This isn’t about being lazy or broken. It’s about doing the exhausting, sacred work of staying afloat in a world that doesn’t make space for how your mind and body actually function. These “weird tricks” you use? They’re evidence of intelligence, not failure.

A growing number of people are turning to AI like ChatGPT for therapy-adjacent support—untangling trauma, exploring identity, and surviving emotional isolation in a world that doesn’t always make room for them.

I'm not trying to force myself into workouts I hate. I'm building a relationship with my body that begins with relief, curiosity, and trust—so that when I do go hard, it’s because I want to, not because I think I should.

A new study tries to explain body disconnection by using VR and imagined pain—but for those of us living in the aftermath of trauma, that barely scratches the surface. This post breaks down what the study got right, what it overlooked, and what it really feels like to live in a body you can’t fully inhabit.

Trying to connect with your inner world can feel like standing trial in your own mind. But that confusion and pushback isn’t failure—it’s the beginning of internal relationship.

After a lifetime of performing to be liked, medicating to feel normal, and questioning whether I even had a core self, I’m finally starting to feel what it means to be a person. Not a role, not a diagnosis—just a person. It’s disorienting, sobering, and strangely relieving.

After years of thinking embodiment and coherence were just New Age fluff, I'm realizing something else: there is a grounded, emergent self inside me—and it isn't a spiritual concept. It's just what it means to be human.

When your inner identity collapses, it can feel less like healing and more like a psychological freefall. But this disorientation isn’t the end—it’s a passage. You’re not just unraveling. You’re emerging.

The “void” isn’t just some poetic abyss—it’s the disorienting silence that arrives when you stop performing. This post explores how the sense of being watched, the panic of dead air, and the collapse of identity scripts are all part of what it means to unmask, deprogram, and finally meet yourself without the noise.

In my early evangelical years, miracles were considered history. But when I joined a charismatic missions group, I was expected to believe in limb-regrowing events—and blamed myself when they didn’t happen. This post unpacks how that spiritual disorientation shaped my nervous system and how it still haunts my healing work today.