This episode introduces the lens behind Feral Logic: naming the moves people make under stress, fear, or disconnection, without turning anyone into a diagnosis or a character study.

Here, understanding isn’t the same as excusing.
And clarity doesn’t come with pressure to stay, fix, forgive, or explain.

Just language.
Just recognition.
Just a steadier place to stand when things don’t make sense anymore.

Rest doesn’t always feel the way we expect it to.

Sometimes when things finally slow down, relief doesn’t show up right away.
The noise fades, the urgency passes — and your body stays braced anyway.

In this episode, I talk about what it’s like when your nervous system hasn’t caught up yet.
When you’re no longer rushing, but not fully at ease either.
When nothing is wrong in the room, but something inside you is still standing watch.

This isn’t about fixing anything.
It’s about understanding why rest can feel uncomfortable after long stretches of readiness — and why that doesn’t mean you’re broken.

If you’ve ever wondered why your body won’t relax even when life finally gives you a pause, this episode is for you.

I’m D. Feral.
And this is Feral Logic.

Hope doesn’t always look bright or loud.

In this episode of Feral Logic, I talk about the kind of hope that shows up tired — the kind that keeps people going when life feels heavy, uncertain, or overwhelming.

I reflect on resilience, exhaustion, caregiving, survival, and what it really means to keep going when you’re running on empty. This is a quiet conversation about persistence, emotional strength, and the unseen work people do every day just to stay upright.

If you’re holding it together one inch at a time, this one’s for you.

Most of the time when someone asks “you okay?” they don’t really expect an answer.

In this episode of Feral Logic, I talk about the difference between polite check-ins and real care — the kind that slows down, makes space, and doesn’t rush honesty. I reflect on why we say “I’m fine,” what it costs us, and how it feels to be seen without being fixed.

This is a quiet episode about presence, emotional honesty, and the rare relief of being asked a question that’s actually meant.

Apparently, I’m about to be 45 — and I wasn’t ready for how that would land.

In this episode of Feral Logic, I talk about the strange disconnect between how old you’re told you are and how you actually feel inside. About realizing time passed while you were busy handling things. About joints that make noise now, expectations that show up early, and the quiet shock of being treated like you’ve already arrived somewhere you’re still figuring out.

This isn’t about a midlife crisis or having it all figured out. It’s about noticing where you are, how you got here, and what it means to still be becoming — even when the numbers try to act settled.

If you’ve ever thought, “Since when am I the adult in the room?” — you’re not alone.

Being strong doesn’t always mean you’re okay.

In this episode of Feral Logic, I talk about emotional exhaustion, quiet burnout, and what happens when strength becomes a reason people stop checking on you. This is a reflection for the dependable ones — the ones who keep showing up even when they’re running low.

If you’ve been holding it together longer than anyone realizes, this one’s for you.

There comes a point in life where you stop correcting people — not because you agree, but because you finally understand the cost of explaining yourself to someone who isn’t listening.

In this episode of Feral Logic, I talk about silence, boundaries, and the quiet grief that comes with letting people hold a version of you that isn’t true. We explore why choosing peace over precision isn’t weakness — and how learning what’s not worth explaining can be an act of self-preservation.

If you’ve found yourself growing quieter lately — not smaller, just more careful — this one’s for you.

Sometimes when I miss someone, it isn’t really them — it’s the version of myself that existed back then.

In this episode of Feral Logic, I talk about nostalgia, emotional growth, and the quiet cost of becoming who we are. I reflect on memory, maturity, and learning to honor the parts of ourselves that didn’t make it into this season of life.

If you’ve ever felt the ache of who you used to be, this one’s for you.