The Messenger Has Changed

Behind the Scenes of The Suicide Solution

I wasn’t even supposed to be in my bedroom.

I came home looking for light. I wanted to write, to create—but I couldn’t decide where to go. I stepped outside, hoping nature would guide me, but a bee buzzed so intensely near me that I thought maybe there was a hive nearby. So I said, Screw that! and went back in.

The living room didn’t feel right either—too dim, not enough clarity. That’s when a thought crossed my mind:

“I guess I’ll just go see what messages the little messenger bird has for me today.”

You see, there’s been this one bird—day after day, pecking at the window like it had something urgent to tell me. It wouldn’t stop. It was insistent. Almost aggressive in its message. And eventually, I realized the truth:

I’m not waiting on a message. I am the message.

But today… the energy changed.

I ended up in my bedroom, opened the blinds wide, and there they were:

Two doves.
Not flapping. Not pecking. Not trying to get in.
Just being.

One in one tree. One in the other. Then together—both perched in silence, side by side, in perfect peace.

But here’s the part I hadn’t shared yet. Just before seeing them, I drew a card—my first-ever draw from a new oracle deck. The card?

Two owls. Wearing crowns. Facing one another.
The card is called Loyal Heart.

Something in me shifted—soft, but irreversible.

These weren’t just messengers.
These carried the stillness of sacred authority.
They didn’t ask to be seen. They expected it.

They weren’t pleading to be heard—they were already enthroned in their truth.
Not shouting. Just being witnessed in their divine reflection.

It hit me like lightning:

The message isn’t trying to get in anymore.
Because I’ve already let it in.
And now—I’m the one who’s crowned.

The bee didn’t chase me off—it redirected me to my throne.

The window isn’t a barrier anymore—it’s a mirror.
The doves aren’t trying to reach me—they’re honoring the one who answered the call.

This isn’t about receiving wisdom anymore. It’s no longer about scrambling to stay alive—it’s about choosing how to live. A sacred shift from frantic survival into calm authority.

From grasping to grounded.

From pecking to presence.

From searching for the message to becoming the queen who delivers it.

P.S. This post made me very uncomfortable.
Not because it isn’t true—but because it is.
And I’m learning to let my truth take up space.

Stay tuned.

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If this post speaks to you, you’re already part of what’s coming.
This book is not just pages—it’s a holy disruption.
It’s the start of something bigger than me. Bigger than any window.
And definitely bigger than one insistent bird.

You can join The Staylist if your heart knows it belongs.
For the ones who are still here. Still breathing. Still choosing.
Because the messengers are gathering. And this time, they're wearing crowns.