Sometimes it isn't the big explosion. Sometimes it's small comments, small looks, small shifts—and you get incredibly good at explaining them away. I did. I decorated alarm. I made it beige: subtle, socially acceptable, easy to live with.

In The Red Flags I Painted Beige, I tell the story—up close, in first person—of the "harmless" moments that quietly drain you: conversations where you soften yourself before anyone even asks. The kind of message you send—"Had a great time"—and then you put your phone down like it's hot. Evenings that end with you having to "gather yourself back up," because somewhere along the way you went missing.

This is not a checklist book. No "ten steps to boundaries." No perfect transformation arc. It's a warm, honest, funny book built from real scenes—recognition without kitsch, clarity without cruelty, and a deeper trust in the body's quiet truth.

If you've ever seen red and called it "fine," you'll feel at home here.