83. That’s how many books I gift wrapped and packaged over the past two days. And as much as my back is aching from the effort, this process has been incredibly healing for me. 🙏🏻 If you’ve been following me recently, you know how hard things have been for me lately (and what I’ve posted is only about 5% of everything that’s been going on). The past few months have been a nightmare financially, physically, and emotionally. Honestly, I’ve felt so low and beat down that I sincerely felt like walking away from it all. 😔 But then I spent twelve hours holding, signing, and carefully wrapping my books. Books I wrote while I was processing my father’s death. While I was trapped in the woods with a man who promised to bury me there. While I was escaping my abuser. While I was hospitalized and relearning how to walk. Books that saved me when I felt like I couldn’t keep going. Books that people loved so much, they showed up when it mattered most just to make sure I could make another. 📚 And as I sat there, folding and signing and tucking everything in its place, it hit me hard: Why the fuck are you wasting so much time moping and worrying and comparing? How about you shut the hell up and take one goddamn second to look at what you’ve done? Be proud of what you’ve accomplished in three short years. Look at what you’re holding in your hands right now and realize, you fucking did this. YOU did THIS. 🥹 I think my spirit needed that reminder more than anything. So, once again, I’m thanking the backers who made this possible. You forced me to sit with the pieces of myself I almost believed weren’t good enough. And I’m just so excited and overjoyed and fucking proud to place it all in your hands. 💜🫂