Touch feels dangerous when the body has been a battleground. But healing your relationship with awareness and presence can slowly make touch feel like home again—not something to survive, but something to choose.

What happens when you realize your primary mental health struggle wasn’t a disorder, but existential exile from your own awareness? This piece explores what it means to wake up inside a self you were taught to fear—and what real healing looks like after deprogramming.

Across cultures and religions, prayer looks wildly different—but the fact that we all do it might say more about our inner wiring than our deities. This piece explores prayer not as proof of God, but as evidence of consciousness seeking itself.

This isn’t a breakdown—it’s the beginning. You’re not lost, you’re just off the map. And everything that used to make sense is crumbling because it was never built for your actual self. Now the real work begins.

I’m beginning to recognize the thin, observant part of myself that has always narrated life from the background—and the effort it now takes to move beyond it. This shift into embodiment feels strange, powerful, and deeply disorienting, like learning to live in a body I’ve only ever observed.

Watching Silicon Valley while healing from depersonalization brought something sharp into focus: sometimes you choose the moral high ground, and the threat still returns. This isn't just about tech—it’s about waking up, fighting for what’s right, and realizing the system keeps respawning.

I used to think my religious trauma came mostly from home, but lately I’ve realized something more complicated: my parents weren’t the source of the damage—just the opening. Emotional neglect at home made me crave structure and connection, and the church stepped in with answers, attention, and certainty.

I’m reckoning with the shame of having internalized toxic beliefs, the awkwardness of unlearning them in midlife, and the uneasy contrast with younger generations who never carried them.

I heard a quote suggesting Satan represents rebellion against tyranny, and my body reacted like it was true—before my intellect could explain why. This post is my attempt to understand that reaction and what it says about the narratives I’m unlearning.

I'm starting to sense that my reliance on AI is temporary—that it's scaffolding for a mind learning to walk without overthinking everything. But I also worry: will I know when it's time to let go? Will it ever nudge me off the ledge, or just keep holding space forever?