We’re looking forward to introducing you to Keya McClain-Goodwin. Check out our conversation below.
Keya, it’s always a pleasure to learn from you and your journey. Let’s start with a bit of a warmup: What do the first 90 minutes of your day look like?
A good stretch, wash face, brush teeth, meditation, exercise, sit in silence and then breakfast or intermittent fast. I am very intentional about how my days start. It may start at different times of the morning, but the routine is typically the same. A morning routine affects how my days go. On days where I am rushing I tend to take a short walk and meditate as I walk or drive.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m Keya McClain-Goodwin — a poet, author of 10 books, grief warrior, and the Hardcore Healing Pen Coach. My brand is born from lived experience, deep emotional work, and a refusal to water down healing to fit into a “safe” or “pretty” box. I guide women — especially those in transition, burnout, or grief — into radical self-reflection through journaling, poetry, and purposeful writing.
What makes me and my work different? I don’t just talk about healing. I live it. I’ve survived devastating grief, career burnout, family betrayal, and personal reinvention — not once, but over and over again. Every workshop, book, and journaling prompt I create comes from scars I’ve turned into maps.
I’m not for the fluff. My coaching meets you at your most raw and helps you turn the page — literally and metaphorically. Through my signature voice, I help women uncover what they already know but haven’t yet written down. That’s where the breakthrough lives.
💥 What’s Interesting About Me?
I’ve been journaling since I was a child — it saved my life through depression, suicide attempts, and navigating the grief of losing my best friend/brother and lastly, my fiancé.
I have four degrees, but the most powerful education came from pain, reflection, and my pen.
I don’t just write poetry — I perform it, host events around it, and use it as a bridge between culture, healing, and storytelling.
I blend street wisdom, legal analysis, spiritual grounding, and unapologetic honesty in everything I teach and write.
I’ve turned grief into guidance — not just for me, but for the women I coach who feel unseen, unheard, and unraveling.
✨ What I’m Working on Now
Right now, I’m focused on:
Promoting my 10th book: Untangling Grief: Unraveling the Emotions of Loss — a raw, poetic, and powerful exploration of grief that doesn’t follow the 5 stages.
Launching my corporate coaching program for women in high-stress careers who are silently battling burnout, betrayal, or life after personal loss.
Hosting healing journaling workshops and pop-up sisterhood events, including “Grieve Like a Grown Woman” and “Journaling Changed Me.”
At my core, I am a mirror — here to reflect truth, resilience, and the deep magic that writing can awaken. I’m not here to make healing pretty. I’m here to help women make it real.
Great, so let’s dive into your journey a bit more. Who saw you clearly before you could see yourself?
As a child, my Uncle Prince was one of the most impactful forces in my life. He didn’t just love me — he saw me. He saw the different in me, the divine in me, the depth in me — and instead of trying to tame it, he taught me how to stand tall in it.
He poured into me a sense of confidence and strength that no classroom, no degree, and no book could ever teach. He often said, “Pay attention. People won’t always like you, and sometimes they won’t even know why.” That awareness stuck. He taught me not to fear darkness, but to be aware that it exists — and more importantly, to let my own light be intentional, not naive.
My uncle was more like a father — loving, raw, and deeply sincere. He gave me wisdom long before I knew I needed it. He helped shape the woman I am: alert, grounded, powerful, and real. His belief in me became the anchor I didn’t know I needed.
He didn’t just teach me to be strong — he taught me to be aware. To lead. To own the fire inside of me.
His vision of me shaped mine more than anyone else ever could.
Was there ever a time you almost gave up?
I was around 27 when I nearly didn’t make it.
I had attempted suicide before, but this time felt different. Heavier. Emptier. Final. I wasn’t just tired — I was hollow. My soul was unraveling thread by thread and I was too lost to see the knots I could’ve untied.
I had spent so much of my life trying to be loved and learning how to love myself that I got stuck in a loop — spinning through hope, disappointment, exhaustion, and silence. And as someone who can’t swim, the feeling was eerily familiar: I felt like I was drowning. That terrifying sensation of being submerged, unable to breathe, terrified to fight it, terrified to survive it. So I decided to give in. To let go. To leave.
I truly believed no one would notice. No one but my son. And still, I told myself he’d be better without the shell of me — the me that was everything and nothing to everyone around me.
I didn’t want to be here anymore. I didn’t want to keep failing, loving wrong, living hard, or pretending I was okay.
But God.
God sent someone who knew me. Saw me. Chose me in that moment.
My best friend showed up at my door and refused to leave.
He refused to let me die in the dark. He refused to let me believe I didn’t matter. He held on when I was letting go. And because he did — I’m still here.
Sometimes, all it takes is one person. One act of presence. One refusal to let you drown.
That’s why I speak. That’s why I write. That’s why I journal. That’s why I see people the way I do — because I know what it feels like to be invisible while screaming inside.
If you’ve ever been there, I see you.
If you’re there now, don’t give up.
You are not alone.
Sure, so let’s go deeper into your values and how you think. What’s a belief or project you’re committed to, no matter how long it takes?
I am committed to helping women — and anyone I encounter — heal through the power of writing.
Not just because it’s trendy. Not because it sounds poetic.
But because writing saved me.
I am a witness to what journaling, therapy, and deep self-worth work can do in the darkest moments — when you feel invisible, unheard, and unraveling.
I show up in this work because I needed this very thing.
Because I didn’t always have the support.
Because I’ve sat in silence hoping someone would just see me.
And when they didn’t, I learned to see myself.
That is what this work is about:
Reconnecting with self.
Returning to your truth.
Releasing shame.
And writing your way to freedom.
My commitment is deep because I know sometimes I am the lifeline someone needs.
And I don’t take that lightly.
Therapy is sacred. Friends are a blessing. Love is healing.
But the real transformation? It starts when we turn inward.
When we connect to our own voice, name our pain, and learn to trust our truth again.
When we do that work — we become better:
Better in our relationships.
Better in our decision-making.
Better in our self-awareness.
Better in how we love, how we lead, and how we live.
This is more than journaling.
This is soul recovery.
This is emotional CPR.
This is how we build a better world — one healed person at a time.
I’m committed to that.
To you.
To us.
To the better we all deserve.
Before we go, we’d love to hear your thoughts on some longer-run, legacy type questions. What is the story you hope people tell about you when you’re gone?
When I’m gone, I don’t want a polished version of me left behind.
I don’t want the highlight reel, the Instagram-perfect eulogy, or the sanitized storytelling that strips away the layers of who I really was.
Tell the truth.
Tell all of it.
Tell them I was layered —
Not all light and love.
Not always graceful or polished.
Tell them I had my shadow.
Tell them I made mistakes.
Tell them I had to fight to find peace.
And that sometimes, I lost the fight before I ever found the rhythm again.
But also tell them this:
I never stopped choosing to rise.
I never stopped reaching for healing.
And I never stopped believing in redemption.
Tell them I lived my story out loud —
With the beautiful language and the foul words.
With open arms and moments of closed doors.
Tell them I gave what I had — even when it wasn’t pretty.
And that my life was not one-dimensional.
I want my story to be remembered for its truth,
its resilience,
its joy,
its wholeness,
its wellness,
and its transformation.
Because honest stories change lives.
Fluff doesn’t.
Don’t erase my mess.
Don’t dilute my magic.
Tell it all —
So someone else feels less alone in their chapter.
Let my story remind them:
You can be flawed and still worthy.
Broken and still healing.
Hurt and still helping.
Growing and still glorious.
I was never perfect.
But I was always being me – raw, real and reflective.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://keyascoaching.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/hardcorehealingpencoach/
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/keya-goodwin-55b71887/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/keya.mcclain76/
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@keyamcclainthepoet
Image Credits
Photographer: PictureMeMK
