This isn’t a rebellion.
It’s a return.
A slow remembering of the rhythms that existed long before food pyramids, apps, or drive-thru dopamine.
It’s a detox—not only of toxins, but also of disconnection, sedation, and the weight of not moving.

Welcome to The Moon Ate First—a space where I track my messy, magical attempt to feed myself with something other than isolation, screen-glow, and the lure of one more combo meal.

I’m an empty nester who’s done more than just try.
I’ve had my glow-up eras. I’ve eaten kale on purpose. I’ve even folded laundry without being held at metaphorical gunpoint.
But then life happened—cue the plot twist: chronic illness, a broken pause button, and a surprising number of afternoons spent negotiating with a video game controller and a burrito.
I didn’t fall off the wagon; I slowly slid under it with snacks.

So now, I’m not chasing a new trend or biohacking my way to enlightenment.
I’m returning—to what actually worked.
But this time, I’ve got moon charts, hormone maps, and the kind of hard-earned wisdom you only get from surviving your own Netflix documentary phase.
Maybe if I’d known this stuff earlier, I could’ve dodged a few breakdowns.
Maybe not.
Either way, I’m here. Awake-ish. Listening. Hungry—for the right things.

This blog is part sacred experiment, part reality show with no prize money.
I’m syncing with the moon not because it’s trendy, but because my body seems to understand her language better than spreadsheets and step counters.

Expect:

• Witty dispatches from the front lines of food addiction
• Musings on cycles—celestial, emotional, and everything in between
• Weird rituals that sometimes work
• Radical honesty in a cozy robe
• And the occasional cameo from my cat, Theo, who remains unimpressed by personal growth

I’m not doing this to “get my life together.”
I’m doing it to be in my life again—one sacred spoonful at a time.