This past week has felt like an emotional battery warning blinking at 5%. Everyone I’ve talked to from friends, coworkers, to random commuters with dead eyes clutching coffee cups have been saying the same thing: “I’m so drained.” It’s become the week’s unofficial mantra, right up there with “What day is it again?”

Maybe it’s not just us. Maybe it’s the moon’s fault.

Apparently, we’ve been in the waning gibbous phase. A fancy way of saying the moon is losing a little of her glow after showing off during the Full Harvest Moon on October 6th. Astronomically speaking, this is the cool-down phase. That moment after the cosmic party when you’re still glittery but emotionally hungover. The moon’s illumination decreases, and, according to some research, so does one’s sleep efficiency. Which might explain why so many looked like confused zombies at morning meetings this week.

The waning gibbous is all about reflection and release. It’s time to let go of the mental junk drawer. Yet here we all are, clutching our existential to-do lists like emotional hoarders, trying to power through when the universe is whispering, “Sit down. Rest. Maybe have some soup.”

To make matters more dramatic, Mother Nature clearly caught the lunar memo. We went from 80 degrees to 60 overnight. One minute I was contemplating ice cream, the next I was shivering under a blanket wondering if it was too soon to light a pumpkin-scented candle. Seasonal whiplash is real, folks.

So here I am at 6 a.m., coffee in hand, my three dogs snoozing beside me. They are my furry zen masters after all. The wind is blowing, leaves are scattering like little escape artists, and a storm is brewing. It feels fitting. The calm before the reawakening. Because maybe that’s what the storm is. It is a cosmic caffeine jolt to shake us out of the drain.

The waning gibbous reminds us that it’s okay to dim a bit. We don’t have to be “full moon energy” all the time. Sometimes the power move is knowing when to unplug. Reflect, recalibrate, release and maybe nap.

Still, I can’t help but think: after a week of feeling like the universe siphoned my Wi-Fi signal, maybe the coming storm isn’t a threat. It’s a reset. A little thunder to clear the air.

So I’ll sit here, sipping my coffee, waiting for the rain, and letting the dogs dream. Because if the moon can rest after shining her brightest, maybe we’re allowed to, too.