lover of words • storyteller • reads a lot • writes a lot • hikes a lot • just a girl from texas with a lot of thoughts about hope + recovery + writing + stuff
Hey, it’s Sunday— tell me (or show me!) a thing you like. I’ll go first: I like this bright little flower that was looking right at me on my long hike this morning. Now your turn. 🖤
Paradoxically, being kind to ourselves can actually trigger some sadness or anger-- because we're unexpectedly reminded of what we DIDN'T get, from the people from whom we needed it most once upon a time.
What's actually getting triggered is grief.
No, I don’t want AI to write for me. Summarize for me. Generate for me. Revise for me. Communicate for me.“Think” for me. Blur the lines for me. Make decisions for me. Influence reality for me. __________ for me. “Be” for me.
This is how we lose ourselves.
I don’t want it.
I don’t want to “meet Muse.” I don’t want my own “personal AI assistant.” I don’t want AI to summarize for me or write emails for me or anything else. I don’t, I don’t, I don’t.
Sometimes recovery doesn’t feel like recovery. It feels like frustration or grief or confusion or nothing or burnout or numbness or or or. But those moments, days, weeks still count. You’re not doing it wrong. You’re doing it.
Easy. Gentle. Soft. Slow. Onward.
This is a reminder that the things that matter to you— the dreams that maybe exist only in your head, the things you’ve been brave enough to only whisper to yourself— those are The Things. You know the ones. The ones that keep us going. Don’t give up. You can whisper them to me.
Last night G mentioned that orange tofu sounded great. So tonight I made sticky orange tofu— with made-from-scratch orange sauce & cooking tofu for the first time!— and y’all. It was so good. Another good food memory logged. This is recovery. 🤍