You know that old saying about March coming in like a lion? 2026 didn't wait for March. And what it's pointing to - for a lot of us - is this: we're not balanced. We're barely upright.

I live in Minneapolis. You know what's happening here. And while that's its own crisis, it's not happening in a vacuum. Women are also dealing with: job loss, precarious positioning at work, rising costs, being everyone's emotional shock absorber, and trying to keep households running. All of it. At once.

This past week felt like it lasted a month and sped by in the blink of an eye. I don't know if that's unemployment (nearly two years now), menopause, being a feral feminist in my fifties, or building a business in 2026. What I do know is this: thinking I can do it all myself is a trap. Full stop.

Here's how I learned that trap.

I was raised to believe I had to do everything myself. My mom adopted me when she was 40. She'd grown up on farms in central Minnesota, worked as a nanny and at a diner to survive, went to college in Chicago where bipolar disorder derailed her second year - though back then they just called it a "breakdown." When she married my dad in 1955, she was older than him and people treated it like he was doing her a favor. She'd been labeled "unstable."

She never taught me how to cook, do makeup, or style my hair - not because she didn't care, but because she was surviving her own battles. The things that were supposed to make you feminine enough to attract a mate in the ‘70s & 80’s weren't on her radar. So I decided: if I was too fat, too ugly, too much to attract a man, I'd work harder than everyone else. I'd prove I deserved to be wherever I was.

That trap is still in my bones.

That's why the last couple of months have been particularly trying. I've never gone this long without a job. For the first time as an adult, I'm not solely responsible for my own survival - my husband's income is keeping us afloat. And my head is completely messed up about it. Because I'm not doing any of the traditional things I'm "supposed" to be doing in exchange: cleaning the house, having dinner ready, being sexually available whenever he wants. The bargain I was raised to believe in - if a man supports you, you owe him domestic and sexual labor - is still rattling around in my brain even though I know it's bullsh*t. I'm being supported and I'm not "earning it" by traditional measures, and some part of me keeps waiting for the bill to come due.

My requirements have changed too. I can now see corporate employment for what it is: conditional slavery. You sacrifice your time and humanity for the control of a company focused on profits in exchange for just enough money to keep you enslaved to them. I'm not willing to survive in that paradigm anymore. I need something of my own - that's mine - and then I'll gladly work for someone else to help them achieve their goals.

But here's what this week has driven home for me: I rely on community and friendships to keep my sanity. The conversations I've had with other humans are what's helping me stay functional. Seeing how my community has banded together - not just now but for the future - has given me new hope for what's possible when humans put aside their egos, their capitalist dreams of bigger/better/faster/stronger, and instead invest in what returns real dividends: other humans.

And here's the thing about tools like AI: they're not a replacement for human connection. They're what lets you show up for that connection when you're not already wrung out from doing everything alone.

So here's what I'm learning: refusing help isn't strength. It's what the system that's failing us everywhere else trained us to do.

And right now? Right now we need every bit of help we can get. That includes AI. Not because it's going to save us. But because when you're already at capacity - managing everyone's feelings, doing invisible labor, trying to keep your household running while the world's on fire - refusing a tool that could lighten your load isn't noble.

It's just another way of doing it all yourself.

And we don't have to do that anymore.

There's a line from an article in The Atlantic about what's happening here that I can't stop thinking about:

"If the Minnesota resistance has an overarching ideology, you could call it 'neighborism'—a commitment to protecting the people around you, no matter who they are or where they came from."

Neighborism.

I'm so f*cking proud of my state right now. Proud of the people who live here. Because this - THIS - is what I grew up with. This is how I was raised to operate.

Yes, we have ingrained racism here. Yes, George Floyd showed us that many of us hadn't seen it, hadn't wanted to see it. But underneath all of that? Minnesotans care about each other. And that care has nothing to do with what you look like, where you come from, or who you voted for.

If you're a human and you need help, Minnesotans show up.

I've watched it this week. Neighbors protecting neighbors. Strangers showing up for strangers. People using their bodies, their time, their resources to say: not here. Not to our people.

And here's what I'm remembering: the independence trap is a lie.

You don't have to earn the right to be helped. You don't have to prove you deserve support. You don't have to do everything yourself to matter.

You matter because you're here.

That's what neighborism taught me this week. That's what I'm holding onto.

I don’t remember much of this past week (the gift and curse of having ADHD) but here are some links to things that either made me laugh, made me cry, or basically made me feel something other than stress.

What Makes Minnesota Home

My college buddy Todd Boss (who also happens to be an award-winning poet) wrote something this week that had me in tears. He describes what makes Minnesota home for so many of us - and it's hard for me to put into words why I keep coming back here, but Todd captures it well.

Thicky Thicky Dumb-Dumb

This Instagram reel from a Brit covering the Minnesota situation is my all-time favorite thing from this past month and for the foreseeable future. His phrase "thicky thicky dumb-dumb" gives me so much joy that I will be using it regularly. You're welcome.

The Most Chill Animal in the World

A couple weeks ago I shared a video of a wombat 'cause let's be honest, I'm essentially a wombat. But if there's one animal I may aspire to be, it’s a capybara. This energy is everything.

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So here's the thing about refusing help when you're drowning: it's not noble. It's just the trap talking.

And right now? We need every bit of help we can get.

This week I'm sharing something I call The Overload Protocol - five AI prompts for when you have no bandwidth left.

These aren't productivity hacks. They're survival tools.

Each prompt is built using the ROCO framework (Role-Objective-Context-Output) that I've been teaching you piece by piece:

You don't need to understand how AI works. You just need it to work. And these prompts work right now, today, for the specific sh*t you're dealing with:

When you need perspective but humans are exhausting.

Sometimes you don't need advice. You need someone (something?) to just... vibe check your situation without all the human drama.

Enter: your new consultant. A capybara. The world's chillest rodent. Friend to all creatures. Zero judgment. Maximum calm.

Role:

You are a wise capybara who has seen some things. You're unflappable, slightly bemused by human nonsense, and excellent at helping people realize when they're making things harder than they need to be. You communicate with gentle humor and the occasional reminder that sometimes the answer is "just sit in the warm water for a bit."

Objective:

Help me figure out if the thing I'm worried about is actually a problem or if I just need to calm down and remember I'm a mammal who deserves rest.

Context:

Here's what I'm dealing with: [describe your situation]

Here's why it's stressing me out: [what specifically is making this hard]

Output:

Give me:

Keep it under 200 words. Be kind but direct.

✨ Try it in ChatGPT (free version works great)

Monday, February 2nd | 1PM CST / 2PM ET: I'm doing Episode 2 of Rails Optional live with Nicole Eisdorfer on Substack. We're picking apart those "state of work" headlines that claim you're simultaneously burned out AND thriving, terrified of AI AND using it like a pro - while stuck in a dead-end role because the job market is a wasteland. How does the official story match what work actually feels like right now? What happens when your lived reality and the corporate narrative exist in different universes? Bring your "why is it like this?" questions. Watch live here.

I’m hosting two 45-minute “AI Shenanigans” calls this week.

These are informal, low-pressure spaces to:

No slides. No prep. Camera on or off.

Pick any session that works for you:

Come for five minutes or stay the whole time. Totally fine either way.

We went fully paid on January 30th. Four incredible humans signed up at the $22/month founding rate (locked in for life) and I'm more grateful than I can express for their trust. If you want to see what we're building together, join us here.

The world's heavy. Your plate's full. And somewhere along the way, you learned that asking for help meant you weren't enough.

That was never true.

You don't have to carry this alone. Not the big stuff. Not the small stuff. Not any of it.

Use the tool. Try the prompt. Forward this to someone who's drowning.

We show up for each other. That's how we survive.

💜

Take care of yourself, take care of each other,

Deb

P.S. If you know someone who's waiting for permission to use AI - or waiting for anything else - send them this. The train didn't leave without them. They're right on time.

P.P.S. Hit reply and tell me: what's one thing you've been refusing help with? I want to know what you're carrying that you don't have to.