You’ve been to therapy. You’ve read the books. You can name every red flag, trauma response, and boundary violation in clinical detail—and yet you still text people who trigger your abandonment wound for funsies. You’re not better, you’re just aware.

This collection is for the sad b*tches who are emotionally fluent and spiritually exhausted. Notebooks for reflective journaling you’ll abandon mid-sentence. Tumblers for sipping iced detachment. Stickers that say “I’ve done the inner child work and now she’s just pissed.” Healing is a process. Burnout is a lifestyle. You get it.