About :
Ralph’s Tales

Ralph’s Tales grew out of a simple, hard-earned realization: healing and reinvention don’t require force, urgency, or perfection — but they do require safety, pacing, and honesty.

This work is shaped by lived experience, not abstract theory. It’s grounded in the understanding that many of us adapted brilliantly to survive, even when those adaptations later made life feel smaller or heavier than it needed to be.

Rather than trying to “fix” the past, Ralph’s Tales focuses on how we live now — with attention to nervous-system safety, real capacity, and the quiet courage it takes to choose differently.

What Guides This Work

Rather than formal mission statements or aspirational values, Ralph’s Tales is guided by a few steady principles:

• Compassion without urgency
• Growth that respects real capacity
• Curiosity in the face of uncertainty
• Movement that’s intentional, not reactive

These principles show up quietly — in pacing, in language, and in the permission to move one regulated step at a time.

A Note About Me

I’m Rondi — a trauma survivor, a certified Trauma Care practitioner, and a life coach in my third act.

I didn’t arrive here with a five-step framework or a polished before-and-after story. I arrived here through decades of lived experience, trial and error, therapy, learning, unlearning, and the slow rebuilding of trust in my own nervous system.

My work is informed by training, yes — but more importantly, it’s informed by living reinvention in real time. I don’t position myself as someone who has “figured it all out.” I walk alongside, translating what I notice, naming patterns as they arise, and modeling what intentional, paced change can look like when certainty isn’t available.

This is a parallel path, not a pedestal.

... and Ralph

Ralph is my PTSD service dog, and though cute as a teddy bear, he’s much more than my snuggle-buddy.

He’s a daily co-regulator, a grounding presence, and a partner in the daily work of building a regulation bulwark — pauses, missteps, recalibration, and the gradual accumulation of safety. His interruptions, curiosity, and impeccable comedic timing are reminders that progress doesn’t require pressure, and that nervous systems learn best through trust and connection.

Ralph’s name comes from the Old Norse rad (counsel) and wulf (wolf). It’s fitting — not because he’s heroic, but because he embodies steadiness, presence, and companionship. He doesn’t push. He stays.

That, in many ways, is the heart of this work.