“That house? That mess? That was me.
Every pile of mildew-soaked clothing was a memory I tried to bleach out.
Every room, a version of myself I abandoned.”

“From early on, especially as women, we’re taught that putting ourselves first makes us difficult, demanding, or worse of all…unlikable.  That the more we give, the more lovable we become. But if you’re doing something out of guilt, resentment, or martyrdom, how is that any better?”

“But I still think there’s something there.
Something in saying what we mean.
In asking questions without tiptoeing around them.
In being curious without being cruel.”

“It feels less like a meritocracy and more like an old boys' club with better branding. Being the best candidate doesn’t always matter—you just need to know a guy, or bump into the right person over overpriced coffee.”

“I’m not afraid of wrinkles or crow’s feet—I actually think there’s something sacred about getting older. It’s a privilege not everyone gets. What gets me is the time. The speed of it. The quiet fear that I won’t get to everything I want to do before the clock runs out.”

“When I think about it now, my body is just a vessel of skin, blood, bones, and oxygen trying to survive. It has no control over what happens to it. And when I view it that way, I feel heartbroken over the trauma I’ve put it through—just for trying to do its best with what it’s been given. “

“It’s not that I think I’m some tortured intellectual—it’s actually the opposite. I just get mind-numbingly bored talking about jobs, meal prep, or which preschool is “Montessori-adjacent.  I want to talk about what’s real—like your greatest fear or your deepest insecurity.”

“Now, when I feel the urge to flee, I pause. I turn to myself. And almost every time, I can trace that discomfort back to an old wound, an insecurity, or a protective pattern trying to keep me safe. The difference is: I don’t run anymore.”

“This is your reminder to try—gently, imperfectly—to stay present. Keep choosing yourself. Be open to life’s little whispers.

They will lead you where you need to go.”

“I cook most of my meals at home, take my supplements, move my body—but I also go out to eat, breathe the same polluted air as everyone else, and live in a world that, let’s be real, is kind of toxic.”

“I keep trying to make everything safe. But sitting alone with discomfort—without trying to fix it, dress it up, or make it mean something—just letting it exist and admitting that it’s real? That’s hard.”

“When life slows down, a quiet kind of chaos begins to stir—restlessness, discomfort, the familiar haunt beneath all my stillness. It’s not just silence I resist—it’s what the silence reveals.”

If Mercury gets to spiral backward and call it “alignment,” so do I.

“But generally speaking, I’m more intuitive about the battles I choose to fight. I’ve learned to let go of the ones I know I can’t win—or that simply aren’t worth fighting. My peace now takes priority.”