Inviting Yourself into Joy

Have you ever felt like you are on the outside, looking in? And everyone else is on the inside where it’s light and happy? And you’re just longing for someone to come, tap you on the shoulder, and invite you inside? Does it feel like happiness is always just outside of your reach? That your life is full of suffering one blow after the other?

What if I told you that the only person that has the ability to truly invite you in and take you into the happiness you are longing for, is yourself? Would you believe me if I told you the distance between where you are and where you want to be is in your mind? What if the change you long for begins in your mind?

But first, let me bring this back to the heart. Because I want you to know that, for me, this is not a theory in my mind. This is a story I have lived.

In case you’re new here, in my last post, I shared that there were many moments earlier in my life when I struggled to be here. And if you have been following me from the beginning, you have seen me process heartbreak and grief in real time. For so long, I felt like my life was defined by grief and pain.

And yet, if you would bump into me today on the street, you would not recognize me as that same person. In fact, when people who’ve come into my life more recently, see photos of me from ten years ago, they tell me I look younger now than I did then.

This does not mean that my life is free from grief and pain. In fact, this year has been bringing it by the boatload. And yet, I am here. Fully here. Tapped into a joy I didn’t know was possible.

Do you want to know my secret? How I invited myself into a life defined by joy instead of pain? It all started by changing my mind. Literally.

You see, the trauma I experienced as a child caused me to isolate tender parts of myself, and I believed the only way I could ever be safe is if I first made everyone around me happy and safe. So I spent my life tending to everyone around me. I became the adult in the room, able to read the mood before a word was spoken. I gave, and gave, and gave. Until I had nothing left. And those tender, isolated parts were just as scared and unhappy as before.

This wasn’t a character flaw or a choice I made. It’s what trauma does to a young brain — it wires the nervous system for vigilance and self-erasure, and those grooves get carved so deep they start to feel like personality, like fate. The brain builds a kind of armor, and then forgets it’s armor at all. For decades, mine held.

Then, years later, I found something that could soften it.

A friend told me about a documentary on Netflix called How to Change Your Mind, by Michael Pollan. Each episode follows a different substance — LSD, psilocybin, MDMA, mescaline — and traces where it’s been. The early scientific promise. The explosion into 1960s counterculture. The decades of prohibition that followed. And now, the quiet resurgence — scientists circling back, asking whether these substances might actually help people carrying depression, PTSD, addiction, the fear that comes with dying. Old footage, researchers, and people who’d lived it — sitting with their own stories of what these medicines opened up in them. Pollan included.

I decided to watch the series because I was growing weary of the heaviness that defined my life. At first I was skeptical, to say the least. I’d grown up following all the rules, outsourcing my inner authority to others. My teen years were sober, quiet, and filled with volunteering and serving others. No drinking. No dancing. And certainly no drugs. But by the time I’d finished watching the series, something shifted deep within. My intuition, which is actually one of my strongest gifts but had been silenced from years of religious trauma, was waking up. Telling me it’s time. I could no longer live in the cage my mind had trapped itself in.

And so I experienced my first psychedelic journey and it opened the first door for me to begin walking towards those tender isolated pieces that I had left behind. It was not a fun experience by any means. In fact, I wept and wept, as I saw something I had been carrying since my birth.

That was the first of many healing journeys I have taken. I have come face to face with many traumas. Sat unflinchingly and let myself feel the depths of the pain. I’ve also been taken to the heights of ecstasy, held for hours by pure and Divine Feminine Love. I’ve seen lifetimes of my soul in unspeakable pain and heard the words, “This time you get to choose.” And so I am choosing. I am healing. And I am living. My brain is literally rewiring itself and I feel like a new person.

This is because, as I mentioned before, trauma wires us a certain way so we can survive. But when we do psychedelics, the brain opens back up — a window of time where we can literally rewire it. New neural pathways, forming where the old, scared ones used to run the show. Gül Dölen, the brilliant neuroscientist who famously studied MDMA’s effect on octopuses, says the therapeutic window isn’t just hours or days. It’s weeks, sometimes months, after the acute effects of psychedelics have worn off.

While there is so much I could share on the topic, and entire books I could write about my experiences, I want to sum it up with care and reverence. For me, these are not drugs. That is the word the law has given these substances. It’s also the same word, incidentally, that defines things like ibuprofen and Tylenol that many take daily without a second thought. Sit with that for a minute.

Indigenous cultures have been using these mind altering substances for thousands of years and see them as Sacred. They are treated as substances that have great power to heal. They are not taken in parties and for fun. Not used to numb or forget. No, they are used to remember. To bring up the forgotten pain so that it can finally be healed.

These sacred substances are not to be used lightly. Set and setting is so important. Having a trusted guide who can hold the container is invaluable. Not having these things in place, can actually bring about more harm than healing.

Equally important, is that window of time after the experience, when the brain is in a neuroplastic state and new pathways can be formed. This is why intention and integration are so important. There are therapists who are trained in this specific kind of integration.

If this stirs something within you, I encourage you to sit with it. Don’t rush into the first option you find. Do your own research. Find others you trust, who have experienced this and can give you advice. Help may be closer than you know.

Healing is available. Not just to everyone else. It’s here for you too. And the first step begins in your mind.

Want to hear more? Find me on Instagram @marshandmoon1 and Facebook Marsh and Moon. Email me at palmtreemomma@proton.me to be added to my email list.

For more on this fascinating topic, I highly recommend this podcast on On Being, where Gül Dölen is interviewed by Krista Tippett. https://onbeing.org/programs/gul-dolen-psychedelic-science-and-radical-healing/

I Have a Crush on Life Again

It all started in January.

While cold and snowflakes settled over much of the country, I stepped into an intentional journey — a carefully held ceremonial space where I was guided deep into the subconscious. I navigated terrains that were both familiar and strange.

During the heart of the journey, I was asked a question.

“Do you want to live?”

I sat with that for a moment. Did I really want to live? A recent scan had revealed a breast lump and I was facing a lot of fears. There had been many moments during the first 50 years of my life when I hadn’t really wanted to live. Sadness and depression used to be my normal.

But I have found so much healing during the last few years and settled into a joy unlike anything I had known before. So the question felt strange — even though, at one time, it would have felt like a relief.

My answer was Yes — because I knew that there is so much more love that wants to flow through this body and out into a love-starved world.

A few days later, on my birthday, I got a call from my dermatologist. Melanoma.

I forgot all about my resounding Yes and slipped into a dark hole. Overwhelmed. Alone. Hundreds of miles from friends and family, I wondered if I had made a mistake when I uprooted my life and replanted myself so far away.

I remember crumbling on my kitchen floor. A well of grief erupted and I wailed.

It wasn’t death itself that terrified me. It was the aloneness.


One morning during meditation, I saw myself sitting in the middle of a mossy circle — a place where some of my dearest friends like to gather. I looked up and found myself surrounded by community. A protective wall of living, breathing hearts.

And I remembered the question. And I felt the answer still alive in every cell of my body.

YES.

So I decided I was going to live.


The next few weeks were a whirlwind of fighting with insurance and finding a surgeon. Due to a technicality, my insurance refused to cover the surgery I needed. I spent hours every day battling and advocating for myself. The depth of the melanoma meant the surgeon wanted to do a lymph node biopsy as well as the excision — far more complicated and costly than it should have been.

But my community rallied. They helped me find a way through something that looked impossible. Eighteen days after the diagnosis, my best friend and soul sister drove in from Atlanta and sat with me through surgery. Three days later — all clear. Cancer-free.

Today I have a six-inch scar on my back. A reminder that it’s worth doing what it takes to really live.


The breast lump turned out to be nothing worrisome. The melanoma is gone.

And then the initiations kept coming.

2026 has not let up. I had my heart broken and lost the person I thought was my soulmate. And now it looks like I’m losing my job. Each one its own kind of loss. Each one asking the same question in a different voice: Do you still want to live? Do you still choose this?

And each time, the answer is the same.

I am leaning into my community. I am tapping into the non-traditional and non-ordinary healing modalities I’ve encountered over the last few years — the ones that have cracked me open and put me back together in ways nothing else could. And I have never felt more alive or more whole. In spite of all the pain and loss. Because of it.


If you’re stuck in a dark place and the things you’ve tried aren’t working — reach out. If I can go from the kitchen floor to absolutely loving life, you can too.

I’m not a therapist or a doctor. But the lessons I’m integrating are their own special medicine, and I may be able to point you toward something different worth trying.

Want to hear more? Find me on Instagram @marshandmoon1 and Facebook Marsh and Moon. Drop me a line to be added to my email list.

Coming Home to Myself

It’s been three years since I packed my car and left the life that was familiar to me. Cried across every state line until I got to South Carolina, where I stopped and ate a picnic lunch. The air smelled different and I knew I was almost home. A few hours later, I crossed into Georgia and there it was. Home.

I’ll never forget pulling into the garage for the first time. Unloading my things in a corner of the kitchen before heading to Target for cleaning supplies and a frozen dinner. I couldn’t wait to nest into my new home. I swept and mopped the floors and set up the coffee maker, before laying my mat down and falling into a restful sleep.

The next morning I was up, bright and early for a sunrise walk at the beach. After years of taking care of others, I was finally ready to take care of myself.

Starting over does that to you, if you let it. Maybe it was being alone in a quiet house with only the noise of the birds, cicadas and frogs. No one vying for my attention. No needs except my own. Or maybe it was because I had exhausted myself by all the ways I had tried to get my needs met up to this point. But living on my own for the first time in my life gave me a golden gift. The gift to finally come home to my self.

So here I am, three years later, in love with myself and my life in ways I never have been before. Not that it’s been easy. I’ve made friends and lost friends. Had a potentially terminal illness. That journey deserves its own telling, and I’ll share it soon. I fell in love. And then lost the person I thought I was going to grow old with. Again.

I’ve gone quiet for awhile. Gone deep inside and found incredible healing. Experienced altered states of consciousness that allowed me to revisit childhood trauma and heal the little girl that thought she was forgotten. I’m slowly integrating mystical experiences and learning to bring them forward into the outer world. I’m learning to take up space and stop making myself small. I have gone quiet for a time, to heal even deeper. But now it’s time to bring some of the medicine I have experienced forward.

There is so much on my heart that I have to share with you. But for now I leave you with this.

Home is so much more than a person, place or thing. It’s more than a memory, a dream, a longing. Home is what you carry with you in your one beautiful heart. Come home to that first, and the rest will find you.

Want to hear more? You can also find me on Instagram @marshandmoon1and Facebook Marsh and Moon. Drop me a line if you want to be added to my email list.