The "Random" threads that saved me

A full moon invitation to be seen

You might have noticed that I’ve been sharing a lot of things that seem, on the surface, kind of random.

One day it’s trauma. Another day it’s autism or ADHD. Sometimes I’m talking about practices that feel a little witchy, or nature-based, or spiritual. Sometimes it’s meditation. Or the creative life. Or AI for authors.

And then, once a month, I host a full moon ceremony.

If you’ve been reading along and thinking, What does any of this have to do with each other? What does this have to do with Danica the author, Danica the creative, or even Danica the woman who helps other people step into their next chapter?

Weirdly, it’s all related.

A few years ago, I was a shell of a person.

I was stuck in what felt like an almost permanent fight-or-flight state. For me, that often looked like freeze.

A lot of people couldn’t tell, because it was what they call functional freeze. From the outside, you could see me moving through daily life. I showed up. I did the things.

But on the inside, I was frozen. Collapsed. And if I didn’t have to be “on” for someone else, I was curled up in a little ball, unable to do anything. Unable to understand why I couldn’t function.

It’s only been as I’ve peeled back the layers, teaching myself what it means to be safe, learning how to move forward in a way that my nervous system can actually tolerate, that I’ve been able to create a new life for myself.

I can pinpoint a couple of very specific events that brought me to that place of collapse. But what I’ve realized as I’ve healed is that it wasn’t just one event. It was the compounding effect of so many things.

And instead of dealing with them, I shoved them down. Told myself to soldier on. Keep going. Be strong.

Until I couldn’t.

On the road back, it’s been all of those “random” pieces that have helped me return to a place of I can.

It’s still not an everyday I can. But more and more, I recognize what I can looks like.

And sometimes, I can is very small.

Some days, “I can” is getting out of bed, doing my job, and then resting.

I’m grateful I can get my job done. I’m grateful I have enough space in my life now to recognize the moments where I still can’t, and to meet myself there with forgiveness instead of punishment.

Right now, I’m in training for a process called RIM (Regenerating Images in Memory). It’s helped me take hard things and finally metabolize emotions I’ve been stuffing down for a long time. Of all the things I’ve done to heal, it has been the most helpful for moving me out of freeze.

And still, I hold a whole toolbox.

Because I’m not certified to practice RIM with others yet. And because I know it isn’t accessible to everyone.

So I keep returning to the practices that meet me where I am. Practices I write about here, practices I teach, practices I weave into my coaching.

And one of the most powerful practices I’ve brought into my life is working with the moon.

The moon is always there.

I know I’ve said that before. I say it often in my ceremonies.

But in moments of anxiety, sorrow, and yes, even joy, I can look up at the moon and remember something simple and steady: it has always been there.

No matter what is happening in your life, the moon is there.

It might be a different phase. It might be hidden behind clouds. It might be raining. You might be somewhere you can’t see it.

But it’s there.

It has borne witness to everything in my life. Everything in history. It sees, and it knows.

And here is the beautiful part: it doesn’t judge.

I know the judgments that have flowed around me as I’ve moved through healing. Some I put on myself. Some came from people I dearly love. Some came from people who don’t know me at all.

And yet, the moon says, bring it. Give it to me.

Because I see you. Even when you don’t see me, I see you.

And there’s something in that—something deeply regulating to my system. Something that reminds me I don’t have to hold everything alone.

It’s worth noting that this isn’t new. For centuries, people have used the full moon for exactly this purpose: to cast their cares upon it, to release what’s heavy, to let go of what is no longer theirs to carry.

Sometimes people hear that and assume, “Oh, you worship the moon.”

I don’t.

I relate to the moon the way I might relate to a wise counselor. A steady witness. Almost like I would my therapist.

Only… with a little more power than that.

I believe there is a Creator. A creative force. I don’t always want to name it, mostly because as my spirituality deepens, the name I relate to can change. The name others relate to can change.

But to me, the force itself is the same.

And just as that force created me, it created the moon.

So here is my invitation.

Maybe you are recovering from a season where getting out of bed felt impossible.

Maybe your life feels good right now, like things are finally aligning.

Maybe you’re somewhere in between.

But there are burdens on your heart that you don’t have to carry the way you’ve been carrying them.

That’s what the moon is there for.

That’s what this full moon is for.

This full moon is in Leo. I don’t pretend to be an astrology expert. I’m learning. I read, I listen, I pay attention, and I take what resonates.

But I do know this: Leo is fire. It’s voice. It’s presence. It’s being willing to be seen.

So I’ve been sitting with a few questions:

What is asking to be seen?

What is asking to be heard?

And more importantly: what’s keeping that from happening?

Because those are the things to lay down.

Maybe it’s fear of judgment.

I feel vulnerable admitting some of what I’m admitting here. I do fear judgment.

And I’m also tired.

I’m tired of letting it rule my life.

I’m tired of not showing up fully because of what I think people might say.

Recently, I was at a retreat and shared some of my deep, dark secrets. I was terrified of judgment.

And yes, I think there were people who held judgmental attitudes toward me.

But I also found people who came alongside me—people who were grateful I shared, because it helped them feel less alone.

Which is part of what I want this space to be.

Not a performance. Not perfection.

A place where we remember we are human, and we don’t have to carry everything by ourselves.

So this full moon, I’m inviting you, as I do every month, to join me in my practice.

This month I’m giving even more over to the moon. Shedding what’s keeping me from shining. Releasing what’s been weighing on my voice, my presence, my willingness to be seen.

The ceremony is February 1st at 2pm Mountain. You can sign up here: https://us06web.zoom.us/meeting/register/zDYO-j8XTKyv90LQEnzsww

The live event is free to all, and replays will be available to paid subscribers.

And even if you can’t make it to the ceremony, I hope you’ll take a few minutes to ask yourself the same questions.

What are you holding that you don’t need anymore?

What would it feel like to set it down?

If the idea of being big and bold feels like too much today, choose something small.

One small thing you can let go of.

One thread you can loosen.

One belief you can stop gripping so tightly.

And then, in whatever way is true for you, let yourself shine.