Your Fears Are Running a Rerun Channel (And You Keep Paying the Subscription)

Or: A Somatic Guide to Turning Your Beautiful Disasters Into Actual Equipment

Listen, gorgeous disaster, we need to talk about those moments when your perfectly curated existence suddenly feels like it got tossed in a blender by someone who forgot to put the lid on. You know that exact feeling when everything you thought was solid ground turns into quicksand, and you’re left standing there like “Excuse me, reality? What the actual hell? I had PLANS. I made LISTS. I bought the JOURNAL.”

Your body knew this was coming before your mind caught up. That restlessness in your chest last month? That strange grief for a future that hadn’t happened yet? Your tissue was already receiving the memo that your nervous system was about to get reorganized. Your fascia files everything. Your cells keep records your conscious mind never reads.

Here’s the plot twist nobody puts on their vision boards between the aesthetic quotes and the pictures of beach houses: These life disruptions aren’t accidents or punishment for that time you didn’t tip the barista because you were dissociati…