a small library
A short shelf of books that shaped the Honey Badger, and underneath them — my own Prescriptions for Living. Little doses of hard-won wisdom in my voice, meant to be read slowly, kept in a pocket, or taped to the bathroom mirror on a hard morning.
I won't reprint them here — writers deserve to be bought, not borrowed without asking. But I'll tell you why each one earned a spot on the shelf.
by Dr. Seuss
A little pocket book of Seuss lines that hit like tiny sermons. I keep it near because it reminds me healing can rhyme, and wisdom doesn't have to wear a suit. If a page here feels a little sing-songy, blame the good doctor.
Find a copyWritten on the back of imaginary prescription pads by Dr. Honey Badger, MD (Mostly Determined). No side effects except the occasional spine straightening.
Rest is not a reward for finishing. It's the ground the finishing grows in.
Sig: Take as often as needed. Refills unlimited.
— Dr. Honey Badger
Boundaries aren't walls. They're the porch light that tells you who's welcome after dark.
Sig: Apply nightly. Reapply when someone knocks anyway.
— Dr. Honey Badger
You can love people from a distance the size of your own safety.
Sig: One dose per guilty thought. Do not exceed your peace.
— Dr. Honey Badger
The honey doesn't cancel the badger. The badger is why the honey is safe.
Sig: Take with a full breath. Warning: may cause spine straightening.
— Dr. Honey Badger
You are allowed to outgrow rooms that raised you.
Sig: One dose whenever the old chair no longer fits.
— Dr. Honey Badger
Small and steady is still a direction.
Sig: Take on days the big plan won't lift.
— Dr. Honey Badger
More prescriptions get written on hard days and quiet mornings. If one of these ends up on your fridge, mirror, or in a friend's pocket — that's exactly where it belongs.
— Briana, the Honey Badger
