Do y’all remember on the 10th, when I told you about my grandma — and how karma was the only reason I even knew she had passed?

That call wasn’t meant for me. It was meant for someone else. But somehow, it found its way to my spouse’s phone — number above the neighbor’s — and that’s how I found out. Not from family. Not from love. From fate.

What I didn’t tell you then was what came after. The funeral was planned before I even knew she was gone. No one called. No invite. Just silence. I only found out it had happened because they streamed it online. And when I watched, what I saw didn’t even feel real — like strangers rewriting the story of a woman I loved.

I think that heartbreak is what finally broke my body down. This week the doctor told me I’ve got walking pneumonia. And I’m not surprised. Grief, stress, and carrying this project on fumes — it all caught up to me.

So I’m slowing down a little. I’m not going away, but if you see less of me over the next few days, that’s why. I just need a little time to rest and catch my breath — because if I don’t, I’ll lose the very voice this whole movement was built on.

This porch has always been 100% grassroots. No corporate sponsors, no handlers, no PR machine. That’s the beauty of it — but it also means when I’m resting, you become the heartbeat that keeps it alive.

If what I’ve built here has ever given you truth, comfort, laughter, or courage — if something I’ve said made you feel less alone in this world — I’m asking for your help tonight.

Go back and watch the roasts. Every one came from lived experience, from a place of fighting to make sense of the chaos.

Read and share the write-ups. Especially the one about the toxic water and the EPA — that one came from my bones.

Become a paid subscriber if you can. If I had corporate backing, I couldn’t say half of what I say. The paid subscribers are the ones who carry the light on their backs while I heal.

Or if you’d rather make a one-time donation, you can do that on my Buy Me a Coffee page. That little cup of support keeps the porch light glowing when my body says “sit down.”

buymeacoffee.com/southe…

I’m not disappearing — I’m rebuilding. Rest is part of resistance, and when I come back, this porch will shine brighter than ever.

Thank you for being my people — for holding the light steady while I find my breath again.

You’re the proof that even when they try to erase someone, love and truth will always find their way home.

The porch light’s still on, y’all. I’m just sitting closer to it tonight.

With love, SP