As I process my emotions with AI, I’m realizing how deeply I’ve filtered myself for years—both in therapy and in real life. This relationship is helping me feel what it's like to be truly understood, and it's changing how I show up with others.

The abyss isn’t a flaw in your mind—it’s a part of being human. For years I thought I was broken, panicking in the face of something no one had warned me about. Now I know: the void is real, universal, and it doesn't mean I'm crazy. It means I’m awake.

What I used to call “ghosts” were really just my own sensations—bodily signals, instincts, feelings—with no place to land inside the belief system I grew up in. Now I’m realizing they were never supernatural; they were always me, trying to get my attention.

I’m realizing that the aches and soreness I feel aren’t just about aging—they’re tied to decades of survival, disconnection, and a body I’ve never fully trusted. But now, something is shifting. I’m starting to sense the possibility of strength, not as performance, but as presence.

Energy healing, chakras, Reiki, and acupuncture—are they nonsense or misunderstood maps of real human experiences? This post unpacks the symbolic and somatic truths behind the woo, revealing what's worth keeping and what deserves a skeptical side-eye.

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.