The Obscure Recession Indicators of ‘08 are BACK

🕯Tranquil Lotus = depression masked in aesthetics.

Optimistic nihilism surfaces here: you can’t control the world, but dammit, you can light a $6 candle and sit in the dark like a pagan saint. As a limited 18-hr luxury, there’s no greater symbol for burning cash than is the warmth and comfort of a flickering yellow beam scented by a citrus-floral-soy-blend. A candle purchase could never mean more than in a time of digital silence, beverage-backed unwinding, and a strict budget that says your couch, rent, and sweats is your wild night out.

It smelled like how a lullaby feels: soft, warm, and vaguely embarrassing. Something corporate alchemists engineered to simulate maternal safety. The label said:

~ Tranquil Lotus ~

🩻 A Timeline of Sensory Loss

1. My body was folding in on itself like origami that forgot how to hold shape. I lost my sense of smell in the deep dark belly of chronic illness. First a throat tickle. Then the fatigue. Then the neurological vertigo spiral into:

• 🩺 Diagnosis #1: POTS

• 🌡️ Diagnosis #2: MCAS

• 🧠 Diagnosis #3: ME/CFS

• 😷 Diagnosis #4: Autoimmune Adrenalitis

• 💊 Diagnosis #5: Axial Spondyloarthiritis

And then:

🛏️ My bed became my biome.

🕯️ Candles became my rebellion.

🔥 Ritual in the Absence of Relief

Lighting a candle I couldn’t smell was an act of defiant optimism.

A small fire in a world where everything felt extinguished. I kept buying them…Tranquil Lotus, Cashmere Fog, Sandalwood Shores - because I needed to believe I’d one day burn my way back to being human.

When people asked how I was doing, I said:

🌬️ The Ghosts of Scent Came Back

By 2024, my body was a library of medical files and unanswered emails.

But then it happened. Slowly. Quietly.

• A breath of cinnamon.

• A whiff of shampoo.

• One night, Tranquil Lotus came back.

Fake. Mass-produced.

But real enough.

🌀 The Point Is—There Isn’t One. And That’s Okay.

I don’t believe everything happens for a reason. That sounds like something embroidered on a pillow for people who’ve never screamed into one.

But I do believe this:

Meaning is like scent. Mostly invisible. Occasionally overwhelming. Always worth noticing when it returns.

🔍 What This Is Really About

This isn’t just about collapse. It’s about what we ignore when we’re performing wellness, excellence, even divinity. It’s about how women, especially those of us managing chronic illness, are expected to disappear our bodies and our needs - until something breaks loud enough that the world can’t ignore it anymore.

We might be spiraling toward democratic collapse and financial bottoming-out, but if the world is signaling that we can still buy candles and still learn to adapt, we can create hope in countless ways. Hopelessness is a delusion. Don’t fall for it.

🧩 Three Refusals I’m Learning

1. Refusing Productivity as a Proxy for Value

   If my body is still, that doesn’t mean I’m behind. It means I’m aware.

2. Refusing the Disembodied Digital Self

   Showing up online is not the same as showing up for yourself.

3. Refusing Apologies for Needing Rest

   Rest isn’t earned. It’s owed. Especially to the version of me that couldn’t ask for it.

📣 Your Turn

What moment made you stop pretending this week?

Hit reply and tell me. I read every response like it’s scripture.

 💌 P.S. Next Week…

Next week: “Holy Hell and the Feminist Rapture: Why I’m Writing the Apocalypse Like It’s a Love Letter”

If this resonated, share the flame:

[🕯️ Send this to someone who lights candles in the dark.]

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