People often romanticize healing in relationships as becoming calmer, easier, softer versions of ourselves.
But I don’t think true healing works like that.
I think healed love is not the absence of intensity. It’s the absence of destruction.
There’s a difference.
Because some people are naturally deep-feeling, psychologically complex, emotionally transformative beings. They were never meant for emotionally flat connections. They were never meant to love halfway.
The goal was never to become less intense. The goal was to become safe within the intensity. That’s what evolved union really is.
Not two wounded people desperately trying to complete themselves through each other. Not obsession mistaken for destiny. Not emotional chaos disguised as passion.
But two self-aware people choosing honesty over defense mechanisms. Again and again.
The truth is, many profound connections begin in survival mode. Two people recognize each other deeply, but they meet before they fully know how to hold that depth without fear.
So the relationship becomes: projection, longing, triggering, running, returning, awakening, separation, growth.
Not because the love is fake. But because the nervous systems involved are still translating intimacy as danger.
That’s why healing changes everything.
In an evolved union, love stops being a battlefield for unresolved wounds. It becomes a place where truth can exist safely.
And suddenly: communication becomes clearer, silence becomes peaceful instead of threatening, vulnerability becomes intimacy instead of exposure, boundaries become loving instead of distancing, commitment becomes grounding instead of confinement.
The connection doesn’t lose depth. It gains stability.
That’s the part many people misunderstand.
Healthy love is not emotionally numb love. It’s love where two people no longer weaponize fear against themselves or each other.
It’s love where: control softens into trust, hyper-independence softens into interdependence, avoidance softens into honesty, projection softens into self-awareness.
Because ultimately, evolved relationships are not built merely on chemistry.
They are built on emotional responsibility.
On the willingness to say: “This fear belongs to me.”
“This wound is mine to heal.” “I will not punish you for pain created before you existed.”
That kind of self-awareness changes everything.
And perhaps the most beautiful part of healed union is this: the relationship no longer exists to complete either person.
It exists to expand both of them.
Not through suffering. Not through emotional volatility. Not through endless tests from the universe.
But through conscious partnership.
Through choosing each other while fully remaining yourselves.
That’s real intimacy: not merging into one identity, but standing side by side without abandoning your individuality.
In unhealthy connections, intensity often creates instability. But in healed connections, intensity becomes depth.
It becomes: understanding without excessive explanation, silence that feels safe, passion without possession, freedom without emotional distance, devotion without self-erasure.
And perhaps that is the true purpose of transformational love.
Not to destroy us. Not to keep us trapped in longing forever.
But to teach us how to become emotionally honest enough to sustain the kind of love we once thought would consume us.
The irony is that people often search endlessly for “the one,” believing the magic lies entirely in finding the right person. But lasting union is rarely built by fate alone.
It is built when two people become capable of meeting love without running from themselves inside it.
That is when relationships stop feeling like emotional survival. And finally begin feeling like home.
I used to think relationships were about compatibility. Shared interests. Similar goals. Emotional stability. Ease.
Then I met someone who felt less like a relationship and more like a tectonic event.
Nothing about it made sense to my mind at first. The recognition was too immediate, not that I believed it. Too intense. Too exposing that I did not feel ready for it, and I was in fact, not. It felt like meeting someone who could see through every version of me I had carefully constructed to survive the world. Not because they were trying to, but because their presence alone made hiding impossible.
People romanticize these connections constantly online. They package them into neat spiritual labels and dramatic slogans. But living through one is much stranger than that.
The closest thing I can compare it to is being emotionally cracked open. Like life itself reached into my chest and said: “You can’t stay asleep anymore.”
And honestly, at first, I hated that.
I hated how deeply I felt everything. I hated how much it affected me. I hated how impossible it was to explain to people who viewed love as something linear and sensible.
Because this connection wasn’t linear. It was deeply spiritual in the least aesthetic way possible.
Not all “love and light.” More like: “meet your shadow, your wounds, your attachment patterns, your fear of abandonment, your fear of vulnerability, your fear of being fully seen, your controlling side.” And the countless mobility injuries as the cherries on top.
The connection became a mirror so sharp it cut through every illusion.
And yet somehow, beneath all the intensity, there was love. Real love. Not performative love. Not convenient love. Not ego validation disguised as love. Not the attached I ”I cannot live without you” love.
The kind of love that changes the architecture of your inner world.
The kind that forces you to become more honest – with yourself, without all the masks. I think that’s what surprised me most.
I didn’t just learn how to love another person. I learned how to love myself. I didn’t just get to know the other person, I got to know myself, and the more I did, the more I understood the other person, and the dynamic of life.
Not in the trendy self-care sense. I mean truly.
I learned boundaries. I learned emotional responsibility. I learned not to abandon myself while loving someone else. I learned that longing can coexist with growth. I learned that pain can become transformation instead of destruction.
I learned to trust myself, my intuition, the way my life unfolds even when it does not look like what I imagined. I learned to release control, and detach from outcomes.
Most importantly, I learned that some people enter your life not simply to stay exactly as they arrived, but to initiate you into another version of yourself.
And now I am learning to stay open to love without losing myself in it. Without running from it, without chasing it either. Being in the present.
There’s a strange grief in realizing that a relationship can be profoundly meaningful regardless of outcome. Our culture teaches us that permanence is the only proof that love mattered. I don’t believe that.
Some connections are measured by duration. Others are measured by depth.
And some people walk into your life carrying a mirror, a match, and a map back to yourself.
I used to ask: “How did this happen to me? Why him out of all people?” I used to deny “No, it can’t be him. No I do not accept any of this, this is highly irrational.” I wanted run, I wanted to forget. I wanted to make it all stop and go back to how everything was. Back to being unaware. Back to slow unconscious growth. Back to being… human in a very human way possible.
Now I ask: “Who would I be if it never had?”
And honestly? I don’t even recognize that version of myself anymore. And believe me, I grieved that version of me with sessions of ugly crying until I could not anymore. The girl I was when I first met the guy who was supposed to be just a random person. It all started then, apparently, not that I was conscious about any of this back then.
But after all of this, currently, I’m grateful. Not because of another person, but because I got to meet the real me. And finally learned to accept all my feelings, regardless of how irrational they are to my mind. I stopped resisting transformation, and the uncomfortable growing pains.
Honestly, it’s oddly peaceful not to fight myself anymore. Smiling at the reminders when I used to find them haunting.
Accepting that whatever this was changed me in the best way possible because it activated parts of me that were waiting to come alive, and the parts of me that were inauthentic to my soul, waiting to be shed like layers.
And I think that’s beautiful. Even if nobody else understands.
Imagine a connection that’s not just chemistry, attraction, or even love. It’s an energetic mirror that amplifies everything that is still unresolved, distorted, or rooted in programming, which also happens to amplify all the gifts you had buried deep underneath, that you forgot you had.
And honestly? Life glitches around the connection to a point where you think you have in fact gone insane. Then you realize it was only glitching because you were running from yourself again. Prolonged eye contact with them makes you remember what you had forgotten.
You meet when it’s your time to wake the hell up. You recognize them, somehow. The eyes.
However, when two people come together who are still operating from subconscious wounds, abandonment patterns, nervous system deregulation, identities built on lack, fear, or validation… this creates the push-pull, the triggers, the silence, the drama, the running, the chasing.
Because neither of them can stabilize this thing that’s affected by every little emotional, energetic, collective, and astrological shift. They can’t stabilize what they possibly don’t even know about.
When the time comes, after they’ve learned their lessons from each other… they separate. In separation, major karmic cycles are resolved. Either both, or one of them heals so deeply, wakes up to their power, understands the dynamic – which just happens to be a shortcut into understanding how life itself operates.
The connection is a crash course. It’s a shortcut. What could have taken years, or even lifetimes… happens within years. That’s why it’s so intense. That’s why nobody else understands it. It’s not logical.
The work done in separation is the work needed to get into harmonious union – with the self first. Then either with the other person, or someone completely new – that’s honestly up to life. The point is, though, whether it’s with them or with someone else, both parties can meet each other and hold themselves in it. Stay sovereign.
It requires both people to not outsource their worth from each other, to not operate from survival or emotional reactivity, to have shifted their identity out of old patterns and into their authentic self, to be able to regulate their own nervous systems without escaping themselves and without relying on each other, and to be anchored in themselves, not anything outside of them.
There’s no more chasing the other, no more running from the self. No guessing, no games. No emotional rollercoaster.
The relationship becomes something that’s not rooted in control, co-dependency, validation, emotional fix-ups… but something that’s understanding, compassionate, patient, respectful, unconditionally loving.
It doesn’t teach you how to love yourself anymore, because you love yourself. It doesn’t complete you anymore to create attachments and co-dependency, as you are already whole. It’s different from anything you had before because you are not your old self.
I had to work on myself. I had no choice. Some people consciously do the work to be in a happy, healthy, adult relationship that may last a lifetime. My path was not of conscious free will, but of my soul rebelling against me – it had enough, apparently.
There is one unavoidable step that people often don’t want to get into: celibacy, and focusing solely on yourself. Taking every bit of your energy back into your body. Learning how to have a very healthy relationship with yourself first, and that requires alone time. No distractions, no dating apps, no casual dating. Actually listening to yourself. Finding out who you really are without anyone else’s story mixing in with yours. Building the life you actually want to live.
Because for what’s aligned for you to come in, and for you to be ready when it does, you need your energy inside your body – not entangled with someone else.
You need boundaries, and you need to respect them. You need to unapologetically choose yourself, even when it appears selfish. Think of it like bootcamp. It’s a necessary phase, and once it’s completed, you can start operating from a different place, where you can both have your boundaries and still be selfless.
In the meantime, while you’re focused on yourself, you become your own happiness. You lift yourself up to elevated states of consciousness – not someone else.
Sometimes I miss the times when life felt like it was on “free mode.” At least, that’s how it felt back then. Looking back, I’m not even sure that was true. Things were just… slower. Slow enough that I didn’t notice what was really going on.
Everything felt more surface-level. Less intense. Now it’s like lesson after lesson. Every time I fall under the illusion that I can run, I get hit in the face with that fact that I’m not allowed to.
I used to think I was free to do whatever I wanted, even things that weren’t right for me. Just for the experience. For the plot. Like a clueless teenager. Turns out… not really.
What’s funny is, I see people who choose this kind of growth. They consciously decide to work on themselves, to heal spiritually, to expand their consciousness. I genuinely admire that. I didn’t choose it. It just… happened. And I was not at all prepared for what that actually meant. I wasn’t prepared for what it takes to really listen to yourself. To stop being so stubborn. To surrender over and over again.
And that kind of experience humbles you in ways you don’t expect. Things you used to enjoy just… fall away, forcefully. And something else needs that space.
Letting go isn’t easy. Not at all.
Sometimes I look at people my age and feel like I’m in a completely different phase. Like I’ve been pushed into a version of life people usually reach much later, in their late 30s/early 40s. This feels early. Rushed, even.
But that doesn’t mean it’s easy for anyone. This whole process comes in waves. Some days feel lighter, some feel heavy, but overall… it’s a lot. It’s intense.
You grow. You change. And sometimes you catch yourself becoming the kind of person you once hoped you’d never be. But life apparently decided to put you in that person’s shoes more than a couple of times instead.
Ironic? Definitely. Funny? Not really.
I think the only real way through it is to stay focused on yourself. On your path, even if it looks nothing like you imagined. To learn how to show up differently. To actually live like a grounded, healthy adult.
Because doing the same things over and over again and expecting something different to happen… that’s just a loop. And no matter how familiar it feels, it keeps you stuck.
At some point, you have to break that pattern. Take the risk.
And trust where life is taking you, even if you don’t fully understand it yet.
We’ve all been there. Heartbreak. Pain. Choosing someone who didn’t choose us.
And at some point, you have to ask yourself… was I even choosing myself?
Maybe they disappeared when you needed them most. But then you look at yourself: how many times did you disappear from your own life at the slightest discomfort? Distracting yourself, overdoing things, avoiding what you felt instead of actually sitting with it?
Maybe they avoided confrontation. But how often have you avoided yourself? Really sitting down and facing your patterns, your emotions, every part of you without running?
It’s easy to blame the other person. Honestly, it’s the easiest thing to do. But that’s not where growth happens.
Growth happens when you turn inward. And yeah, it’s uncomfortable. But most real lessons are.
We love to say, “they didn’t do this, they did that…” And sure, we’re not responsible for how someone else treats us. But we are responsible for how we treat ourselves.
You can’t expect someone to choose you when you’re the one constantly abandoning yourself. When you’re inconsistent with yourself. When you’re chasing something outside of you that you’re not even giving yourself.
At some point, it clicks. You were never really chasing them. And you weren’t running from them either.
You were chasing what you thought they could give you. And running from what you needed to face within yourself.
That’s the part no one really wants to hear. Most of the time, it’s not about the other person. It’s about you. Your life will keep showing you what you need to see, one way or another.
I used to run from my emotions. I’d look for something, anything, outside of me to calm me down. To feel okay. I ignored my own needs, over and over again. And my body forced me to stop. I got injured. Again and again. Until I had no choice but to sit with myself.
That’s where things started changing. I learned how to actually feel my emotions instead of suppressing them. Not control them, but regulate them. Faced myself. My patterns. It hurt like hell. Ego was destroyed. Humbled.
And slowly, I realized something simple but uncomfortable. I already had everything I was looking for. The safety. The calm. The peace. The love. It didn’t mean I didn’t love that person.
Unconditional love, exists, and it’s simple. It’s the expectations, the control, the attachment, that’s what complicates it. That’s what turns it into something heavy.
And letting go of that? That’s not easy.
The mind wants control. It wants certainty. It wants to know how things will play out.
But life doesn’t work like that. At some point, you end up in a place where you have to surrender. Where you trust that things are working out, even when they don’t look the way you expected.
I was stubborn. Really stubborn. Impatient. Controlling. I wanted things my way, and I didn’t handle it well when they weren’t.
That version of me got humbled. Hard. Do those tendencies still show up sometimes? Of course. The difference is, they don’t run my life anymore. Now I catch myself. Sometimes immediately, sometimes a little later: but I see it. And I take a step back.
It’s a process. But the more you get to know yourself -without all the noise, without other people’s stories mixing into yours- the easier it gets.
At the end of the day, this whole “journey” people talk about? It’s really just learning how to function as a healthy, grounded human being.
Not constantly chasing. Not constantly running. Just… being whole. Feeling safe. Being present.
And weirdly enough, even the parts of me that used to feel chaotic or all over the place started settling. That surprised me the most. For a while, it felt like I was going in the opposite direction: nothing made sense, things felt messy, intense.
But in the end, it brought me here. To a version of myself that feels stable. Clear. Present. Someone who can focus on herself. Set boundaries. Speak up. Protect her energy. Enjoy life without guilt. Go after what matters to her, even if no one else understands it.
Someone who can love without losing herself.
Who’s made peace with her past. Who’s still learning, still growing, but no longer running. Looking back, yeah… I gave myself some tough lessons.
But I was never alone in it. Life met me where I was, every single time. And now? I’m just… grateful. Still learning. Still surrendering.
But trusting it all a lot more.
And if all of this means I’ve apparently turned into an “avoidant” in love? Protection. It’s not my time to be with someone else. It’s time to be with myself.
I have a really imaginative mind, and I tend to understand things best through stories.
So imagine this:
Inside of you, there’s a couple with a child. They live in your heart. But if your heart is still holding onto pain, avoiding emotions, carrying anger… their home reflects that. It’s broken. There are spider webs everywhere, dust in every corner, windows shattered, no running water. The child is constantly crying, throwing tantrums. The father disappears for days, drinking, gambling, being unfaithful.
And her? She isolates herself. She runs away from people, escapes to high places. She wants to fly. She connects more easily with animals than with humans. She leaves the child in that broken house and disappears. They don’t even share a bed anymore. He’d rather end up in a stranger’s, and she’d rather hide away in some remote cabin in the mountains.
No one feels safe. No one feels grounded. And nothing really changes.
Until one day, something steps in. Call it child services, call it intervention, call it a wake-up call. It sees what’s going on and gives them a choice: change things, or lose the child.
So they choose to try.
It’s not easy. Not even close. They have to face themselves: their patterns, the things they’ve buried their whole lives. Slowly, they start healing. Letting go. Surrendering.
She stops chasing. He stops running.
But first, he has to heal. He becomes more grounded, more stable. Clearer about where he’s going. He comes back home and starts fixing things, the windows, the pipes, the structure of the house itself.
Then she comes back too. Hesitant. She doesn’t fully trust it yet, doesn’t trust that the house won’t fall apart again. But something in her has shifted. She’s had enough of everything that held her back. Past trauma, old patterns, conditioning. She still loves her freedom, still feels that pull to escape sometimes… but at some point, she realizes something.
The home she was searching for was here all along.
So she stays. She starts cleaning, decorating, letting light in. She cooks, she nourishes herself and him. They begin to communicate. He trusts her intuition. She trusts his direction. There’s no more chaos, no more constant conflict. There’s a sense of calm when they go to bed at night.
Eventually, the child is brought back.
And this time, everything is different. The house is warm, bright, alive. The child’s room is full of light, of comfort, of safety. The child is happy. Laughing, playing, at ease.
They become what they were always meant to be: a balanced, supportive, grounded family.
And really, this is about the relationship we have with ourselves. Call it yin and yang, inner masculine and feminine, whatever name you give it, the dynamic is often the same.
So ask yourself this: What kind of relationship would you choose to raise a child in?
Probably not the first one.
Now think about your inner child. What kind of environment are you giving that part of you to live in?
For centuries, women have been choosing everything but themselves. And now, we’re starting to see a shift, women choosing themselves fully, instead of chasing emotions, people, or places outside of them.
It’s a big step. Maybe not something that creates instant, visible change overnight, but it’s a beginning.
Sometimes I think… maybe this is what the Earth has been waiting for. For so long, she’s been in constant giving, constant nurturing. And maybe now, something is rebalancing. Not just within us, but in everything: how we relate to each other, how we relate to the world around us.
Because women were never really taught who they are. Not fully. What we’ve been told, what we’ve been shown for generations, that’s not the whole truth. And now, more and more of us are starting to see that, to question it, to figure out who we actually are underneath all of it.
And that kind of shift doesn’t stay small. It changes everything.
It changes how we date, how we show up in relationships, in marriages, in motherhood, even in the way we work and move through life. There’s this quiet reclaiming happening – of power, of energy, of self. Calling it all back. Learning how to feel whole and safe within ourselves.
And when I say “women,” I don’t mean gender in the strict sense. I’m talking about feminine energy, anyone who carries that more strongly.
All the suppression, the conditioning, the ancestoral programming, the expectations… they’re starting to crack. They don’t hold the same weight anymore.
And honestly… how is that not a huge step in our evolution?
Sometimes I still don’t fully believe in this whole other side of life I’ve discovered… even though, deep down, I think I always knew. In some quiet way. But what I ended up experiencing went way beyond anything I could’ve imagined.
All I remember is asking, really asking, to be shown that there was more than this. I was watching The Matrix again during the first Covid lockdown, and I literally begged to be taken out of it. In my head, I thought it would happen like in the movie, a phone call, Morpheus or Trinity showing up to pull me out.
That’s not what happened.
What came instead was the beginning of a long, painful journey.
I found Kundalini Yoga through Carrie-Anne Moss, and it felt like some kind of destiny. I loved Trinity growing up. Honestly, as a straight woman, she was probably the only character I’d ever been “in love” with. I wanted to be her. So when I saw the work she was doing with her online community, it just felt… meant to be.
That year, 2021, I really started going inward.
Then I met someone, and my spiritual path took a sharp turn into Christianity. I got pulled into the structure of it. The rigidity. The right-wing mindset. The control. The whole idea of how a woman should behave: be a good wife, a good mother. I tried to fit into that. I thought I wanted it. My mom kept telling me that wasn’t my path, but I didn’t listen.
Then I met someone else. And that’s when things got… dark. Not immediately, but soon enough.
The nightmares started. Sleep paralysis, night after night. I felt tied to someone on a soul level, but our energies didn’t match at all. I just didn’t want to see it. I went even deeper into Christianity, trying to make sense of everything.
I stopped going out in the sun. I sat in the dark with no lights on. I got pale. My hair got darker. The nightmares didn’t stop. I went through moments that felt like attacks, sometimes where I genuinely didn’t want to be here anymore.
I’d escape to the mountains whenever I could. The cold air calmed me down. But at the same time, there was a part of me that just wanted to disappear completely. Buried under snow. Gone.
I loved the cold because heat made everything worse. It triggered my already overwhelmed nervous system and forced me to feel emotions I didn’t want to feel.
And then I met him.
Things didn’t magically fix, but something started shifting. I slowly – very slowly started moving away from that rigid, perfectionist mindset and started allowing myself to just be. Not fully, I still didn’t know who I was, but it was a start.
My relationship with the sun, the sea, with warmth and summer… it started healing too. I became less judgemental, less negative. A little lighter. He had this energy, like sunshine. Being around him made it hard to stay in the dark.
But I was still unhealed in a lot of ways. I wanted control. I wanted things my way. I didn’t fully understand him, and I didn’t always respect his feelings or perspective. I can admit that now, I was selfish in ways I didn’t see back then.
Before things ended, I made a New Year’s resolution. I remember thinking: I want to be sunshine. I want to flow. Be calm. Flexible. At ease. I don’t want to be rigid. I want to be free.
I had already started working on my attachment issues, but I didn’t realize how much deeper it went: how much of it was rooted in the past, in ancestral patterns, and in my ways of thinking. I noticed that every time I opened up to him about my past, something in me would heal. For that alone, I’m grateful.
When it ended, I remember saying to the universe: “if we’re meant to be, we’ll both heal in ways we didn’t think were possible. We won’t be allowed to forget each other. And our paths will cross again when we’re aligned.”
I forgot I even said that. But looking back now… I got exactly what I asked for… the healing part. Because this was nothing like I thought was possible.
After it ended, I went even deeper into myself. I took all the love I had for him and started pouring it back into me.
Then something unexpected happened and I woke up.
Out of nowhere, I started knowing things I had never known before. I began to understand what the “Matrix” actually is, not in a literal sense, but energetically, mentally. I started learning about energy, consciousness, what exists beyond what we can see.
Something inside me activated. It started clearing things out: blockages, layers. It felt like it happened in stages. First clearing, then deeper clearing, and eventually… everything opening up in a way I can’t fully explain. It felt like I was completing karmic lessons I came here to learn.
I faced my patterns, really faced them. It wasn’t pretty. It was uncomfortable as hell.
I had dreams, visions, physical sensations that made no sense to the logical mind. And through all of it, I started understanding what this journey was really about: Inner Union.
Balancing the energies within. Becoming calm. Becoming peace. Realizing that I am love, and so is everyone else. Understanding energy, frequency. Learning how to quiet my overthinking mind. Letting go of control. Surrendering to my own path instead of trying to force different outcomes with my thoughts and emotions.
My emotions became less intense. I felt more stable. More aware. I could see how my energy, my thoughts, my state, everything, was shaping my reality.
Ironically, I gained control by letting go of it.
My mind is more disciplined now. I don’t feed every thought anymore. I used to create full-on scenarios in my head like little movies with people I know. Now, when my mind starts doing that, I catch it and shift my focus.
There were moments where everything felt so heavy, like I was stuck in a fever dream I couldn’t wake up from. But each time an illusion broke, each time I let go of an expectation, I woke up a little more… until eventually, I let it all go.
The stories. The attachments. The past. The future. Parts of my identity.
Now I feel lighter. I feel like I’m flowing with myself instead of fighting myself. I dance. I sing. I do things because I want to, not for anyone else. I feel free.
There’s a balance in me now. The feminine part of me feels safe enough to open, to soften, to just be. And the masculine part of me: he’s grounded, steady, he is not running. He holds that safety so she can exist fully. And there is so much love between them.
Last night, I felt something I hadn’t felt before.
I felt safe. Completely safe. The kind of safe I used to only feel in his arms. I never thought I’d feel that on my own. But I did.
My body was calm. My nervous system relaxed. I felt at home… with myself. Just like I felt when I was around him…
And that changed everything.
Because I used to chase that feeling when I didn’t have it (aka in long distance, or more like whenever I was not around him.) I had already started giving it to myself… but reaching the stage where it felt like exactly like that feeling I was chasing… only happened recently.
That’s what made all of this worth it.
I love myself now. I make myself feel safe. Both sides of me: my masculine and feminine, feel seen, held, and at peace within me. And my inner child too, of course.
And for the first time, my feminine energy didn’t want to leave. She stayed. She felt at home here.
That’s new for me. That’s big. Because for someone like me who prefers having out of body experiences and easily access those states… staying inside my body was always… veryuncomfortable, until last night.
And this is what people mean when they talk about Inner Union.
A part of me still feels like he reflected my inner masculine back to me in physical form, or at least that’s where I started loving myself from. That’s why it felt so safe, so familiar, like home. But now that I’ve embodied that within myself… it’s like being in a deeply safe, loving relationship, just with myself.
And honestly?
That might be one of the most important things I’ve ever found, and I wouldn’t have changed a thing now that I have this.
And I’m going to enjoy being in a healthy relationship with myself. This stage of feeling safe, at home, joyful, happy and in love with myself. Because honestly? I frigging deserved this.
To be able to manifest abundance and actually attract aligned opportunities, we need to be able to stay in our bodies. Not halfway in, halfway out. I’m talking no dissociation, no energy body quietly slipping out the back door. Staying in. Centered.
And this is something I’ve really had to learn.
Because leaving my body? That’s been my thing since I was a kid. Getting lost in books, movies, music, dreams, questioning life and reality… It always looked cute from the outside, but it was self-protection. The world felt loud, busy, overstimulating, so I found exits.
And I still catch myself doing it now. Metro rides. Chaotic streets. Loud trains. People gossiping right next to me like I’m not energetically involved (I am, unfortunately). It doesn’t take much for my system to go, yeah… we’re out.
That’s when I clock it. I tune into my inner masculine energy; the part of me that grounds, stabilizes, brings me back into the present moment. Not dramatically, not in the middle of a crowded metro cause I need to leave that environment, but when I get out, when I have space. That energy pulls my floating self back in. Where I belong.
And then I go home. My safe space. My little temple. Calm music, cozy lights, candles, plants, herbal tea… all the things that tell my nervous system: you’re safe now.
Because that’s really what this is, a nervous system game.
Warm lights and tea? Safe cave energy. Bright LEDs, noise, energies all day? Survival mode.
We’ve evolved, but our bodies… not so much.
And I see it everywhere. People running on edge, overstimulated, constantly exposed to other people’s energies, and whether you’re aware of it or not, your body registers all of it.
Like yesterday on the bus. I didn’t listen to my intuition telling me to switch seats before the bus stopped (noted), and a man with a very questionable energy sat next to me. Instantly, my system went into threat mode.
And instead of letting my mind perceive it as a threat, I worked on staying calm. Not labeling it as danger. Letting my body settle instead of feeding it fear.
Same thing with my cycle. There’s a point where I feel anxious, tight in my chest, a bit on edge, and I used to think something bad is about to happen.
Now I know better. It’s a pattern. Hormones. My body doing its thing. And I also know I’m stronger than that wave. It doesn’t get to define my emotional state anymore.
That shift alone? Life-changing.
And then there’s my mind… Always preparing. Rehearsing conversations that haven’t happened. Writing texts in advance. Playing out scenarios like it’s a full production.
All of that keeps me out of the present. So I gently pull it back.
It’s okay not to be prepared for everything.
I’m present in the moment.
It’s safe to open my heart again.
It’s safe to be here. I’m here. I’m calm. I’m peace. I’m love.
Not in a forced, robotic way. Just… reminders. Anchors. Because living in a city that doesn’t fully align with me means my nervous system is working overtime. Instead of pouring energy into creating the life I want, sometimes it’s just trying to keep me feeling safe.
It feels like it’s working extra shifts with no overtime pay. That’s why resets matter. Leaving the city. Being in calmer places. Reconnecting. Even if it’s temporary.
And on a daily basis, I’ve built a space that supports me. A home that feels like exhale. That’s the balance right now. And honestly… this whole journey? It’s not about escaping the body. It’s about mastering it.
Staying, even when it’s uncomfortable. Calming the mind. Not letting every sensation turn into a story. Letting the soul lead: but from within the body, not somewhere above it.
I’ve been asking for guidance on this, (hey my higher self), and I can feel it, the more I stay, the more I stabilize, the more I create from a grounded place.
And baby… that’s where things actually start to move.
Because creation was never meant to happen from somewhere else. It happens from right here.
And now when I honor the part of me that leaves the body when it’s too much for her instead of judging her and perceiving it as failure, my inner child feels safe. She feels seen and understood. Not only my parents didn’t understand her (nor anyone who knew her), I think I didn’t understand her most of my life either. I’m here now.
A little tip: Even if you feel like you don’t have access to your higher self, you can still ask for guidance and help along the way, ask, and you shall receive, even when you don’t know where it’s coming from.
Last night, right before falling asleep, I did something I occasionally do when I’m feeling a little curious about what the night might bring.
I sort of… check in upstairs. Not in a dramatic ritual way. More like a quiet internal message before drifting off: “Alright, higher self. If you’ve got anything interesting tonight, I’m open. Cool visions welcome. Cozy dreams appreciated.”
Usually when I do that, I end up somewhere new. A place I’ve never been in waking life but somehow recognize later when I actually go there. My dreams like to play travel agent sometimes. So naturally, I was expecting some kind of mysterious new landscape.
Instead, I got… a massage therapist from another dimension. In the dream, this strange-looking man appeared. The kind of person who gives off the vibe that he knows things without asking questions.
He walked right up to me and started working on my shoulders and neck. No small talk. Straight to business. And somehow he knew exactly where the pain was sitting.
The moment his hands pressed into those spots, I could feel it leaving. Not just the physical tension, but the emotional stuff too: the old weight that somehow lives in the body long after the original moment has passed.
It was so real I collapsed to my knees in the dream and started crying. Not sad crying. That kind of crying that happens when something heavy finally leaves your system and your body goes, “Oh… that’s what relief feels like.”
I remember saying thank you over and over again while the pain drained out. Then I woke up.
And the first thing I noticed was how light my body felt. Not magically healed, my heart still feels tender, and tight, but lighter. Like something important had shifted a few millimeters in the right direction.
Which makes sense, because I’m currently in what I can only describe as a heart opening phase.
The next couple of weeks are very clearly scheduled for hermit mode. Quiet processing. Emotional housekeeping. Letting things move through the system without rushing them.
My dreams tend to work like that. First I see it there. Then I feel it there. Then eventually waking life catches up. Sometimes the translation is immediate. Sometimes it takes months. Occasionally years. My subconscious clearly operates on its own timeline.
But something else happened this weekend that made me smile. I caught my reflection in the mirror and noticed my eyes looked… different. They looked like they did in 2024. Big. Soft. Sparkly. Open.
For a while that version of me had disappeared. The walls around my heart went up for a reason. Self-protection. When you feel things deeply, sometimes the only way to survive certain seasons is to close the gates for a while.
If I had opened everything all at once back then, I probably would have broken. So the system did what it needed to do. It processed things slowly. Carefully. One layer at a time.
And now those walls are starting to come down again. That nurturing part of me, the one I actually loved the most about myself, is quietly coming back online.
Not because I forced it. Because the timing is finally right.
Another thing I’ve noticed lately is a strange sense of peace settling in about my roots.
The places I’ve lived. The cultures that didn’t shape me, but had me find what I actually loved. The country where I spent eighteen years. The one where I spent nine and a half. The music, the food, the people, the little pieces of identity that come from growing up between worlds.
Even two cultures I spent a good portion of my life actively disliking, those are softening now too, thanks to a dream that shifted my perspective in ways I didn’t expect.
Healing has a funny way of expanding the heart in directions you once swore you’d never go. And it always takes time. Patience. Kind people around you, especially if you’ve been through enough alone. People who see you clearly and treat you with gentleness. People who understand your past without using it against you.
When that kind of environment exists, something beautiful happens. You start blooming again.
Not because you’re chasing something. Not because you’re trying to prove anything. Simply because you’re ready.
And I suppose that’s the quiet truth underneath all of it: Before anything can bloom… the roots have to feel safe in the soil first.
