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We mark New Year’s Eve with tea in Edinburgh, raw feelings, and a clear line between survival mode and the slow build toward joy. From Scotland’s water to the Tower card, we trace a healing arc, claim boundaries, and ask for community support to start a new life.

• contrasts between Scotland and the US on water, food, and systems

• small human moments with strangers and what care looks like

• survival mode physiology and somatic resets

• apartment hunting realities and managing expectations•

generational trauma, women’s burdens, and pattern breaking

• tarot as a map from collapse to renewal

• choosing joy after demolition and defining a new book

• community, asking for help, and practical next steps

PS-If anybody in the Edinburgh area knows of a place to rent or would be willing to rent to me for six months, please slide into my DMs, okay? Or if somebody is even willing to sponsor me while I'm here, I would greatly appreciate that. Just slide up into those DMs, okay?

Sometimes you gotta be adult in the room to say something. Silence = Death.

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We talk through a month that changes everything: selling nearly all we own, ending a 23-year massage career, and booking a one-way ticket to Edinburgh guided by intuition, ancestry, and an owl that wouldn’t quit. We also take the gloves off on politics, corporate power, church influence, AI fear, and what community care looks like when big systems fail.

• Divination, spirit animals, and the owl motif guiding a move
• Lease deadline pressure and choosing Edinburgh for ancestral roots
• The grief and tenderness of leaving long-time clients and work
• Policy over party as a voting lens and why apathy grows
• Corporate and church influence on government and everyday life
• Calling out billionaire fear narratives and surveillance creep
• Endurance over suffering as a family motto reboot
• Practical local care that actually helps neighbors
• What money amplifies and why character matters more than branding
• Travel timeline, social updates, and plans to compare countries next season

But definitely hit the subscribe button on the YouTube channel because I will be posting more shorts and stuff like that, especially like next month

Sometimes you gotta be adult in the room to say something. Silence = Death.

Send us a text

The headlines felt relentless, the feed louder than my own thoughts—so I grabbed a paintbrush, hit record, and chose a different kind of response. What followed was part art session, part reckoning: we talk about gun violence and responsibility, the way doomscrolling hijacks our nervous systems, and why joy might be the most subversive habit we can practice right now. I share how a long-overdue painting became a promise kept, how adult playtime repairs the roots that stress frays, and why making something—anything—can be a daily vote for your own agency.

We also open the door to ritual and curiosity. From beginner witchcraft and herbology to chakras, Reiki, and ancestral nudges toward Scotland, I trace how simple practices can pull us out of panic and back into presence. We question edited narratives—comparing the heft of old Bibles to slim modern versions—and land on a radical, practical reading: sacred texts should make us better humans, not meaner ones. If your beliefs don’t widen your compassion, it’s time to revise your practice, not your empathy. Along the way, we laugh about cringe as a birthplace of artistry, tell stories about cheesy cult classics like They Live, and turn a glitter-smeared canvas into proof that joy and grief can sit at the same table.

If you’ve felt stuck in survival mode, this conversation is your invitation to schedule fun, retrain brutal self-talk, and build community that meets honesty with honesty. Come for the catharsis, stay for the small, repeatable moves: five minutes of reading myth, a messy sketch, a quiet breath before the next scroll. Hit play, then share one tiny joy you’ll claim today. And if this resonated, subscribe, leave a review, and pass it to a friend who could use a little light.

Sometimes you gotta be adult in the room to say something. Silence = Death.