Ad copy

There's a specific kind of shame that comes with being mid-sentence and watching someone's face while you search for a word that used to live right there. You see the moment they clock it. The tiny recalibration behind their eyes. They don't say anything. They wait. And you perform confidence with your face while your brain rummages around in the dark, and eventually something comes out and you keep going like nothing happened and you spend the rest of the day thinking about that two-second pause. I'm a writer. Words are the only currency I've ever traded in. Losing them mid-thought wasn't inconvenient. It was existential. I spent a long time being gentle with myself about it. Stress, hormones, age, seasons, whatever explanation kept me from sitting with the real feeling, which was that I didn't recognise the way my own mind was moving anymore and that scared me more than I told anyone. At some point gentle stopped being enough and I got practical. My friend recommended I try this blend, she couldn’t shut up about it. We do the crossword at breakfast, my husband and I. Quietly stopped a while back because I'd get frustrated halfway through and leave the table. About two weeks in I sat back down. Rattled off four answers without hesitating. He put his pen down and looked at me like I'd done something remarkable. I slid the bag across the table without saying a word. The one he skeptically dismissed. He just smiled and said “I should try it.” I left the link below if you’re interested.