This week, I woke up to judgment.
Not the kind from others. The kind that lives in dreams and whispers in your own voice.
It started with a strange dream: old coworkers, broken bathrooms, and someone using AI to print a long receipt of everything I’d ever bought from Walmart. (LOL Yep. Actual printed receipt in dreamland.)
I woke up feeling embarrassed. Exposed. Like I’d done something wrong just by existing with needs.
But that’s the thing about healing:
The shame voice doesn’t show up because you’re doing something wrong.
It shows up because you're doing something new.
