🎃 The Halloween Curse Strikes Again
If you know my family, you know Halloween isn’t just costumes and candy—it’s a cursed calendar square. This year, true to tradition, the curse came for me and Emma. High fevers. Six days. One very foggy memory of trying to reheat soup and realizing I’d forgotten to turn on the burner after half an hour of waiting. Sleep became sacred. Sanity? Optional.
Enter: my brother. The unsung hero in sweatpants. He DoorDashed medicine, groceries, comfort food, and the kind of care that doesn’t come with a receipt. He checked in daily, made sure we felt human, and reminded me—through texts and tacos—that I wasn’t alone. Honestly, he’s the best human I know. And I get to call him my little brother.
💸 Meanwhile, in the Land of Adulting…
While my body was fighting off whatever Halloween hex had hit us, my brain was spiraling into financial dread. I haven’t been at my job long, and my benefits don’t kick in until next month. I was quietly panicking—wondering if a week off would cost me my job, my paycheck, or both. I was sick, scared, and silently stress-spiraling while watching Bluey with Emma.
🧠 Monday: Return of the Fever Queen
I walked into work bracing for awkward glances and maybe a pink slip. Instead? I was met with hugs, “We missed you!”s, and genuine concern. My desk had never looked so welcoming. At lunch, my coworker (and low-key guardian angel) pulled me aside. He was running payroll and looked worried. “A week’s lost wages can be brutal,” he said gently. I nodded, trying to keep it light: “I’m living on a prayer, baby.”
⏳ One Hour Later: Plot Twist
He called me into a meeting. I assumed it was about paperwork. Instead, he said he’d spoken with our boss. They’d decided I deserved a bonus—for consistently going above and beyond, for showing up with heart, and for being the kind of person they didn’t want to lose. The bonus? Just shy of a full week’s wages. I blinked. My lips wobbled. All I could whisper was “thank you.”
💖 Tuesday: The Love Parade
By the next day, nearly everyone I work with had stopped by to say they were glad I was back. That they’d missed me. That they’d worried. It wasn’t just professional—it was personal. And it reminded me that sometimes, even in the middle of a fever dream and financial fear, you’re held. Quietly. Fiercely. By people who see you.
Manifesting Freedom 