Moorea Seal

I haven’t been able to deliver my promised tarot readings for the past two weeks, and I wanted to gently name that. Behind the scenes, I’ve been navigating some hard terrain in my personal life. It is the kind of deep, grown-up work that asks for space, reflection, boundaries and steady communication. Seeking to set boundaries and care for my needs has meant physically moving myself into the rental unit in the second story of my house.

This week started off with another bang in my world. My apologies for delivering this reading to you days after I pulled the card and began my writing. My day job is caregiving for an infant. As someone who deeply cares about children’s well-being and with no desire to birth my own, my day job is fulfilling in a way that cannot be described. I am on the autism spectrum. Misinformed folks assume we, Autistic folks, have no empathy. And the truth is quite the opposite.

This week, someone in my family was diagnosed with cancer. It was a shock, though cancer always is. When a crisis enters a family system, the past comes to the surface. Old instincts and learned reactions are hard to stave off when our bodies are in shock. And when fear takes over, it’s easy to play out our inherited ideas about what love is supposed to look like. Many of us learn to meet crises with urgency—jumping in, taking control, and bracing for impact.

So you’re at a point in life where you’re supposed to have “figured it out” by now, right? And the idea of looking like a fool is mortifying. Getting older came with a promise of mastery and knowing. Self-assuredness. Wisdom. All the things that were supposed to have arrived by now. But instead, you find yourself wondering: Does anyone actually take me seriously? Do they see how childlike I still feel inside? The more you learn, the less you think you truly know. You are right, and wrong, all at once.

In the Every Little Thing You Do is Magic tarot deck, the Seven of Wands is illustrated as a pair of open scissors hovering above a field of flowers. Bright marigolds, sunflowers, sea kelp, and seven wooden wands grow upward, while the blades hang above them, ready to cut them down. When I began shuffling for this week’s reading, the deck caught on the Seven of Wands. The cards wouldn’t move past it. I took that pause seriously, pulled the card and paused.

As we enter the New Year, many of us are desperate for a fresh start. I don’t know anyone who found 2025 to be a particularly easy year, and I know many of us are hungry for a major reset. The Gregorian calendar we anchor our lives to offers a symbolic turning of the page as we step into 2026. In the year ahead, and in the here and now, I’m honored to walk with you, offering resources to deepen your self-care and strengthen your self-empowerment.

I got the sweetest letter in the mail from my godfather along with a $50 check made out to me as his paid subscription for this newsletter. I cried. He wanted to know how I’ve been since getting fired from my museum day job three months ago. Apparently, speaking out against genocide and calling out racism isn’t great for business when your donors prefer tax write-offs over accountability.

Upgrade to paid to play voiceover It’s a season of returning to who you were always meant to be which requires new goals, resets, reflection, and moving on from selves you tried on and wore like costumes. It’s confusing coming back to the self. Which “self” is true? Maybe all of the people you have been hold truth to who you are, but each have held some falseness too. We can’t figure out who we are and what we want without testing.

I was never truly a “girly girl,” though I desperately wanted to be seen as one when I was a kid. When I moved to the U.S. at age 8 in 1994, presenting feminine became a kind of protection. My natural energy and appearance have always leaned androgynous, and as a teenager I envied the high-femme ease my little sisters seemed to carry—even when they wore tomboy clothes. What I didn’t realize then was that my performance of femininity was really an attempt to hide my deeply self-denied queerness.

Last week, I shared openly about losing my job at my local art museum and the tarot card that supported me in speaking up. First, I want to thank every one of you who has subscribed since then—whether paid or free. I truly appreciate your presence here and your support in this facet of my writing career. The museum couldn’t fire me for my work—my writing, art, design, or content creation.