written on 17 July 2026
I'm writing this exhausted because I was up late last night finishing something, and then afterwards it took me ages to fall asleep.
working for myself, creating for myself, being my own boss makes me more focused and diligent than ever.
the people who know me — the people who love me — know that I am militant about “closing open loops”. I like to finish things. I like to know where I stand. I like clear next steps (given and received). I like shipping even when it’s just for me and a small cohort of trusted people. I like to honour feedback by taking fast and effective action.
I like my “masculine” side. it feels like power.
I’m thinking a lot about this tweet.
I have plenty to speak about. I have plenty I can speak about.
it just requires me to speak plainly and not filter myself. it requires me to be anchored in my own belonging.
I can do that.
this essay is entirely Rachel-written.
no Claude. no ChatGPT. no external opinions.
just me :)
I can feel how important this is, how generative it is, how quietly confidence-building.
I am almost crying from exhaustion and yet — I am here.
there is so much in that.
God, I am so fucking proud of myself.
what a month or so it’s been.
[discover I’m 9.5 weeks] pregnant, breakup with fiancé, new country thousands of miles from home.
the pregnancy was an accident, unexpected. “natural family planning doesn’t work”. (in natural family planning’s defence, we were having a lot of sex.)
abortion solo. recovery solo. motherhood without a baby — the motherhood of self.
adventure on my own terms. life on my own terms. deep, deep clarity and resolve about what I want, what I’m available for, and who I’m becoming.
a commitment to living art by making it instead of being defined by others’ gaze and perception of me.
building things. making things. painting. visionary.
if there is anyone I’d back to do hard things, it’s me.
and yet — I don’t need anyone’s backing. I’m not seeking that anymore.
in so many ways (in every single way), I have my own.
my ex and I still speak on the phone twice a week, and we spoke today.
we were talking about respect, and he said how much he respected me.
when he said this, I noticed I felt angry with him. resentful. enraged.
he had said some things that really hurt me when emotions were high regarding the abortion.
I told him this clearly — plainly. he listened.
I will never filter, censor, or change myself for a man again.
I must be allowed to speak. I must allow myself to speak.
I must not suppress or repress my own voice.
I must not prioritise anyone else’s comfort above my own.
that experience, when (God willing) it comes, is for my children.
I want to have children.
I want to get married.
I want to have a family.
I want all the things I always wanted.
and, I want them in the right ways, with and from a solid foundation. I need that, even.
I’m a good writer when I speak from the heart and just let the words pour out of my mouth.
I’m a bad writer when I hedge, when I caveat, when I soften, when I try too hard. when I try to control or “manage” what other people think.
fuck that.
life is short.
I never know how to end essays.
is this an essay? does anyone read this? will anyone read this? does it matter? do I matter?
cue loop.
I know I matter. or at least — more truthfully — I’m learning it.
(“it’s nuanced.”)
I always want to put my attention back on the reader. say something interesting, inspiring, thought-provoking. “tie it out”. “put a bow on it”.
but I also don’t want to perform.
performing is what makes being here not-fun for me.
I’d rather just say hi or acknowledge the discomfort instead.
we’re all human.
part of me thinks I don’t know how to end essays because once I start talking I can’t stop.
another part of me still isn’t sure whether this is an essay.
if I want more people to know me, I have to let them see me. I have to let myself be seen and known.
I don’t want to be perfect. I want to be known.
and I want to be myself. I want to love myself. I want to be kind to myself.
and from that place, I want to love and be kind to others too.
if you got here, thanks for reading