A few days ago, I finally gave up. Not the spiritual kind of giving up where you tell everyone you've surrendered while secretly refreshing your inbox every twenty minutes. The real kind. The kind where you throw your hands in the air and say, "Well, I guess that's over." I've been an influencer with Hay House since around Halloween. Every few weeks, sometimes every month, a package would show up at my door. New decks. New books. New things to explore, learn from, and share w

I pulled two cards for myself the other day. The Hermit. The Ace of Pentacles. On the surface? They've got no business being in the same sentence. One is a crusty old man alone on a mountain with a lantern. The other is a disembodied hand dangling a gold coin out of the clouds like here, have a snack. But together, they said something I needed to hear so badly it almost embarrassed me. Come home. Then plant something. Let me back up. The Hermit is one of my favorite c

A few years ago, I stood in my kitchen at two in the morning eating cold pasta out of a plastic container, staring at a sink full of dishes I couldn't make myself wash. The overhead light was too bright. The house had that eerie late-night quiet that makes every thought louder. Oz was asleep by the back door, twitching in his dreams. And I remember thinking: something was wrong with me. Not dramatic wrong. Not crisis wrong. Just stuck. Like everybody else had received instruc

A few nights ago I was sitting on my couch with a cup of tea and one of those ridiculously soft blankets I always reach for when I’m trying to decompress. The house was quiet. My dog was asleep beside me. Everything was technically fine. And yet I could feel this low hum of exhaustion underneath the surface. Not crisis-level exhaustion. Not rock-bottom exhaustion. Just that familiar feeling of realizing I had spent the entire week showing up for everyone else while barely che