Some people heal in silence.
That’s adorable.
I tried that. Once.
It felt like locking myself in a yoga mat and whispering affirmations to a brain that was throwing chairs.
So instead?
I bought a domain name like it was f*cking pepper spray.
Because when my nervous system collapsed like a folding chair under family secrets and false hope,
I didn’t light a candle.
I lit up the internet.
I didn’t retreat.
I rebranded.
Every panic nap.
Every emotional hostage situation in a CVS parking lot.
Every spiral that looked like an IRS audit with tears—documented.
I didn’t get better quietly.
I got better digitally, chaotically, and with hover animations.
While other people were healing in forests with sage and acoustic playlists,
I was Googling “what is HTML and am I allowed to scream into it?”
This wasn’t your dainty, lavender-scented, Pinterest-board kind of healing.
This was emotional arson with a color palette and accidental SEO.
I gave my breakdown a banner image.
My trauma got its own drop-down menu.
And somewhere in between “Why won’t this button center?” and “Why is my life an error 404?”—
A website was born.
It started as proof I still existed.
That I still had thoughts.
That I wasn’t just a ghost haunting my own to-do list.
But it grew.
It got pages.
It got traffic.
It got tip jars.
And then—god help us all—it got merch.
Because if I’m going to fall apart in public,
you better believe I’m selling hoodies on the way down.
Some people light sage.
I lit a f*cking website, sold my survival story in Helvetica Bold,
and monetized the part where I almost didn’t make it.
Now?
Now it’s weird.
Now it’s glitchy.
Now it’s mine.
And best of all?
Now it can’t be shut down.
Not by trauma.
Not by trolls.
Not by the godforsaken WIX loading wheel of death.
This site is part memoir, part meltdown, part museum of miracles.
You can scroll it, scream with it, laugh until your spleen gives out,
and maybe—if you’re lucky—accidentally heal.
Because I didn’t just survive.
I published that sh*t.
And that’s why my homepage has more emotional range than my entire extended family. 🧠🔥💻🐐
I Burned Out… and Lit a Website Instead
The candles dimmed, my spark ran dry, So I lit the screen and let it fly.
No yoga mat, no guided breath— Just pixels rising from near-death.
Burnout broke me, typed me raw, I built a shrine with zero flaw.
They call it weird—I call it free. Now burnout’s branded. Built by me.
—The Funny Phoenix, rising with a domain name
