I'm following through on the little things these days. Not out of discipline, but out of deep alignment with myself and my intentions. The nudges have felt easy to answer. Ignoring them feels impossible.

You think you’re just tired. Or stressed. Or in a funk. But really, you’ve gone missing from your own life. It starts with living for everyone else’s needs. Your mind spins around what everyone else requires. You’re planning, anticipating, fixing, soothing. Your own needs don’t even make the list. Then it morphs into living for what’s next. You stop being present altogether... And that’s where the overwhelm breeds. You start to feel like you can’t catch up, like you’re perpet

We need to hold the line. Hold it with love. Hold it with light. Hold it with the stubborn insistence that our spirits will not be crushed.

Children should not fear their classrooms. Teachers should not carry both lesson plans and exit strategies. Parents should not wonder if goodbye at the door might be the last. And yet, this is the world we are living in. Now more than ever is a time to come together.

Awareness isn’t a noose. It’s an opening. It’s not proof that you’re broken — it’s proof that you’re awake. If you can hold awareness as an opportunity, it becomes the doorway to step into the next stage. Here is where I say, "keep going."

Joy is not pulling us away from the fight. Joy is what keeps us able to fight. It is sustenance. It is breath. It is the reminder of why we want change in the first place.

I was telling you that faith is radical, that it matters, that it will hold you—but I hadn’t given you the how or the why. And if you’re anything like me, you like to know the why.

Suddenly, I wondered if I was being foolish, if believing in myself was irresponsible.

Patriarchy’s metric of worth is a rigged game. The more you give, the more it demands. The finish line always moves.

Grief that’s gone unprocessed doesn’t just disappear. It embeds itself into our muscles, our cells, our breath.

What if the Bible told us the gospel of Mary Magdalene alongside Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John? What if Lilith had remained Adam’s equal in the garden instead of being cast out as a demon for refusing to submit? How different would our stories be? How different would we be?

When you hit “the wall,” your body is reacting to perceived danger, not actual danger. Your brain can’t tell the difference between physical threat and emotional strain.

What if the neurodivergent mind—creative, intuitive, nonlinear, sensitive, emotionally rich—is not a deviation from the norm, but a return to our true nature?

Sobriety wasn’t just about saying no to alcohol—it was about saying yes to myself. It freed me from the shackles of guilt and shame, giving me the mental and emotional space to build my own business. I stopped hiding behind the mask of drunkenness and started running—literally and figuratively. I no longer spilled my sorrowful guts only to regret it the next day. I learned how to be me. The real me.

You don’t have to fix the world. You don’t have to stay silent either. You just have to tend your own frequency and ripple that out like the revolution it is.

Four years ago, I was in the woods, crying so hard I could barely see the path in front of me. I was pleading—begging—for guidance. Asking God, the Universe, my ancestors… someone… to show me a sign that I would be okay. That it wouldn’t always feel like this. That the ache would ease, the fog would lift, the ground beneath me would stop shifting.

When I finally told a couple of family members what happened to me as a child, I truly didn’t know if they’d believe me. When I told my husband—and he did believe me—I thanked him. I actually said the words: Thank you for believing me.

Your brain is shaped by what you repeatedly experience. If you grew up in chaos, in criticism, in emotional neglect or instability—even subtle forms—your nervous system adapted. It learned to protect you...

But what happens when the political becomes personal? When the conversation isn’t about policy—it’s about rights, survival, dignity?

You felt it. That full-body yes when you saw the invitation, the offering, the opportunity. Your heart skipped. Your shoulders dropped. Something in you whispered, this is for me. And then… the voice kicked in. “Maybe later.” “When I'm in better shape.” “Once I save up a little more.” “I’m too busy right now.” “Maybe next month.” “Maybe when I feel more ready.”