08/27/2026
I walked out on the House of the Dragon season finale last night.
And by “walked out,” I mean stormed off the couch, left my partner alone, and started watering my plants. 🪴
Not because it was poorly made.
Because it was too real.
(Not the dragon part.)
My nervous system made the decision before my brain could rationalize it.
We’re living in a moment where violence and suffering arrive unfiltered, unedited, and algorithmically amplified directly into our pockets.
War crimes.
Natural disasters.
Political violence.
Raw, endless, immediate.
My body has decided: If I’m already carrying the weight of real-world suffering, I don’t need it in my fiction too.
It reminded me of my grandmother, who went to see Life is Beautiful without doing her research.
She sat sobbing in the theater, realizing too late she was watching a tragic Holocaust film.
Afterward, she told me:
“At this point in my life, after witnessing so much suffering, I can’t see these films anymore.”
She had fled Spain because of Franco and Cuba because of Castro.
I thought it was about age.
Now I wonder if it’s about capacity.
This isn’t about turning away from reality or ignoring what’s happening in the world.
But maybe there’s wisdom in choosing—consciously, deliberately—what stories we invite into our bodies with our limited time and attention.
As a storyteller and story doula, I’m realizing this choice isn’t trivial.
It’s vital.
Maybe the most radical thing we can do right now is seek out stories centered on joy, love, thriving, and human resilience instead of trauma, violence, and despair.
Not as escapism.
As sustenance.
Not as denial.
As survival.
So this may just be another excuse to reheat Heated Rivalry for the 16th time. 📚✨
💬 What stories are you choosing to feed yourself right now?
What feeling or meaning are they providing?
Drop it in the comments—I genuinely want to know. 👇
