This isn’t your typical lifestyle blog. This one comes with a warning label.
This space is where I don’t even try to have a filter. If anything I try to have less of one-real talk about real shit. Here, the truth doesn’t just hurt, it has a body count; and a way of making you feel weighed, measured, and found wanting. Where the vibe can switch from well-adjusted and healing to unhinged and triggered before you can say “emotional whiplash.” This is the space where processing your trauma happens and you become aware that dysfunctional can and will become unfunctional faster than you realize and you understand on a soul and cellular level that what doesn’t kill you doesn’t in fact make you stronger. It just makes you damaged and harder to love.
This blog isn’t going to be for everyone, and that’s just fine with me. Really, I’m writing this for me. Writing helps me process. I’m not doing this for likes, followers or “the gram.” I chose to publish this blog because sometimes, someone else’s shit show puts your own into some much-needed perspective, and sometimes all it takes to keep fighting is knowing you’re not the only one.
If your go-to coping strategy is to detach, mumbling “it is what it is,” you understand why Joker and Harley Quinn is in fact a romance; you too may be a Crash Out Queen.
Pull up a chair, grab your favorite emotional support blanket, and get comfortable. We have a lot of shit to unpack.
💋 Queen B.
