Cages, Color, and Reclaiming My Vibration

Greetings my lovelies,

Throw open the cage doors, because the lioness is officially out.

It is a gorgeous, blazing Saturday morning here in Tucson, and the energy in my world has shifted so hard the ground is shaking. The birds outside are absolutely screaming their heads off, the desert sun is burning bright, and I am sitting out here on the patio absorbing every single drop of this fire.

For the last month, I’ve been dragging around a heavy, suffocating fog—but today? It’s completely vaporized. I didn’t ask permission, and I don’t care how the shift happened, but I woke up today feeling lighter, highly creative, and dangerously intentional.

Right now, I am fueled by a cup of Ryze mushroom coffee, and let me tell you, it is absolute divinity in a cup. I fixed it up exactly the way I want it: a velvety pour of Chobani coconut creamer, a splash of half-and-half, and a swirl of honey. It’s sitting right next to me in my bright yellow, flower-covered mug that screams “go forth and be fierce.”

Those five words aren’t just a cute slogan anymore; they are the exact manual for the rest of my life. The old, muted version of me is dead and buried. Today is about pure, unadulterated power.

For a few minutes, I had that new “Dracula” JENNIE remix by Tame Impala playing on the Echo Dot. It’s got a groovy psych-disco beat, sure, but the lyrics are all about running from the sunlight and hiding in the dark. I actually laughed out loud. No thank you. Hiding in the shadows is yesterday’s news. I yelled at Alexa to switch it to 2000s pop because the music of today mostly sucks anyway.

And the exact second I started typing this? “Since U Been Gone” by Kelly Clarkson slammed through the speakers. Talk about a cosmic sign. Hearing that absolute powerhouse anthem about breaking free, breathing fresh air, and taking your power back is the exact soundtrack this morning needed. The second those nostalgic guitars started bouncing off the patio walls, the morning truly unlocked.

And just when I thought the playlist couldn’t get any better? Kelly finished throwing down, and “Hey Ya!” by Outkast just exploded out of the speaker. Are you kidding me?! You cannot sit in a funk when André 3000 is telling you to shake it like a Polaroid picture. It is pure, unfiltered, shake-your-ass joy bouncing off the patio walls. The universe isn’t just dropping hints today; it is hand-deliver-ing the exact high-vibration frequency I am meant to be on.

I don’t know what brought this sudden clarity on. Maybe it was Mom’s passing and realizing through deep, raw talks with Ronnie that I have spent way too much time focused on everyone else. I’ve been working my absolute ass off, carrying weights that weren’t mine, and completely neglecting my own need to rest, heal, create, and just be myself for a change.

Real Talk: Shaking Off the Blues

We went out to dinner last night at Red Lobster—a place we haven’t stepped foot in for years! I mean YEARS!

Ronnie went all out and got the surf and turf, and I ordered the massive seafood boil. Let me tell you, when it arrived, it was a beautiful, chaotic mess. I put on the classic plastic lobster bib, snapped on the gloves, and dove straight into the crab legs, lobster, potatoes, and corn. It was pure, unapologetic enjoyment.

Though I’ll be completely transparent with you all: I did get incredibly snippy and frustrated waiting for the food to be served because it felt like it was taking a lifetime. To be totally honest, I was already feeling deeply uncomfortable after seeing a few pictures Ronnie took of me in the booth. I could see the weight gain, and I absolutely hated it. And don’t you dare come at me with that “the camera adds ten pounds” line—that is a total crock of shit.

I was letting those pictures get to me, letting it lower my vibration right there at the table. But the lioness doesn’t stay down. We cracked open those crab legs, tore into that feast, enjoyed the moment, and decided right then and there that we are shaking off the blues and reclaiming our power.

After dinner, we shook off the restaurant frustration and walked around At Home. We haven’t been there in a few months, and it felt so damn good to just browse and find things that actually speak to where we are heading. We didn’t hold back either. We grabbed a beautiful new wicker laundry hamper, a nice long fatigue mat to make the kitchen feel right, and a gorgeous glass-framed wall sign with foiled gold lettering that reads: “No matter how you feel, get up, dress up, show up, and never give up.”

Talk about hitting me right between the eyes. It is already hanging up and grounding the energy in my office.

We came home, spent some quality time loving on the dogs, and then I officially checked out of the world’s drama. I took a long, hot bath in Dr Teal’s Melatonin bath salts—and by the way, that stuff smells absolutely heavenly. It is anchored by a deeply soothing blend of lavender and chamomile, but what makes it so incredible is this warm, cozy undercurrent of vanilla and patchouli that mixes with the steam. It creates this rich, creamy, slightly sweet blanket of pure relaxation that completely fills the room. I am definitely upgrading to the full bubble bath version next time.

I took my melatonin, threw back some Motrin for my sciatica nerve and the knee it’s been throwing out of whack, and curled up right next to Ronnie with the TV playing in the background. I pulled out my phone and showed him the exact pilates set I want to get for exercising and the dance workout subscription I’ve been eyeing.

He didn’t hesitate. He looked right at me and said, “Go ahead if it will help you.”

So I just may do it. In fact, rewrite that: I will do it. No more putting my health and my goals on the back burner.

I fell fast asleep and had a few dreams—none that I really remember, which is odd for me.

Room to Run Amuck (The House Transformation)

At 5:30 AM, the dogs woke me up needing to go out, so I got up, let them out to relieve themselves, and headed back toward the bedroom. That’s when I caught Blue on top of Jasmine again.

If you have ever owned ferrets, you know exactly what I walked into. Blue is the classic instigator, and he has this habit of asserting his dominance by getting completely on top of Jasmine. He does that typical ferret power-move where he grabs her by the scruff of the neck and tries to pin her down like he owns the place. And Jasmine? Oh, she is the ultimate drama queen. The second he touches her, she starts squealing her head off like she’s being murdered, making this massive, noisy scene until I physically have to step in, break up the wrestling match, and separate them. It is pure chaos, but it’s their chaos.

I crawled back into bed next to Ronnie and fell asleep for just a little bit longer, only to wake up a second time with my head absolutely racing. But they weren’t bad thoughts. They were highly inspiring, creative thoughts swimming around in my head like crazy!

So here I am, up at 7:11 AM. I am showered, dressed, fueled by my Ryze coffee, and ready to write down every single idea taking over my mind.

First of all, I have a million ideas swimming in my head for things I want to make for the ferrets. Right now, their room is kind of bare and lacking life or fun energy, and they deserve a total palace. They have so much personality, and that’s why I want to lift them off the floor and allow them to run completely amuck in their room. I want them to have a massive ball pit, safe climbing structures, and connected tubes where they can fly through the walls, plus plenty of cozy hammocks for when they finally burn out and need to crash.

I need supplies, resources, and tools to make this happen, so a trip to Home Depot is absolutely on the agenda this weekend. I cannot wait to share these ideas with Ronnie—I just need to figure out how to draw them out on paper first so he can see the exact vision.

But it doesn’t stop with the ferrets’ room—this energy is taking over the entire house.

Ronnie and I talked about moving, and honestly? We both don’t want to. I’ve officially realized I don’t need to live closer to family to be happy. We can always go visit, or they can come here for once!!! Let them come see how we live and where we live. We rent, and our landlord explicitly wants us to stay, so here we are staying and making this place ours. (This will be addressed further in our boundaries post!)

Each and every room in this house is about to be curated with its own distinct energy, exactly the way I want it. The red buffalo plaid curtains? They are coming down. I want high-quality light-blocking curtains to keep this intense desert heat down and cool the house. I want houseplants. I want bold color, energy, and excitement. I am officially blending the warmth and textures of the Southwest with my rustic country Jersey roots—I can blend it all, and it is going to be spectacular. My yard is becoming a massive, peaceful outdoor sanctuary.

Oh, and I’m getting my car running so flawlessly that day trips are becoming our new ritual. No overnight stays needed—I don’t need a whole night in Tombstone. I just need a solid day trip to Tombstone, Bisbee, Willcox, and anywhere else the road takes us. We get the adventure, and then we get to come back to a home we actually love.

Drawing the Line: This is a “You” Problem

Now, let’s talk about boundaries. For some of you reading this… well, you are not going to like the lines I am drawing. And at this point in my life, that is a you problem, not a me problem.

I need to set these boundaries because I have allowed too many people to come into my life, trample over my peace, and cross lines that should have been locked down and deadbolted decades ago. For years, I shrank myself to make room for other people’s comfort. I swallowed my own voice just to keep a temporary, toxic peace. But that ends today. Consider this a heavy, unfiltered preview, because a full, dedicated post dismantling those exact boundaries is dropping right after this one today.

The floodgates are completely open, the rusty cage doors are ripped off their hinges, and the lioness is fully, unapologetically out.

If you read this and feel the sudden urge to weaponize your opinions about my life, my choices, or how I handle my world—and those opinions aren’t strictly encouraging, lifting me up, or positive—do yourself a massive favor and keep them the fuck to yourself. My life is not a democracy, and you don’t get a vote. I am no longer caged, I am no longer playing nice, and I am not bound to a single soul on this earth other than Ronnie.

I reached deep into the pitch-black darkness of grief, heavy trauma, and exhausting family drama. I didn’t wait around for a savior or a hand up. I reached down, grabbed myself by the hair—not just the hands—and yanked myself right out of the suffocating muck. I saved myself. There is no going back, there is no second-guessing, and there is absolutely no room left for anyone who doesn’t protect my peace.

Raising the Vibration: Reclaiming Our Throne

This weekend is entirely about living. Not just existing, not just getting by, but taking a giant, unapologetic bite out of life. We are getting out of this house, we are having unscripted fun, and we are buying the things we want and need—the exact upgrades and tools we have put off for years out of some twisted sense of obligation. Let me break something down for you: it was never actually about the money; it was entirely about the mindset. For way too long, we allowed ourselves to accept the scraps. We allowed an insidious narrative to creep into our heads, making us feel like we weren’t “good enough” or worthy enough to possess beautiful, high-quality things. We systematically lowered our frequency, dampening our own natural brightness, just to meet other people precisely where they were stuck, instead of standing tall, living up to our brilliant potential, and forcing them to raise theirs to match ours.

We—and yes, Ronnie, I mean WE—allowed outside forces to tear down our foundation. We absorbed their vitriol, internalized their toxicity, and actually believed the dynamic lies they spun about our character and our worth. Never again. The lock has snapped.

Let me speak on my husband for a hot minute: Ronnie is an absolutely incredible man with a well of deep potential that most people were too blind, too selfish, or too fundamentally broken to ever care to see. It is a massive, pathetic tragedy for those who chose to walk away from him, those who belittled his spirit, or those who treated him like absolute dog shit—they permanently lost out on a phenomenal, golden human being. I am super uber blessed to have this fierce, loyal man as my husband, my absolute protector, and my unwavering partner in crime. We got this, babe. We are stepping into the light, locked arm-in-arm, and we are taking this world by absolute storm.

As for me? If I’m being completely vulnerable, it has historically been incredibly hard for me to say good things about myself. I was conditioned to play small. Way too many cruel, miserable people have spat venomous, hateful words directly at my heart, and like a fool, I believed them. I carried their garbage around like it belonged to me. But now? Your words hold absolutely zero currency in my world. They are weightless air. In fact, the damage runs so deep that even when people try to offer kind, loving words to me now, it takes a massive effort to believe they genuinely mean it. Cruel words stick. They burn into the subconscious, and you can never, ever take them back. Because of that reality, the rules of engagement have changed permanently. From this exact second forward, you have to actively prove to me that you are worthy of a single ounce of my time, my emotion, or my sacred energy. Access to me is a privilege, not a birthright.

My creative juices are roaring, my mind is razor-sharp and crystal clear, and my absolute motivation is all the way back in the driver’s seat.

The queen has reclaimed her throne. Are you ready for it?