The Skeleton Under My Joy: A Memoir of What It Took To Be This Loud About Love

Happiness wasn’t handed to me.

I built it on top of addiction, silence, and skeletons that still rattle when I celebrate.

In this solo confessional, I name the cost: seven years of ketamine and dissociation, bloody letters on windshields when I didn’t know how to speak, recurring dreams (the tiger in the pit, the cords, the flat clock) that wired me for hyper-vigilance and perfectionism.

I talk about waking up shoeless in fields, choosing CBT, crying after sessions, and finding mischief that heals: guerrilla art, yarnbombs, tiny public interruptions that get us off autopilot.

There wasn’t one turning point. There were a hundred.

I talk about how I:

- ended up finding myself through guerrilla art

- was called boring by my boyfriend

- was inspired by David Goggins in a surprising way

- don’t believe in ”one arc” or turning point

- my deconstructed my 3 childhood recurring dreams and how they gave me insight into my childhood trauma

- am not my best student

- JUST realized why I’m drawn to my two biggest hobbies (live on air)

... I cry in this one

Feeling good isn’t natural for me; it’s chosen, again and again, with mortality in the room.

If everything feels unbearable right now, I built something for that: Everything Sucks, What Now? My practical toolkit inside the Positive Pulse, starting October 5.

Play is my protest. Wonder is my work.

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