Being unseen and feeling unseen are not the same thing. If the story is 'I'm unseen,' no amount of recognition will ever feel like enough. Because the mind will simply dismiss it and keep searching for evidence that confirms what it already believes.

All I wanted was to be chosen. As a date for the homecoming dance of 10th grade. By my top choice college. By that guy and then that girl. By that employer. By that agent, publisher, reader. By that client. By the speaking booking agent. But not just them. I wanted it all. I wanted to be chosen by the scrolling Instagramer, that recalcitrant Amazon reviewer, that stranger who didn’t return my greeting. By my cat who spins away when I call her name. Here’s the dirty truth: I e

Unworthiness is a narcissist in disguise—a self-absorbed lie that convinces us we’re in control. If we believe we’re the problem, at least we know the rules. But certainty isn’t truth. Overcoming unworthiness means fixing the hole in our worth from the inside—with self-trust, self-permission, and the courage to claim our value, even when doubt roars like a bear.

Healing isn't all candles and crying. It's about breaking down the walls that separate us from ourselves. It requires cracking.

What if our dreams are part of our life’s design, something assigned to each of us when we entered this wild place?

I’ve listened to my fear my whole life. I’ve assumed it's great wisdom to save me from harm. But what if I’ve had it backwards?

I get that life comes with zits. I just want some really good concealer. I want to show the curated version of my messiness and confusion.

It’s a process of making the unconscious conscious. We make our conditioning external so we can examine and question it.

We search for the thing that will make us feel alive and fulfilled, not realizing we are the treasure we seek. We are the gem.

I sit before my laptop, empty and uninspired. I summon ideas; they decline. The daily war of art ensues. My dog lies beside me in her plush, memory foam bed. She fetching, her brown fur shining in a sunbeam. Her legs sprawl into a stretch, her paws flexing open then closed. A deep inhale is followed by a groaning sigh. Contentment is the vibe of her morning. We face off - my struggle versus her ease. I resent it. Her eyes are at half-mast. She fixes her hazy gaze on me and in