Kate Didd

(Day 88) Yesterday was supposed to be a “get my life together” kind of day. You know the ones.Wake up. Hit the gym. Eat clean. Drink water. Be the version of yourself you keep promising is right there within reach if you just, try harder. And I did try. I hit every box… except the…

(Day 86) I found out recently that it’s “not normal” for every man you’ve ever dated to have you blocked. Not one or two.Not the dramatic ones.All of them. At first, it landed like a question mark sitting heavy in my chest. Like maybe there was something about me I hadn’t turned over yet. Something…

(Day 85) I’m at the gym again this morning. Third day in a row. Not chasing anything. Not punishing anything. Not trying to prove that I’m still her, the version of me that could outwork pain, outrun grief, outlift exhaustion. I’m just… here. Moving slow. Relearning my body like it belongs to me again. Building…

(Day 84) I woke up like I was being pulled out of someone else’s life. Not gently. Not peacefully.Like a switch flipped somewhere deep behind my eyes and said get up, you’re back now. The room was still dark, but not fully night. That in-between hour where the world feels like it’s holding its breath.…

(Day 82) I am so utterly exhausted from my latest win that announcing it feels dangerous. Not exciting. Not celebratory. Dangerous. Like if I say it out loud, something or someone will come take it from me. And the truth is… this is one of the biggest wins I’ve had in years. But I wouldn’t…

(Day 81) I haven’t been writing. And that’s how I know something’s off. Because when I stop writing, it means I’ve been listening to everything else except myself. And that’s dangerous for me. That’s how I lose the plot. That’s how I end up in my own head, but not in control of it. Right…

(Day 80) Let’s not soften this. Abuse should make you angry. Not mildly uncomfortable. Not reflective. Angry. Because abuse is not confusion. It is not miscommunication. It is not “two sides.” It is control, repetition, and damage done on purpose or with complete disregard for the outcome. And if you lived in it long enough,…

(Day 71) They say the brain is a prediction machine, pattern recognition wrapped in flesh, running probabilities like a quiet algorithm behind the eyes. Mine just happens to run louder. I see it in color. Truth is cobalt blue, clean, cutting, impossible to dilute. Lies are a soft yellow haze, warm at first, then suffocating…

(Day 62) There’s something strange about changing your life without physically going anywhere. Same house.Same man.Same responsibilities stacked neatly (or chaotically) in the corners of every room. And yet Everything feels… different. The Angle of the Room Has Shifted It started small. The side of the bed I sleep on.The way the morning light hits…

(Day 59) It’s the first day of summer break and I am done. Not done in the cute, champagne-pop, school’s-out way the memes suggest. Done in the way that means my body staged a full revolt last night and I couldn’t do anything but surrender to it. The last two weeks have been a relentless…