Soft Machine, Hard Truths
Three hard truths sit at the heart of Soft Machine. Gratitude that starts within. Rituals born from storms. Love that feels uneasy but honest. A Thanksgiving reflection for anyone learning to thank themselves.
My song, Soft Machine, hit a major playlist this week!!

It’s perfect timing too with the Thanksgiving holiday in the US because this song is a reflection on gratitude. Something I’ve always prided myself on being mindful of, but as I’ve continued this personal journey realized… I’ve been terribly inconsistent at thanking myself.
So here are three hard (and beautiful) truths I learned and infused into this song.
#1 Rituals > Routine
“Thank the rituals I forged in storms”
Hard truth:
I used to think consistency and discipline required strict routine. Scheduled. Measured. Never missed. My wild mind craves routine and then rebels against it just as fast. That mismatch produced more shame than inspiration whenever I tried to force it alone.
Ritual changed everything.
A more flexible “if this, then that” approach.
A rhythm instead of a rule.
Ritual lets me work with myself, not against myself.
Frameworks and mental models support me far more than sheer willpower ever has.
Practical example:
When I get overwhelmed and don’t know what to do next, I go back to first principles. Break everything down to its core elements, then rebuild a solution from there. It’s simple, powerful, and wildly kind to my brain.
#2 Thank Me > Thank You
“But sometimes in the giving, I disappear”
Hard truth:
I learned to thank everyone except myself and it cost me years of self-respect. Gratitude comes easy when I’m offering it outward. For myself, that inner voice was trained for years to motivate through anxiety, shame, and comparison.
Parenthood breaks that spell quickly.
Would I speak to my kids like that? No.
My worst enemy? Still no.
So why would I ever let that voice run unchecked inside my own head?
Unlearning that tone is slow work.
The small wins matter.
They soften everything and transform the way I show up for others too. There is a quiet strength in someone who loves themselves not because they achieved something, but because they accepted themselves fully and boldly try anyway.
Practical example:
When I finish something meaningful, I now try to pause and say a quick thank you. Not to fate, the universe, or circumstance but to version of myself today who tried anyway. Nothing poetic. Something like, “You showed up even when you didn’t want to.” It takes ten seconds and interrupts the old habit of looking outward for validation. Over time, those sentences read like proof that I’ve been present for my own life.
#3 Uncomfortable Love > Comfortable Hate
“I looked in mirrors and only saw shame”
Hard truth:
Hating myself might get me off the couch once in a while, but it will never create the sustainable motivation that only comes from uncomfortable, unconditional self-love.
For years I saw failure when I looked inward, even while surviving more than most people knew. Objectively succeeding yet feeling like a fraud. A lucky break. A wasted potential.
Reframing wasn’t aesthetic.
It was structural.
Not theoretical, but something practiced moment by moment each time that shame resurfaces in my life.
And this is what I really mean by soft machine.
Our brains are incredible engines capable of far more than the rigid order we try to impose on them. (Especially wild minds like mine!) Accepting my success with my failure, my hope with my fear, and my strengths with my weaknesses opened something new in me.
A sense that I can shape who I am tomorrow by being fully present today.
I’m not becoming or lacking. Not behind or ahead.
I’m owning who I am, even if I don’t control every element of that identity.
Practical example:
When my inner critic spikes, I let myself acknowledge one strength in the same breath as the fear. For example, “I’m scared I’ll mess this up, and I’m also someone who learns fast.” It keeps the shame from running the whole show and gives my brain a more balanced starting point. Not sugarcoating. Just truth with context.
You deserve gratitude that only you can give.
So if you listen to Soft Machine today, I hope you find some truth for yourself.
If you do, name it.
Thank the version of you who carried that weight long before today and then let it go.
You deserve a level of gratitude that only you can give.
And a quick note before you go.
My new single If I Wrote the Rules is streaming everywhere.
It’s a song about grief, loss, and the hope you find when you stop trying to control the story.
It sits in the space where memory becomes presence, where the people we’ve loved and lost feel close again when we choose to stay present with them.
If Soft Machine is a thank-you, this one is a letting-go.
I hope it meets you where you need it.
