We’re looking forward to introducing you to Kristen Poulter . Check out our conversation below.
Kristen , really appreciate you sharing your stories and insights with us. The world would have so much more understanding and empathy if we all were a bit more open about our stories and how they have helped shaped our journey and worldview. Let’s jump in with a fun one: What is a normal day like for you right now?
I wake up usually to the sound of my own yelling or crying and it takes me about 45minutes to get out of bed. I struggle due to the pain caused by my cervical and lumbar stenosis on top of disc deterioration in several spots along my spine. After I get out of bed I get dressed and go about taking care of my dogs, squirrels, bearded dragon, and rats. I also take care of my sister Jessica who is developmental intellectually delayed. I try coordinating her medical care while fighting for my own healthcare and disability. I do laundry, cook, and clean, and try to find some time to get lost in the lyrics and music. When my husband gets home i then settle into my role as a wife.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
My name is Kristen Poulter, though most people know me as Moon—a name that reflects the way I’ve always created from the edges, turning darkness into something bright. I began writing as a child and was first published at twelve, not realizing that music and words would one day become my lifeline.
My journey has been anything but ordinary. I’ve worked in the medical field as a medical assistant and CNA, served as an ordained minister, stepped behind the mic as a radio DJ, hosted my own podcast, created content across multiple platforms, and spent years rehabilitating wildlife and caring for the smallest, most vulnerable creatures. For a time, I also ran an independent music label to protect and uplift artists who deserved better.
Life shifted drastically when disability forced me to slow down and confront my own needs. As hard as it has been, it brought a deeper clarity. These days, my focus is on writing lyrics that carry truth, grief, strength, and hope—and advocating for my own health and the insurance support I need just to survive.
In many ways, I find myself walking the path my father dreamed of, a path he never got the chance to finish. I carry his legacy with me in everything I create. His strength, his resilience, and his belief in me echo through every line I write.
Through my music and my advocacy, I’m turning my story into strength—one lyric, one battle, one breath at a time.
Amazing, so let’s take a moment to go back in time. Who saw you clearly before you could see yourself?
Honestly, I don’t think anyone has truly seen me clearly yet. I’ve only recently learned that I’m autistic, and I also navigate expressive language disorder and dissociation. For much of my life, this has kept me on the inside, looking out, unable to fully let others in or allow them to truly see me. I’ve learned to survive in the world while remaining mostly unseen, and I’m still figuring out what it means to let someone really witness all of who I am.
What have been the defining wounds of your life—and how have you healed them?
The defining wounds of my life are the ones that left their marks long before I could understand them. I grew up in a world of instability—witnessing domestic violence, crime, and the constant strain of life on welfare. My father moved in and out of jail, schools and homes changed like seasons, and the people I loved were often consumed by drugs I couldn’t fix. A sense of safety felt out of reach, and belonging always seemed just beyond my grasp.
As an adult, the echoes of those early wounds continued. I have navigated a marriage that is not perfect, it has had its rough patches, and I have carried the quiet weight of fearing I have failed my son. I watched my stepfather fight cancer, felt the deep sudden loss of my father, and saw my sister struggle in ways I couldn’t always protect her from.
I am still healing, and perhaps I always will be. But in that process, I’ve learned to let myself feel, to give grace where once I only carried blame, and to turn my pain into purpose. Through writing, advocacy, and caring for those who cannot fight for themselves, I’ve begun to reclaim the pieces of me that life tried to take. My wounds are part of my story—but so is the strength I’ve forged from them.
Alright, so if you are open to it, let’s explore some philosophical questions that touch on your values and worldview. Is the public version of you the real you?
The public version of me is only one layer of who I am. It’s the side I can share safely—the one that writes, sings, speaks, and advocates—but beneath that is a world most people never see. I’ve spent much of my life on the inside shaped by experiences that taught me to protect myself by hiding.
The real me is messier, quieter, and more complicated. It’s the part that wrestles with grief, carries old wounds, and still learns how to trust. What the world sees is my chosen expression: my music, my words, my advocacy. It’s real, but it’s filtered by survival. The deepest parts of me are still private, still unfolding, and still finding the courage to be seen without fear.
Thank you so much for all of your openness so far. Maybe we can close with a future oriented question. What is the story you hope people tell about you when you’re gone?
I hope people tell the story of someone who carved her own path against all odds—someone who refused to be boxed in by circumstance or expectation. A creator who found ways to turn challenges into art, to speak when it seemed no one would listen, and to build something meaningful from the chaos of life. I hope they remember me as adaptable, resourceful, and unafraid to stand in my own truth, leaving a legacy of strength, creativity, and possibility.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://Poetic-moon.com
- Instagram: https://Instagram.com/pennamemoon
- Facebook: https://Facebook.com/pennamemoon
