13. BLOCK. DELETE. BREATHE.

An ancient healing ritual disguised as a phone setting.

Let’s begin with a system update:
Your life’s running slow because too many toxic apps are still running in the background.

STEP ONE: BLOCK.
Start with the basics.

Block like your mental health is under cyberattack.
Block like your peace has a firewall.
Block like you’re the bouncer of your own soul and Ned just showed up without ID.

Block them on:

  • Facebook
  • Gmail
  • PayPal
  • Venmo
  • Your future
  • Your imaginary conversations in the shower

And if they say “That’s so immature”?

Cool. You know what’s mature? Boundaries with bandwidth.

STEP TWO: DELETE.
Time to clean house.

Delete the almost apologies.
Delete the cryptic 2 a.m. “You up?” text that reads like a summons to your past life.
Delete the group chats that feel like landmines wrapped in LOLs.

And while you’re at it, delete:

  • Their playlist
  • That photo you swore didn’t mean anything
  • Your own hesitation

Delete like you’re Marie Kondo with a vengeance.
Does it spark anxiety?
Trash it.

STEP THREE: BREATHE.
Deeply.
Loudly.
Like you just evicted an entire psychic infestation.

Inhale: clarity.
Exhale: clutter.
Repeat until your shoulders drop and your phone is as quiet as your conscience.

Because this?
This isn’t petty.
This is precision healing.

It’s grief management with a touchscreen.
It’s trauma recovery with a mute button.
It’s therapy with a swipe motion and a goat bleat.

You’re not being “too sensitive.”
You’re being a f*cking software engineer for your nervous system.

BLOCK.
DELETE.
BREATHE.

Then go outside.
Touch some grass.
Or don’t.
Touch your coffee mug. Touch your face.
Touch your future.
But don’t touch that old thread again.

It’s already been cut.


BLOCK. DELETE. BREATHE.

Three sacred steps, a holy trinity:
Control + Alt + My sanity.
They popped up like a virus storm—
So I blessed my feed in unicorn form.

Block the chaos, delete the past,
Breathe like healing’s built to last.
Now my timeline’s clean and neat—
And toxic exes taste defeat.

—The Funny Phoenix, blessing timelines one click at a time

Put a Dollar in the Juke (Joke) Box

This Whirld runs on punchlines and petty cash. Tips help fund emotional damage with a comedic twist. Humor kept me alive—now it pays the therapy bills. Every dollar helps. Every laugh heals. Or at least distracts. So, if you’ve ever laughed out loud, felt seen, heard, or just temporarily less insane (you're welcome) thanks to Christy, consider:

👉 Throwing a buck in the trauma jukebox to keep the jokes flowing.
👉 Supporting a sad clown with a sarcasm addiction

Because laughter might be free — but keeping the lights on sure isn’t.

Laugh cry overshare funniest thing that ever happened to you when you were losing your s***–go.

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-The Funny Farm-

About Us

If this place sparked something in you—or just made you feel a little less alone while mentally spiraling—drop a tip in the flame fund. I built this place while burning out. Now it runs on caffeine, survival grit, and scrolls of half-sane truth.