



i sat in a parking lot with a planner in my lap and cried for twenty minutes.
not because anything bad happened. because i realized the person filling out the planner was not me.
i had been gone for years. i did not know it. nobody around me knew it. because the version of me that was showing up every day was so good at performing my life that even i believed it was me living it.
it was not. and the planner was not going to fix that.
the therapy was not going to fix that. the morning routine and the cold plunge and the vision board party and the book everyone swore would change my life were not going to fix that.
because none of those things were reaching me. they were reaching her.
who already felt it. who already heard themselves in the podcast. who has already been sitting with the weight of oh. that is what has been happening to me.
and who has one question.
how do i get off.




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