It wasn’t my fault I was a princess. It wasn’t my fault I deserved to be treated as one.

I think about my mom and dad a lot. I always have, but now, since I can’t call them or go see them, the thoughts feel rooted in stunned longing instead of judgmental push/pull attachment.

May you see yourself the way the others in the group and I see you.

I want to tell you something. Life coaching school almost killed me. Maybe I’m exaggerating, but I said it, so also maybe it’s true.

I think in 2026 we are going to enter the era of feelings.

Dear Joe. And I mean that: Dear Joe. (I have a friend who also watches your YouTube videos and who calls you our Joe.)

When I was born, I told the doctor it was important he put me on my mother’s chest. We can’t do that, he said. We can’t let her see you. She might get attached.

Today was day 3 of Art of Accomplishment’s Connection Course.

(Note: this essay is even more all over the place than is typical for me. I was trying to say too much with too few words, but at least I tried.)

I love being a writing coach in part because my whole body loves it.

It’s my birthday. My birth day. My emotions are all over the place.

What if I took my toes as my own. My feet. My hands. What if all of me is me?