Returning: The Journey Back to Self
When your inner voice is repeatedly questioned, minimized, or treated as indulgent, you learn to override it. Not because you stop believing in it, but because listening begins to feel unsafe. I know many women carry versions of this story — where intuition, creativity, or spiritual curiosity became inconvenient or unwelcome inside a relationship meant to be loving.
Witch Wounding and the Spiral Path
Many women will recognize this without needing it spelled out: when your knowing is subtly dismissed, when your interests are framed as impractical or indulgent, when the things that light you up are tolerated rather than respected, you learn to shrink them. Not consciously. Not dramatically. Just… enough to keep the peace.
Over time, that shrinking becomes habitual.
What I’m Manifesting in 2026 — Desire, Devotion, and the Magic of Opening
There’s a feeling I keep coming back to as we step into a new year — a feeling of doors opening. Quiet ones. The kind that appear when you begin trusting yourself again.
What I’m Leaving Behind in 2025 — Lessons, Endings, and Quiet Reclamations
This year, I learned—painfully, beautifully—that healing isn’t a glow-up. It’s a series of thresholds. It’s standing in your own ashes with your hands open, waiting for the next ember of yourself to spark. It’s letting old versions of you dissolve so your truer shape has space to rise.
The Sacredness of Feminine Rage
Anger, when approached with awareness, can be a sacred teacher. It can reveal our values, our limits, and the parts of ourselves that demand recognition. Feminine rage, especially, carries a layered intelligence: it’s emotional, relational, and often intuitive, pointing directly to where change is needed.
When the Road Gets Bumpy
But here’s what I’m learning: challenges don’t always mean anything cosmic. Sometimes they’re just… challenges. Software breaks, files glitch, and nothing — not even your most cherished project — is immune to that.
Slow Mo(u)rnings
If you've woken in unrest, it can help to ease into the day with a quick grounding check-in — something to remind your system you're here, you're in motion, and you're not alone in it.
Here’s something soft and simple you can do this morning, if it helps:
Use as journaling prompts or just reflect quietly over your coffee.
When the Connection Breaks
Sometimes the moments that feel like interruptions are actually invitations.
When I sat down to record with Melanie a few months ago, she was calling in from Mexico, and her internet connection kept cutting out. More than once, we had to stop and restart. Initially, it felt like something going wrong — but each disruption ended up bringing us somewhere more meaningful.
The Soul I Still Miss
There was a moment — a stretch of months, really — when our conversations cracked something open in me.
It was late nights and voice notes. Honesty layered on honesty. Laughter, always laughter, but also something more rare: being understood. Not just for the surface shine, but for the contradictions. The grief beneath the glamour. The soft underbelly most people never notice — or don’t care to hold.
Wildflowers, Witches, and the Wisdom of Dirt Roads
I’ve spent most of my life thinking I had to choose. Be academic or intuitive. Be spiritual or smart. Be a woman who knew how to hold a man accountable or a woman who could sit by the fire and laugh with the boys.
But what if those parts of me were never actually at odds?
What if knowing the land, listening to trees, feeling the pull of animals and water and weather — what if that’s not mystical, but simply human? What if it’s what we were, before capitalism told us there was one right way to be useful, before patriarchy flattened women’s wisdom into wives’ tales?
What Sparked The Blood Moon
I didn’t set out to build a media house.
I just needed somewhere to put the fire.
There was a season — recent enough that I still feel its pulse in my chest — where everything that could go wrong, did. Where my life became a battlefield of paperwork and pressure. Where I was still tethered to a man I’d already left, fighting for every inch of freedom while he poured chaos into every crack.