The Great Unfollowing: Choosing the Slow Path

    I recently found myself hitting "unsubscribe" on creators I had followed for years. It wasn't out of malice, but out of a sudden, sharp clarity. I watched someone I admired push through total exhaustion, desperate for a "toned" body and a rigid structure, and for the first time, I didn't see inspiration. I saw anxiety—a soul at war with its own temple.

    As someone who has fought hard to heal from an eating disorder, I realized that "falling off the wagon" is a myth designed to make us feel like failures for simply being human. When I hit that button, I didn't feel a loss. I felt peace.

Along with the hustle culture, I have purged another source of chaos: I have found myself only following women. For too long, men brought nothing but turbulence and hurt to my world. The shadows of my past—the specific type of abuse I endured growing up—seemed to brand me with a target that only the wrong kind of men could see.

But now, I say: no more.

I have realized that to truly heal, I must surround myself with the Divine Feminine. I am drawn to the women who live their lives on purpose—women in their 50s and 70s who have settled into the marrow of their existence, and women in the provinces living a life governed by the sun rather than a clock. Within this circle of women, I finally feel seen. I feel at peace. Most importantly, I feel completely safe.

With POTS and DDD, I am lucky if I accomplish one major task a day. For a long time, the world told me that was "lazy," but now I know better. Taking my medication three times a day—even if I never leave the bed—is a radical act of health. Listening when my body begs for a pause isn't "giving up"; it’s Ancient Wisdom.

My illness has forced me to slow down, and in that slowness, I have finally started to live. I hear the birds sing. I write more. I spend quality time with my partner, because I am no longer rushing toward a finish line that doesn't exist.

Soon, my partner and I are beginning a new adventure, moving our lives into a motorhome and crossing the border into a new state. This isn't just a change of scenery; it is a commitment to the Slowness. In our new home on wheels, I am carrying the lesson with me: You are not a failure if you need to rest. The dishes will be there tomorrow; life is not meant to be rushed through.

I am taking a sacred pause from clinical therapy. My therapist and I have both seen me grow exponentially, and I have filled my toolkit. I have my safety plan, and I know the way back if I ever get lost.

Now, I am leaning into my spiritual practice. I am spending my energy learning the ways of my Goddesses—the feminine energies that feel ethereal, solid, and safe in a way I never found elsewhere. This is my new therapy. This is my new pace. I cannot wait to see what the future holds in the quiet, steady shadows.

With love from the shadows,

Ashley


A dark, gothic scene in a misty forest clearing featuring a woman in a velvet dress with an embroidered serpent standing barefoot in rich, dark soil. Beside her is a mossy stump acting as an altar with a lit candle, a quill, and a leather journal. In the background, two guardian dogs sit near ancient stone statues under a crescent moon.

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