Kate Didd

Day: 100 A little over a week ago, we got the call, my husband’s grandmother passed away. And as much as I love a main character moment…this wasn’t mine. This wasn’t my grief.This wasn’t my ache. This was his. And I stood there, quietly realizing something I didn’t expect, I don’t know how to carry…

(Day 97) I can’t believe I’m sitting here again. Same rooftop bar. Same hotel. Same city that used to hold pieces of me I wasn’t strong enough to carry yet. It’s almost ritual at this point, I come back here when something “horrific” happens. Except… it’s not horrific. It’s a funeral. Another person has walked…

(Day 92) I don’t really know what’s going on today. I’m just… existing. Like an average girl in an average world, except nothing about this feels average. I’m tired. My eye still hurts from being damaged a couple days ago, and I haven’t been able to fully see right since. It’s been weird. Not good.…

(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,…