Explore My Personal Journey Online
Discover insights, experiences, and passions shared here.
Explore My Personal Journey Online
Discover insights, experiences, and passions shared here.
About John Crismon
My Journey
John E. Crismon is a writer, designer, and seeker of quiet truths. He lives in Queen Creek, Arizona, where the desert’s stillness and stark beauty mirror the emotional terrain he’s spent years navigating. His work blends visual symbolism, poetic storytelling, and psychological insight to explore themes of grief, solitude, and resilience.
After experiencing profound personal loss, John turned inward—writing not to escape, but to understand. What began as scattered reflections slowly became a memoir: a map of memory, pain, and the fragile hope that follows. His creative process is deeply intuitive, shaped by the rhythms of healing and the language of metaphor. Lanterns, forests, fog, and fractured light appear often in his imagery—not as decoration, but as emotional landmarks.
John believes in the power of honest storytelling to connect us, to comfort us, and to remind us that even in our darkest seasons, we are not alone. Not Okay After All is his first book.
The Book: Not Okay After All
“Not Okay After All” is a memoir of grief, grace, and the long road back. It’s not a guidebook. It doesn’t offer easy answers. Instead, it invites readers into the raw, unfiltered experience of loss—and the quiet, often invisible work of healing.
Through poetic prose and symbolic imagery, John traces his journey from emotional collapse to cautious renewal. Each chapter is a vignette: a moment suspended in time, a memory revisited, a truth uncovered. The book explores trauma’s impact on the mind, the strange beauty of solitude, and the way grief reshapes our sense of self.
This is a story for anyone who’s ever felt broken, numb, or quietly searching. It’s for those who’ve walked through fog and found flickers of light. It’s not a promise of resolution—but it is a testament to endurance, vulnerability, and the sacred act of continuing.
“I didn’t write this book to be brave. I wrote it because I couldn’t carry it alone anymore.”
“Writing became my therapy. Music became my refuge. Faith became my anchor. And grief became my teacher.”