Start with a face you know at the farmers market, a teenager in an open doorway, a neighbor at a stoplight. That’s where community begins—where people feel seen, not sorted. We sat down with our longtime friend and local force, Cathie Day—grandmother, educator, school board member, nonprofit founder, and reserve police officer—to explore how empathy turns into action and why small, consistent gestures change the arc of a town.

Cathie shares how teaching is more than a job; it’s a relationship engine. She talks candidly about alternative education, credit-deficient students, and the way safety and trust unlock learning. We go back to the early days of our recovery community organization that became Peers Rising, tracing the wins and the unfinished work. The big gap she names is one you can feel in every district: youth treatment access and a real reentry plan. Without a public, school-connected recovery path, teens return to the same triggers. Kathy outlines what needs to exist—visible supports, social scaffolding, and language that swaps blame for belonging.

Her law enforcement training brings nuance to public safety. Through realistic scenarios, she practices responding with context, not assumptions, showing how shared humanity makes for smarter, safer choices. Along the way we talk grandparenting as a stabilizing force, the power of reading to build empathy, and how visible community hubs—like teen centers and recovery spaces—signal that help is here and people matter. For anyone overwhelmed or doubting themselves, Kathy offers a crisp plan: prioritize by values, slow down, and take the next indicated step. Ask for help; keep asking. Someone will answer.

If this conversation sparks something in you, subscribe, share it with a friend who cares about youth, recovery, and real community, and leave a review to help others find it. Then tell us: what’s one thing you’ll do in your twenty square feet this week?

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What if the first step toward healing isn’t a grand plan, but a simple, human moment—someone staying with you long enough to help you answer the call when opportunity rings? We sit down with Monica Brown, a certified peer counselor at Peers Rising, whose story threads resilience, harm reduction, and the courage to parent with clarity after growing up in chaos.

Monica opens up about becoming a bonus mom and why language—and respect—matter in blended families. She honors the steadiness of her dad and bonus mom and shows how chosen structure becomes a legacy you pass forward. We dig into the everyday realities of recovery support: why housing is foundational, how employment bias undercuts second chances, and the surprising power of a prepaid phone for staying in touch with probation, treatment, and job callbacks. Along the way, Monica dismantles common myths about addiction and unhoused neighbors, reframing the conversation around dignity, safety, and practical help.

We also explore harm reduction with nuance. After quitting cold turkey left her dangerously unwell, cannabis became a stabilizing tool in Monica’s recovery, a perspective she now brings to peers while never glamorizing any substance. With national policy shifts opening real research, we talk outcomes over ideology: fewer overdoses, more connection, and functional, present lives. The heartbeat of our time together is “holding space”—showing up without judgment and with firm boundaries, so people can move from tapping on the window of change to finally stepping through it.

If you believe recovery should be measured by regained relationships, steady work, and safer lives, you’ll find hope here—and a few concrete ideas you can act on today. Subscribe, share this with a friend who needs it, and leave a review to help more people find real stories that spark change.

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A missed calendar invite turned into a masterclass on making change stick. We kick off with a human moment and move straight into the real work: why resolutions collapse, how systems save you when motivation fades, and what it means to choose direction over speed. I read from my 1996 journal—days of high resolve followed by a quick slide—and use that honest snapshot to show how a plan you can live with beats a promise you can’t keep.

Across the hour, we reframe goal setting to fit real life. Goals are directions, not promises, and life will twist along the way. I share simple, durable practices: wake up and go to bed at the same time, build a morning routine, and focus on identity-based habits. Ask two questions: who do you want to be six months from now, and what daily behavior supports that identity? We talk about shrinking goals until starting is easy, tracking visible progress, and adding friction to the habits that hold you back—whether that’s late-night scrolling, sugar, or saying yes to everything.

We also get practical about patience. Change often feels boring before it feels rewarding, but quiet actions compound—ten-minute walks, five-dollar payments on old debt, one paragraph on the page. If you’ve given your all to old patterns, flip it: give six to twelve months of your best effort to being a better you and measure the difference. And don’t do it alone. Your top five people shape your path, so choose a circle that challenges and champions you.

If you’re ready to trade slogans for systems and resolutions for routines, press play. Then subscribe, share this with someone who needs a nudge, and leave a quick review telling me the one behavior you’ll start today.

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Some stories grab you because they’re polished. This one disarms you because it’s real. Hailee joins us to share how a childhood marked by abuse, isolation, and impossible rules became the soil for grit, empathy, and a fierce commitment to connection. She didn’t meet some of her siblings until she was nineteen; today, big sister is the title she wears with pride. Between a neighbor’s spare room, a wrestling coach who wouldn’t let her quit, and a boss who models kindness with backbone, she built a support web that turned survival into growth.

We walk through the moments that changed her trajectory: being kicked out at sixteen and taken in by neighbors who heard the fights, working two jobs through high school, and finding mentors who taught her how to stand her ground. Later, a hospital night led to diagnoses of CPTSD and ADHD and—more importantly—a roadmap. Therapy that explains the brain’s chemistry. Movement and hiking to settle the nervous system. A rescue dog who finally made nighttime feel safe. Small, practical goals that rebuild agency: a promotion, a new skill, a daily habit that sticks.

What stands out is how Hailee turns service into healing. She connects with customers while she fixes their phones, listens for what they need, and treats each interaction as practice in presence. Along the way, we talk about breaking generational trauma, learning to set real boundaries, and why closing off from the world isn’t protection if it starves you of hope. Her message is simple and strong: keep going, keep talking to people, and let community be part of your plan.

If this conversation gives you something—a tool, a nudge, a bit of courage—share it with someone who needs it. Subscribe, leave a review, and tell us: what small habit helps you keep moving forward?

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What if recovery had less to do with dramatic turnarounds and more to do with steady presence, clear boundaries, and everyday compassion? That’s the heart of our conversation with Mark Anthony—a devoted son, “fun gunkle,” care coordinator, and pillar in Ellensburg’s recovery network—who arrived in town with a car full of belongings and built a life by showing up for others and himself.

We trace his path from divorce and Oxford House to meaningful work with elders, where loneliness and end-of-life realities sharpen a simple truth: time is precious. Mark shares the self-care practices that keep him grounded—movies for joy, meditation to center before hard conversations, therapy to stay honest. We dig into the myth of “not doing enough,” and replace it with evidence-based steadiness: be dependable, keep boundaries, and let service come from a full cup. His insights on community systems hit home for professionals in ERs, jails, law enforcement, and courts: plant seeds, make warm handoffs, and remember the window for change can be small but real.

The conversation turns to belonging versus fitting in, especially for LGBTQ folks in small towns. Mark names the shame and isolation of earlier years and how that fuels his gift for inclusion today. Mentors who offered safety without judgment modeled the trust that makes growth possible. For anyone struggling, his message is clear and actionable: try. Go to a meeting. Expect discomfort. Stay present. Borrow belief from someone ahead of you and give yourself the dignity of one honest day at a time.

If this moved you, follow the show, share it with a friend who needs hope today, and leave a quick review to help others find these conversations. Your support helps us keep planting seeds.

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Grief puts you in the middle of a town’s true story. That’s where Henry lives every day—caring for families at their worst moments, then turning that closeness into steady, practical generosity the whole community can feel. We sit down to trace his path from a small Idaho upbringing to owning two local funeral homes in Ellensburg, why he rejects corporate death-care shortcuts, and how “it’s only money, you can always make more” became a blueprint for giving back.

We get real about recovery. Henry watched a brutal wave of overdoses and made a choice: fund the work that keeps people alive. He explains why peer-led, low-barrier support matters—budgeting help, routine, connection—and how preventing avoidable deaths is the most meaningful metric. He’s honest about his own boundaries with alcohol after traumatic cases, and he offers a direct message of hope to anyone feeling isolated or done: it gets better, and there are people ready to help.

Then we shift from loss to local action. Rumors swirled when KXLE changed hands; one tough letter and a face-to-face meeting turned into a partnership to rebuild the station, restore the Lookout Mountain signal, and keep radio truly local. Along the way, Henry makes a case for showing up: read the agendas, attend the commissions, talk to owners, and skip the keyboard outrage. Family, too, anchors the conversation—marriage, raising two boys, and finding small joys like golf, boating, and writing to clear the mind.

If you care about community building, mental health, recovery resources, small-town media, and what real service looks like behind the scenes of funeral care, you’ll find both candor and comfort here. Be seen, not viewed. Join us, share this with a friend who needs some hope, and if the conversation resonates, subscribe and leave a review so more people can find it.

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Grief rarely arrives with warning, and it never follows your schedule. When Rebeka lost her partner Ryan to COVID in two weeks, the world didn’t pause—her son started school days later, bills still came due, and a house full of everyday artifacts turned into a living museum of memory. What followed wasn’t a dramatic “comeback” but a series of small, honest choices: spiral-notebook task lists, a friend who ran interference when words failed, a school counselor who checked in, and a resolve to keep showing up even when the feelings didn’t have names yet.

We sit with the details most stories skip. Rebeka shares how she left his beard stubble in the sink for months, why calendars and routines became a lifeline for a neurodivergent household, and how recovery tools—daily inventories, making amends, honest self-inquiry—translate into sustainable grief practices. She talks about parenting for two without pretending to be two people, inviting safe men into her son’s world, and using technology to keep a father’s voice alive. We dig into what helps the bereaved—specific offers, presence, community—and what harms: assumptions, timelines, and tidy clichés.

The conversation also flips the script as Rebeka interviews me about becoming “Dr. D.” It’s an unlikely path fueled by mentors, persistence, and the simple discipline of not quitting for long. From early coursework to a bruising dissertation phase, the lesson mirrors Rebecca’s: you can do hard things when your people hold you steady and you allow the plan to evolve. Together we map a humane blueprint for anyone facing loss, recovery, or a life that no longer matches the plan—feel what you feel, write it down, ask for help, keep the small promises, and choose meaning over avoidance.

If this resonated, tap follow, share it with someone who needs it, and leave a review to help more people find honest conversations about grief, recovery, and raising good humans.

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Ever wonder what leadership looks like when compassion isn’t a buzzword but the operating system? I sit down with Brandi Amundsen, who went from LA’s intensity to the Ellensburg community and now leads Peers Rising, a recovery nonprofit built on connection, clarity, and real accountability. Her story moves from culture shock in grocery lines to the quiet confidence of a team that shows up for people every day without judgment—and without toxicity.

Brandi opens up about stepping into leadership, battling burnout, and learning to celebrate wins instead of racing past them. We dig into her approach to building a healthy team: hire for heart and professionalism, keep boundaries clear, apologize when you mess up, and make accountability a gift. You’ll hear the strategy behind Peers Rising’s rapid growth and why the next chapter is intentional consolidation—tightening programs, refining systems, and creating a dedicated space for teens who deserve respect, structure, and room to be heard.

At the center is a simple recovery truth: compassion opens the door; accountability helps you walk through it. If you’re overwhelmed by the long road ahead, Brandi’s advice is to look at your feet and take the next indicated step. Whether you’re leading a nonprofit, navigating sobriety, or just trying to be a steadier human, this conversation offers practical tools and real hope. If this resonates, follow the show, share it with a friend, and leave a review—then tell us: what’s your next step today?

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