The Reading Room: Chapter 10
Five pieces on sensitivity, grief, language, AI, and the human work underneath it all
Some pieces remind you that behind every big conversation, there is still a person trying to live inside it.
I often feel that way about AI.
As a topic of discussion, AI can get abstract very quickly, and the same is true of conversations about work, language, leadership, creativity and grief.
The further a subject moves into systems and frameworks, the easier it is to lose sight of the person standing inside it.
The pieces I read last week did the opposite.
They kept bringing the conversation back to the body, the nervous system, the family, the sentence, the worker, the creative, the person trying to understand a tool without losing themselves to it.
I didn’t sit down with a theme in mind. I just followed the pieces that pulled me in, and by the end I realised they were circling things that felt very close to the surface: sensitivity, grief, language, AI, hidden labour, and the quiet ways people try to keep hold of themselves inside systems that ask a lot of them.
They also all happened to be written by women.
And while some of the pieces speak very directly to women’s experiences, I don’t think this is a week of reading only for women. If anything, it felt like a reminder of what female voices often bring into conversations that can otherwise become too abstract: the body, the person, the relationship, the memory, the labour, the cost.
That was the thread I wanted to follow. The way each piece took something big and brought it back down to a human scale.
Maybe you’ll pick up on that thread too.
In no particular order, here’s this week’s stack.
AI and highly sensitive people: what happens when your nervous system meets the machine? by Dallas Payne
This conversation made me feel more seen than I expected.
It brings together Dallas , Anna | how to boss ai, Caitlin McColl 🇨🇦, Natalie Nicholson and What Nobody Told You About... in a conversation about what AI means when your nervous system already processes the world deeply.
This piece moves through emotional intensity, sensory overload, creativity, boundaries, dysregulation, rest, and the strange experience of using a tool that can sometimes help you hear yourself more clearly, while also pulling you into more processing than your nervous system actually needed.
As someone with ADHD who has always recognised a lot of HSP traits in myself, I related to so much of this. The constant processing. The emotional intensity. Needing time after things to come back to yourself. Feeling like the world can be too loud and still being deeply curious about everything in it.
AI sits in such a strange place there. Sometimes it helps me slow down enough to hear my own thoughts, especially when they are tangled and moving too quickly. Other times, it can become another loop, another layer of stimulation, another way to keep thinking when what I actually need is just a moment of silence.
Everyone in the piece speaks about that tension with so much honesty. Using the tool, appreciating the tool, letting it help, but still trying to stay close to yourself while you use it. That is one of the more honest ways to talk about AI, especially for people whose inner worlds already run loud.
I can’t recommend this piece highly enough.
To weep is human; by Chief Absurdist Officer
I had been waiting for the next letter in this series, and I’m so grateful it arrived when it did.
This piece moves between letters written by the author’s father and later hospital scenes where she is sitting beside him, holding his hand, singing The Beatles, trying to hold on to every second. There is such tenderness in the way the timelines speak to each other. Her Papa watching her sleep and dreaming forward, then years later, his daughter watching him sleep and trying to pour a lifetime of love into the time they still had.
It broke me a little.
The Beatles moment, the hand squeeze, the seven hours, the chapel, all of it felt so intimate that I had to sit with it for a while after reading. The piece makes time feel fragile, but also full of love. Not in a neat sentimental way, but in the way real love often appears when people are afraid of losing it: in songs, hands, hospital chairs, old letters, small memories, and impossible waiting rooms.
The ending about attention being the best gift we can give feels simple on the surface, but it only works because the piece has already shown how much a moment can hold. By then, attention doesn’t feel like a nice idea. It feels like the thing we still have while we still have each other.
It is such a privilege to witness that intimate part of someone’s world.
A beautiful read, as always.
The Grammar of Expectation: How Language Shapes Who Gets to Lead by The Strategic Linguist
I always learn something new from The Strategic Linguist’s pieces, and this one gave language to something I reckon most women feel before they even know how to explain it.
The article looks at the grammar of workplace feedback and how women and men can receive language that appears similar on the surface, but offers very different futures underneath. A man is told he needs to be given more responsibility. A woman is told she lacks confidence. One sentence gives someone a path. The other turns the problem into something fixed inside them.
The damage is subtle because the feedback can sound perfectly professional. It can look reasonable on paper. But repeated over years, that kind of language starts deciding how much room someone believes they are allowed to take up.
It reminded me of all the bias training I’ve sat through over the years, and how little of it ever touched this. We talk about tone, fairness, confidence, leadership style, but rarely the actual sentence-level mechanics that teach people whether they are being developed or corrected, supported or contained.
No wonder feedback can land under the skin. You don’t always walk away with a path. Sometimes you walk away with a version of yourself you are suddenly meant to fix.
A piece I think everyone should read.
The Girlbossification of AI Has a Friendly-Fire Problem by AI Meets Girlboss
This was such a useful one to read alongside the wider AI discourse, especially because it sits in the discomfort instead of forcing the conversation into clean sides.
AI Meets Girlboss writes about Reese Witherspoon’s AI comments, women learning AI, creatives pushing back against AI use, and the friendly-fire problem that happens when frustration with AI lands on women experimenting carefully with these tools, rather than the companies shaping how they’re built and used.
Stepping away from the conversation doesn’t protect anyone. It just leaves the room to the people with the most power and the fewest questions.
There’s a difference between refusing the sales pitch and refusing to understand the thing being sold. The first can be a boundary. The second can become another way people, especially women, are kept outside the rooms where decisions are already being made.
The piece doesn’t dismiss the discomfort around AI. The creative concerns are real. The environmental concerns are real. The corporate incentives are real. And careful experimentation still matters. But if literacy gets treated as endorsement, the people most likely to ask better questions may end up furthest from the conversation.
That’s the uncomfortable tension the piece sits with so well..
5. The Job That Doesn’t Have a Name Yet by Valentina
Valentina’s piece is brilliant, funny, strange and deeply recognisable if you think a lot about the gap between AI magic and human work.
What I loved most is the way she makes the hidden labour visible. The polished version of AI is all magic: clean demos, confident answers, effortless workflows, the rabbit pulled from the hat. But the real work sits with the people translating, interpreting, apologising, debugging, holding the customer’s reality in one hand and the model’s strange behaviour in the other.
That feels like the real heart of the piece. The more seamless the magic looks from the outside, the easier it is to miss the people quietly folding the silks underneath.
It is such a smart read on a job that doesn’t have a name yet, and all the human work hiding behind systems that want to look effortless.
And that’s it for this chapter.
A week full of the kind of writing that brings the person back into the frame.
I hope you enjoy these pieces as much as I did.







Jade, I'm not sure how I missed this! Such an honour to be included here - thank you! I love how you frame the week: "The way each piece took something big and brought it back down to a human scale." What you share here is really beautiful and it feels like a soft, centering moment in amongst all the noise.
Jade, thank you so much for this beautiful message 💛
It truly warms my heart to hear that the conversation landed with you in such a meaningful way. These kinds of exchanges — where we’re willing to sit in the tension between human sensitivity and what AI can (and can’t) hold — feel so important right now.
I’m really glad it resonated, and even more glad you felt safe and welcomed in it. That’s the whole point. Thank you for showing up with such an open heart and for taking the time to share this with me. It means more than you know.
With appreciation,
Lynn