Greetings My Bright and Feral Ones,

It is somehow almost the end of April. Explain that to me like I am five, because I swear this month arrived in a dramatic swirl of wind, threw glitter in our eyes, stole a french fry off the plate, and is now halfway out the door yelling, “Catch me if you can!” WHOOSH indeed.

This week has been a big one for me because I am taking live calls now at work. Real calls. Human voices. Real-time thinking. No training wheels, no gentle little practice pond. We are in the open sea now, friends.

And let me tell you something, I am learning so much.

It is the kind of learning that lights your brain up like a pinball machine. Ding. Flash. Buzz. Another lesson. Another moment. Another skill unlocked. I have been so focused on doing well, listening closely, staying sharp, and giving it my all that by the time 2:30 PM rolls around, I shut that computer down like a woman escaping a castle tower.

Then comes my sacred little after-work ritual.

I step outside with my Switch 2, a snack, something cold to drink, and the intention to become one with the patio chair. Sometimes I call Mom. Sometimes Gail. Sometimes nobody at all, because silence can be a dear friend when the day has had a lot to say.

Then I veg out like it is an Olympic event.

Lately that includes watching Charmed from the very beginning. I am fully enchanted again. There are episodes I forgot existed, episodes I somehow never saw, and moments that have me pointing at the screen saying, “Excuse me??” like I have just uncovered ancient evidence. It is delightful.

But underneath the workdays and witchy reruns, my mind has been crowded lately.

You ever notice how life keeps handing you subjects to think about when you were just trying to eat a sandwich?

I have been thinking about relationships. Romantic ones. Marriages. The vows people make and whether they truly understand the weight of those words when they say them. “For better or worse” sounds lovely in formalwear under flowers and candlelight. It sounds very different when life gets muddy, scary, inconvenient, expensive, exhausting, or painfully ordinary.

Love is not just the wedding day sparkle. Love is Tuesday at 7:14 PM when someone is hurting, changed, struggling, difficult, recovering, grieving, healing, or lost.

I have also been thinking about patterns. The ones people repeat like old songs they claim to hate but somehow keep playing. Toxic habits. Cruel reactions. Picking fights for sport. Tossing matches into dry grass and acting shocked at the fire.

You know the posts I mean. Politics. Religion. Rage bait with a side of self-righteousness. Folks waking up each morning asking, “How can I ruin brunch on the internet today?”

No thank you.

I am trying to reclaim something softer and stronger than that.

My spark.

My light.

My sense of self.

Because if I am honest, that took hits over the years.

There is an old voice in me that still whispers nonsense sometimes. It says if I celebrate myself, I am conceited. If I feel proud, I am arrogant. If I speak kindly of myself, I must be full of myself.

Funny how that voice never objects when people tear you down.

That same kind of cruelty showed up after I collapsed at Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. Instead of concern, compassion, or basic decency, someone decided the moment needed commentary. I was told if I were less sedentary, more active, thinner, different, better, smaller, whatever… it would not have happened.

Some words do not just sting.

They lodge.

But I am learning this too: someone else’s cruelty is not holy truth. It is just cruelty wearing a cheap costume.

And I am no longer interested in giving those voices free rent in my mind.

I also saw a post on Facebook claiming OpenAI ChatGPT has a therapist mode. I do not know what all the modes are these days. I know this much: sometimes people do not need fixing, diagnosing, or a ten-step program. Sometimes they need a place to be heard without interruption. A witness. A landing place.

That is a human hunger many of us carry quietly.

Then there is the eternal question of modern life: can this trendy mushroom coffee save me?

I keep seeing people rave about RYZE coffee and weight loss. Ronnie drinks it. If it helps him feel better, I love that. But as for miracle claims, I remain skeptical in my bones. If coffee alone could solve everything, half this nation would be levitating by now.

And now we arrive at the weekend, that mysterious unopened envelope.

We may go to an air and space museum. We may wander botanical gardens. We may grocery shop under fluorescent lights discussing produce prices like war strategists. We may do all three. We may do none.

Life lately is very much moment by moment.

And maybe that is not failure.

Maybe that is wisdom.

Maybe not every season is meant to be mapped in ink. Some are meant to be walked one soft step at a time.

So if you are tired, thinking too much, healing from words you should never have heard, trying to rebuild your shine, or simply hoping the weekend brings one good breath of joy… I see you.

May something gentle find you.

May something funny surprise you.

May your own light start talking louder than every voice that tried to dim it.

Until next time,

Rae ✨