Crazy how things can change in a moment, or in a conversation, or while you're raging at ghosts from your past.

Lemme start with this: last Saturday (the 13th) I experienced the Sunday Scaries.

I haven't had those for quite some time, over a year really, so it took me a while to figure out what was going on. But the fact that I was dreading Monday morning, dreading reporting back for the contract I'd taken, dreading what I'd have to do (a very manual process, corporate 'mask' firmly in place) and give up (no more time to build, to attend trainings and cool seminars) - that should have been the red flag.

But I'd just taken the contract a few weeks prior, had experienced the joy of a nice paycheck deposit in my dusty checking account, and was loathe to bail on something that should have been a no-brainer.

So I showed up at the appointed time on Monday, did the deed, and continued to do it through the week. Show up, that was, and resist the really manual stuff I was expected to do. I fought with Copilot and the bass-akwards set-up that was in place, attempting to automate something while feeling like both hands were tied behind my back, hopping through flaming hoops.

Thursday arrived and I made the mistake of being honest with my direct supervisor and revealing that I'd been focused on automating rather than doing.

That was my first mistake.

The second was thinking I could simply refocus and do the manual stuff that day. Not so, grasshopper.

When I was informed that I needed to ask 'permission' to take time off from the manual role, I lost it. Not to my direct supervisor. But alone, at home, screaming - quite literally - into the void.

Let's just say that years of feeling trapped, voiceless, and at the mercy of the machine came back with a vengeance.

Now, conventional wisdom says I should have just got to work, shown I could do the stuff (and I did, for the rest of the afternoon, in-between pings from said supervisor checking up on me actually doing it) and then waited 24 hours before making any decisions either way.

Reader, I did not follow conventional wisdom. I had Claude help me write a resignation for the role, offering two weeks if needed for transition (I'd been there 3).

And then when I told Nicole & Linda (my fellow Witches) what I'd done, they insisted on us jumping on a Zoom.

I've reached the ripe old age of 57 by going into my cave when upset. To outward appearance, I'm fine. I can even - after the rage and red have receded - come across as quite composed and, if not serene, at least measured.

They weren't having it.

Linda deployed her enviable guilt-trip skills and said that I might be fine but she wasn't and needed to 'see' me to calm her nerves. Damn that woman is GOOD. So I set up a Zoom and let them in.

Y'all, I cannot tell a lie. I was in tears. Not just from sharing but from the outpouring of love, support, and truly diabolical offers of revenge.

And experienced for maybe the first time in my life the close girlfriend conclave that happens when one of your number has experienced trauma-drama, whether as the recipient or the instigator.

That right there is healing in real time. Or if not healing, then definitely mending.

What those two women gave me was so much more than their time. It was an intervention on my internal voice, the one that would have berated me for hours and days afterward.

I could actually feel my father's worry (Dad's been gone since 2023) at the idea of leaving a paying job when I have nothing planned to replace it. And Smidge told me, in all sincerity, "I'm glad you let them help you." Because truth be told, even his love and support sometimes can't reach the deepest wounds.

It takes women who've been there, who've experienced it themselves, to fully get the depth of self-doubt and self-induced warfare we sometimes inflict on ourselves.

So here I am - jobless, once again. And even more determined to make this work (if that's possible).

But I am once again responsible for myself and my time, and that is the most priceless resource.

Here's what I keep forgetting: the voice in your head that tells you to handle it alone - to wait until you're composed, until the red has receded - that voice is not protecting you. It's just the one you've practiced longest.

You learned somewhere that falling apart was a thing to do in private. That letting someone see you mid-scream was a burden, or a weakness. So you went into the cave. You always go into the cave.

But the people who love you don't need the composed version. Linda didn't ask to see me because I was fine. She asked because she wasn't, and because she knew the version of me that goes quiet is the version that's about to spend three days at war with herself.

When you let someone in while it's still ugly, they don't just keep you company. They get between you and the voice. They interrupt the sentence before it finishes berating you.

You don't have to earn that by being okay first.

You're allowed to be a mess and loved at the same time.

The stuff that touched, moved, and inspired me this week. Or made me laugh. Or facepalm. Or simply provided mindless enjoyment.

What’s a trillion to you?
Made me snort out loud and then facepalm, because this is the reality we live in now. The generations try to work out what a "trillionaire" actually is. Spoiler: nobody can hold the number in their head, which is sort of the whole problem.

The musical in my head
If you've ever wondered, even idly, what it's like inside my head - here's a really good example. Anyone who's actually spoken with me has experienced the "joy" of unexpected lyrics belted out in real time, triggered by whatever was unfortunate enough to be said in my presence.

Your daily quokka
I think that's how it's spelled. I'm not entirely sure. I do know it's a marsupial (I think??) from down under, widely considered the happiest-looking little creature in the world. I just think it's darn cute. Bonus ASMR from the chewing.

AI says everything with the same confidence. The right answer and the made-up one sound exactly alike.

So I don't trust the first thing it hands me. I check whether I'm actually impressed, then I push.

I'll ask for a subject line and it gives me "Unlock Your Potential Today!" I say: "Absolutely not. That's spam. Again, and pretend you have taste." It tries again. Better. "Warmer. Lose the exclamation point." There it is.

It's not wrong because it's broken. It's eager. It would rather hand you something confident than admit it isn't sure. Your job is to not get wowed by confidence.

Now you. Pick something you already know cold.

Ask it about your own town's founding year. A recipe you've made a hundred times. The rules of a card game you love. Then read the answer like a skeptic. When it fudges a detail, say so. "That's wrong. It's actually 1858." Watch it fold and fix it, no sulking.

If it doubles down, don't argue with it. Just restate it flat. "No. The year is 1858. Use that." If it apologizes six times, cut it off. "Stop apologizing. Fix it." Being unimpressed out loud is the whole skill here.

The contract told me we'd automate "when there's time." I've been around long enough to know that means never.

Here's the thing they wouldn't let me do that you can do for yourself this week. No permission required. Find one task you keep grinding through by hand and let AI help you hand off the part that doesn't need you.

Don't dump the whole mess in and hope. Make it interview you first.

What happens next
The AI asks you four or five questions, one at a time. Answer them honestly. Then it picks the single task most worth changing and hands you the actual thing to do - the exact prompt to paste or the first move to make, written for your task, ready in ten minutes. If something needs your judgment or sensitive info, it'll steer you somewhere safer. No permission slip required.

The Matriarchy Minute is where I spotlight women doing work in AI that you should know about but probably don't.

This week: Francia Haces

I met her last week. She watched the SheBuilds by Lovable mini-webinar, then tagged me in a post - which is how the good ones find you. You don't go looking. They show up.

Here's what she built. Francia spent 30 years in hospitality marketing - airlines, tourism boards, luxury resorts across Mexico, Jamaica, the Dominican Republic - and instead of coasting on that resume, she pointed all of it at a question almost nobody in her industry has answered yet: when someone asks ChatGPT or Perplexity to recommend a hotel, does the model pick you?

She calls it the Agreement Problem. AI doesn't read your website the way a guest does. It cross-checks your site against Google, TripAdvisor, and Booking, and if those sources don't agree on what your property even is, it quietly recommends someone else.

So she built AI Reveal Map - a free 60-second diagnostic that tells a boutique hotel exactly how ready it is to be recommended by AI.

Thirty years of knowing the industry cold, aimed straight at the thing that's about to decide who gets booked.

Follow her. Watch what she does next.

Friday, June 26 | 10 AM CDT
Friday Jam Session with Joy Prompt Club. 30 minutes. No agenda. Just prompts, play, and people who get it. Open to anyone who wants to join in and has questions or a problem they’re trying to solve. You do not need to be in Joy Prompt Club to benefit from these fantastic humans.

Joy Prompt Club - My favorite little virtual place in all the interwebz.

AI Confidential Prompt Kits - 10 copy-paste-ready prompt kits for the stuff you actually need help with - resumes, LinkedIn profiles, interview prep, content, career direction, caregiver sanity, all of it.

Written by a woman who quit a job on Thursday, screamed into the void about it, and got talked off the ledge by two friends on a Zoom she almost didn't set up. I'm okay. Better than okay, actually. Lighter.

Whatever you're white-knuckling alone right now - the decision, the meltdown, the thing you're sure you have to handle by yourself - you don't. Let someone see it before it's tidy.

💜

Take care of yourself, take care of each other,

Deb

P.S. Go run Manual Override this week. Pick the one task you keep grinding through by hand and let it find you a piece to hand off. Then hit reply and tell me what you offloaded - or what it got wrong. That's how it gets better.

P.P.S. I love hearing from you. If AI's got you feeling stuck, behind, or dumb, or you just need a human to talk it through with, hit reply. That inbox is me. It's always been me.