I wanted to start by sharing some exciting news (and, admittedly, a little chaos). While Substack is still very much alive, growing, and home to all of our memberships, episodes, and bonus content, there is now a second platform.
She’s not a sister. Not a cousin. She’s an identical twin—right down to the three moles on her cheek.
What does that mean?
Why are we doing this?
As What Sheridan Said continues to grow, I wanted to build a home that I own independently—a place where the archive, community, and future of this project can live beyond any single platform. This gives readers more flexibility in how they follow along while ensuring the series remains accessible no matter where it grows next.
Whether you subscribe through Substack or WhatSheridanSaid.com, you’ll receive the same episodes, the same membership perks, and the same access. And if you’re a paid subscriber who would like access on both platforms, simply reach out, and I’ll be happy to grant it.
I’ve mentioned a bit before about the possible partnerships and sponsorships that I’ve been chatting back and forth with and heavily contemplating. After it all worked out, a former colleague stepped up and invested the money I needed to order my own first round of books, get a team for the promotional content, and honestly it gave me this big boost of confidence that what I’m doing here isn’t just right for me— other people see the value in it too, and that includes the space you and I are building together Wednesdays at 9/8 Central.
I need to pause this right now to tell you that while I’ve been typing, I’ve taken a pause every other paragraph, and I’ve gone back to editing and nitpicking my website like crazy. I’m taking little breaks just to obsess for another thirty minutes over one tiny flaw or some layout misalignment that’s driving me nuts. So if you could, I’d really appreciate it if you went and dug around on my new platform and gave me a compliment sandwich only. If you don’t remember from my previous episode, a compliment sandwich is when you compliment someone, then tell them something that needs fixing or that is wrong, and then hit them with another compliment right after. That would mean the absolute world to me right now. Thanks ♡.
My other writing updates: I’ve written one new poem since we last spoke, but I also shared a few that I found in an old notebook. If you remember my poem from earlier this year, Where Your Hands Are, well, if not, it’s right here if you want a quick refresher:
Now that you’re refreshed, I have been obsessing over a few of the lines in that poem and wanted to see what else I could do with it. I felt wrong plagiarizing myself— well, I suppose it’s not even remotely close to that when I’m taking my own art or words and turning them into a new painting or poem— though I find it disingenuous to not let you know and label it as a series connected to the original Where Your Hands Are.
The second poem of the series is named, I’m sure you could probably guess this one, ‘Where Are Your Hands.’ I’ll share it here instead of forcing you to click another button. ♡
Where Are Your Hands
Her shoulders stopped living near her ears.
Weight did not send her elsewhere.
She does not know how to fake that.
She watched him step closer
and did not step back—
not because she wanted more,
because she does not know how to make less.
Her heart does not speak casually.
It does not survive being opened
and told it is misunderstood.
She cannot.
s.g
The opening line is one that looped in my head; I had to repurpose it for this piece, while the idea for this piece as a whole came from not only my thread’s social feed.
As a ‘hottistic’ woman, I wasn’t able to wrap my head around the idea that you can kiss someone you don’t have romantic emotions for without wanting to barf immediately after. As much as I still don’t completely understand how somebody could, it took my heart a while to understand that others don’t have the same walls or emotional boundaries that I do.
And yes, I’m talking about a kiss, you perverts.
But the discussion I saw across my threads’ social feed was of new adults, ages 18 to 22, talking about the same thing I struggled to work into just understanding: that others aren’t like me. My first thought was to check the accounts posting. I hate to say that I was equally checking if it was an AI/spam account as if it were a real human who would be classified into the ‘incel’ demographic. The verdict is that they were normal humans.
I think this truly outs me for the fact that I am only judging others if I’m judging myself first. Ugh, well, alright, to end my thought, I’ve been obsessing over the line “Her shoulders stopped living near her ears.” Since I wrote it for the first poem in this series, and the chatter and discord across my social feed gave me the idea to write this poem, the second of its series.
Go figure— I’m still moving a million miles a minute. My brain hates slowing down a thought pattern, but I am resting, transitioning between projects to a walk to tennis, to lounging, or simply writing something stupid just for myself. As much as I’m probably still classified as a workaholic with my day-to-day routine and self-discipline I hold myself to, I’m incorporating many different things to keep me active, sane, and on top of that, I’ve been sleeping ten hours a night. Eye bags where?
Last week, I was absolutely slammed with dog watching, house sitting, ghostwriting, and overall sales. You know the number one thing I hate about starting new projects or companies or hustles? SALES.
Some say I have a temperament for a good sale, meaning my face can not bullshit you.
But a bad sale? That would be me, face redder than my hair, sweating, palms and fingers twitching, I’ve lost my balance, and through a fake smile, I say, “Yes, sir! This medicine is backed by doctors, and I’ve witnessed it save thousands firsthand.”
“You don’t say?”
My face is now redder than hell and my voice and guilt wreaks that I’ve entered it myself and am crawling out as I crumble and say, “No sir! I don’t! I’m lying, this company kills thousands, and the doctors aren’t medical doctors,” sobs get increasingly more teary, “and, and.. they tell us to say that but they have doctorates in economics not medicine!”
To say the least, I have no poker face, and it’s extremely painful for me to lie. So the only sales I’m currently partaking in are good sales, my sales, my positive growth for myself and those around me!
I have to fill you in… something happened over the weekend, it also completely outs me for yet again being dramatic and possibly not sane, but when do I let that stop me from shutting up?
I told you in the last episode what happened with my last boyfriend, why it’s been so long since I’ve been in another relationship, and the absolutely chaotic out-of-nowhere sister wives bullshit he tried pulling on me. Well, let’s just say that I’m a little territorial, a little sensitive, and maybe over-the-top dramatic. So, when I dove into the creative industry at the end of 2025, I had hoped to meet some amazing people, but I didn’t think I’d meet someone who not only works in the creative industry but is as much of a business mind as I am. And that he’d be my boyfriend?
We didn’t meet because we worked together; we met because, well, I slid into his Instagram DMs. I know. At least it’s not Raya or Hinge, ok?
I’m sure you’re asking, “Sheridan, what the hell happened over the weekend?”
Well, my boyfriend is a really talented actor, and over the weekend I watched him act on set, where he, on script, had a romantic interest and a major scene ending with a kiss. To say the least, I left the second their hands touched, and have categorized myself as not sane enough to watch my man pretend to be with another woman, even if it’s professional, even if it’s scripted, even if its 100% fake, and we live together and he gives me all the reassurance I could possibly ask for. I am very much still not sane enough to watch that.
After I calmed down, my face went from red back to its regular pale, and I could no longer see stars or red. I said to him, “I will support you in your acting career, but I will probably never be sane enough to watch you act, even in the most professional environment, with a romantic interest.”
He laughed and instantly said, “For both our sakes, I won’t take a Heartthrob acting role again.”
So yes, over the weekend, I learned that I am not sane enough to watch my boyfriend act romantically on set with another woman, and I learned once again that I made the right choice sliding in his DMs.
(for now…… DUN DUN DUN!!!!!!!!)
Jokes aside, I have another reassuring and positive point of my relationship I’d love to share with you! We are moving into a new place together, so the next two weeks will be even more chaotic than normal. I’ve moved so many times now that I’m not afraid of this transition, but it will feel nice, not chaotic, and restful when we finally have our place together and sleeping under our new roof.
I’m building a new life, a new home around all the things I enjoy, and with an open avenue to allow more positives in. My parents live in the middle of Tennessee, which, if you aren’t aware, my entire immediate family is still in the frozen tundra state of, what was it? oooh yeaaah.. Riiiight, Minnesooota. I didn’t forget Minnesota, I just wanted to throw in my Fargo accent for old times’ sake.
But this new life I’m building isn’t too far from them. I can still take a long drive over for free weekend dog care (I do this a lot), and it’s a new sense of safety knowing I have family within a drive’s reach if Bigfoot were to break into my home and take all my money and food, versus being across the entire country with all help a two-day drive away. That’s not to say that I didn’t choose that several times over, because I certainly did; I wanted to move to D.C. for as long as I had cognitive thoughts and memories.
If you have ever moved across the country by yourself, to an unfamiliar community, with your family thousands of miles away, I think you understand. Safety that’s given and safety that’s earned hit two different spots. It’s a beautiful thought to be across the country from where I was raised (I bust out my minx coat at 55 degrees, therefore I can not go North again) and still have a sense of safety that there is at least some family, safety that’s given, nearby.
This isn’t to say and discredit those who helped me, stood by me, and offered safety given and not earned, but I’m speaking in regards to blood is bred and others are met.
But I want to open this to a new discussion; there is a large portion of my family scattered across the country in parts I have yet to live in, and perhaps hope to someday. It’s been a bit difficult, I know that I’m dramatic, over the top, dare I say… extreme? But my family’s ideologies, politics, and morals have been scattered from all ends of the spectrum that half of the time I must remain Switzerland in order to continue a relationship with that family member. This isn’t saying that I don’t shut down statements, and I certainly can not lie or hold a poker face, as discussed before, but I’ve had to act smart in what I share, in how I question someone, and how I can respond to get someone to see what they just said is fucked up on their own.. because if I do it myself.. who knows how long until they want to speak to me again.
I’m sure your family is like this. I see many families like this. Divided, fighting, and going over the topics not allowed at a gathering prior to entering the door, like a Vampire that needs an orientation first. It’s exhausting, sad, and I wish I had relationships with many of my family that’s chosen their deserved boundaries to be away. If you’re reading this, some of you do, would you hear me if I said I was just a little kid and I’d love to get to know you?
I know family stuff like this is heavy, and I’m sure a lot of you reading this get it. The constant tiptoeing, staying Switzerland just to keep the peace, watching ideologies fly across the table while you try not to blow everything up… It’s exhausting and honestly kind of sad sometimes. I wish things were simpler with the ones who’ve set their boundaries and stepped back, and often even the ones who didn’t. If any of you are reading this and you’re one of those people, just know that a huge part of my heart is still open even when the rest of me is dramatic and extreme about everything else.
Whew… that was a lot to unload on a Wednesday evening. Between the website transition, waiting on the books, my sales meltdowns, the very not-sane acting-set moment, moving in with my boyfriend, and all the family feelings I can never quite keep inside— I basically just dumped my whole brain onto the page… but hey, what else is new. Thanks for sitting through all my rambling and oversharing.
I’m excited about what’s coming next, even if it’s messy and chaotic for a while. New platform, new home, new chapters, and hopefully a little more peace mixed in with all the noise. If you’ve been here since the beginning, I appreciate you more than you know. I’d love to hear from you if the new site needs a compliment sandwich, or if you just want to say hey— I really do read every single one.
Until next Wednesday… keep surviving your own version of dramatic life, protect your sanity, and be gentle with your heart.
xo,
Sheridan Guerrette
WhatSheridanSaid.com
Life Behind the Artist: Wed at 9/8C
