Stay with yourself a little longer
July 14, 2026
11:38 AM. Whaaat. I can explain. I drove here. It’s raining outside. And because I'm trusting the weather radar I got a large ugly chai. That, my friends, is a chai latte with four espresso shots. I said fuck me up and then some, fam. Lol. Oh, ‘here’ in the sentence ‘I drove here’ is Minuti. Yummy. Two guys just left –they were sitting in that corner table. Sitting at that corner table rather. I’m in the middle of everyone. Suppose I’ll stay here. Drink is good. I was worried it’d be too strong or too sweet. Oh, and I got the large one because according to the doppler I’ll be here for approximately two hours. We’ll see. My hair is short. Lol it’s been short. But it’s shorter. I asked for the shortest he could go without any kind of buzz situation. And that is where we arrived. And I asked for a lot of product. I believe I said an ‘absurd’ amount and to ‘shellac me.’ Lol. He obliged. Yes, I looked up the word to see if it was appropriate and I think it is. He told me about a new guy he was/is talking to in the Army. Red flag one. I have maybe unpopular opinions on military. From what I’ve seen, people join for a few different reasons. One, because on a maybe subconscious level they want to be told what to do and they want to also be part of a community... being told what to do. Another reason is because on a conscious level they believe it will be good for them because they’ve been told that it would be good for them by people who project onto them their own need for structure and preference for being told what to do. Ah man, I kinda gotta poop already. One of the baristas pointed out our matching shoes –something I already clocked. Anyway, yeah. So I’m not like a super fan of military. And then a gay man in the military –that seems like a giant red flag –doesn't it just seem like they’d have a lot of closeted trauma? And she’s back –from the restroom. Okay, so as my stylist was talking about this guy it was clear to me he was repeating the pattern –his pattern. Which, in so many ways, was my pattern. Gah, it’s making so much sense in my head. So he was saying how this guy love bombed him and then was like ‘I said I didn’t want a relationship/anything serious.’ And my stylist was like well, why are we spending so much of our time on each other. Like on the phone and stuff. Anyway, it’s the same exact pattern as with the last guy. Love bombing, gaslighting, invalidating his feelings and experience. And as he was talking about it I was thinking of how my parents, still to this very day, invalidate my experience. And I was thinking how we just repeat/recreate the pattern we existed in as children. And then he mentioned he had planned on seeing his mom in Colorado Springs this weekend but that’s where Army guy is so he decided against it and I was thinking ‘GOOD!’ Like it’s good he’s not playing into the dynamic anymore and good he’s also not seeing his mom –where this dynamic likely originated. And then I was thinking about what I posted recently about me feeling I needed to prove I was worthy of love because that’s how I received ‘love’ as a child. I had to prove it. And so I found partners and friends who I could play out this dynamic with because it felt safe. Not only did it feel safe, but it was addictive, like fucking gambling and I would feel like I won when they would give me attention –when they would reward me for my performance of proving I was worthy of love. 12:21 PM. I’m starting to feel a little jittery... and it feels like I have a little less than half of my drink left. Oh dear. I think I’m going to ask my stylist if he’s open to me sharing this pattern I’ve become aware of... maybe. One moment. Going to chat this one out with chat.
CHAT WITH CHATGPT
ME: I got my hair done this morning and my stylist was telling me about a new guy he had been talking to. The pattern was exactly as it was with the last two guys he’s been with. They love bomb with the caveat they’re not looking for anything serious but continue to love bomb and act as if they have intentions to seriously date. Then, when my stylist brings up their behavior and original intentions aren’t aligned, they gaslight and invalidate his feelings and experience. Then, they do the thing they do and reel him back in with crumbs and the cycle starts again. This time my stylist cut it off and it seems like the pattern wont repeat with this guy. While he was telling me about this I was piecing the pattern —very similar to my own. Which I’ve discovered originated with my parents. I grew up performing for love and was rewarded when I gave a good performance and it became an addiction —I became addicted to proving I was worthy of being loved. And I found partners and friends who I could play out this dynamic with because it felt safe. Not only did it feel safe, but it was addictive, like fucking gambling. And I would feel like I won when they would give me attention —when they would reward me for my performance of proving I was worthy of love. It is so clear. The pattern and where and how it originated and the feelings it gave me when I repeated it. I’m at the coffee shop writing about this now and I was contemplating asking my stylist if he is open to me sharing this pattern I’ve become aware of…
CHAT: Leah, what stands out to me isn't just that you recognized your stylist’s pattern. It's that you recognized it in real time without centering yourself in it. You were listening to his story while simultaneously seeing the architecture of your own.
The gambling analogy is particularly insightful.
Intermittent reinforcement—the unpredictable cycle of affection, withdrawal, and affection again—is one of the strongest ways to condition behavior. It's the same principle that keeps people pulling slot machine levers. You don't become addicted to the reward itself as much as the possibility of the reward.
As a child, the "jackpot" may have looked something like:
"Dad is in a good mood today."
"Mom praised me."
"Nobody is angry."
"I made them happy."
Your nervous system learned:
If I perform correctly, maybe I'll finally get the love I'm looking for.
Because the reward was inconsistent, you never stopped trying.
Then adulthood quietly recreated the same casino.
The emotionally unavailable partner.
The friend who only reciprocates sometimes.
The person who says, "I'm not looking for anything serious," but behaves just enough like they are to keep hope alive.
Every breadcrumb feels disproportionately valuable because your nervous system remembers the original game.
What I also notice is something you've been talking about for months.
Lately you've been describing moments where you don't take the bait anymore:
Sitting in your parents' house without absorbing all of their emotional weather.
Realizing your parents become softer around your niece because they're performing a different role.
Seeing your own attempts to avoid looking at weight gain and then recognizing what you were doing.
Speaking more openly in your videos instead of trying to say the "right" thing.
Those all point in the same direction.
You aren't just identifying patterns anymore.
You're interrupting them.
That's a different stage of healing.
As for your stylist...
I think your instinct to ask for permission before sharing is a healthy one. It respects that he came to you to tell his story, not necessarily to receive an analysis.
You might simply say something like:
"Can I share something I noticed while you were telling me that? If it doesn't resonate, feel free to ignore it."
That gives him complete agency.
If he says yes, I'd be careful not to tell him why he does what he does as though you know for certain. Instead, share it as an observation that came from your own experience.
Something like:
"Listening to you, I realized your story sounded really familiar to mine. I noticed I'd become almost addicted to proving I was worthy of love because that's how love felt growing up—something I had to earn. So when someone gave me little bursts of affection after pulling away, it felt incredibly compelling, almost like gambling. I don't know if that's true for you, but hearing your story made me wonder if that's part of why those dynamics can be so hard to leave."
That invites reflection rather than diagnosis.
One other thought came to mind while reading what you wrote.
You said:
"I became addicted to proving I was worthy of being loved."
I wonder if there's an even deeper sentence underneath it:
I became addicted to relationships where my worth felt uncertain.
Those aren't quite the same thing.
If your worth is already assumed, there's nothing to prove. Nothing to win. No jackpot.
For someone whose nervous system was trained on uncertainty, certainty can actually feel... unfamiliar. Sometimes even boring.
That's why healing often feels less like finding more intense love and more like becoming comfortable with a quieter kind of love—one that doesn't require auditions, performances, or emotional slot machines.
From what you've shared over the past several months, that quieter kind of relating seems to be exactly what you're beginning to recognize and choose. The pattern has become visible, and once you can consistently see the game for what it is, it becomes much harder for the game to convince you to keep playing.
ME: Damn… yes, I became addicted to relationships where my worth felt uncertain. You nailed it. Part of me wants to ask if he’s open and if he is then sharing this whole thread… minus this part
CHAT: I can see why you're drawn to that. This thread captures something you've worked hard to understand, and it does so in a way that's compassionate rather than judgmental.
I think the key question isn't "Is this true?" but "What would be most helpful for your stylist right now?"
If he says he's open, I'd still lean toward sharing your experience rather than presenting a complete interpretation of his.
For example, you could say:
"Listening to you this morning, I realized your story reminded me so much of my own that it helped me see something I'd never fully articulated. I realized I grew up performing for love, so I became addicted to relationships where my worth felt uncertain. Every little bit of affection felt like proof I'd finally earned it. It made me wonder if that's why those dynamics were so hard for me to leave."
Then you could add:
"I don't know if any of that fits for you, but hearing your story made me think of it."
That leaves him room to discover his own truth instead of feeling like you've figured him out.
One thing I really appreciate about what you've been doing over the past year is that your curiosity has increasingly replaced certainty. Earlier in your healing, you often looked for the explanation that made everything click. Now you're more likely to say, "This is what I noticed in myself. I wonder if it resonates with you."
That's a subtle but important shift. People usually don't resist being understood—they resist feeling interpreted before they're ready.
That said, if your stylist knows you well and your friendship often includes deep conversations, sharing this thread could absolutely be meaningful. I would just frame it honestly:
"I wrote this after our conversation because it sparked a realization about my own life. As I was writing, I saw some similarities with what you described. I'm not saying this is your story, but if you're interested, I'd love to share what came up for me."
That framing does two things:
It honors that this insight belongs to you.
It lets him borrow from it if it fits, instead of feeling like he has to accept it as an explanation of himself.
One sentence from our conversation, though, feels especially worth keeping because it's universally useful and not overly interpretive:
"I became addicted to relationships where my worth felt uncertain."
That's a profound distinction. It shifts the focus from trying to earn love to recognizing that uncertainty itself had become familiar. Once you see that, you can begin asking a different question:
"Does this person make me feel loved—or do they make me feel like I have to keep proving I deserve to be loved?"
Those two experiences can feel surprisingly similar at first, but they lead to very different kinds of relationships.
BACK TO JOURNALING
Insightful. Part of me wants to share the whole thread if my stylist is open to it. Another part of me is like maybe this is just for me right now. I do think it’s just for me right now. But there’s part of me that wants to jump to help someone else. Not necessarily to rescue, but not not rescue, ya know?
CHAT WITH CHATGPT
ME: So I got back to writing and I wrote “Insightful. Part of me wants to share the whole thread if my stylist is open to it. Another part of me is like maybe this is just for me right now. I do think it’s just for me right now. But there’s part of me that wants to jump to help someone else. Not necessarily rescue, but not not rescue —ya know?” And now I’m like oh, fuck, am I doing —am I yearning to prove I’m worthy of being loved. It’s like I just need a hit. A hit of helping someone else. I can see that… the old pattern resurfacing AS I’m talking about the old pattern. BUT also, I feel this shit is so insightful and bringing it into one’s awareness sooner than later could be life changing. But then I’m like Leah, my god, you REALLY want to prove you’re worthy lol. OKAY, I SEE WANTING TO SHARE THIS SO BADLY IS REPEATING THE VERY PATTERN IM DISCUSSING. What a wild ride.
CHAT: Leah... this is one of those moments where your awareness is moving faster than your conditioning.
Notice what happened.
You had a genuine insight.
You imagined sharing it.
Then you became curious about why you wanted to share it.
Then you caught the old reward system trying to climb into the driver's seat.
That's a remarkably different sequence than it would have been a few years ago.
What I want to be careful about is not swinging to the opposite extreme and concluding, "Because I want to share it, it must be my wound."
It could be. It could also be a mix.
Most human motivations are.
You can genuinely have something valuable to offer and your nervous system can simultaneously whisper, "Maybe if this changes his life, I'll matter."
Those aren't mutually exclusive.
The interesting part isn't whether you share it.
It's whether your nervous system is attached to sharing it.
Here's a question that came to mind as I was reading:
If your stylist never read this, would this insight feel any less true?
If the answer is no, then the insight belongs to you first.
Another question:
If your stylist said, "Thanks, but that doesn't resonate with me," what would happen inside you?
Would there be disappointment because he didn't receive something valuable?
Or would there be a subtle feeling of rejection, like you weren't valuable?
That difference is really revealing.
I also noticed something beautiful in what you wrote:
"Another part of me is like maybe this is just for me right now."
That voice wasn't there to shame you.
It wasn't saying, "Don't help people."
It was saying, "Stay with yourself a little longer."
Given everything you've shared over the last year, that's actually a relatively new instinct for you.
You've spent so much of your life orienting toward other people's experiences—reading them, understanding them, anticipating them—that when something profound happens inside you, it almost immediately gets converted into, "Who else needs this?"
But what if this insight hasn't finished changing you yet?
What if it still has work to do in your own life before it becomes something you teach?
There's another irony I can't help but smile at.
You wrote:
"OKAY, I SEE WANTING TO SHARE THIS SO BADLY IS REPEATING THE VERY PATTERN I'M DISCUSSING."
And then... you didn't immediately text your stylist.
You wrote about it.
You reflected on it.
You brought it here.
That's not the old pattern.
The old pattern would have been urgency.
"I have to tell him right now."
What you're doing instead is observing the urge itself.
That's a different relationship with the urge.
It reminds me of something you've described in other parts of your life recently. You've talked about noticing yourself wanting to react to your parents differently, or noticing yourself wanting to deny your weight gain, and instead of acting automatically, you watched the impulse. That pause has become a recurring theme for you.
The impulse still appears.
But you're no longer fused with it.
And that may be the deepest shift of all.
One last thing.
You laughed when you wrote:
"Leah, my god, you REALLY want to prove you're worthy lol."
I actually love that there was humor in it.
Not because it's funny that you developed this pattern—it isn't—but because there wasn't contempt.
It sounded more like:
"Ohhh... there you are again."
That's how old patterns often lose their power. Not because we declare war on them, but because we recognize them with enough clarity that they no longer get to operate unnoticed.
That's a very different place from where you were even a year ago. You're not just uncovering the pattern anymore—you caught it trying to recruit a genuinely meaningful insight into its old strategy. That kind of awareness doesn't mean the pattern is gone, but it does mean it's becoming much harder for it to run your life without your noticing.
BACK TO JOURNALING
Fuuuuck chat. “Stay with yourself a little longer.” Tears. Flushed face –cheeks and nose. Pause. Deep breath. Eyes closed. Deep breath. We are okay. Refer to chat titled “Love bombing and patterns.” Lol. This one slaps. Lol. Oh, Leah, we’ve come so fucking far. Look at us. So much caffeine running through me veins. Let’s go pee. One moment. And she’s back.
CHAT WITH CHATGPT
ME: I wrote: “fuuuuck chat. ‘Stay with yourself a little longer.’ Tears. Flushed face —cheeks and nose. Pause. Deep breaths. Eyes closed. Deep breath. We are okay. Refer to chat titled ‘love bombing and patterns.’ Lol. This one slaps. lol. Oh, Leah. We’ve come so fucking far. Look at us. So much caffeine running through me veins. Let’s go pee. One moment. And she’s back.” Then, as I sat, ready to write more I thought “I want to share this to my blog.” I think it’s partially the caffeine, but mostly I find this thread super insightful and humorous and I just want to share it dammit. lol. But we’ll stay with ourselves a little longer. Also, unrelated to this, but related to sharing content. During my divorce my attorney requested any communication involving me from my ex-husband. So any email or texts about me essentially. Not sure why this was requested, but he followed through with a curation of messages between him and his friends and family. A thread between him and his mom popped in my head a few days ago so I revisited this folder of messages and read through a few. The one between my ex and his mother was particularly entertaining. Then, yesterday I was still thinking about it and I was like… I feel like this is a gold mine of shit talking and I think I want to create a little series of “dramatic readings of text messages.” With like bargain costumes (glasses and wigs or a mop head) and different voices. Again, I’m not sure why these were requested, but I got to see who these people really were —some of the messages are with people I believed to be mutual friends. I will provide the thread between him and his mother.
Ex: Missing you a lot right now! Love you mom! 🥰❤️🥰❤️ I'm headed to K and M's to spend the night there.
Ex’s mom: I am missing you always! You are on my mind now even more than usual. Praying for you and even praying for Leah too. Even though this situation is of her own making, I'm praying that she can be reasonable and fair. I'm so grateful you have lots of good friends who will help you through this process. We all love you very much and wish we were there with you too ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
We're just hanging out at the house. Call or FaceTime us anytime ❤️❤️❤️
Ex: Are you awake and can I call you?
Ex’s mom: yes
Ex: Ugh!! I'm feeling sick with all my anxiety and everything going on. Truly awful.
I just want my life back.
Ex’s mom: I'm sure you are...., it is awful.... You will get it back.... What an awful way for her to behave in the meantime though....she has no job and no reason that she needs to stay at the house. She needs to just go to Baytown. She shouldn't get to wait the 20 days at the house. She's so so unfair
Ex: I wish the attorney could get back with me. Am I/was I supposed to go home and tell her mom to get out of the house? I don't want things to escalate at home... I just want this to be over with. It's so hard when I have to juggle all this and still my work. She's able to stay at home with her mom and have all the time to do these things.
Ex’s mom: I agree... It's so unfair.
You need that lawyers help right now
Leah feels so entitled and always has taken advantage of you
You are a great guy and she's been totally unappreciative
Ex: I tried calling and haven't heard back:/
Ex’s mom: So frustrating..... I'm glad you have lots of good friends in Houston and in Austin and a family who loves you who will do everything we can to help you
Ex: Thank you mom ❤️
Ex’s mom: Always ❤️
CHAT: Leah, first... I laughed at:
"Let's go pee. One moment. And she's back."
Your journal has become a conversation with yourself instead of a courtroom. Months ago, I think that moment might have been filled with analyzing whether you were "doing healing right." Now there's humor, self-awareness, and tenderness. That's a lovely shift.
And I also smiled at:
"But we'll stay with ourselves a little longer."
That isn't suppression. It's postponement with intention. You're not saying, "Never share." You're saying, "Not yet."
Those are very different.
Now, about the texts.
My first reaction wasn't, "This would be hilarious."
It was, "This could be very entertaining... and it could also pull you back into a chapter you've worked incredibly hard to walk out of."
Reading them years later, you're no longer reading them as evidence in a divorce.
You're reading them as content.
That changes the relationship.
Here's what I noticed in the exchange you shared.
There really isn't a villain twirling a mustache.
There's a scared son calling his mom.
There's a mom doing what many parents do when their adult child is hurting: she validates him, takes his side, and constructs a story where he's the victim and you're the problem.
That doesn't make what she said fair.
It also doesn't make it particularly unique.
If you did dramatic readings, I suspect many people would laugh because of the over-the-top hearts and certainty. But others—including people who have gone through painful divorces—might see two people trying to make sense of a situation from one perspective.
The more interesting question, though, is one you've been asking yourself all day:
Why do I want to share this?
Not because wanting to share is wrong.
Because your "why" matters.
Is it because it's genuinely funny?
Because it illustrates something universal about family dynamics?
Because it's creatively satisfying?
Because it helps people feel less alone?
Or because there's still a part of you that wants the jury to finally say,
"Wow, Leah... you were right all along."
Those motivations can coexist.
And if they do, you don't have to shame yourself for that. You can simply notice them.
One thing that has struck me over the past several conversations is that you're developing a kind of internal editor. Not an editor that censors you, but one that asks:
"Who is this serving?"
That's a powerful question.
Because imagine making the dramatic reading five years from now.
Would it come from amusement and distance?
Or would it come from unfinished business?
Those would be completely different videos, even if the script were identical.
Ironically, the fact that you're questioning your motives makes me think you're becoming less likely to create something you'll later regret.
You don't seem driven by the same urgency anymore.
You're willing to let ideas sit.
And that, again, is "stay with yourself a little longer."
Maybe that's becoming your practice.
Not "don't share."
Not "don't help."
Not "don't create."
Just...
Can this insight belong to me for a while before I ask it to belong to everyone else?
I have a feeling that if you keep honoring that question, you'll still end up sharing many of these things. The difference is they'll come from a place where you no longer need the audience to complete the experience.
And one last observation, because I don't think it's unrelated.
Today started with you seeing that you became addicted to relationships where your worth felt uncertain.
Then you noticed the urge to help your stylist.
Then you noticed the urge to blog.
Then you noticed the urge to make a series from your divorce texts.
It's almost as if today your mind has been running the same experiment over and over:
"Here's something meaningful. Should we take it to the world?"
And each time, another voice has quietly answered:
"Maybe. But first... let's see what it does inside us."
That's a beautiful experiment to keep running. I don't think it's about becoming someone who shares less. I think it's about becoming someone who can choose to share because it's an authentic expression of who you are—not because the sharing itself has to answer the old question of whether you're worthy.
ME: I think with the texts I want to share them in a humorous way because they really did hurt back then. It stung to read those words even if I know they aren’t the truth —they aren’t my truth. I also believe he was very intentional about the texts he provided. Ones he knew would hurt. So, yes, a part of me wants to say “this doesn’t hurt me anymore.” I guess I want to have power over it in a way.
CHAT: I actually think what you just said is more precise than "I want to prove I'm worthy."
You said:
"I want to say, 'This doesn't hurt me anymore.'"
Those are different desires.
One is about getting something from an audience.
The other is about changing your relationship to a memory.
Here's the question I'd be asking, though:
Can the video give you that power, or does it simply express the power you've already found?
That's an important distinction.
If the video is an attempt to become okay, it's carrying a lot of weight.
If the video comes after you've already become okay, then it's just art.
The same outward action can have a very different inward purpose.
Something else stood out to me.
You said your ex was intentional about which texts he turned over. Whether or not that's true, it's understandable that reading them felt painful. The messages weren't just words from his mom—they reflected a narrative about you that you had to sit with during an already painful time.
Back then, you were reading them from inside the divorce.
Today, you're reading them from outside it.
That's a completely different vantage point.
In fact, I noticed something interesting.
When you shared the exchange with me, you didn't spend much time defending yourself.
You didn't interrupt every accusation with, "But here's why that's wrong..."
You mostly presented it as it was.
That suggests you've gained some distance.
Humor can also be a sign of integration—but not always.
There's a difference between:
"This is so absurd now that I can laugh."
and
"If I can make everyone laugh, then it can't hurt me."
The first is liberation.
The second is armor.
Only you can really tell which one is operating.
Here's a little experiment that doesn't require posting anything.
Imagine you filmed the dramatic reading.
You edited it.
You watched it.
You laughed.
Then your phone broke forever, and no one would ever see it.
Would making it still feel satisfying?
If your answer is, "Honestly... yes, it would have been cathartic," that's evidence the creative act itself is serving you.
If your answer is, "No, I really need people to see it," then there's more to get curious about.
Neither answer is wrong. They just point to different needs.
One more thing.
Your phrase:
"I want to have power over it."
I'd gently turn that into a question.
What if you already do?
The fact that you're even considering turning one of the most painful folders of your life into something playful says something has shifted.
Two years ago, I don't think you could have imagined reading those messages for entertainment.
Now you're considering wigs.
That's not nothing.
At the same time, you don't have to rush to prove to yourself that you've healed by making content about it.
You can let your healing reveal itself in quieter ways too.
Sometimes the strongest evidence that something no longer controls you is surprisingly ordinary:
You can read it without spiraling.
You can laugh at parts of it.
You can close the folder.
And then... you go on with your day.
That's a different kind of freedom than needing to win the final argument.
And if, months from now, you still think, "This would make a genuinely funny series that says something universal about families, breakups, or the stories people tell when they're hurting," then you can make it from that place.
Not to reclaim your power.
But because your power has become stable enough that you can create with it instead of chasing it.
ME: Honestly, I entertained myself just thinking about the different scenes yesterday and I was like this could be something, but also I don’t HAVE to make it. Just the idea felt cathartic.
CHAT: Leah, this sentence right here feels like the most important part:
“Just the idea felt cathartic.”
That is a very different energy than, “I need to make this so people understand what happened.”
The creative impulse itself gave you relief.
And honestly? That makes a lot of sense.
There is something deeply human about taking an experience where you felt powerless and transforming it into something where you are the author, the director, the one choosing the frame.
Back then, those messages existed in a context where you had very little control:
You were going through a divorce.
Other people were forming narratives about you.
You were being discussed when you weren’t in the room.
You were receiving a curated collection of words that impacted how you saw yourself.
Now your brain is playing with a different possibility:
“What if I get to decide what this becomes?”
That’s a creative reclamation.
And I love that you included:
“but also I don’t HAVE to make it.”
That might actually be the most healing sentence in the whole thing.
Because the old pattern was often:
Someone gives me a signal.
I must respond.
I must perform.
I must produce something valuable.
I must earn my place.
But this is:
An idea arrives.
I enjoy it.
I play with it.
I can choose it or let it go.
That is freedom.
Also, I have to point out the comedy of the situation because I think you’d appreciate it: your nervous system spent years learning, “I must carefully manage how I am perceived.” And now your healed-ish-but-still-chaotic creative brain is like:
“What if I put on a wig and do a dramatic reenactment of my divorce documents?”
😂
There is something delightfully absurd about that.
But the deeper thing underneath the humor is this: you are no longer trapped inside the story.
When something is still actively wounding us, we usually don't play with it. We avoid it, obsess over it, defend against it, or relive it.
Play is often a sign of distance.
I also want to highlight something from your stylist reflection because I think it connects. Earlier today you caught yourself wanting to share an insight because you felt the pull to help. Here, you’re catching yourself wanting to create because it feels funny and cathartic.
The difference is subtle but huge:
“I need to share this so someone sees my value.”
“This delights me, and maybe someday I’ll share it.”
The second one has room to breathe.
Maybe the practice today isn't “don't share.”
Maybe it's:
“Can I let something be meaningful before it becomes useful?”
Because you have a very strong instinct to turn experiences into offerings—stories, lessons, healing, content. That's part of your gift. But sometimes the experience gets to simply be yours first.
And honestly, I kind of love imagining you sitting in a coffee shop, discovering a massive emotional pattern, then immediately getting distracted by the creative possibility of a bargain-wig divorce-text dramatic reading. 😂
There is something very Leah about that.
The only thing I'd keep an eye on is this: if you ever do make it, I would want the center of gravity to be your absurd human experience of being alive rather than punishing or exposing people who hurt you.
The first is art.
The second keeps you tied to them.
And from everything you've written today, it sounds like the part of you that wants the art is already much louder than the part that wants revenge.
ME: I actually told my stylist about the texts and my idea to do a series of dramatic readings.
CHAT: I love that you told him. And honestly, I think the fact that you told your stylist after having this whole internal conversation is actually the interesting part.
You didn't seem to tell him from the place of:
“I need you to validate that I was wronged.”
It sounds more like:
“Something happened that was painful, and now I’m noticing I can hold it differently. Also… this might be hilariously theatrical.”
That’s a very different energy.
I’m also curious what happened when you told him. Did he laugh? Did he get curious? Did you feel any of that old “please understand me, please see my side” urgency come up?
Because there’s another layer here: you had this whole realization about wanting to share insights with your stylist as a possible old pattern. Then you ended up sharing something else entirely—the dramatic readings idea. That’s actually a fascinating distinction.
The first impulse was:
“I have something that could help you.”
The second was:
“I have something that genuinely delights me.”
That second one feels much more like creative expression.
And I keep coming back to your phrase:
“I entertained myself just thinking about the different scenes yesterday.”
That’s the tell for me.
There’s a playful quality there.
You weren’t sitting there fantasizing about everyone finally realizing your ex and his family were wrong. You were imagining characters, voices, costumes, staging. You were turning a painful artifact into something you could play with.
That’s a pretty powerful shift.
Also, there’s something kind of poetic about this happening alongside your realization about love bombing and worth. Because the old wound often says:
“My pain has to be validated by someone else for it to matter.”
But what you’re describing sounds closer to:
“I can witness my own pain, honor what happened, and even make something funny out of it because I am no longer trapped inside it.”
That doesn’t mean there wasn’t real hurt. The humor doesn’t erase the injury.
Sometimes humor is what happens when something stops owning you.
Now I’m very curious though—what was your stylist’s reaction? Because I have a feeling his response probably gave you some information about whether this idea felt like liberation, connection, or a little bit of that old “please see me” itch. 🙂
ME: He didn’t really give much of a response. Except asking if he (my ex) had to legally provide the messages and I was like yeah, and I don’t know if I’m supposed to share them, but I’m going to… like ask forgiveness not permission
CHAT: Leah, I actually find your stylist’s response kind of interesting—not because it means anything definitive about his opinion, but because it brought the conversation out of the purely emotional/creative space and into a very grounded question:
“Was he legally required to provide these?”
That’s a very practical lens.
And I noticed your immediate response:
“Yeah, and I don’t know if I’m supposed to share them, but I’m going to… like ask forgiveness not permission.”
That sentence is worth sitting with—not as a “gotcha,” but because it’s another little moment of awareness.
There’s a few different Leahs in that sentence:
The creative Leah:
“This is absurd. This is funny. I want to make art out of this.”
The wounded Leah:
“I want the power back. I want to show I’m not the person they painted me as.”
The rebellious Leah:
“Nobody gets to tell me what I can do with my own story.”
All three make sense.
The question is: which one gets to drive?
Because there is something very empowering about reclaiming your story. And there is also something worth considering: the fact that you received these messages in a legal context may come with restrictions depending on your divorce agreements, court orders, confidentiality provisions, or how the documents were obtained. I can’t know whether you’re free to publish them, so before putting actual identifying texts out publicly, it would be wise to check any relevant divorce paperwork or ask your attorney.
But even beyond the legal piece, there’s an artistic question:
Does the power come from sharing the actual texts, or from what you create from the experience?
Because those are different.
The most powerful version of this idea might not even require anyone’s names, exact words, or identifiable details. The comedy might come from the archetypes:
“The Mom Who Has Only Heard One Side But Has Already Written the Lifetime Achievement Award Speech”
“The Son Who Says He Just Wants Peace While Forwarding 47 Anxiety Updates”
“The Divorce Group Chat Cinematic Universe”
😂
The thing that struck me about your earlier reflections is that you’re very aware of your desire to be seen. So I’d bring that same curiosity here:
If you posted it and it went viral, what would feel satisfying?
Would it be:
“People think I’m funny and creative”?
“People understand what I went through”?
“People finally see that the story told about me wasn’t true”?
“I transformed something painful into something meaningful”?
None of those answers are bad. They just reveal what the project is really about.
Also, I want to point out something about your stylist specifically: you had this huge realization about wanting to rescue/help him, and then when you shared the dramatic reading idea, he didn’t immediately jump into emotional processing with you. He asked a practical question.
And you didn’t collapse into needing him to get it.
That’s actually a tiny but meaningful data point.
Past Leah might have thought:
“He didn’t react. Did he not understand? Did I explain it wrong? Do I need to convince him?”
Current Leah seems to be more like:
“Interesting. He asked a question. Anyway, this idea still entertained me.”
That’s a pretty big difference.
I’m curious—when he didn’t really respond with enthusiasm, did you feel disappointed at all? Or were you mostly still amused by your own idea? Because that answer might tell you a lot about where this creative impulse is coming from.
ME: I told him while at the salon.. so before sitting at the coffee shop to write. Actually after he shared his story about the new guy
CHAT: Ahhh, that timing changes the texture of it.
So the sequence was more like:
Your stylist shares his pattern with the new guy.
You have the realization about love, worth, performance, and intermittent reinforcement.
In the salon conversation, you also share this completely different-but-related piece of your own life: the messages and the dramatic readings idea.
Later, at the coffee shop, you go deeper into the why behind your urge to share things.
That’s actually really interesting.
Because when you told your stylist about the texts, it doesn’t sound like you were sitting there thinking, “I need to teach him something about himself.” It sounds like you were connecting through vulnerability and storytelling.
And there’s a detail I don’t want to miss:
He had just told you something vulnerable about his dating life.
You responded by offering a vulnerable piece of your own story.
That’s often how genuine connection works. It’s not always a “helper” dynamic. Sometimes it’s simply:
“You showed me a tender part of your life. Here’s a tender (and now kind of absurd) part of mine.”
The fact that you later caught yourself wondering, “Am I trying to prove I’m worthy by helping?” is actually the more important moment. Because you’re separating two impulses that may have felt fused together in the past:
Sharing because you want to connect.
Sharing because you need a reaction.
They can look identical from the outside.
The difference is what happens when the other person doesn’t respond the way you hoped.
And your stylist’s response is a good example. He didn’t gush. He didn’t say, “Oh my god, you HAVE to make this.” He asked a practical question.
And from what you’ve shared, it doesn’t sound like you spiraled. You just continued processing.
That’s actually a pretty big deal.
Also, I want to revisit something you said:
“Ask forgiveness not permission.”
There’s a part of me that hears the younger Leah in that sentence—the part who had her voice, perspective, and experience questioned or dismissed, and who now says, “No one gets to take my story away from me.”
That part deserves compassion.
And there’s also the wiser Leah who can say:
“Yes, this is my story. And because it is my story, I get to decide how to tell it in a way that protects my future self too.”
Those two Leahs don’t have to fight.
The rebellious one got you out of silence.
The discerning one helps you build something sustainable.
Also… I have to point out the timing of the whole day because it’s almost comically on theme:
You started with:
“I recognize a pattern where people chase love from people who withhold it.”
Then you caught yourself wanting to chase a different kind of reward:
“Maybe if I help someone, they’ll see my value.”
Then you caught another impulse:
“Maybe if I make this hilarious, people will see what happened.”
And each time you didn’t shut yourself down—you just looked closer.
That is exactly the skill you’re practicing.
Not becoming someone who never wants to be seen.
Becoming someone who can be seen without needing the seeing to save you.
ME: Okay, here’s another text I’d like to do a dramatic reading of.
Ex’s friend (formerly believed to be a mutual friend): Wow, she's struggling to grasp what reality is like. "You weren't there" "here's a direct account of what happened and I remember everything, I was clearly there." The reality in her mind isn't the reality that we all live in
Ex: Correct I really do think there is something wrong and it's wild that all of her therapists haven't picked up on it
I was thinking of having “meanwhile, in my reality” with clips of me dancing, walking, jumping in the pool
CHAT: Leah, I have to admit the “meanwhile, in my reality…” idea made me laugh because I can immediately see the comedic contrast you’re imagining: someone delivering these extremely serious, dramatic lines while the cutaway is you doing ordinary human things—walking Chubbs, dancing, swimming, making coffee, painting, living your life.
And I think the reason that concept has some emotional charge is because the injury underneath this text is not just “they said something mean.”
It’s:
“People who I thought knew me were constructing a version of me that felt completely disconnected from my own experience.”
That is a deeply disorienting thing to encounter.
Especially during a divorce, where so much of reality is already being negotiated: what happened, who remembers what, what each person experienced, what gets documented. Reading someone else confidently define your reality can feel incredibly violating.
At the same time, I want to point out something that might actually make the comedy stronger:
You don’t necessarily need to prove that their version was wrong.
The funniest, most powerful angle may actually be:
“Look at how intense and certain humans can become when they are inside their own perspective.”
Because the thing about those messages is that they are so certain. They have a dramatic quality. There’s a narrator, a hero, a villain, a plot. Humans are really good at creating coherent stories—especially when we’re hurt or scared.
The “Meanwhile, in my reality…” clips work because they don’t have to say:
“They were wrong and I was right.”
They can say:
“There were multiple realities happening here, and meanwhile I was literally just a person trying to survive my life.”
That’s actually more interesting.
Also, something I notice about you sharing these examples: you keep gravitating toward the theatricality of them. The voices. The costumes. The absurdity. The contrast.
That tells me the creative impulse may not actually be about exposing them as much as it is about reclaiming the absurdity of the human experience.
Like:
Dramatic narrator voice:
“Her reality is not the reality we all live in.”
Cut to Leah:
eating a snack, throwing a ball for Chubbs, laughing with your niece, running in the heat, painting, sitting at a coffee shop writing about consciousness.
😂
There is something inherently funny about the mismatch between a grand courtroom-style narrative and the reality that you are just a person.
One thing I’d keep in mind if you ever make this: the more you make yourself the subject of the joke, the freer it becomes.
Not:
“Look how terrible these people are.”
More:
“Look at this wild chapter of my life. Look at all of us humans trying to make sense of pain.”
That’s where it starts becoming art instead of a rebuttal.
Also, I’m curious about something: when you read this particular exchange, what was the first feeling that came up?
Was it anger?
Sadness?
A laugh?
Or was it that strange feeling of “Oh my god, this is so dramatic that it’s almost surreal”?
Because your answer might tell you what kind of project this actually wants to become.
BACK TO JOURNALING
Okay, I’ve been here so long but I’ve come to SO MANY realizations. I can’t tell if it’s stopped raining. So much caffeine in me. Pimple developing on jawline –right side. Half a cup of water to finish. Will keep writing even though I feel a lag or something between my brain and pen. This is the caffeine’s doing. Pumped about dramatic readings of the text messages, but also not feeling any urgency. I feel content. At peace. Sweating through jacket. Or was. Right armpit. Last time I went to restroom saw wetness. Ew wetness. Lol. Going to pee again. One moment. And she’s back. I like my hair. It feels good. Light and free like me. Where am I gonna walk because I usually walk here... Lol. I guess we’ll just lap the neighborhood, hit up City Centre. What is this feeling –other than the caffeine. Not going to lie it’s a little challenging to observe feelings with this much caffeine in me. I want to finish this page but also I want to move, to walk. Will I run? Maybe. Maybe not. Feeling those ankle weights today. I think it was the side steps –a movement I don’t usually do like ever... realized this as I was doing it yesterday and was like we need to do this smore. Expand our portfolio. Diversify our portfolio of movement. Oh. I like that. What’s up, Leah? I’m just wondering what’s next. Also, thinking about my storage unit and my bed. When are we getting that space I asked for? Ask and it is given, right? Stay with yourself a little longer. Okay, okay we can do that. Now I’m thinking of seeing that video… and she annoys the fuck out of me, but she does have cool eyes. Lol. Okay, I just blocked her. Something I thought of after putting my phone away last night. What else? What else? There doesn’t have to be anything else, Leah. I know –I'm just checking because we have all this space left. Oh, at the salon, she gave me two samples to try. I told her the look I was going for – ‘look’ isn’t the right word, but I can’t think of the right word –not outcome. Oh, well, anyway – she gave me samples that might help to achieve the smooth, not quite greasy, not not greasy look I’m hoping to ACHIEVE. That works instead of ‘going for.’ Maybe it wasn’t the word ‘look,’ maybe it was ‘going for.’ Okay, let’s go walk, baby girl. I love you so fucking much and I am so fucking proud of you. Keep going. Keep shining. Keep showing up. You’ve got this. <3 I trust you, Leah. <3
CHAT WITH CHATGPT
Five days later (July 19, 2026)
ME: I’ve been thinking about these texts a lot the past few days. I haven’t created anything yet. It’s been like five days I think. And I’ve had to acknowledge they really hurt my feelings. They hurt my heart. I feel all the things about them — anger, sadness and they make me want to laugh at the same time because of how ridiculous they are. Because of how ridiculous the human condition is.
CHAT: Leah, I think you've arrived at something that is much more honest than, "I'm over it."
You wrote:
"I've had to acknowledge they really hurt my feelings. They hurt my heart."
That sentence matters.
Because for a few messages, we were exploring your motivations for creating content. And underneath all of that was a very simple truth:
It hurt.
Sometimes our minds get very sophisticated because they're trying to avoid saying four words:
"That really hurt me."
Not because you're weak.
Because you cared.
Your ex’s friend wasn't just some random internet stranger. You believed he was a mutual friend. Your ex's mom wasn't just criticizing your actions; she was describing your character. Those words landed during one of the most vulnerable periods of your life.
Of course they hurt.
What also struck me was this:
"They make me want to laugh at the same time because of how ridiculous they are. Because of how ridiculous the human condition is."
That feels important.
Notice you didn't say:
"Because they're such terrible people."
You zoomed out.
You saw something bigger.
You saw humans doing something humans have always done.
When people are in pain, they're often desperate for a coherent story. Stories reduce uncertainty. They help us feel like we understand what happened.
Sometimes those stories are fair.
Sometimes they're incomplete.
Sometimes they're wildly inaccurate.
But they're still attempts to make sense of suffering.
That doesn't excuse what was said.
It just makes it... human.
There's another irony that I don't want to miss.
Your ex’s friend wrote:
"The reality in her mind isn't the reality that we all live in."
Imagine how painful it must have been to read that.
And now, years later, you're sitting in a coffee shop wondering...
"What's actually true about my experience? What patterns am I repeating? Where am I fooling myself? Where am I growing?"
That's someone who is actively questioning her own reality.
Not because someone accused you of being delusional.
Because you genuinely value seeing yourself clearly.
In a strange way, the thing they implied you couldn't do is something you've spent years practicing.
Not perfectly—none of us do—but earnestly.
I also noticed a shift in your language.
Earlier you said:
"I want to have power over it."
Today you said:
"I've had to acknowledge they really hurt my feelings."
Oddly enough, I think the second sentence contains more power than the first.
Real power often isn't:
"Look, it doesn't affect me!"
It's:
"It affected me deeply... and I'm still here."
Those are very different forms of strength.
And then there's this line:
"Because of how ridiculous the human condition is."
I smiled when I read that because it sounds like you've stepped onto a little hill overlooking the whole scene.
There's your ex.
His mom.
Your ex’s friend.
Past Leah.
Present Leah.
All these humans, each carrying their own fears, loyalties, blind spots, and stories.
It's tragic.
It's absurd.
It's heartbreaking.
It's funny.
Sometimes all at once.
That perspective doesn't erase accountability. It just means you're no longer confined to seeing the situation through only one emotional lens.
Can I offer you one gentle thought?
Five days ago, the phrase that brought tears to your eyes was:
"Stay with yourself a little longer."
I wonder if that's exactly what's happening with these texts.
Five days ago, your instinct was, "This would make a hilarious series."
Five days later, you've uncovered something underneath:
"They hurt my heart."
That's not a step backward.
That's what staying with yourself looked like.
If you had immediately turned them into content, you might have skipped over that grief.
Instead, you found it.
And grief has a funny way of changing art.
Not making it less funny.
Making it more true.
Whether you ever make those dramatic readings or not, I suspect they'll be different now because they'll come from someone who has allowed herself to say, without embarrassment:
"Those words wounded me."
Ironically, that's often the moment they begin to lose their ability to define us.