Kate Didd

I got to thinking again and yes, I know that’s always where the trouble begins. Somewhere on that sprawling spectrum of autism, ADHD, or whatever label the world wants to use to pin me down, I exist. Awkwardly. Electrically. Unapologetically. I’ve stopped trying to name the exact square on the chart I fit into. All…

You wonder how someone gets to that part of their life, the place where they actually believe in tomorrows, where the air hums with possibility, where their heart finally stops fighting itself. Because that’s not where I started. I didn’t grow up in a home where hope lived. I grew up in chaos, in a…

My mother was a cord, a cord, a tether, binding the lost, the broken, together. Her words were soft, her truth was thin, smiles for strangers, lies within. She never looked, she never spoke, grief wrapped tight around her cloak. She stayed with the man who hated her most, I tried to save her, I…

One day I woke up and died. Not the kind of death that steals your breath or folds your body into the earth, no, this one came softly. It sat at the edge of my bed and whispered that everything I had once been was gone. I opened my eyes and felt the weight of…

Conversations aren’t the same anymore. The air feels different now, thicker, almost sacred. The words people use don’t land where they used to. I caught myself backsliding recently, not out of longing but exhaustion. Because sometimes, when you’ve been broken enough times, even silence can sound like an old song you forgot you once loved.…

The Velvet Beginning The velvet comforter is my altar, soft, warm, forgiving. When I sink into it, the world hushes to a dim hum, and I can finally hear the pulse beneath my own ribs. Egyptian cotton brushes against my skin, cool as a whispered secret. This, I tell myself, is what safety feels like:…

There’s a sound that happens before peace. It’s not silence it’s the low, steady hum of your spirit remembering what it feels like to be home in your own body. It comes after the ache. After the sleepless nights. After you’ve screamed into the void and built yourself back from dust. Then one day, without…

There’s a moment in every woman’s life when she realizes she’s no longer surviving, she’s becoming. Not the becoming that comes from chasing validation or seeking proof of worth. Not the one where you overperform to be chosen. But the quiet, sacred becoming that happens after the storm when you finally make peace with the…