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The Feral Truth: You already know you shouldn’t Google it. And yet…there you are. 2:07AM. Phone lighting up your face. Heart already beating a little too fast. Because something feels off. It might be small. It might be nothing. It might just be your brain being an asshole. But you type it in anyway. “Is ___ a symptom of…” And that’s it. That’s the moment the spiral begins. Because Google doesn’t do “probably fine.” Google goes straight to: rare complications worst-case scena

The Feral Truth: You’re never fully relaxed anymore. Even when things are “fine.” Especially when things are “fine.” Because “fine” doesn’t feel safe…it feels suspicious. Like you’re just in between disasters. You’ll be sitting there—nothing actively wrong, no emergency, no phone calls— …and your brain goes: Okay but what’s next? Because there’s always a next. There’s always: another appointment another scan another symptom another thing that comes out of nowhere and knocks t

The Feral Truth: Sometimes you feel resentful. And that scares the shit out of you. Because it shows up quietly. Not all at once. Not in some dramatic, obvious way. Just little thoughts like: “This is so much.” “I can’t keep doing this.” “I just want one normal day.” And then immediately— guilt. Because how dare you feel that way when they’re the one who’s sick? So you push it down. Ignore it. Pretend it’s not there. Except it is. And it leaks out in weird ways: irritation ov

The Feral Truth: Self-care sounds great until you're too tired to literally do any of it.

The Feral Truth: Sometimes you snap. And then you hate yourself for it.

I didn’t wake up one day and decide “You know what sounds fun? Caregiving.” There was no plan. No soft launch. No gentle “ease into this new chapter.” It was just— One moment where life went sideways… …and then it never straightened back out.