Thank you Alice. I feel a weird collective sense of “ok, enough now” yet I want more of these conversations personally and will do more to help everyone feel safe in my space and as they build theirs too. ✨🩷🙏
Claire, thank you so much. I really respect the way you show up here—with steadiness, care, and honesty. I feel that tension too: nervous system frayed, but also knowing this conversation mattered deeply. I’m grateful for your voice and your commitment to making this space safer for all of us. 🫶❤️🩹✨
To be honest, I had no idea any of this happened. Quite surprised to learn of it in your post but in a way, thankful not to be caught up in it. It unfortunately reveals a toxic aspect of this medium that so many were running from and found safety here.
Thank you for sharing that—there’s something really grounding about not being caught up in it, and I totally understand your surprise. I felt that too. I didn’t want to get pulled into the noise either, but what I witnessed unfolding felt too harmful to stay silent any longer.
I still believe there’s hope here—for all of us, especially those who’ve experienced trauma and/or harm. This is our space too. We don’t need permission to be ourselves or speak the truths we were once told to keep quiet. And as we do, we get to lift each other up.
Alice I just saw this and have read it through. It’s great work and I agree so hard with all you say here. The mocking of ‘sad girl culture’ was probably the worst part of it and the criticism dressed up as ‘for her own good’ commentary. Well done for writing this really thoughtful piece xxxx
Sarah, thank you so much for reading and for your encouragement—it truly means a lot. That “for her own good” tone was so hard to read… how easily cruelty can wear the mask of care. And the dismissal of “sad girl culture”—when so many of us are finding our voice again, one healing word at a time—was incredibly painful.
We’ll be here for the “sad girls”. 🫶
Thank you so much for your work and being a trustworthy voice of encouragement and compassion. So glad we’re connected here. Sending love and strength as we keep carving out a softer, braver corner of the internet. ❤️
This was beautiful, Alice. Thank you for the love and compassion behind your words, and for your faith that this can be a safer, kinder space for us all. You’re leading by example, and we’re all here for it! ❤️
Thank you so much, Stephanie! Your words mean a lot—especially in a moment that feels tender and uncertain. I’m holding onto that hope, and I’m so grateful to be walking alongside women like you who are helping shape a kinder, more conscious space. ❤️
“Maybe it’s a chance for us to stop tearing successful women down and start reclaiming this space as a place of real connection.“ — this is so beautifully said. It seems like we turn on others when we are desperately trying to be seen. In the end, connection is our true goal. We have the opportunity to bypass all the confused negativity and cultivate true connection.
Thank you, Heather. I really appreciate your thoughtful presence here. You’re right—when we focus on real connection, everything shifts. It’s a relief to know there are others committed to cultivating that kind of space too. Grateful to be in it with you.
Hi Ann, thank you so much for taking the time to share, comment and connect here. I really appreciate you naming that this has affected you too—there’s something powerful in that acknowledging. I’m so glad the words met you where you are. Grateful to be walking alongside you here and creating this place of safety and connection. ❤️✨
Hi, Alice. You are so strong. I appreciate all of your words and hold them closely. The only lens that I have is one of trauma and hurt and abuse and neglect… and endurance and triumph and survival. You know it well. And those of us who look at the world in that way are sisters. We are bonded in a way that we never would have chosen, but a way that connects us to kindred spirits. Thank you for writing this. Love to you ❤️
Abbey, thank you. Your words landed so deeply—and I feel that bond you named with my whole heart. It’s a connection none of us would have chosen, but within it, I’ve found some of the most resilient, radiant souls I’ve ever known. You’re one of them. 🫶❤️✨
The way you carry both the pain and the triumph, the survival and the softness—it’s sacred. Thank you for being here, for seeing me, and for walking this path alongside so many of us. Love to you too, always.
The honesty you bring, the gentleness braided with power, the way you hold space for the grief, confusion, and quiet strength of this community…. absolutely none of it goes unnoticed. You remind me why this work matters, why we stay, even when it hurts and I'm grateful for your voice and writing.
There’s such a grounded love and integrity in the way you write, that kind of truth reaches into us and rearranges what needs tending. You speak not just as a writer but as a woman walking through the fire with your fellow sister, and I admire that with everything in me.
Your trauma-informed lens, your fierce compassion, and your unrelenting belief in a better kind of space….these are revolutionary acts ones that you are carrying the torch with and inviting other women to do the same. I’m so grateful to be learning, working, growing, and healing beside someone like you. You see women. You believe in them. You don’t look away from the pain you help others and yourself work through it.…that kind of leadership is rare and sacred.
I truly believe we’re weaving something together here, something that allows us to stay whole even when we’re wounded. Thank you for helping shape that space. Thank you for being a mirror, a guide, a torchbearer :)
A special thank you for including my piece about Glennon in this, deeply appreciative X
With so much love and all the fire Alice,
—R.
For the women who are still here, still writing, still rising 🙏🐦🔥
Raquel… I don’t have words big enough for your beautiful and encouraging comment. They brought tears to my eyes! Thank you for meeting this moment with such reverence and tenderness. Your words felt like a steady exhale, reminding me why we keep doing this work even when it hurts.
I’ve long admired the fire and care you bring to your writing, and I’m deeply honored to be weaving something alongside you. You understand what it means to stay—not because it’s easy, but because there’s something worth protecting here. Something sacred.
Yes—we are still here. Still writing. Still rising. And I’m so grateful to be doing it beside you.
I haven’t been able to write a post since. It doesn’t feel safe to share anymore. I’ve shared a few notes, but I haven’t hard the energy to do anything long form when it could be ridiculed as sad girl culture or I could be accused of trying to monetize victimhood.
I need to unfollow/unsubscribe from a few people as well. Really disappointing. And I feel particularly bad because (I don’t know if she read it) but in March I sent Glennon an email thanking her and telling her how much I loved Substack. In no way do I think she came because of me, but I still feel guilty, and like I can’t trust this platform to feel safe anymore. I don’t know if I want to be here at all anymore. It just doesn’t feel safe.
I feel this in my bones—and I’m so sorry you’re carrying this right now. I’ve had many of the same thoughts, and I just want to say: everything you’re feeling is valid. This has shaken me too. For me, the weight of Sema’s post triggered old wounds so deeply, my body went into full defense mode. It felt like confirmation of every silencing message I’ve spent years trying to unlearn and that felt echoed here in light of Glennon’s arrival and departure.
And you are so right—it takes *so much* courage to write the truth when we’ve been taught our stories are dangerous, dramatic, or “too much.” To be met with harm for that bravery is absolutely devastating.
What those who are not trauma-informed don’t understand is that it takes an Everest of courage to speak up like we do. It’s exercising our voice when we were conditioned to keep silent. And in doing so in a safe space, it becomes healing not only for us but for others—because it allows them to be brave too. Those who label it “sad girl culture” and “profiting” are not only naively misinformed but are causing additional harm—echoing some of the most traumatic messages and pain some of us knew so well in childhood.
So I keep coming back to this truth: **we are the culture here**. Not just the other voices. Our voices *are* Substack culture. Our words shape this space—and there is real power in that.
Last night, I visualized it as breaking a rope, breaking free from their opinions that are trying to bind me down. And then I’m totally free. I can feel it in my whole body—this pure freedom—I am not bound by their oppressive messages. (Did you read my last post? I am not a crab to be brought down.) Let them talk—I am going to shake their words off.
Whether you need to step away or return slowly, I support that SO much. There is agency and healing in every choice we make on our own terms. Just know: your story is *yours*. It’s sacred. It’s not up for debate. And I’m so grateful of your presence and your voice no matter what you choose. 🫶❤️🔥
Thank you, Alice, for this beautiful, thoughtful reply. This is why I write— for my own healing, and in the hopes that it helps someone else feel less alone.
“Echoing some of the most traumatic messages” is a great way to put it. I appreciate your insight. It’s helping me to muddle through these feelings and figure out why I’m bothered. Thank you 🩵
Thank you for posting this. All social media is tricky, addictive, and has good and bad, even Substack. It's hard to find the good in amongst the overwhelm and unravelling while trying to run a business and build an authentic community of like-minded people around it, but threads like this give me hope. And this still feels like a safer place to build an authentic community than the meta numbers game. So I'm staying and building here with caution and mindfulness too. And pleased to have connected with you x
While I’m not tempted to leave, I’m so extremely saddened about the thousands of women she likely brought TO THE PLATFORM that never knew any of us, but might have through our engagement with her content and within the community. Her community is ours, too. They’re our people - middle aged women trying to make it through this messy life. I’m really pissed at and so disappointed in those who bullied her out.
Thank you for this beautifully written and thought-provoking piece! As a family nurse practitioner, a mother, and a multiple trauma survivor who works in the health and wellness and mental health fields, I want to make a point. From my observations of various health and wellness and mental health "experts," it seems many of these writers have experienced their own struggles. They may not have effectively dealt with their trauma or are still in the process of working through it, which could explain why they come across as detached. They still need to focus on self-compassion and mindfulness.
As for me, I continue to share my vulnerable experiences on Substack and other platforms because I believe many women need to hear what I have to say. Together, we can normalize and process our experiences, enabling us to move forward with strong, healthy boundaries and wisdom.
Thank you for this reflection, Alice. My nervous system crashed pretty hard from glennongate and I had to consider whether I could continue building what I just started on here. It wasn’t so much fear of being chased out, but fear of being overly caught up in gripping public unravelings. The reason I left social media was because, in all the noise, I just become a silent consumer. I don’t engage. I don’t create. I can’t hear my own voice and I don’t want to contribute to chaos. I appreciate what you are naming, that we can create space for the sensitives together. That we can find each other and support each other when the algorithm overwhelms our senses. I’m happy to be here with you 🩷
Sarah, thank you for sharing this with such honesty. I deeply resonate with everything you said—and know that you’re not alone. ❤️🩹So many of us came to Substack because the noise of other platforms drowned out our truth. We’re the sensitives, the empathic souls, the quiet ones who feel the undercurrents. And it’s no small thing to consider staying after a rupture like this.
I just want to affirm your voice, your intuition, and your care. The fact that you’re here is powerful. I believe we can co-create a space that feels safe for us—one built slowly, rooted in compassion, and grounded in integrity. I’m holding space for you and for every tender-hearted creator deciding what comes next.
With so much love and support,
Alice
P.s. check out Healing Out Loud’s comment below and my reply. You are not alone! And whatever you choose is valid. Supporting you so much. 🫶
Thank you Alice. I feel a weird collective sense of “ok, enough now” yet I want more of these conversations personally and will do more to help everyone feel safe in my space and as they build theirs too. ✨🩷🙏
Claire, thank you so much. I really respect the way you show up here—with steadiness, care, and honesty. I feel that tension too: nervous system frayed, but also knowing this conversation mattered deeply. I’m grateful for your voice and your commitment to making this space safer for all of us. 🫶❤️🩹✨
To be honest, I had no idea any of this happened. Quite surprised to learn of it in your post but in a way, thankful not to be caught up in it. It unfortunately reveals a toxic aspect of this medium that so many were running from and found safety here.
Thank you for sharing that—there’s something really grounding about not being caught up in it, and I totally understand your surprise. I felt that too. I didn’t want to get pulled into the noise either, but what I witnessed unfolding felt too harmful to stay silent any longer.
I still believe there’s hope here—for all of us, especially those who’ve experienced trauma and/or harm. This is our space too. We don’t need permission to be ourselves or speak the truths we were once told to keep quiet. And as we do, we get to lift each other up.
:) 🫶🔥
Alice I just saw this and have read it through. It’s great work and I agree so hard with all you say here. The mocking of ‘sad girl culture’ was probably the worst part of it and the criticism dressed up as ‘for her own good’ commentary. Well done for writing this really thoughtful piece xxxx
Sarah, thank you so much for reading and for your encouragement—it truly means a lot. That “for her own good” tone was so hard to read… how easily cruelty can wear the mask of care. And the dismissal of “sad girl culture”—when so many of us are finding our voice again, one healing word at a time—was incredibly painful.
We’ll be here for the “sad girls”. 🫶
Thank you so much for your work and being a trustworthy voice of encouragement and compassion. So glad we’re connected here. Sending love and strength as we keep carving out a softer, braver corner of the internet. ❤️
This was beautiful, Alice. Thank you for the love and compassion behind your words, and for your faith that this can be a safer, kinder space for us all. You’re leading by example, and we’re all here for it! ❤️
Thank you so much, Stephanie! Your words mean a lot—especially in a moment that feels tender and uncertain. I’m holding onto that hope, and I’m so grateful to be walking alongside women like you who are helping shape a kinder, more conscious space. ❤️
“Maybe it’s a chance for us to stop tearing successful women down and start reclaiming this space as a place of real connection.“ — this is so beautifully said. It seems like we turn on others when we are desperately trying to be seen. In the end, connection is our true goal. We have the opportunity to bypass all the confused negativity and cultivate true connection.
Thank you, Heather. I really appreciate your thoughtful presence here. You’re right—when we focus on real connection, everything shifts. It’s a relief to know there are others committed to cultivating that kind of space too. Grateful to be in it with you.
Hi Alice,
I have seen this happening and it has affected me in some way. I truly appreciate your words and thoughts on this, thank you!
Hi Ann, thank you so much for taking the time to share, comment and connect here. I really appreciate you naming that this has affected you too—there’s something powerful in that acknowledging. I’m so glad the words met you where you are. Grateful to be walking alongside you here and creating this place of safety and connection. ❤️✨
Hi, Alice. You are so strong. I appreciate all of your words and hold them closely. The only lens that I have is one of trauma and hurt and abuse and neglect… and endurance and triumph and survival. You know it well. And those of us who look at the world in that way are sisters. We are bonded in a way that we never would have chosen, but a way that connects us to kindred spirits. Thank you for writing this. Love to you ❤️
Abbey, thank you. Your words landed so deeply—and I feel that bond you named with my whole heart. It’s a connection none of us would have chosen, but within it, I’ve found some of the most resilient, radiant souls I’ve ever known. You’re one of them. 🫶❤️✨
The way you carry both the pain and the triumph, the survival and the softness—it’s sacred. Thank you for being here, for seeing me, and for walking this path alongside so many of us. Love to you too, always.
Just subscribed to you so I’ll know where to find you❤️
Same! ❤️
👯♀️
Beautiful Alice….
The honesty you bring, the gentleness braided with power, the way you hold space for the grief, confusion, and quiet strength of this community…. absolutely none of it goes unnoticed. You remind me why this work matters, why we stay, even when it hurts and I'm grateful for your voice and writing.
There’s such a grounded love and integrity in the way you write, that kind of truth reaches into us and rearranges what needs tending. You speak not just as a writer but as a woman walking through the fire with your fellow sister, and I admire that with everything in me.
Your trauma-informed lens, your fierce compassion, and your unrelenting belief in a better kind of space….these are revolutionary acts ones that you are carrying the torch with and inviting other women to do the same. I’m so grateful to be learning, working, growing, and healing beside someone like you. You see women. You believe in them. You don’t look away from the pain you help others and yourself work through it.…that kind of leadership is rare and sacred.
I truly believe we’re weaving something together here, something that allows us to stay whole even when we’re wounded. Thank you for helping shape that space. Thank you for being a mirror, a guide, a torchbearer :)
A special thank you for including my piece about Glennon in this, deeply appreciative X
With so much love and all the fire Alice,
—R.
For the women who are still here, still writing, still rising 🙏🐦🔥
Raquel… I don’t have words big enough for your beautiful and encouraging comment. They brought tears to my eyes! Thank you for meeting this moment with such reverence and tenderness. Your words felt like a steady exhale, reminding me why we keep doing this work even when it hurts.
I’ve long admired the fire and care you bring to your writing, and I’m deeply honored to be weaving something alongside you. You understand what it means to stay—not because it’s easy, but because there’s something worth protecting here. Something sacred.
Yes—we are still here. Still writing. Still rising. And I’m so grateful to be doing it beside you.
With SO much love back,
—Alice
I haven’t been able to write a post since. It doesn’t feel safe to share anymore. I’ve shared a few notes, but I haven’t hard the energy to do anything long form when it could be ridiculed as sad girl culture or I could be accused of trying to monetize victimhood.
I need to unfollow/unsubscribe from a few people as well. Really disappointing. And I feel particularly bad because (I don’t know if she read it) but in March I sent Glennon an email thanking her and telling her how much I loved Substack. In no way do I think she came because of me, but I still feel guilty, and like I can’t trust this platform to feel safe anymore. I don’t know if I want to be here at all anymore. It just doesn’t feel safe.
I feel this in my bones—and I’m so sorry you’re carrying this right now. I’ve had many of the same thoughts, and I just want to say: everything you’re feeling is valid. This has shaken me too. For me, the weight of Sema’s post triggered old wounds so deeply, my body went into full defense mode. It felt like confirmation of every silencing message I’ve spent years trying to unlearn and that felt echoed here in light of Glennon’s arrival and departure.
And you are so right—it takes *so much* courage to write the truth when we’ve been taught our stories are dangerous, dramatic, or “too much.” To be met with harm for that bravery is absolutely devastating.
What those who are not trauma-informed don’t understand is that it takes an Everest of courage to speak up like we do. It’s exercising our voice when we were conditioned to keep silent. And in doing so in a safe space, it becomes healing not only for us but for others—because it allows them to be brave too. Those who label it “sad girl culture” and “profiting” are not only naively misinformed but are causing additional harm—echoing some of the most traumatic messages and pain some of us knew so well in childhood.
So I keep coming back to this truth: **we are the culture here**. Not just the other voices. Our voices *are* Substack culture. Our words shape this space—and there is real power in that.
Last night, I visualized it as breaking a rope, breaking free from their opinions that are trying to bind me down. And then I’m totally free. I can feel it in my whole body—this pure freedom—I am not bound by their oppressive messages. (Did you read my last post? I am not a crab to be brought down.) Let them talk—I am going to shake their words off.
Whether you need to step away or return slowly, I support that SO much. There is agency and healing in every choice we make on our own terms. Just know: your story is *yours*. It’s sacred. It’s not up for debate. And I’m so grateful of your presence and your voice no matter what you choose. 🫶❤️🔥
Here for you.
Love,
Alice
Thank you, Alice, for this beautiful, thoughtful reply. This is why I write— for my own healing, and in the hopes that it helps someone else feel less alone.
“Echoing some of the most traumatic messages” is a great way to put it. I appreciate your insight. It’s helping me to muddle through these feelings and figure out why I’m bothered. Thank you 🩵
I can hear you healing out loud through your comment. Thank you for showing up.
Thank you for posting this. All social media is tricky, addictive, and has good and bad, even Substack. It's hard to find the good in amongst the overwhelm and unravelling while trying to run a business and build an authentic community of like-minded people around it, but threads like this give me hope. And this still feels like a safer place to build an authentic community than the meta numbers game. So I'm staying and building here with caution and mindfulness too. And pleased to have connected with you x
While I’m not tempted to leave, I’m so extremely saddened about the thousands of women she likely brought TO THE PLATFORM that never knew any of us, but might have through our engagement with her content and within the community. Her community is ours, too. They’re our people - middle aged women trying to make it through this messy life. I’m really pissed at and so disappointed in those who bullied her out.
Thank you for this beautifully written and thought-provoking piece! As a family nurse practitioner, a mother, and a multiple trauma survivor who works in the health and wellness and mental health fields, I want to make a point. From my observations of various health and wellness and mental health "experts," it seems many of these writers have experienced their own struggles. They may not have effectively dealt with their trauma or are still in the process of working through it, which could explain why they come across as detached. They still need to focus on self-compassion and mindfulness.
As for me, I continue to share my vulnerable experiences on Substack and other platforms because I believe many women need to hear what I have to say. Together, we can normalize and process our experiences, enabling us to move forward with strong, healthy boundaries and wisdom.
Thank you for this reflection, Alice. My nervous system crashed pretty hard from glennongate and I had to consider whether I could continue building what I just started on here. It wasn’t so much fear of being chased out, but fear of being overly caught up in gripping public unravelings. The reason I left social media was because, in all the noise, I just become a silent consumer. I don’t engage. I don’t create. I can’t hear my own voice and I don’t want to contribute to chaos. I appreciate what you are naming, that we can create space for the sensitives together. That we can find each other and support each other when the algorithm overwhelms our senses. I’m happy to be here with you 🩷
Sarah, thank you for sharing this with such honesty. I deeply resonate with everything you said—and know that you’re not alone. ❤️🩹So many of us came to Substack because the noise of other platforms drowned out our truth. We’re the sensitives, the empathic souls, the quiet ones who feel the undercurrents. And it’s no small thing to consider staying after a rupture like this.
I just want to affirm your voice, your intuition, and your care. The fact that you’re here is powerful. I believe we can co-create a space that feels safe for us—one built slowly, rooted in compassion, and grounded in integrity. I’m holding space for you and for every tender-hearted creator deciding what comes next.
With so much love and support,
Alice
P.s. check out Healing Out Loud’s comment below and my reply. You are not alone! And whatever you choose is valid. Supporting you so much. 🫶