#Unappolpgetically Puppy

#UnapologeticallyPuppy

So there’s a phrase I’ve been using a lot lately: #UnapologeticallyPuppy.

For me, being Unapologetically Puppy isn’t about pushing boundaries or proving anything. It’s about choosing authenticity over performance, and presence over permission. It’s the decision to let myself be playful, soft, curious, and real — without shrinking or explaining myself to make others more comfortable.

For a long time, I thought being an adult meant managing everything. Holding it all together. Staying regulated by staying controlled. Taking care of myself and finding joy was something I told myself I’d get to later — once the chaos settled.

But chaos doesn’t just disappear on its own.

Over the last year — through the end of my marriage, divorce, and rebuilding my life — I began rediscovering my pup self. And in that process, I learned something that changed everything:

Puppy play saved me.

Not because it let me escape life, but because it helped me return to it.

Puppy play gave my nervous system somewhere to land when everything else felt unsteady. It gave my body permission to move, feel, and rest. It reminded me that joy isn’t a reward you earn after surviving — it’s part of healing itself.

Along the way, something small but meaningful shifted.

I started introducing myself simply as Ruff.

The first time I said it out loud, it surprised me how right it felt. Not in a dramatic way — but in a grounding one. Like my shoulders dropped. Like my body recognized something before my brain caught up.

Hearing people say my name back to me — Ruff — felt like being seen without explanation. Like I didn’t have to translate or soften who I was to be understood.

That experience changed how I answer another question I get asked a lot:

“So… what is pup play?”

For a long time, I felt like I had to explain it carefully. To justify it. To make it make sense in the safest possible way.

Now, my answer is simpler — and more honest.

Pup play isn’t one thing. It can be playful, grounding, connective, or deeply personal. For me, it’s a way of getting out of my head and back into my body. A way to regulate my nervous system, access joy, and show up more fully as myself.

It’s not about performance.
And it’s not about needing anyone’s approval.

It’s about embodiment.

What came back into my life through pup play wasn’t the exhausting chaos I’d spent years managing.

It was intentional chaos.

The kind that’s playful and chosen.
The kind that’s negotiated and grounded in consent.
The kind that brings laughter instead of fear.

That’s what Unapologetically Puppy means to me.

It isn’t reckless.
It isn’t careless.
And it isn’t disconnected from responsibility or community.

It’s about being intentional with joy.
About choosing play over constant vigilance.
About refusing to apologize for softness, curiosity, or emotional presence.

When I introduce myself as Ruff now, I’m not asking for permission.

I’m offering an invitation.

An invitation to new pups who are still wondering if they belong.
To pups rediscovering themselves later in life.
To anyone who’s been strong for so long they’ve forgotten what ease feels like.

Being Unapologetically Puppy doesn’t require a certain look, gear, energy level, or role.

It simply asks that you stop shrinking the parts of yourself that bring you joy.

For me, Ruff isn’t a costume I put on.
He’s how I experience the world now — with play, care, and intention.

And if anything in this resonates with you, I want you to hear this as an invitation.

You’re allowed to take up space.
You’re allowed to play.
You’re allowed to come home to yourself — without apology.