2025 took me through it. The woman I thought I was building a future with left. I moved in with my grandma, then into my own spot, and just when I started to settle—boom—tornado. Total loss. In every direction of life, I felt resistance. Everything I did to “fix” things only made the weight heavier.

That’s when I got the message from what I can only describe as the echo of my nervous system: do nothing.

Not as in give up, but as in pause. Stop grasping. Let go. From that stillness, things started aligning again—without force, without explanation. That phrase became a mantra for me in the dark: do nothing. And I started noticing how much I was still trying to be liked, trying to defend myself in other people’s narratives. But “do nothing” showed me those stories are theirs to hold—not mine.

“All my effort and action taken just kept creating unnecessary resistance between what I chose and acquiring it.”

“There are stories people carry about me—some that have nothing to do with me, some that do, and some that are about their own avoidance of accountability.”

“Do nothing. That was the message. And when I did nothing, blessings and pleasant experiences validated that choice.”

“Depression was the teacher herpes could never be. And we see what I’ve done with herpes.”

“The same way the sun became the star it is through pressure, heat, and friction—I’m becoming through stagnancy, expectation, and failure.”

This episode is a marker for me. A timestamp. A reminder that I don’t have to react to the world around me. I get to orient my internal world—my beliefs, my nervous system, my rhythm—and trust that the external world will shape around that alignment.

What came through this period of stillness wasn’t defeat—it was clarity. This is how I remember who I am. And this episode is my declaration of that remembrance.