This short story is a dialogue between mouse and bunny. It begins with mouse asking bunny what it means to love. (fiction)

This short story is about a little mouse who meets a bunny who makes her soup. (fiction)

If the way my soul asks to encounter this world is grander than the boxes we think we’re operating within, can I find permission to expand into my greater soul purpose? I share this deeply personal letter to my therapist to honor this way of approaching the world that I sense I am not the only one out there leaning into. I hope my writing, and my courage, will give others permission they are longing for to expand into the fullness of their souls.

This very personal bit of writing is a first draft of an unfinished piece about the role of boundaries in healing relationships, the value of reciprocity, grief, and my own process in this space.

I wrote this story as a love letter to all the wise and brave and beautiful souls (like Harlow’s baby rhesus monkeys) who are exhausted, trying their best, and keep encountering advice, literature, and so-called wisdom that somehow still manages to pathologize them, still tells them in subtle ways they are the problem, they are doing it wrong. I know you’re not. (fiction)

Work in progress, this document is currently mostly an outline of the ideas I want to include and some of the sources I will cite.