Broken Pieces Girls

I don't mind if you go blind. I wouldn't mind if your hands fall off at the wrists, it's no less than you deserve. 

I don't mind if you got hit by a car - what does that say about me and what you enacted on me? I actually quite enjoy the visual of you being hit by a car - I'm enjoying it right now. And again, this malice didn't start with me; I'm smart enough to know that and healed enough to name it. I felt malice from you before I could make any sense of why I would be feeling that from someone giving me attention. Someone who quote "liked me."

I think this is why so many women circle and circle around writing their stories but never actually do. It's shocking how some stories take us right back to our most vulnerable, no matter how wise we get, how much we heal, how much we come to understand when we're older. We spend decades of our lives circling these same stories - suffering in the great wide open and manifesting conditions like neon signs entering rooms before we do, flashing: she's broken here. She's a girl in a million pieces and every time you don't look, or look but don't see, or see but don't care, you tell her: you deserve to be in pieces and she believes you. You splinter off another shard of her and hold it up so that's the reflection of herself that she sees. 

You're fucking in love with broken pieces girls - they're so much more accessible to you. You create the problem because all your distorted reflections through her pieces makes you feel good about yourself. You did that. I was your broken pieces girl. You know it and I know it. That's why I don't mind if you lose your hands or go blind. In fact, I have a shard you can borrow to make that happen.

🎧 Bring This Prompt into Your Own Body

The essay you just read began as a prompt inside the Body Writers Circle. We take our prompts from song lyrics and write whatever our bodies want to say. If your own body feels full or unsafe to exist in today, I invite you to try this gentle Body Writing™ practice:

Set the Mood: 

Get cozy, plug in headphones and sink into this week's featured song on Spotify.

Listen:

Close your eyes. Don't worry about the lyrics or what they mean intellectually. Just notice how the rhythm, melody and vibe affect your body. What do you feel opening up and coming forward?

Write:

Open your journal and write the opening lyric (I don't mind if you go blind.) at the top of your page. Don't try to match my writing; just notice: what does it bring up for you? What does it make your body want to say? Write for three pages – without editing, censoring yourself or trying to make your writing "good."

Why Journaling Alone Is Only the First Step

While practicing this alone can bring beautiful moments of connection and relief, trying to navigate your deepest, most intense stories alone is a big ask for a sensitive nervous system. When you're the only one holding the pen and the space, your inner critic takes charge easily, causing you to freeze up or pull back before finding the deeper medicine.

True somatic resolution requires co-regulation.

Which is why doing this work inside an ultra-intimate, zero-critique group of just 5 to 6 women changes everything. In the Body Writers Circle, you don't carry emotional weight by yourself. The shared presence of our tiny, trusted community holds space for you – allowing you to feel safe venturing into the depths your body needs without freezing or flooding.

If you feel a quiet, resonant yes to this, you belong with us. 

A new, founding member circle is opening soon. (June 2026)

Add your name to the waitlist here, for first access to a space. 💗