The Moon Ate First

Day Ten: Wrinkled but Willing

July 22nd, 2025

Moon Phase: 🌗 Third Quarter
Moon in: Taurus ♉︎ — anchoring me in the mundane magic of showing up, one stubborn step at a time.

Today I felt a little more like myself. The morning routine didn’t exactly click into place like it has on other days, but every piece of it got done—eventually. In some kind of order. Probably not the right order, but we’re not grading this.

My measurements looked good, and today was a fast day—the last one of this cycle—so I leaned into it with full force. But first: laundry. Because, you know… pants. I got it done ish. Folding doesn’t count when your brain is operating on “just survive today” mode. Clean pants = mission accomplished. Wrinkled? Sure. But clothed and alive nonetheless. Baby steps.

Once the laundry was out of the way, I headed to the pool. Afternoon swims are a whole different beast—none of that quiet, sacred morning calm. But I showed up, slipped into my rhythm, and knocked out my routine without hiccups. Was it flow state? Meh. More like “get ‘er done” state. And today, I did.

After showering off the chlorine and the chaos, I headed home, planning to spend the evening gaming with friends… when a surprise text rolled in. My son, inviting me to another night of softball. I was genuinely excited. These evening strolls have become something I crave—simple, grounding, and quietly healing in ways I don’t quite have words for yet.

It wasn’t glamorous. Nothing about today was. But it was real, effective, and forward-moving. And in this season of wrinkled pants and restored rhythms, that’s more than enough.

Goodnight Moon. 🌗
Day Nine: Idle Without Impact

July 21st, 2025

Moon Phase: 🌗 Third Quarter
Moon in: Gemini ♊︎ – restless mind, paralyzed body

Today was one of those days where nothing moved—not my feet, not my to-do list, not even my toothbrush. Laundry? Nope. Walking? Not a chance. Singing? I don’t think so. Motivation ghosted me like an ex who still creeps my Facebook but won’t text back.

And yet—despite the absolute lack of momentum—I didn’t crack when it came to food. My choices weren’t sparkling clean, let’s be honest. But I stayed true to my carb goal. No binges. No “just this once” free-for-alls. Just enough control to stay aligned with the phase I’m in, even if it wasn’t pretty.

I didn’t nap. I didn’t clean. I didn’t force myself to push through. I just… sat. Sat with the weight of my own thoughts. Sat in the same spot for hours, watching time slide by while my brain replayed its favorite self-sabotage hits. That old, manipulative mental monologue tried to get loud: “You’re already fat. You’re stuck anyway. Just eat the thing.”

But I didn’t.

Theo got fed, somehow, even though I felt like I had lead in every cell of my body. I couldn’t move forward, but I also didn’t fall back. And that counts.

Eventually, I made a choice—one small, intentional pivot out of the pit: I logged into my game. Not to escape, but to anchor. Connection over isolation. Laughter with friends over the shame loop I was stuck in. It wasn’t productive, but it was protective.

This blog helped too. Writing this—naming the storm instead of eating through it—kept me from cracking. Not every day needs to be full of checkmarks and momentum. Some days just need to be endured without damage.

Maybe it’s the Gemini moon, maybe it’s Mercury Retrograde trying to pull some cosmic prank. I don’t know. But I stayed on track. I didn’t lie to myself with “just one more.” I didn’t abandon my goal even when the spark was gone.

I idled. But I didn’t crash.

Goodnight, Moon. 🌗
Day Eight: Pants Optional

July 21st, 2025

Moon Phase: 🌗 Third Quarter
Moon in: Taurus ♉︎ – rooting down, recalibrating, and low-key insisting on comfort over chaos

I began the day with my familiar morning trifecta: smudge, prayer, Theo. Then I sat down with a salad and the sobering realization that I was down to my last pair of leave the house pants. A clear sign: laundry needed to happen. Naturally, I didn’t start it.

Instead, I retreated to my safe place and opened up a pile of paperwork that’s been whispering my name. Productivity, yes—but make it pantless.

I wasn’t feeling as lit up as I had been the past few days. Something was off—muted motivation, sluggish energy. Before I could spiral into full blown daybed mode, my Fitbit nudged me and my stomach begged for a mid-morning snack.

So, I took a walk to Starbucks for some egg bites and black tea. I save the problematic coffee for feast days, lesson learned. I sat in the lobby, slowly eating my second breakfast while listening to the baristas solve the world’s problems with volume and confidence only youth can provide.

The walk back was lovely. The weather was perfect, like an open invitation to keep walking. But something in me—something deep and nagging—just wanted to go home and not for the laundry.

Instead of diving into the gravitational pull of my PS5, I threw on karaoke and gave myself an hour to just sing. Really sing. It felt amazing—my lungs felt open, my voice felt powerful again. It’s been a long time since I’ve had that clarity, after years of inflammation and chemical-laden convenience foods muting me. Anti-human food, the kind that wants to outlast the humans it’s meant to nourish. But with each lap in the pool and each day without processed poison, my voice is finding its way back—clearer, stronger, no longer buried beneath the fog.

After that, the rest of the day was games and laughter with friends. In my last clean pair of out-in-public pants. The ones that deserve a parade for their service.

I didn’t overdo it with food—but I didn’t exactly stay inside the lines either. Convenience won again, which meant higher sodium and carbs than planned. But I stayed in ketosis, so I’m giving myself grace. Progress, not perfection. Rhythm, not rigidity.

Goodnight Moon. 🌗
Day Seven: Glow Beneath the Surface

July 19th, 2025

Moon Phase: 🌗 Third Quarter
Moon in: Taurus ♉︎ – rooting me in routine, reminding me that nourishment is a ritual, not a reward

Woke up with my mains. My cat. My clarity. My calm. Took some time to write before heading to the pool—my sanctuary in motion. To my delight, I had the whole place to myself. The overhead lights were off, and only the soft underwater glow lit the space. It felt like a moonlit swim—quiet, glowing, ethereal. Less YMCA, more underwater chapel.

My routine moved so smoothly I was sure I’d skipped something. But I hadn’t. I had just entered flow state before my body even hit the water. Fasting has a way of syncing me with something deeper—like slipping into gear I didn’t even know was available.

Today was a fast day, part of my days 1–10 rhythm. These are my heavy hitters—36 to 38 hours of fasting. On my eating days, I open my window two hours after sunup and close it by 6 or 7pm, staying under 50g of carbs to slide into ketosis. Dr. Mindy Pelz, author of ‘Fast Like a Girl’ calls this Keto biotic.

Soon I’ll enter Days 11–15, where I shift into lighter fasting and raise my carbs to around 100g— by adding fruit and whole grains. It’s a treat every time. I fast daily, but I bring it down to 15-18 hours a day here. I’ll maintain my exercise routine of swimming and walking. My body loves this phase.

Then comes my anchor: Days 16–19, when the moon moves into Virgo. That’s when I do a full 72-hour fast. At first it was for spiritual reasons—to get quiet enough to hear Creator—but I’ve since learned this timing also coincides with a full immune system reset. Divine timing, divine science.

And finally, Days 20–28. I don’t bleed anymore, but I honor the rhythm. I eat with the sun and rest with intention—no fasting, no heavy lifting, just slow and nourishing days to support what would be my luteal phase. Progesterone pampering. Rhythm over restriction. I try to get 150g of healthy carbohydrates during this phase.

This whole system? It isn’t a diet. It’s not about willpower or punishment. It’s a return. A re-connection to cycles older than my cravings. I’m not just feeding a body—I’m tending to a system, syncing to the sky. As above, so below.

Wrapped the evening in leisure, chatting with friends. Some good games and better laughs made the perfect closing ceremony. Crawled into bed very early, satisfied and spent in all the right ways.

Goodnight moon. 🌗
Day Six: Snow White and the 7 Extra Ounces of Beef Jerky

July 18th, 2025

Moon Phase: 🌖Disseminating
Moon in: Aries ♈︎ – bold, direct, and hungry for experience

The morning started out typically enough—until it wasn’t.

My ketones were at 2.4. I blinked at the screen like it owed me an explanation. I’ve been wrestling with insulin resistance for a while, and I honestly didn’t expect to see numbers like that until at least my second or third cycle. Something’s shifted. I haven’t put my finger on it yet, but I can feel it. My system is responding, and it’s responding fast. And that… excites me.

I had to dive back into consumer hell (Walmart) to stock up on a few basics: salads, eggs, cottage cheese, and a bag of beef jerky to carry me through the end of this keto-biotic phase. But when I stepped back outside? The air was too perfect to go home.

So I drove to the Falls and took my breakfast with me. I sat on a giant flat stone, cracked open my salad, and let the roar of the water pull my shoulders down from my ears. Just as I was settling in, two tiny ground squirrels approached, all twitchy curiosity. I tore a piece of lettuce and laid it about two feet away from me—offering peace, in leaf form. They were hesitant, darting back with every move I made. Finally, I whispered, “It’s okay. I’m not gonna get you.” And I swear to the moon—they understood.

They scampered up and started munching. Before I knew it, two squirrels became four. I shared what I could. One even came close to climbing in my lap—until a bird overhead gave a sharp alarm and the whole crew vanished in a blink. The moment was over, but I was glowing.

After tossing my trash, I headed home to do a little writing. Once that was done, I gave myself permission for some leisure with my PlayStation buddies. Then came the hunger. I reached for the beef jerky and thought, I’ll just have a little. Famous last words. One ounce turned into ten before I even felt the full pull of the compulsion. So that’s the new rule: jerky gets pre-portioned at purchase. Lesson logged—literally.

I skipped my kraut and dogs and instead leaned into something that always brings me back: music. My instrument area still isn’t set up, but my voice? My voice is always ready. I gave myself 35 solid minutes of karaoke therapy—belted out every emotion until I was breathless and brighter. I swear it’s medicine.

Then came the nap. Is this becoming part of my rhythm? Have I officially crossed the line from Maiden into Crone, or is this simply my body doing overtime to undo the damage I’ve done? Either way, I surrendered to it—and woke up feeling like a rebooted version of myself.

Dinner was pure convenience: two softshell tacos and an unsweetened iced tea on the way to the ballpark. Tonight was my son’s last game for the week, and the evening air was just… perfect.

Later, my friend met me at home to drop off some speakers I’d left in her vehicle following our naming ceremony a couple weeks back. She came bearing more gifts—beautiful beadwork from the powwow she had just attended, offerings for my children. They are so loved. So spoiled—but never rotten. Spoiled grateful. Like me with this day. Spoiled grateful.

Goodnight moon🌖
Day Five: Full Without Eating

July 17th, 2025
Moon Phase: 🌖 Disseminating

Moon in: Aries ♈︎ — bold, burning off, and moving forward

I woke up with the usual rhythm: smudge, prayer, Theo. But today, I added a new layer to the spread—tracking all my numbers. Alongside my weight, I checked my blood glucose and ketones. To my surprise, the readings were 81 and 0.8. On Day 5! That’s a metabolic win if I’ve ever seen one.

Straight to the pool from there. My swim routine is starting to flow like choreography:
- 5 breaststroke laps to wake up the body
- 40 arm curls with foam weights
- 5 laps with flippers, focusing on stretching and glute engagement
- 30 pull-ups
- 5 more breaststroke laps focusing on rhythmic breathing
- 40 lateral raises with foam dumbbells
- 5 flipper laps again
- 20 punch downs, 20 punch outs
- 5 final breaststroke laps focusing on speed
- 40 chest presses with the foam dumbbells
Afterward, I melted into the hot tub—a well-earned reward. After my shower, I walked home feeling that post-workout glow. There’s a rhythm here. A cadence. I can feel it locking in.

Then came the hard part. I sat down to work on some design projects—too many, honestly. The overwhelm hit fast. And just like that, I slid back into my “safe place.” Instead of spiraling into self-criticism, I gave myself grace. A couple of episodes. Some stillness. A little pause.

It’s tricky—grace vs. excuse. I worry sometimes that I’m deluding myself. But my morning numbers say otherwise. My skin feels more supple. My joints ache less—not the old creaky pain, but the good kind, the “you moved today” soreness. My mood is lifting. My energy is refilling. So I’m letting the results be the judge.

My video binge gave way to a nap, and I woke refreshed. Checked in with my PlayStation crew but didn’t stay long. My son invited me to watch him play ball again. I grabbed an unsweetened iced tea, parked far from the field to get a little extra walk in, and found my spot in the bleachers. I missed much of the first game and was too cold to stay for all of the second but between games, I shared some solid laughs and light conversation with my son—Home run.
I didn’t eat a thing today—but I was full.

Goodnight Moon🌖
Day Four: Buses, Ball Games & Bacon-Wrapped Bravery

July 16th, 2025

Moon Phase: 🌖 Disseminating
Moon in: Pisces ♓︎ — softening my edges, pulling me into flow, inviting me to trust the unseen

I smudged, prayed, tended to Theo—my usual sacred openers—and then followed a tug in my gut: the river. Half a mile downhill, I stopped at the bus station on the way to grab a monthly pass. A small fee, a big shift. Rhythm is calling me to do brave things. Brave like being a steward of this planet even when it’s inconvenient. I’ll be riding across town to a gym that has a class I love, a sauna that melts my bones, and a hydro massage table that presses my soul back in.

At the river, I sat on a bench and let the sounds of summer hold me for a while. The sun showed up early and strong, so before it got too hot, I climbed the hill home and ate the world’s most satisfying bacon chicken Caesar salad before throwing myself into the business of getting my space in order.

I worked until it was time to eat again (jalapeno and cheddar smoked sausage and sauerkraut—10/10, would recommend), and then decided it was time for a little leisure. I gamed with my virtual crew until the clock told me it was time to be two things at once: a mother in the stands and a woman chasing ketosis.

Dinner plans (bacon and eggs) got outvoted by time, instead I grabbed a couple softshell tacos on the way to my son’s softball game. It was Tuesday after all, and Tuesdays are made for tacos. I parked far on purpose—extra far, extra steps, extra sacred. Storms were flirting with the horizon, but I made it to the field. Watching him play—pure joy. This boy breathes ball. Always has.

Then an eagle flew overhead. Not metaphorically—literally. A white-headed messenger slicing through the sky like a divine exclamation point. I got the message: It’s time.
Time to leave, time to walk, time to trust the timing of the Divine.

As I reached the car, the air dropped, the wind twisted, and the sky gave me a parting gift—a cool sprinkle on my warm skin and then, just as I shut the door, a downpour.
Perfect timing.
Perfect day.

GoodNight Moon 🌖
Day Three: Front Row Seating & Impromptu Saunas

July 15th, 2025

Moon Phase: 🌖 Disseminating Moon
Moon in: Pisces ♓︎ – swimming through stories, surrender, and spirit

I began the day with a smudge and a prayer, then served breakfast and a clean throne for His Highness Theo. (The royal litter duties are never done.) Afterward, I left the house—left the house!—for my morning swim. It was a good one. I hit that elusive flow state where thoughts stop chasing their tails and the water becomes both silence and song.

Post-swim, I took a breath, gathered myself, and headed out to spend time with one of my dearest friends. She and her partner just bought a new-old-old house—so old it has drawers by the front door for your pistols, maids’ quarters, and a staircase clearly meant for dramatic descents in silk robes. The air conditioning was out, so the tour became a surprise sauna session. (I didn’t ask for a sweat lodge, but the ancestors provided.)

Still, no antique doorknob or grand staircase holds a candle to the joy of catching up with a friend whose life story is better than any fiction I could scroll through. I have a few of these friends. People whose lives feel like books I don’t want to put down. And I want to keep showing up for every chapter.

After the visit, I melted into bed. The swim, the heat, and the fasting had wrung me out. And that nap? Divine. Necessary.

When I woke up, stomach rumbling, I picked up my PS5 controller to distract myself. Before I could dive into my game, I got a party invite from another good friend—this one a newer connection, still unfolding, currently in its treacherous chapters. And still… they invited me in. That vulnerability is no small thing.

So I showed up. I listened. I offered what I could from my hollow-bone heart.
We talked late into the night. I blinked and suddenly I was propping my eyes open. I missed my blog check-in. I missed the backend of my rhythm.

But I’m not dragging myself about it.

This isn’t some diet-y self-shaming spiral.
This is grace.
Real grace—with intentions rooted in health, not permission for collapse.

The Disseminating Moon is the phase right after full—still bright, but dimming. It’s about sharing what you’ve learned, offering insights, storytelling. Pisces rules dreams, emotions, compassion, and intuition. This isn’t a time to push—it’s a time to float. To listen. To hold space.

Seems like the moon knew what kind of day I needed better than I did.

Goodni…Zzz… Moo…ZZzzzZZ
Day Two: No Chlorine Baptism, Just Capitalism and a Coffee

July 13th, 2025

Moon Phase: Full Moon 🌕
Moon in: Aquarius ♒︎ – the wild oracle who won’t follow your food pyramid

The pool was closed today.
No womb of water. No weightless sacrament of breaststroke prayers.
Just Walmart.

Yes, friends—on the second day of this sacred return, I was cast out of chlorinated Eden and into the fluorescent aisles of modern-day purgatory. I needed batteries for my scale (because apparently my healing journey is powered by AA) and a few ketobiotic-friendly items to prep for the week, so I journeyed on.

Walmart is… a portal. Not the good kind.
But I survived. Barely.

Once home, I smudged the scent of despair off me, refocused with a short prayer, and saw to Theo’s needs. He glared at me like a furry elder who disapproves of my aura. Fair.

I planned to stay fasted until noon, so I turned my attention to another form of nourishment—a book on Star Knowledge. My first big bite was of the Seven Directions.

We often talk about North, South, East, and West—but today, I resonated with the seventh direction: the Center.

“Thus, the One becomes two—sacred above and sacred below—while remaining One; and the One becomes four while remaining One. This makes six. And finally, there is the center point which represents the fire in the tipi, the Black Hills, understood as ‘the heart of everything that is,’ and the heart of a person praying with the Sacred Pipe. The heart, Čhaŋté, is the seventh place.”
—Page 48

That seventh place—that Center, that Heart—isn’t a destination. It’s a remembering. A returning to our own still point, where spirit and flesh meet without fighting. Where intention lives. Where I live, when I’m not dissociating in a virtual reality.

And then—I walked to Starbucks.
Because balance.

A bacon gruyère egg bite moment and a brown sugar oatmilk shaken espresso later, I felt satisfied… and then I logged it.

Let’s just say: this combo is on the “wait until Hormone Feasting Week” list.
We’ll talk more about that carb-happy chapter of the cycle soon.

For now, I’m full—not just in belly, but in meaning.
Day Two reminded me: even when I’m wandering aisles or wrestling cravings, I can still walk with intention. I can still walk from the heart.

Until tomorrow:
Be sacred.
Be strange.
Goodnight, Moon. 🌕
Day One: A Cycle Begins, A Portal Opens

July 12th, 2025

Moon Phase: 🌕 Full
Moon in: Aquarius ♒︎ — guiding me to zoom out, breathe deeper, and think bigger.

I was awakened by the birds singing their morning songs.

I dragged my sacred behind into the pool and baptized myself in chlorine and ambition before consciousness dared contest. The water felt like a womb—warm, weightless, and forgiving. A sacred place where gravity lets go and the body remembers what flow means.

It was not just exercise— it was an exorcism.

I’m fasting—not just from food, but from distraction, from the numbing. From the glow of the drive-thru menu board that beckons, “Just one more time…”. I’m stepping away from the ritual of unwrapping shame delivered in heavily branded paper bags. I’ve disengaged the autopilot that steers me directly into the comfortable prison I built myself. I’m surrendering to a new authority, one that remembers what nourishment is.

I smudge… I pray… I consider my place within the Universe… I fill the bottom of my lungs.

The moon is in Aquarius tonight—a sign of rebellion, truth, and future-self freedom.
Fitting, really, since I’ve been negotiating peace talks between several versions of myself that usually start bickering around 3 p.m.—when the cravings creep in. There’s Past-Me. Past-Me copes with Taco Bell. There’s Present-Me, who writes in sacred hunger. And there’s Future-Me, who somehow has the energy to wash and fold on the same day.
They share one body but have wildly different priorities.

Under this Aquarius moon, for once, they’re all looking in the same direction: forward.

This blog is my mirror—my breadcrumb trail back to myself. A confessional wrapped in sacred humor and sweatpants. Made up of flashes of science, spiritual chaos, awkward wit, and unfiltered vulnerability.

I’m not mapping the path—I’m just walking it out loud.

Each post will follow the rhythm of the moon, because her pull feels more honest than any number ever did.

I’m not chasing control—I’m chasing connection.

With my body. With time. With something ancient and steady.

Not to be good, but to be whole.

Not to be perfect, but to be here.

Goodbye cravings,
Goodbye shame,
Goodnight Moon 🌕