10/14/2025
I used to have emergency sessions with my therapist the day before my period. Never failed. When I finally saw the pattern, I started tracking it.
Today was one of those days. Everything was ending inside; everything was wrong. I was wrong. You’re wrong. I need to leave Bali. I don’t even know where to go. I just wanted everything to stop, implode, explode—just PLODE, damnit.
Maybe it’s Pluto. (I learned about Pluto from ChatGPT and late-night IG searches.) Pluto’s doing something fierce, so I can blame it on that.
Or maybe it’s because the world is burning—inside and out—and we’re all hurting each other and not even aware. We are in a crazy massive quantum shift.
Or maybe it’s my clients. I spend my days listening to people in their excruciating pain; and they hope (& I wish!) my magic wand can make these lifetimes of theirs just… go away.
Is it my hormones? That dreaded word midlife—which I don’t even feel I’ve earned because I never got married, had kids, lived in suburbia, or did anything “normal.”
I’m in this weird jungle full of construction, creating the most strange, exquisite, dreamlike world.
Am I in midlife? Did it come to that?
Maybe I’m still grieving my ex (I still miss you every day, you stupid man). Or maybe it’s all those deaths, all the loss these past years
I can blame it on…
And then of course—does the “why” even matter?
I’m a highly sensitive, moody motherf*cker who lives the high waves, the low waves, and the textures in between.
What I do with this—that’s what matters. How I meet this, how I dance with these mad waves 🌊
“Don’t buy into your thoughts,” I tell myself.
“Hang tight, Chickee,” I also say.
There’s a storm inside, a storm outside.
And if I just start breathing again, if I pull myself back a little… it’s a little okay.
Give it some time. It’s all okay.
Sending you love under massive starry skies.
I’m hiding out in a quiet place, just listening. 🌙