A few days ago, my newest book officially launched—and I’ve been sitting with that moment ever since.

Releasing a book is a strange mix of relief, vulnerability, and quiet disbelief. You spend years carrying a story—living with it, wrestling with it, questioning it—until one day it no longer belongs only to you. It steps out into the world to meet readers where they are, carrying meanings you can’t control and conversations you can only hope for.

This book is deeply personal, but it’s also part of a much larger conversation. It speaks to love in its most complicated forms, to grief and survival, to the ways people care for one another when there are no easy answers. It was written with immense respect for those who have been marginalized, misunderstood, or silenced—and for the families and communities who love them fiercely anyway.

Since launch day, I’ve been overwhelmed with gratitude: for early readers who’ve reached out, for those who’ve shared the book, and for everyone willing to sit with difficult truths and human complexity rather than look away. That willingness—to listen, to feel, to stay present—is what makes stories matter.

If you’ve already read it, thank you for trusting me with your time and attention. If you’re just finding your way here, I’m grateful you’re curious. This book exists because stories create connection, and connection is how change—real, human change—begins.

More to come soon. For now, I’m truly grateful this story has found its way into the world.

— J.T.