💌 Letters from the Rebuild #22
The Armor I Didn’t Know I Was Wearing
There are some truths that don’t arrive as lightning bolts.
They arrive in the quiet.
In the corners.
In the small, almost-invisible moments where your life catches up to your healing…
and suddenly something ordinary becomes a revelation.
This past week, I had one of those moments.
And it cracked something open in me.
But before I tell you about the knives — and yes, hilariously, it is about knives — I need to talk about something bigger.
Something messier.
Something I’ve been unpacking slowly, like the layers of a stinky onion (healing is glamorous like that).
I need to talk about clutter.
🪨 The Clutter I Used to Think Was Just “Me”
For decades, I believed clutter was simply woven into the fabric of my identity.
I thought:
This is just how my creative brain works.
I’m a writer — of course my house looks like a thinking tornado lives here.
Organized people are built differently; I wasn’t in that batch.
It’s fine. It’s harmless. It’s just part of who I am.
And somewhere along the line, those beliefs hardened into truth.
But here’s the actual truth — the truth I didn’t know how to see:
