Where I've Been

A return to writing in 2026

I owe you an explanation. It’s been over two months since I’ve written here, and the silence wasn’t planned.

For those who’ve followed my work, you know that Michael M. Piechowski—the scholar who brought Dąbrowski’s theory to gifted education—has been my friend and mentor for nearly a decade. He's 92. Last year, following the move from Colorado to Madison, Wisconsin, my partner and I decided to build a house five minutes from Michael’s place. I didn't know then how much that proximity would matter.

This fall and winter, it's mattered. In mid-November, he had emergency surgery for a blood clot in his leg—completely out of the blue. He was housebound for weeks afterward, and I stepped into a caregiving role. Near daily visits, errands, and presence. The things you do when someone you care about needs you.

I’m grateful I could be there—grateful we moved here, grateful for the timing. It’s what I wanted to do. But presence at that level doesn’t leave much room for other work. My energy went to showing up, not producing. The posts I’d drafted sat untouched. The podcasts continued because the episodes had already been recorded, and my co-hosts carried the weight. The academic work continued, but that's because sharing drafts and talking through ideas was part of being there for him.

Michael is doing better. I’m surfacing. Each day, I feel more rested, and my energy is returning.

Our new neighborhood in winter. Photo credit: Jason Wells

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The Mapping series

The final two installments of “Mapping the Emotional Landscape” exist. They’re written. And I’m not publishing them yet.

The later phases are too close to where I am now. The people are still in my life. More time has to pass before I can feel comfortable sharing them.

Emotional sovereignty, the capacity I’ve been tracing across this series, doesn’t mean saying everything you know to be true. Sometimes it means holding what’s true until the moment is right. Discernment is more important than disclosure.

The series pauses at Phase 3. Not because the story ends there, but because I’ve chosen to let it pause.

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What I’ve been working on

Caregiving wasn’t the whole story. The silence here didn’t mean silence everywhere.

Two papers came out in Advanced Development in November. The first, “Kazimierz Dąbrowski: The Existential Therapist,” was Frank Falk’s final work—his unfinished paper that he asked me to complete as co-author before he died. The second, “Mentors, Meaning, and Metamorphosis,” traces my own journey with the theory through the mentorship of both Frank and Michael. Seeing them published together in the same volume felt like a culmination of years of work.

Beyond that, the scholarly pipeline is full. Papers on overexcitability and how it was narrowed when it entered gifted education. A paper on Dąbrowski's play Nothing Can Be Changed Here and what it reveals about his vision. Work with Caitlin Hughes to bring Mad Studies and positive disintegration into conversation. A collaborative piece on podcasting as neuroqueer methodology. Methodological writing on relational-developmental autoethnography. Some are under review, some are in revision, some are still taking shape—but the body of work is building toward something I've been preparing for years.

2025 was the most productive year of my scholarly life, and also the most personally demanding—not just logistically, but relationally. Moving into a new house. Launching two new podcasts. Losing Seph Johnson, a young person I'd worked with on the theory for years. Navigating health crises with someone close to me. Facing hard truths about relationships I'd long idealized. The work didn't happen despite all of that. Some of it happened because of it.

What’s coming

I have nearly twenty posts drafted and waiting. The podcasts continue, though I've stepped back from editing for the past two months. I'll return to that work in February. I’m returning to the rhythm of writing for this space.

I also have news about the direction of my work that I’ll share in a separate post soon. And some thoughts on what it means when the truth is out there, and the misinformation continues anyway.

For now, I wanted to name where I’ve been. Not trying to frame the silence as something deliberate or productive. Just telling the truth: I was caring for someone I love. Now I’m coming back.

Thank you for understanding.