Dear You,

If you’ve landed here, maybe something in you is tired of trying so hard to be “better.”

I get it. I spent years being good at working on myself. Good at pushing through. Good at reshaping myself into someone more easier for others to digest and take in, more productive, more… admirable. And for a long time, it worked—until it didn’t.

I’ve always been resilient. I know how to hold the storm. But a while back, I reached a season where even that wasn’t enough. No amount of bulldozing or brilliance could pull me out of the ache. I didn’t need another breakthrough or better habits.

What I needed was something slower. Something truer.

And strangely, I found it between the pages of romance novels.

Not the sanitized kind, but the messy, emotional, too-much and just-enough kind. Stories that mirrored back my grief, my desires, my softness. Stories that didn’t ask me to fix myself—but to feel myself. To remember who I was before I learned to perform healing instead of living it.

So I let it all fall away—the noise, the formulas, the endless pursuit of optimization. I stepped out of the echo chamber of coaches and courses and re-centered what I knew in my bones:

✨ That growth doesn’t have to be loud to be real.
✨ That beauty lives in the ordinary.
✨ That stories can heal in ways strategies can’t.

This season of Obsidian Guidance isn’t about building a shinier version of you. It’s about creating a soft landing for the parts you’ve been told to edit out. It's about feeling like yourself again.

And healing as you root deeper into who you’ve always been.

Here, we trade self-help for fiction that feels like therapy. We find clarity through conversation, creativity, archetypes, Human Design—and sometimes just through curling up with a good book. We honor capacity. We reimagine success. We come home to ourselves one page, one pause, one season at a time.

If you’re craving a different way—one that doesn’t demand performance or perfection—you’re in the right place. Whether you found me through a story, a session, a whisper of synchronicity, or the quiet click of curiosity… I’m glad you’re here.

I hope this work reminds you that you don’t need fixing. You just need space to remember.

And if this were a letter I tucked into a book you’d find at just the right time, the line I’d hope you underline would be this:

“You are not a project to complete but
a story still unfolding.”

With heart,

Tetz