Hi Friends,

In case you thought I walk on water and nothing ruffles my feathers...

Earlier this week I was at my studio. It’s an old building, full of quirks and character, but with a little help it turns into a warm, welcoming place. I had an unheard-of hour to myself and decided to take an online class. Midway through, nature called—because of course it does.

So I went. And then I got trapped. Literally. The door refused to open. I was stuck in the bathroom, alone in the entire building. No phone. My watch wouldn’t send a text or call out. At least there was water.

I’m not the strongest person in the world, but I’m not weak either. Still, tugging on that doorknob did nothing. My hands turned bright red, stung, and forced me to take breaks. I remember thinking, “I wonder if you’re sympathetic?” but I didn’t check. Didn’t care. I just wanted out. And honestly, I thought—at least it’s me. Most people would be having a panic attack.

Here’s the thing (my niece often says this and it's the cutest thing ever): I don’t ask for help. Not never, but rarely. Only if it’s absolutely ridiculous to do it on my own—or unless I want to beg my husband 'cause I just don't wanna do it myself. Yep, it's another sympathetic pattern at work. But picture me plotting how I’d ghostly shout for rescue from the bathroom to some unsuspecting soul riding the old-school manual elevator next to the restrooms in a 100-year-old possibly haunted building.

Was it 20 minutes? 30? Eventually, the door gave way as if it had never been a problem at all. How dare that door.

Today I’ve got a blister, a curious little nodule on the palm side of my knuckle, and forearms that ache like I scaled a mountain without training. That’s my tendon guard reflex at work—workin' like a champ.

Have a laugh. Humor is a survival strategy.

Onwards (sometimes quite literally), Amy

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Content is this email is for entertainment and educational purposes only. It is not medical advice or a replacement for therapy. This is, unapologetically, Amy’s soapbox. If something here struck a nerve, chances are you helped spark it—so own your part. The musings won’t last forever, but while they do, consider them an invitation to reflect, laugh, or squirm a little.