The ladybug Magic

Today is the first day of my bleed. What a life. What an opportunity to feel my body again, to feel oneness. There are times I move through my days a little numb, just going through it, doing what needs to be done, not fully here. And then my cycle comes, and everything shifts. I feel alive again. It feels like a small death, and then a quiet rebirth. Like something in me breaks open just enough to remember. My body pulls me back. Slows me down. Softens me. Reminds me to breathe. And it’s wild, because this happens every month. And still, I forget. I get caught up in the rhythm of doing, pushing, holding it all together. Until my body gently interrupts me and says, come back. Come back to yourself. Come back to this moment. Come back to your breath. My cycle brings up the hardest parts of me. The parts I try not to hear. The thoughts I’ve pushed down. The emotions I’ve tucked away so I can keep showing up, keep being strong, keep being everything I think I need to be. And then here it ...

Some abandonment wounds come from relationships that end later in life. But some of the deepest ones begin with the people who were supposed to be our foundation. The people who gave us life. The people who were meant to protect us. The people who said they would always be there. My abandonment wound is rooted in four people. Two people chose to have me. They gave me my blood, my body, my beauty, my existence in this world. And two other people chose to adopt me. They chose me. They told me they wanted me. They told me I belonged with them. I remember one thing very clearly from that time. When they adopted me, I asked them one question. I asked them to promise me they would never abandon me. That was the one thing I needed to hear. And they promised they wouldn’t. But they did. One day they left me a voicemail telling me I was no longer welcome. Not face to face. Not sitting together. Not with the dignity of a real conversation. A voicemail. That moment broke something inside of me....

​ Today I realized something about myself that I had probably known deep down for a long time. I have abandonment issues. Saying that out loud isn’t easy. It’s a vulnerable thing to admit. But there is something powerful that happens when you finally put words to what has been quietly shaping your experiences, your reactions, your relationships, and the way you move through love. Awareness is where healing begins. For me, this realization didn’t come from a place of blaming anyone. It came from a place of looking honestly at my own heart and asking myself deeper questions. Why do certain things hurt so deeply? Why do certain situations trigger fear, sadness, or a feeling of being left behind? Why do I sometimes search for reassurance outside of myself? And the answer that began to unfold was simple, but deep. Part of me has been afraid of being abandoned. When you recognize something like that, it can feel heavy at first. But it can also be incredibly freeing. Because once you see it c...

​ The Pineal Gland, Consciousness, and the “Single Eye” Lately I have been exploring something that sits at the intersection of science, spirituality, and human curiosity: the pineal gland and the idea of expanded awareness. This curiosity started when I came across declassified research connected to the Central Intelligence Agency that analyzed something called the Gateway Process , a training program developed by the Monroe Institute . The research explored meditation, sound frequencies, and how different states of consciousness affect the human mind. What caught my attention wasn’t the mystery or the hype around it. What caught my attention was a deeper question: What actually happens when the mind becomes truly quiet? And could ancient spiritual traditions have been pointing toward the same discoveries long before modern science started studying them? What the Pineal Gland Actually Is Deep in the center of the brain is a small endocrine gland called the pineal gland. It is...