When the Body Remembers... Some days simply need gravity . Day 10 of the 12 Days of Badass Self-Care  is Earthbound Grounding —a ritual for when the mind is loud, the heart is weary, or the body feels slightly unhooked from itself. This is not about fixing anything. It’s about contact . 🌱 Why Earthbound Grounding Matters Modern life pulls us 'off-center' into our heads into our screens into performance, urgency, and abstraction But nature offers something no person, plan, or

Relax. Reclaim. Renegade. Relational Response. Self-care isn’t a checklist of to-do's. It’s a conversation —between your body, your desire, your boundaries, and the relationships you’re embedded in. The 4 R’s of Self-Care  offer a living framework—one that flexes with seasons, moods, hormones, relationships, and the ever-changing weather of being human. Let’s begin. 1️⃣ Regulation — Reset. Rest. Exhausted? You know you probably need 3 days of sleep, but f*cK! Not likely. So n

Long ago—or perhaps just outside of time—there lived a child who found themselves wrapped in a quiet afternoon without a schedule. The light slanted gently through the window, but the crayons and toys seemed dull. The child wandered to their mother and said, not with complaint but with yearning, “Momma, I'm so bored. What do I do?” The mother looked up from her work, her hands still warm with purpose, and smiled the way mothers do when they are about to offer wisdom rather th

One evening, I made myself a perfectly respectable mug of cocoa. Not a super fancy  cocoa. Just cozy. Predictable. Trustworthy. I took a sip. And my brain went,“…why does this taste festive ?” Before my eyes could catch up, my tongue already knew. Mint. Unexpected. Bold. Uninvited—but not unwelcome. I looked down into the mug and there it was:a tiny candy cane, slowly dissolving like it had secrets. My husband had dropped it in without a word. No announcement. No warning. Jus

There’s something deliciously rebellious about a beauty ritual that requires no products, no perfection, and no mirror at all. Day 5 of the 12 Rituals to Inspire Desire  is one of the most deceptively simple—and secretly transformative—practices in this whole series. Especially for the women who don’t wear makeup, don’t vibe with contour culture, or who have ever felt the sting of “not enough” when it comes to appearance… This ritual is your antidote. This is beauty without

🔥 Warning: this affirmation is hot if you chant it to your mirror!🔥 This body is my home —a sacred wilderness, a living temple, a masterpiece shaped by time and truth. This voice is my own —unbending, unborrowed, unmistakably mine. Every word I speak is a spell, a claim, a coronation. These lines on my skin? They tell my story Carved by love and pain —these lines etch a map of my courage and endurance These marks are constellations. My curves are both invitation and boundar

Day 3 of the 12 Bite-Size Badass Self-Care Rituals Let’s Empower: Some days your body doesn’t need serenity, or a bubble bath. Some days your body needs a TANTRUM . A real one. A loud one. A wild, messy, beautifully honest one. Welcome to Day 3  of my 12-day self-care ritual series—Today’s ritual is called The Tarantalla , and she is the unapologetic goddess of cathartic release. The Tarantalla comes from an old folk tradition meant to imitate the body in the throes of

A Therapeutic Dance Practice for Emotional Alchemy Therapeutic dance is not a performance. It is not choreography. And it is definitely  not about looking polished, graceful, or “Instagram ready.” You don’t need stretchy pants, perfect lighting, or a curated playlist. You don’t even need rhythm. What you need is you —your breath, your body, your honesty. Your body is the Alchemist . Movement is the medicine . Emotion is the energy  waiting to be reshaped. And this is the mag

My Grief Writing Ritual today. Grief has a way of rearranging the psyche. Sometimes it feels like a sudden crash, and other times it’s more like the slow erosion of a shoreline — subtle, steady, and undeniably real. Today’s ritual, The Grief Writing Ritual , wasn’t easy for me to approach. I almost skipped it. Not because I don’t believe in the practice — I do. But because I am grieving right now . Flicka leaving the ranch isn’t death, but it is separation — and separation ca

(A short story about my one minute of irreverence) It was a regular Tuesday. Not an extreme-drama-cinematic Tuesday — just the kind of day where the universe feels like it’s throwing more spitballs at my sanity. Three nasty to-do's waiting. Two crises brewing. One person breathing like a tractor near me. And absolutely zero  patience left in my emotional savings account. My nervous system felt like hot Jell-O. My halo was slipping. And if one more person said “just breathe,”I

There are days when the nonsense piles up so high, you need more than “deep breaths”and “positive thinking.” You need magic. You need irreverence.You need nervous-system liberation with a wink. You, my love, need a Fuck-Off Spell. This isn’t pettiness.This is protection.This is spiritual hygiene for women who’ve outgrown being “nice” at their own expense. It’s fast. It’s potent. And it’s your birthright as a Badass. Let’s begin… ✨ Step 1 — Flash the Middle Finger Mudra Yes,

AKA. You don’t need to be digestible. You need to be sovereign. Somewhere between being praised for being “easy” and punished for being “too much,” we learned to become palatable. Soft edges. Quiet hunger. Pleasant voice. Crossed legs. Controlled tone. Be lovely. Be agreeable. Be grateful. Be good. And for what? To be liked? To be chosen? To stay “safe”? Let’s tell the truth: Digestible women are easier to devour. And shrinking doesn’t earn safety —it just starves your soul a

✨ Peace — Are You There? I’ve been calling-praying-working and downright BEGGING for reprieve! Where are You?!?   I'm (more like) running pell-mell through the MOODS as if demons are clawing at my ass! Only to end up collapsing into rooms where the Quiet feels like my Chaos is wrapped in the 'craziness' of a straight jacket   FML! I keep the Calm. The code of Silence.   But Keeping the Peace is a pretense for Martyr of Servitude. And it's not working! That is the program tha

Somewhere between bubble baths and burnout, self-care  lost its rhythm. It became another thing to perform — another item to check off. But what if your self-care didn’t follow a script?What if it flowed  — like jazz? Welcome to Improvisational Self-Care  — where presence meets play, and your daily actions become a living, breathing ritual. Routine vs. Ritual — The Energetic Shift Routine  is the choreography: steps, structure, predictability. Ritual  is the improvisation — t

Here’s the thing:Selfcare isn’t one-size-fits-all. Some women recharge through silence and ritual. Some through art and movement. Some through laughter, sass, and a little bit of sacred rebellion. Or ALL of the ABOVE;) So I created a Selfcare Style Quiz  — a playful way to uncover your unique rhythm of rest, ritual, and rebellion. Are you: 💃 A Sensual Alchemist (who turns chaos into art)? 🌙 A Tender Mystic (who loves quiet rituals and moonlit baths)? 🔥 The Ritual Rebel (wh

There’s a word I’ve been playing with lately: bhessy. She’s the archetype of “bestie,” but with teeth and tenderness. A bhessy  is the kind of friend who will hold your hair back and  your truth forward. She’ll call you on your bullshit, then braid your hair while you cry about it. Because in the world we live in — where we’re supposed to be self-sufficient, emotionally contained, and camera-ready — we forget something ancient: Healing has a communal element. Selfcare was nev

Let’s be honest: grief is a shape-shifter. It sneaks into the body when you’re doing dishes. It curls up beside you when you finally sit...

Little selfcare habits that secretly rewire your relationships? 💥Here’s the golden spark , bhessy! We need to talk about selfcare as...

It was the kind of week where the universe throws a chaos like a tornado — death, flat tires, wounded horses, and one too many...

💔 From My Heart to Yours I am in the thick of heartbreak — soul-heavy, crisis-deep.I show up a little disheveled, a little weary. Please...