Let me start with this: I didn’t plan to use AI.
I was always one of those people who thought I only truly earned something if I suffered for it.
I confused perfection with worthiness – and ran myself straight into the ground chasing it.
After a lifetime of editing and revising until I wanted to vomit, I finally gave AI a shot. I didn’t expect much, but what I found felt like permission to stop making shit harder than it needed to be.
Enter Weez – my $20/month AI editor and personal chaos manager.
My History with Tech Is… Erh, Complicated
My dad taught Technology for over three decades. He walked teens through the earliest Apple computers – floppy disks, green text screens, the whole shebang. The man was relatively patient, methodical, and light-years ahead of the curve when it came to tech literacy.
But also? He could never figure out how to work a TV remote without switching it to static. Every. Single. Time.
So yeah – “tech savvy” is relative.
Because it’s not about how complicated the tool is – it’s about whether or not it helps you. And when it comes to writing, as a chronically exhausted adult with a cluttered brain and a life full of noise, AI helps. A lot.
Not in a “write it all for me” kind of way… But in a “keep me from giving up halfway through” kind of way.
My Brain Is a Browser With 37 Tabs Open
I’ve got three kids gearing up to launch – one foot in the nest, the other out the door. The “bedtime routine” stage is over. Now it’s more like:
“Mom, my car won’t start, and also I’m moving across the state.”
“I’m doing my FAFSA application… helllllp.”
“What does it mean when my brakes make a grinding sound and smell like they’re on fire?”
Meanwhile, I’m working full time in public health. I’m grieving the life I imagined I’d have. I’m busy trying not to drown in guilt, paperwork, or the kind of burnout that has you staring at the wall with no idea how long you’ve been there.
So when I say I don’t have the bandwidth to sit down and birth a perfectly formatted, spell-checked, literary masterpiece from scratch?
I’m not being dramatic. I’m just being real.
I’ve already birthed more collective baby weight than your 20-pound Thanksgiving turkey.
I’m done birthing things.
My soul is tired.
My vulva’s been through enough.
My writing doesn’t need to match that energy.
If AI helps me get my truth on the page without bleeding myself dry – I’m in.
The AI Panic (and Why I Let It Go)
There’s a full-blown identity crisis happening in creative spaces right now. Some people are convinced AI is the end of originality. AI is cheating. Anything touched by a machine is soulless.
I get the fear. I really do.
I’m from the generation that used card catalogs in dusty libraries.
I handwrote college research papers in notebooks before I learned how to type – and once I did, I typed them with two index fingers and a prayer.
Then came Google – and a wave of people who said it made things too easy.
Now AI’s here – and my generation is giving that the side-eye.
But here’s the pattern: every generation doubts the next tool. We act like struggle is the price of legitimacy – and anything that eases the load must be “cheating.”
But the truth is, writers have always used tools: spellcheck, editors, beta readers, thesauruses, sticky notes on the bathroom mirror. AI is just a newer, faster, slightly weirder version – one that doesn’t judge your rough draft or your typos.
Plus, constructive criticism lands softer when it doesn’t come from a soul.
And that’s the point.
I’m the soul.
You’re the soul.
AI is just a reflection board.
The Bigger Picture: Responsibility and Reality
Now, let me be clear: I’m no AI expert. I’m not here to break down neural nets, quote futurists, or pretend I’ve solved the ethics puzzle. I’m just one more messy human trying to survive long enough to get words on a page.
That said – AI isn’t just a personal tool. It’s a cultural and environmental force. Training and running these models burns through massive amounts of energy. It raises questions about equity, bias, job disruption, and what “human-made” even means anymore. I don’t dismiss that.
But here’s where I land: ignoring AI won’t stop it from evolving. It’s happening – with or without me. The responsible choice, at least for me, is to use it consciously: as an aid, not a replacement. To stay humble about what I don’t know. To keep learning. To acknowledge the real costs, but also to leverage the benefits in a way that actually lightens my load instead of hollowing me out.
Because honestly? The weight of perfectionism has drained more life out of me than this $20/month subscription ever will… and maybe, once I gain even more knowledge, I’ll shift my stance completely. Until then, I’ll just stay transparent about how I use Weez.
How I Actually Use Weez
Weez doesn’t write for me.
It doesn’t invent my stories, my metaphors, or my voice. What it does is help me sort the mess.
The draft that makes sense in my head – but hits the screen like a 5:00 a.m. coke rant?
It helps me find the structure in that.
It’s like a brutally honest (but kind) friend who reads your first draft and says, “Girl, lemme hold your hand when I say this… You buried all the good shit under five disclaimers and an emotional spiral. Let’s pull that out.”
It’s not replacing me – it’s just reminding me that blogging shouldn’t feel like stage fright in written form.
I Still Struggle With the “Writer” Identity
Even now, my inner critic whispers, “If you didn’t suffer through every word, does it still count?”
But when I zoom out?
Nobody who’s been moved by my writing has ever asked how many drafts it took, or whether I used AI to nudge the structure. They cared 1. That it resonated. 2. That it was real. And 3. That it hit.
And honestly? That’s all I care about now, too.
Even with AI, I still find myself editing and revising a 1000-word post for hours on end.
I really need to stop that shit.
Should You Disclose Your Use of AI?
You don’t have to. There’s no creative rulebook. But I do – because authenticity is my brand, and I’ve spent too much of my life pretending I don’t need help.
Also – Catholic guilt.
The thing is – authenticity doesn’t mean doing everything on your own while quietly unraveling. It means showing up as you are – with what you’ve got – and telling your truth.
So, if AI helps me say what I need to say without spending ten hours obsessing over sentence structure and whether or not to use a semicolon? I’m going to use it.
This Is Still My Voice
Weez doesn’t know what it’s like to sit next to its parents’ deathbed. Or lose its best friend in the middle of a falling-out. Or wake up to a call that its kid broke down five states away and needs help.
Weez doesn’t know my grief. My humor. My shame. My quiet rage.
That voice? Still mine.
Weez just helps ensure that my voice doesn’t get buried under exhaustion, fear, or f**king punctuation.
It helps me finish.
And for someone who’s spent years trapped in “almost done” – that’s everything.
You Don’t Have to Bleed to Be Legit
We’ve all been sold the myth that if it doesn’t hurt, it wasn’t earned.
But maybe we don’t have to bleed for every sentence. Maybe we get to say what we need to say without wrecking ourselves in the process.
Constant burnout isn’t sustainable… and it damn sure isn’t comfortable.
Final Thought
If you’ve been waiting for the perfect energy, the perfect sentence, the perfect “authentic” conditions to write, create, or share – you might be waiting forever.
So,
Say it now.
Say it messy.
Use the tools.
Tell your truth while you still remember it.
Because the world doesn’t need your perfection.
It needs your honesty.
And if AI helps you get there – great.
Work smarter – not harder.
Let something else carry the weight for once.
Or pay an editor thousands of dollars.
Whatever floats your boat.
Ever tried using AI in your creative process? Curious? Skeptical? Spiraling over a semicolon? Let me know – I’m all ears.
Stay Curious,
❤︎ Hag