05/11/2026
Took my custom Bullet Bloomed-out slash proof scarf with me into the desert… you know… just in case.
I met a cow today. Which sounds insignificant until I tell you that earlier this year I overheard someone call me an “incapable cow.”
Oddly enough, that phrase became one of the most important moments of my year.
At a high level, I knew they were projecting. But hearing it out loud made me realize that voice already existed inside me long before they ever said it. That was the terrifying part. The phrase hurt because it was familiar.
When someone else finally said it out loud, I could suddenly hear it for what it actually was: a cruel voice. An inherited voice. A rehearsed voice.
People think self-hatred is loud and dramatic. More often it’s repetitive. So default it becomes indistinguishable from personality or “just being realistic.” Meanwhile it quietly shapes everything. Staying small, overexplaining, overworking, hesitating, expecting abandonment, distrusting success, waiting for proof you’re worthy before fully living.
And hearing “incapable cow” externally forced me to confront something uncomfortable. That voice was never motivating me. It was brutalizing me.
So much of this year has been about rewiring that voice. Learning that shame is not discipline, criticism is not motivation and survival mode is not the same thing as living.
So meeting a cow in the middle of the desert today felt strangely significant.
Honestly, cows are gentle. Grounded. Slow. Present. Completely unbothered by performance. They don’t hustle for worthiness. They just exist fully as themselves.
And that felt oddly connected to this season of my life. Moooving away from survival mode and toward actually inhabiting my life.
Which is exactly why I booked solo pop-ups, jumped into my Sprinter van and started showing up for myself. Because I am anything but an incapable cow.
