Sundown Stories #5
September 14 - September 20, 2025
As the sun slips beneath the horizon and the sky softens into night, I gather the week’s small moments—overheard hellos, passing glances, and lingering dreams. Welcome to Sundown Stories. This week includes embodying the main character's energy through self compassion, three conversations, a tarot syllabus and a teaser for October’s post.
In January 2024, the weekend my ex and I broke up, indie rock artist Hannah Wicklund released The Prize. Wicklund isn’t just a musician, she’s a painter, a truth-teller, and a fierce advocate for equality in the music industry. That record arrived like a mirror, echoing my inner turmoil: my addiction to self-sabotage, my hunger to be seen, and my frustration with being a woman in a suffocating patriarchal world. On “Intervention,” she sings, “I wish that I could see myself the way I’m portrayed by everybody else.”
It dawned on me this Sunday that I’ve become the person I once hoped I’d be, even after nearly burning my life down. Last week, when I was writing about that moment on the back of the horse with the cowboy, I realized something had shifted. Yes, I had some wing-woman assistance, but in that moment, I felt seen, fully and unapologetically, exactly as I am.
Later, when I posted a reel, Stephania commented that she loves living vicariously through me. It’s a compliment I’ve heard before, but journaling about it cracked something open. This time it didn’t feel like flattery; it felt like confirmation.
The shift I’m noticing isn’t about “becoming” anymore, it’s about embodying. There’s a new sense of self-possession in me, a clarity that comes from knowing where I begin and where I end. My energy has its own shape because I inhabit my boundaries. I hold myself with grace and respect. And I fight—sometimes daily—to interrupt those self-deprecating habits.
Earlier this year, I archived a post about my journey to self-compassion. Revisiting it now, I can see just how far I’ve come. Here’s an excerpt:
Self-talk shapes our reality. For me, the pursuit of perfection equated to worthiness. As a teenager, I was sexually assaulted, and it rewired my inner voice to tell me I was damaged. Already terrified of mistakes and abandonment, I clung to achievement as proof of my value. I thought if I were perfect, no one would leave. So, I built my self-worth around success, constantly proving myself.
In her TEDx Talk The Space Between: Self-Esteem and Self-Compassion, Dr. Kristin Neff explains how American culture primes us to seek self-esteem through competition and achievement. But self-esteem is conditional—fragile, dependent on validation. Self-compassion is unconditional. It rests on three things: self-kindness, common humanity, and mindfulness.
I began to understand this after my breakup. When I didn’t land my dream job eight months later, I thought it was yet another failure. In hindsight, it was the breaking point that forced me to let go of self-esteem as currency and reach for something steadier: compassion.
Back then, I leaned on affirmations like these to guide me toward healing:
I welcome new adventures with courage and curiosity, trusting they will lead me to growth and joy.
I am open to opportunities that align with my highest potential.
Abundance flows to me effortlessly.
I am worthy of receiving love, joy, wealth, and opportunities.
I honor my authentic voice and express myself freely.
I am enough, just as I am.
Looking at them now, I see how they were stepping stones. They carried me from survival into self-compassion. My affirmations today are more about embodying what’s already here.
All this inner work is important, but growth also shows up in smallest, everyday interactions. Tuesday reminded me of that, stitched together with conversations worth noting.
8:30 AM – My mom called to talk about booking my holiday flights. Midway through, she asked if I’d invite the cute bartender to dinner when she and my dad visited. I shot it down immediately. Later, I vented to Ariana, because of course I did—we’re enmeshed like that. I realized my annoyance wasn’t really about her question. Meeting my family is sacred to me. The bartender may be fun, but he hasn’t even reached the level of meeting my friends. My mom doesn’t understand the way I draw boundaries: time is one thing, intimacy is another.
11:10 AM – Gram called me while Julie, Do You Love Me? by Bobby Sherman played on the radio. I had been thinking about her since waking up, after seeing that Robert Redford died. Over the summer, we watched The Great Gatsby together—Redford as Gatsby, Mia Farrow as Daisy, Sam Waterston as Nick. It was just a short conversation, but I loved it.
12:30 PM – At my desk with chia pudding and almonds, one of my bosses stopped to compliment my choice. I joked I’d prefer something less healthy, but it turned into a conversation about food, mood, and intention. Neither of us follows strict diets, but we both eat mostly pescatarian. I admitted that too much sugar makes me anxious. It reminded me that even my meals are part of my self-possession now and need to be chosen with care.
Some of my favorites lately:
– Breakfast: Toast with ricotta and chili oil
– Lunch: Roasted spiced chickpeas with spinach salad and lemon–tahini dressing
– Dinner: Zesty lime salmon with coconut rice and avocado
The conversation with my boss reminded me of one I had with my best friend on Monday. I admitted I’ve been eating out a lot, and while it isn’t great for my bank account, I don’t want to slip into that scarcity mindset. If I want to spend money on food, I’ll do it — I earned it. What matters is how I spend it: lingering at my favorite local restaurants with friends, not scarfing down fast food on the couch or between errands.
Intentional spending is just one layer of intentional living. My sister has been trying to practice this too. She recently asked me about the books I used to learn tarot, and I ended up developing a whole syllabus for her. I thought carefully about where I’d begin if I were starting from scratch. For me, it starts with building self-awareness and refining my energy to develop my own voice. As my therapist once told me, The Four Agreements is basically the Bible, so that’s where I suggested she begin. The outcome isn’t just tarot — it’s clarity, intuition, and a deeper sense of self before the practice.
In my Wednesday note, I mentioned how, at 17, I felt disconnected from my friends and peers. I wondered why I seemed so self-aware when others weren’t — and how isolating that felt, like everyone else was coasting through in ignorant bliss. What I failed to see then, and only recently began to understand, is the beauty of knowing where you begin and end. To genuinely feel your role in the world and recognize your ability to shape it.
Self-awareness is the consciousness that lets us notice our behaviors and emotions; free will is what lets us act — or not act — on that awareness. I’ll be diving into how these two intertwine with self-sabotage in October.
And maybe that’s the throughline of this week’s story — choosing to live with intention, whether it’s in how I spend money, how I shape my routines, or how I meet myself in the mirror. These shifts feel small, but they stack into something bigger: a life I actually want to be inside of.
The next Tracks and Tales arrives October 21st, where I’ll be writing about the free will of self-sabotage. Until then, you can subscribe here to keep up with me, buy me a coffee if you’d rather drop in casually, or follow along on Instagram and TikTok where I share the in-between moments that don’t always make it into the newsletter.
Goodnight, Hannah Wicklund.
Goodnight, 2024 me.
Goodnight, toast with ricotta, spiced chickpeas and zesty salmon with coconut rice.
Goodnight, small shifts.
Goodnight, reader.