Dear friend,

If you’re reading this, I’m guessing you’re tired.
Not just “I could use a nap” tired.
I mean the deep-bone tired that comes from years of holding it together while life takes cheap shots.

So this is my little love letter to you
—from a van parked by the ocean,
—from a woman whose birthday is next week,
—from a Sagittarius jazz singer who finally had a tiny miracle:

Today, I remembered how to relax.

🪞 How a Broken Mirror Helped Me Rest

Last weekend I had a gig at Winter’s Tavern. I sang my heart out with Diamond Head Jazz, felt like myself again for a minute…

…and then walked back to my van and found the side mirror torn clean off.
Hit-and-run. No note. No apology. Just dangling plastic and duct tape.

I did not have $400 lying around for that repair.
I live in my van. I’m houseless, not homeless, but let’s be honest: it’s not exactly a trust fund situation over here.

My friend raised her hand and said, “Can we help a sister out?”
People donated.
The mirror got fixed.
I picked up my van yesterday.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt… held.
Like the universe and my community, they had their hand on my kite string so I didn’t fly off into the storm.

😴 The Night I Slept for 13 Hours

Last night, my body made an executive decision.

I took a little THC, crawled into my rolling cocoon, listened to the ocean, and—
instead of waking up every two hours like usual—

I slept.
And slept.
And slept.

Thirteen hours.

For someone who has lived with chronic stress, trauma, physical pain, and the constant “how am I going to survive” math problem in their head…
that is not “just sleep.”

That is a spiritual event.

☀️ The Flavor of Today’s Bliss: Freedom

When I woke up, something was different.

The pain wasn’t screaming.
My nervous system wasn’t on red alert.
My brain wasn’t rehearsing disaster.

Instead, I felt this golden, quiet, gentle feeling in my body.
Peace.
Real peace.

Today’s bliss had a flavor:

Freedom.

I didn’t want to go anywhere.
Not into town.
Not to some event.
Not even to be “productive.”

I sat in my van, watching the light shift over the ocean, and I realized:

“Oh my God. I’m not suffering right now.
And I don’t have to earn this moment.”

So I let myself stay in it.
For hours.

No performance.
No crisis.
No fixing.
No proving.

Just me, my weird little van, the Pacific, and this ridiculous wave of love pouring through my own body.

🗯️ Bleep: “Breaking news: woman sleeps 13 hours, does not feel guilty. Scientists confirm: miracle.” 🚐✨🎂♐️🦀

💔 A Note to Anyone Who Has Been in Pain Too Long

Let me speak directly to those of you who will understand this:

If you have ever lived with physical or emotional pain for so long
that it changes your personality…
so long that you’d try almost anything just to make it stop…

I see you.

If you’ve ever thought,

“I just need one person to hold the string of my kite so I don’t blow away,”

I am right there with you.

I come from a family where the pain went underground:
beautiful women, pin-up gorgeous, model glam, and quietly drowning inside.
Addiction, depression, eating disorders, abuse, secrets.
No one talked.
Everyone coped.

I grew up weird: neurodiverse, clairvoyant, psychic kid with angels as backup singers and no solid grown-up to lean on.
That kind of loneliness burrows into your bones.

So when I tell you that today I felt no pain for seven straight hours,
and that I remembered how to relax without guilt…
that is not small.

That is recovery.
That is radical.
That is sacred.

🧠 Neurospicy, Houseless, and Still Dreaming

I’m a late-diagnosed neurodivergent Gen X woman.
One of those kids who got called “too much,” “too weird,” or “too dramatic,”
when really, we were just unprotected, sensitive, and awake in a world that wasn’t built for us.

I’ve been living in my van for over 7 years now.
Houseless, not hopeless.
Still singing.
Still planning.
Still dreaming.

I’m getting ready for:

a January–March detox & reset
slowly becoming more athletic without breaking myself
maybe some slow travel to Oregon, Nevada, Arizona
visiting friends, artists, weirdos
dreaming up art cars and small gatherings in the desert
and eventually creating housing for neurodiverse artists and people like us who aren’t broken—just wired differently.

I don’t want chaos.
I want peace with purpose: cookies in a warm kitchen, skylights, cats on the back of the couch, banjos on the porch, people who feel safe enough to put their armor down.

Today reminded me that I’m still heading there.

🗯️ Bleep: “She says she wants a boyfriend, but honestly, whoever dates her has to compete with the Pacific Ocean and three kinds of spiritual upgrades. Good luck, buddy.”

🦀 Shellfish, Selfish & Sagittarius Season

It’s Sag season. My birthday is next week.
Crab season is late this year, and I’m unreasonably emotionally invested in crustaceans.

We do a “Crab Jam Tailgate” in Half Moon Bay when the boats come in:
her white van, my van, huge pots boiling, melted butter, music playing, ridiculous joy in the cold air.

Knowing that’s ahead of me helps.
Hugs help.
Donations helped.
You, reading this, help.

THANK YOU ALL!

🌙✨ Three Contemplative Questions (for Anyone Who Forgot What Rest Feels Like)

When was the last time your body surprised you with real rest — the kind that knocks you out for hours and reminds you what “recharged” actually feels like?
Have you ever woken up so peaceful that you suddenly remembered, “Oh… THIS is what my body has been trying to tell me it needed this whole time”?
What changes in your perspective — your mood, your sense of self, your humor, your hope — when you finally give your mind and body enough space to just… reset?

🎄 A Holiday Thank-You from the Van

If you had any part in helping me fix that mirror,
if you’ve ever sent a kind word, a dollar, a prayer, a song,
or just quietly wished me well…

Thank you.

You didn’t just fix a hunk of plastic on the side of a van.
You helped a woman feel safe enough to sleep.
You helped my nervous system remember what peace feels like.
You helped me stay.

Happy Hanukkah.
Merry Christmas.
Blessed Kwanzaa.
Big love to my fellow Sagittarians and all you beautiful, stressed-out souls out there.

With love, music, food, art & a van full of gratitude,

Tré Taylor and Bleep, the Tattoo 🐈‍⬛🗯️💋

🤎 Help Me Stay Safe This Winter

If you’ve been moved by my story and want to help me steady my feet this winter, I’m deeply grateful. I’m working hard to find safe, long-term housing after years of living in my van, and every bit of support helps me stay warm, stable, and moving forward.

If you or someone you trust needs a reliable housesitter or a loving pet-sitter, I’m absolutely available—whether here on the coast or in other states I may travel through soon. And if you’d like to contribute directly to my journey toward safe housing, please consider donating. Your kindness truly makes a life-saving difference.

👉 GoFundMe: https://www.gofundme.com/f/she-fed-us-sang-for-us-loved-usnow-tre-needs-us/cl/o?utm_campaign=fp_sharesheet&utm_medium=customer&utm_source=copy_link&lang=en_US&attribution_id=sl%3Ab984990a-ddf0-4993-ac3b-7ac4a54c556c&ts=1765163956

🌊 Enlightenment for the Exhausted: Field Notes from a Van by the Sea