You can have the marriage, the children, and the life that looks pretty, and still feel fury you can’t explain. You’re not ungrateful, and you’re not alone.

This isn’t a wellness page, and it isn’t healed-girl cosplay. It’s for the part of us that knows better and still fucks up — the part that wants to love well but learned survival first, and can build a beautiful life and still find a terrified little rage baby running the emotional switchboard.
Rage Baby Salon is where we practice turning pressure into consciousness, pain into pattern recognition, and love into something less performative and more true. This is grace…with a swear jar.
One name, two rooms: a weekly note in your inbox, and a digital salon on Instagram — @ragebaby.salon — where we pull the hard questions apart out loud.
Come as you are. Just don’t come pretending.
Once a week, Jamie sends a single note to anyone who’s trying to see their own lives more clearly: the pattern you keep repeating, the beauty you keep walking past, the question you keep avoiding.
What takes two minutes to read may follow you for days. It’s written to be the rare email that makes you more awake to yourself without making you harder on yourself.

I’m not a therapist or a guru, and I’m not going to pretend I’ve risen above my own nervous system. I built what looks like the whole package—a marriage, motherhood, businesses people admire—and I still found a furious younger self running the show.
I know what it’s like to act from an old wound, to repeat the same fight with someone I love (while stupidly hoping for a different outcome), and to learn that knowing why you do something changes nothing until you actually do something different.
That last part is real, and it’s the stuff I’m still working on. I’m not inviting you here because I’ve arrived. I’m inviting you because I haven’t, and I’d rather grow in good company than alone.
Awareness is the easy part. We already know what’s wrong.
The harder question is what you do at 7 p.m. when it happens again.
Five practices for the space between knowing better and doing better. Here are the first two:
You can see your pattern clearly and still repeat it for another decade. Awareness was never the finish line. What you do next is.
There’s a nanosecond between what you feel and what you do, and most of us sprint right past it. Slowing down inside it — naming the feeling, finding it in your body — is where emotion can stop running the switchboard and the terrified little rage baby doesn’t get the last word.
None of these ideas live only on a page: Jamie builds them into restaurants, homes, and in the civic life of her town. And each one runs on the oldest rule we keep forgetting: treat people the way you’d want to be treated. The Greeks called it xenia — welcome the stranger as if they might be a god in disguise, because how you treat them is what you’ll answer for.
(The first lesson in hospitality is somehow the one we lost.)
Beauty as care, not decoration. Hospitality with a backbone. Rooms you enter and don’t want to leave. Jamie didn’t write about any of this first. She built it.

Rage Baby is the book where I stop performing. It moves through rage, marriage, motherhood, grief, betrayal, and repair — and reads more like confession than instruction. I won’t hand you a plan for becoming someone new. I’ll give you something more honest: a reckoning with who I’ve been, what I keep repeating, what I may have broken while I was hurting, and what I still have time to build.
Because the answer to rage was never peace. It’s responsibility. Peace comes later…if we’re brave enough to tell the truth first.
You don’t have to blow up your life to change it. You just have to stop sleepwalking through it.
The Rage Baby Salon brings that practice to your inbox each week, one real question and one bright thing to carry into the rest of your life.