me so much pain, the voice that had distorted my reality for years, and I recognized a ghost. — a moment that belonged to a different women in a different time. At some point, the memories came fast, heavy, the ground shifted under me. The old version of me started to crawl back. The spiral. But the people who know exactly who I am. Who stood close, surrounded and reminded me that I was loved, and not that woman anymore. This is what healing looks like. No-one has the power to dim me and I’ll continue to stay angry enough. If you’re still in the rebuilding — still in the trenches of putting yourself back together — keep going. The day will come when you look and feel nothing. And that nothing will feel like everything. I will never be done. I will keep changing my stars for as long as I have breath in my body — healing, growing, evolving, and trying to leave every place I touch better than I found it. I will stay loud. Loud against abusers. Loud against the ones who manipulate, betray. I will not shrink, I will not whisper. If you have lived through betrayal, abuse, narcissistic behavior, or a relationship that made you question your worth — I see you. I stand with you. You are not crazy. You are not too much. You are not alone.
We don’t just survive this. We rise from it.
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08/04/2026

The Mirror’s Truth
She stood before the mirror longer than usual today.
Not to criticize the lines around her eyes or the way her shoulders carry the invisible weight of years. Today, she looked differently — like an archaeologist studying something ancient and sacred.
In the dance of healing, trauma reshapes us.
She is tired. Not the kind of tired that sleep fixes. This is a tiredness that lives in her bones — worn down by years of betrayal, of abuse, of loving people who make her feel like she is never quite enough. Tired of waking up and doing it all over again. Tired of missing her mother with an ache that never fully quiets. Tired of worrying about everyone else while she is quietly falling apart inside.
Weaving strength from sorrow.
She thinks about the version of herself who didn’t know if she’d make it through. The one who cried on bathroom floors, who smiled through rooms full of people while quietly drowning. That woman had been handed loss after loss and still — still — she showed up.
The betrayals had tried to teach her she was worthless. The abuse had tried to make that lesson permanent. And for a long time, she had believed it.
But she was never the problem. She was always the survivor.
Displaying scars as jewels that reflect the beauty of survival.
She has been so hard on that woman. Demanding perfection from someone who is simply trying to breathe. Trying to heal. Trying to believe, against all the evidence life has handed her, that she deserves softness too.
You didn’t just survive, she tells her reflection. You rebuilt yourself — brick by brick — with broken hands. While grieving. While exhausted. While the world kept asking more of you.
She touches the mirror gently, the way you touch something you finally understand is precious.
The woman looking back isn’t perfect. She is better than that.
She is real. She is here. She is enough — she has always been enough.
And her scars? They aren’t wounds anymore.
They are jewels.

11/01/2026

The Reason I Won’t Stay Quiet. I recently sold three pieces of art. A new friend of mine, married, was suddenly navigating a divorce. As her story unfolded, the truth: Within 24 hours, her entire life detonated. She had to leave, find a job, a place to live, and a new phone—left with $11 to her name. He was done with her, and so, he disappeared. She’s in her 60s.
This story repeats itself endlessly. Women abandoned, neglected, abused, and discarded after decades of faithfully loving, raising children, maintaining homes, managing mental health, and physical needs. And what did they ask for in return? The bare minimum. Effort. Kindness. Faithfulness. *Love me back.* Here’s the thing: narcissistic personality and divorce are one hellish thing, and living with the aftermath is another entirely. The relentless stress of protecting yourself in court years later from old debts, the constant stories people continue to tell you about their experience with your X, the lawsuits for alimony termination attempts, and online stalking. Constant victim mentality and hero complex. The tempers and anger, the lies and fabrication. Watching friendships evaporate, suddenly going ghost. The continuous anxiety about survival—how to pay bills, how to be a woman, a mother, how to heal from trauma and loss. Shortly after my divorce, shortly after my mother died of cancer, I bought my little boat. I moved onto it, to simplify, to breathe, heal. A few months later, it started. Papers served. A motion to terminate alimony based on lies. Thousands of dollars later, with my incredible attorney, I won. In the process, we uncovered false tax claims, mortgage issues, and a life built on deception. And still, another life he’s never faced: a son he’s never met, a trail of pain he left another woman to navigate alone. And now, again. Old debts he abandoned—now mine. Again, now, our child’s parent loans—now mine to pay. He didn’t just abandon his family. He abandoned every responsibility that comes with being a man, a husband, a father. When given over and over, a second, third, and fourth chance to do the right thing, even after the damage started, after the divorce, they continue to show their true self; it becomes evident who they’ve always been. Behind a mask of narcissistic charm, humor, and lies. Every single thing becomes a blur of void. Years of Falsehoods. Lost time.
How many times does abandonment, neglect, and abuse get tolerated before we let our rage fuel change? Before we stop waiting for “karma” and start fighting back? Before we reclaim our lives, our freedom, our financial independence? We sent funds to my friend. It helped get her to her daughter, starting completely over. I won’t ever stop talking about it. I won’t ever stop telling the truth.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

30/12/2025

You must become the wild, untamed woman you were born to be, or you will suffocate. I know this because I nearly died trying to be small.
For 26 years, I was trapped in a relationship built on abuse and manipulation. The world—and the toxic church culture that raised me—told me forgiveness meant enduring. That love looked like locked doors and tempers. That devotion meant staying while objects flew across rooms and lies piled up like bodies I had to step over just to survive another day.
I forgave affairs, a baby with another woman, betrayal, rage. I cared for his parents while he prepared his exit—grooming younger girls, fresh supplies for his ego. When he was done with me, he didn’t just leave. He abandoned fatherhood, dumped his debt on me, discarded friendships. He replaced his entire life in an instant. And when I was caring for my mom dying of cancer, he abandoned her too.
I went on to build a simple life with little money—a calm place, a safe space. That’s when he sued me to terminate alimony. They will claw at you, desperate to crush you into something smaller. But your fire burns in the parts they call “too much.” I spent decades believing that was the problem—my questions, my pain, my refusal to disappear quietly. But that fire? That’s where my power lived all along. I’m still here. Repairing my nervous system. Relearning my voice. Grieving. Resetting. Healing. Becoming. And when I look at them now—at the life he’s built with her? The same patterns. Superficial connections. Toxic cycles. Carefully curated facades, all distractions from doing the real soul work. They will kill you slowly if you let them. Survival demands you shatter every chain. I know because I broke mine, link by agonizing link.
Own your chaos, your fury, your scars, your untamed heart. That’s where true power lives—in the raw, unbreakable, magnificent truth of who you are. The book I’m writing is for you. A way out. The courage to come up for air and dig down to the root—the toxic culture that programmed us to take abuse on the chin and call it faithfulness, to smile through suffering and call it grace.
No more.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

30/11/2025

Starting over isn’t supposed to happen at my age. But here I am—terrifying? Yes. But I’ve learned that life’s most profound moments happen when we give ourselves permission to be fully present.

For over 20 years, I’ve been capturing your most treasured days. But my own journey through loss and radical self-discovery taught me something essential: living for what truly matters—authentic connection, intentional presence, and the courage to embrace every moment we’re given.

I am no longer drawn to dusty shelves or square footage. We were made to grow, evolve, feel, connect, wander, engage, and immerse ourselves fully.

That realization brought me here—to Samaná, Dominican Republic, where I live full-time on my sailboat, reimagining how we gather, celebrate, and truly live.

Merging my photography, art, and passion for travel, I’m curating intimate adventures for the brave ones: the elopers and proposers, the women ready to heal, the friend groups craving real connection, the solo travelers seeking something more.

Your escape, your way: Marina villas with sunset views ✨ Waterfall hikes ✨ Private sailing charters ✨ Treehouse stays ✨ Photography included, magic guaranteed.

This is Wanderlust.

2026 bookings opening soon. Samaná is waiting.

🔗 Link in bio | wanderlustdr.com
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Explore personalized travel experiences and retreats in Samana with expert curators. Book your unforgettable journey today.

30/10/2025

I have moved past the point of no return, a place where I no longer belong. My words out loud feel jumbled, nervous. But my soul is strong. I am two souls. I have felt it all, trembled in each moment, making my bed here a million times. I’ve witnessed my own demise repeatedly, haunted by the ghosts of my former self who still walk beside me and cling tightly. My nightmares continue, the moment I watched life fade from both my parents body, my fathers hands went cold, he eyes went dark. My mother’s hands releasing their grip on mine. Her spirit lifted out of her before me. It’s a reoccurring dream, where I lean against the wall, slide down slowly, staying in that place forever. In one corner on the right, is my old life, packed up, organized and labeled as if a moving truck will be here any moment, in another corner is a round table, with old friends, him, his brother with hardy laughs, high fives, jokes, poking fun, in the middle of the road I see my own children waiting to come inside. I see my mother’s old life on tv, playing over and over again in black and white. In the window is a humming bird, looking for food, then, looking at me.
The end of it, he stands in front of me smiling, he reminds me I am not worth the time I gave him, he walks down the hall, out the door. The road is muddy he’s walking on, he cleans his new shoes before entering the vehicle. A new car, whoever is in the drivers seat waves out, driving away. - the end
Fear grips me often, spirals me to my bed. I chose a life to escape it, but you can’t really, you can’t escape yourself.
You can’t run, hide, or be free of yourself.
I see people everywhere distracting themselves from themselves, I’ve witnessed it my whole life. Denial. Fear. Anger. Ego. Abuse. Abandonment. Evil.
I wonder what episodes of my life will be played when I die. How will I be remembered. How will this life play out for me. Pain is the sculptor of my soul, since I was 12, I’ve been carving out resilience from the stone of pain and abuse. I am embracing the echoes of what once was, for they are the roots from which I will rise.

For you, those silently struggling
In the stillness, you will find your voice,
A melody woven with threads of sorrow and hope.
Allow the winds of change to guide you, trusted whispers leading you toward healing.

You are not alone in this journey;
The universe cradles your grief,
holding space for your transformation,
as you emerge anew, stronger than before.

So take a breath, dear heart.
For within each heartbeat lies the promise: From the ashes of pain,
you shall rise, a phoenix of infinite possibility
…

25/10/2025

Deep inside her chest, a tempest rages—a fierce rebellion against time, fear, and the shadows of her past. Each beat of her heart echoes a struggle, a testament to the battles fought in the unforgiving arena of life. She stands with her former self, where once the wildfires roared, leaving charred remnants of herself scattered across the floor.

Emerging, she is no longer the fragile spirit that once surrendered to the flames. Instead, she is a phoenix, reborn from the very coals that sought to consume her. The horizon, once a blurred line of betrayed flesh, fear, anxiety and brokenness, now stands with the colors of her resilience.

With every step, she walks on the smoldering remains of what used to be, attempting to channel her pain into power, her rage into strength. The fire that once blazed now fuels her spirit; it wants to transform her fears into fervor, igniting a passion to get up again and reclaim her narrative. Gone are the days of submission—the tears have turned into bullets, she is a warrior, fierce and unyielding, resolute in her quest for liberation.

As the world around her shifts; she draws from the past. She is a woman who has fought to survive her entire life, and in that fight, again she finds her voice—a clarion call of defiance echoing through the valleys of her soul.

The horizon awaits, and she will not only meet it; she will conquer it, an uphill battle, blazing trails of her own, an unstoppable force of resurrection and courage.
…

23/09/2025

In the still of the night, where shadows softly sigh, where whispers of pain linger, where dreams begin. My memories echo and fragments of sorrow sit with the ties that hold me. In this sacred silence I try and breathe and allow the stillness, a promise to leave the past behind. The night holds my secrets, cradles my fears.
The dawn waits in patience, a promise of light, to heal the old wounds that haunt me.
I rise in the stillness, reborn once again. So here in the night, I release what has been, I gather the pieces left whole, stepping into morning, hopeful.
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15/09/2025

Be careful underestimating someone that has been pieced back together from a shattered past over and over again. I’ve become a force of nature that will continue to rebuild stronger, wiser, and more untamed. I do not care how many times I fail, lose everything, or break again, the wounds they inflicted on me, do not define me. They are battle scars now, it’s fuel and fierce ambition for me to learn, grow, repair, heal, rise and conquer every single day. I am leaving behind those who failed to see, or believe me.
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