It took me a few days to get here. Not physically…though my body has been moving through its own rhythms and rituals, but here… the inside place. The space where I can sit, listen, and simply be. Calmly. Quietly. Contentedly

And how to lovingly find your way back home… You know that feeling when you look in the mirror and think, “Where did I go?” You’re going through the motions… doing the things… maybe even checking all the “right” boxes, yet something feels off. Muted. Fuzzy. Fucked up…Like you’re living just a few inches to the left of your own life.

The Cult of Consistency The world is obsessed with consistency. “Show up the same way every day.” “Discipline over everything.” “Success loves structure.” Blah. Blah. Burnout. We’re told if we just keep doing the same thing in the same way, eventually it’ll all click. But here’s the sacred rebellion: You don’t have to be consistent to be committed. Read that again.

We’ve mastered the art of pretending everything’s fine while we’re dying inside. We’ve built elaborate systems to avoid looking at the scared parts of ourselves. We’ve gotten so good at hiding from our own fear that we’ve forgotten it’s even there.

The part where you’re crying in your car, questioning everything, and wondering if personal growth was just a scam invented by people selling journals. Here’s what nobody tells you about transformation: it’s not fucking pretty.