Hi. My name is Mariah Tyler Moore.

I'm starting this BeMoore blog because I need a space that is simply, unshakably mine. I write to process. When I'm happy, when I'm sad, when I'm angry—it is my own version of therapy. And, in this moment, I need to set the record straight from the only source that matters right now: me.

I need to talk about something that fundamentally changed my life's trajectory. I tried to kill myself on December 9th, 2024.

That moment was the culmination of an eight-month decline into insanity, fueled by a year of unimaginable trauma. My life has always been hard, but the last twelve months were a masterclass in human suffering. I went through a divorce, lost custody of my sweet child, became permanently disabled, endured several major surgeries, including a total hysterectomy, and battled cancer. I was cheated on, had an affair, was abandoned by people I trusted, lost my best friends, watched someone die, lost my home, and went bankrupt. It was, literally, everything and more.

All of this was compounded by my existing health issues and a series of bad choices that left me in legal and financial trouble. I almost died.

But I got myself out of it.

I spent a week in a hospital behavioral unit getting treatment and finding medications that work. I am following that with nine weeks of intensive outpatient therapy. In that quiet, sterile space, I had a moment of brutal clarity: I was fuckin' nuts for trying to start a business.

Don't get me wrong. If my life were easier, if I wasn't so profoundly mentally and physically unwell, I believe I would be a fantastic business owner. The ambition is real. And yes, I really was nominated as Emerging Logistics Businesswoman of the Year 2024 in Utah for my ideas for a logistics company and a non-profit. I still have those big dreams. But I've learned a devastatingly important lesson: some dreams must be put on hold to save your own life.

So, I shut it all down. I retreated into a shell, uninstalled my personal social media, and cut off the people in my life who made me feel like I deserved to die. I am not a business owner any longer. The internet may still think I've tried too many things, and it's a battle to erase a digital ghost, but this is the truth.

What can happen now? I can throw myself into writing. I can write my soul out until I feel better. Or healed. Or something.

My focus is returning to my core identity: I am a writer. A wounded healer. I am radically resilient. I am a creator of novels and lyrics. The business dreams are deferred, not dead. Once I have my own shit together, I'll revisit them. For now, I'm looking for part-time opportunities that honor my new, health-focused reality. I will make good things happen for myself. Somehow.

I know I'm a shit show. But oh, well. Life is about experience.

And I have a lot of fucking experience.