If we think about all the TV shows, and movies, and even children stories… there’s always some sort of drama. Action. Betrayal. Fear, scarcity. Bad people doing bad things, cruelty, gruesome violence…
What does that signal to our nervous system? Seriously.
You come home to unwind, and you watch something that’s even more stressful than anything you had been through in your entire life, and we binge watch these things. We even get trauma-bonded with shows. Like Game of Thrones, Handmaid’s Tale…
Why?
Why does our brain have the need to give itself that weird mix of brain chemicals that we don’t actually need to function as healthy, grounded adults?
There’s violence in video games. People even take a game such as the Sims and take it into a torture game where they trap their Sims and witness countless of ways for a Sim to die.
Let’s not forget for centuries before bright screens came into our homes, humans actually created all sorts of conflict, drama, violence, brawls, wars, brutal murders… the list goes on. And for what, exactly? Religion? More land? More power? What was the actual point of all the bloodshed?
Who even said power equals violence? Why was true power never about empathy, compassion, peace, and getting along with each other without needing any rules throughout our existence? Why was it never about simply co-existing in peace, understanding, and unity? Why did we ever need such divisions, and labels?
Why do we do this? Animals don’t kill for joy. They don’t torture another. They don’t simulate such scenarios. Is it because they can’t talk? That they don’t have opposable thumbs? Or simply because they are “less evolved?”
When did evolution, being intelligent start meaning we’re simply being cruel – whether in a simulation, in the movies, shows, documentaries we watch, or in walking life…
Then we get easily trauma-bonded in our relationships, in our lives, the same way we can’t stop binge watching a show that gets our nervous systems on edge.
Why is a safely regulated nervous system is such a danger to our brains? I’ll tell you why. Because it’s boring.
Regulating emotions is boring. Taking care of yourself when you can simply opt out, choose a distraction over yourself, doing energy work to raise your frequency – and then keeping it there, or even bringing it back up after it goes down because something happens in the external world, is a lot of work. And it is boring to our dopamine wired brains. It’s not even only boring, it’s difficult.
Our brains love the easy way. External validation. Chasing anything outside of ourselves to feel whole. Wanting someone to hug us to feel safe. Getting external attention. Getting approval. Our brains love copying the external world instead of diving inward to figure out who we actually are.
Humans learn through experience and observation. It’s coded in our DNA. We have evolved this way. Society tells us what’s right and what’s wrong. There are these rules the world’s built on. Then our families, schools, friends… they tell us what to do. Which path to follow. Who we are. We are born with our religion, nationality, language chosen for us. That’s something I had never understood since I was a toddler. How come the choices my parents made, in which I was never consulted simply because I didn’t even exist, dictate my life?
And when you stop to question it all, they call it a spiritual awakening. When you stop to question who you really are and why you came here in the first place… you really start standing out as it is currently not an average human feature.
It’s not a spiritual awakening. It’s the baseline. The default mode. You’re going back to the basics. They call it breaking free of the Matrix, but let’s face it, as long as we are here, breathing this air and existing in our bodies, we are not escaping the Matrix and ending up in Zion with plugs on our bodies. No. We’re simply existing as sovereign individuals that don’t need much external to feel whole.
Not very ideal for a capitalist system who built itself on control, fear, and lies, is it?
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?
So many of us are focused on purpose, on the mission, on where we’re supposed to end up. Always chasing results, working toward something. It’s a very goal-driven way of living… very masculine coded.
But what if we tried something different?
What if we actually let ourselves enjoy being here?
We’re so used to escaping ourselves. Through distractions, through other people, through constant doing. But what if we slowed down and actually connected with ourselves? Let ourselves be seen, held, heard, accepted… by us. Just being present, without needing anything else.
How often do we really ask who we are, without anyone else’s story mixed into ours?
There’s something in us that wants to be discovered. A natural pull toward wholeness, toward understanding ourselves more deeply. And somehow, us, the creators of your own realities, always find a way to take us there, even if the path isn’t always gentle. Even if, to the conscious mind, it feels messy or painful.
That’s where those emotional breakdowns, those hard moments, come in. As uncomfortable as they are, they push us to see what we’ve been doing to ourselves… and eventually, to choose differently.
We all carry desires that make us human. Some of us feel this strong need to help, to fix, to heal, to be useful. And because of that, it can feel almost unnatural to just exist without a mission.
But what if the mission isn’t something to achieve?
What if it’s simply to enjoy being here without guilt?
We’re infinite in a very limited experience. And part of that experience is learning to accept our desires, to feel, to enjoy what being human actually offers. To accept our bodies, their limits, and still love ourselves deeply, even when we feel like we don’t fully belong anywhere.
Maybe that’s okay.
Maybe we’re not here to constantly chase something, but to create from a place of wholeness instead. To choose ourselves, to move with self-love, and to step out of the loops we’ve been stuck in: the ones that were always there to teach us something in the first place.
And once we actually learn it… we don’t have to stay in them anymore.
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.
There came a point in my life where I finally let go. After all the purging, the emotional waves, releasing the past and everything my old selves had carried… I reached a kind of inner peace. A quiet place where I could just enjoy my own energy, without needing distractions. I started noticing when I was giving too much of myself away, and learning how to pull that energy back. Setting boundaries, not just physically, but energetically too. And honestly, that feels really good.
There’s a calmness in that space that nothing and no one else has ever been able to give me. And it made me realize how much of my life I spent searching for that feeling outside of myself, when it was always there.
Getting here wasn’t easy. I resisted it. I ran from myself. I avoided facing things… until I couldn’t anymore.
At some point, the illusions just fell apart. My heart opened, but for it to open, the pain had to move through me first. We hold onto so much in this life, without even realizing it. And the more we let go, the lighter we become.
Somewhere along the way, I met someone who really valued his peace. At the time, I couldn’t even wrap my head around that. I didn’t understand it, because I had never actually felt it myself. Now I do.
It’s kind of funny, if someone had told me two years ago that I’d be here, I wouldn’t have believed them. Not even a little. I held onto that old version of myself for so long. Letting her go was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I loved her. She felt everything so deeply. She tried to control things, yes, but she was also warm, nurturing, and full of love. Soft. A little naive, maybe, but real.
And somehow, in letting her go, I found myself again. A version of me that feels more aligned. More… true.
One thing I’ve learned is that this isn’t a straight line. You don’t just “arrive” and stay there forever. You reach a certain place, then life brings something new, and you step back a little, learn more, and grow again. It’s a cycle. Over and over, but each time with more awareness.
The quieter your mind becomes, the closer you feel to yourself. And that overthinking voice, it doesn’t need your attention all the time. Not every thought deserves your energy. You can notice it, stop the thoughts, be comfortable with the mental silence, and come back to your center. That takes practice. Discipline, even. But it changes everything.
It’s not easy, but it’s worth it.
Because that’s where flow begins. When you stop trying to control everything, stop forcing outcomes, stop overthinking every possibility. When you let life move, instead of constantly trying to direct it.
Without creating alternative roads in our path with the power of our thoughts and emotions, surrender happens.
Letting go of how you think things should look. Letting go of the need to control. Coming back to yourself: your core, your truth.
And maybe the real work is learning to trust that. Trust where you are, and where you’re being led, without needing to map out every step. Trusting the path your soul chose before you came here.
Staying present. Again and again. Calm, peace, zen, being the love and light we are.
At some point along the way, you realize this was never about anything outside of you. It was always about coming back to yourself.
You start to see that the guidance, the signs, the dreams, the intuition… it was all coming from you. And you wonder how you spent so long thinking your life was being controlled by something external. Conditioning, probably.
The world we grow up in doesn’t exactly encourage you to see that you’re the one creating your life. But at some point, it clicks: your choices shape everything. Your lessons, your future, your karma.
I realized I’d been stuck in something I created for myself – a kind of loop designed to teach me one thing: how to let go. And letting go has never come easily to me. Not even as a kid.
So I made choices, consciously or not, that kept bringing me back to that lesson.
The last one was the hardest. Like I hadn’t fully learned it before.
There was someone who became a turning point for me. Not because he taught me anything directly, but because meeting him changed everything. My old life, the version of me I used to be, it all just… fell away.
At the time, it felt like I was losing myself. I grieved that version of me so deeply. But my mom said something that shifted how I saw it: not death – purification. That word stayed with me. It felt more honest. Like I was clearing something out so I could start again.
It hasn’t been easy. Some days I still struggle. Some days I crave comfort, or want to run. But I’ve realized I wasn’t running from anything external, I was running from myself. And you can’t outrun that, no matter where you go or who you’re with.
I’ve also had to face the fact that some of the things I went through were harder than they needed to be. Not by accident, but because I didn’t love or choose myself the way I should have. That realization hurts.
And then there’s this other side of me that woke up with so much fire. Anger, even. Like something inside me finally refused to be controlled anymore. The part of me that was told to be quiet, to behave – that part burned away. And all I wanted was freedom.
So I left. I walked away from the biggest lesson of my life.
It was beautiful, and it was brutal. And it wasn’t easy, nothing about it was. I think part of me believed that if I avoided it enough, everything would finally feel lighter. Easier. But that’s not really how it works.
What I was actually doing was giving myself space to rebuild. To let my nervous system catch up. To become strong enough not to break in the same ways again.
And now… it feels like I’m starting over. Not completely from scratch, but close enough. A clean slate, in a way.
This time, I’m choosing myself.
I’m learning how to give myself the love I used to pour into everyone else. The kind of love that feels big, expansive, like it could reach the stars. But it has to start with me.
And that’s going to be its own challenge.
I’m someone who naturally takes care of others first. So learning to take care of myself, to set boundaries, to stop overgiving… that doesn’t come naturally. Some people are born knowing how to do that.
One of the softest, most life-altering realizations is this: At some point… you stop looking for love. Because you realize… you are it.
Like a quiet knowing that settles into your bones. You are love. You are light. You are peace. You are that calm you kept searching for in people, places, moments.
And it’s almost funny, in a gentle, cosmic way… how long you might have spent looking for it outside of yourself. In connections. In cities. In timing. In “maybe this time it will feel right.”
Until one day it just… clicks. What you were searching for was never out there. It was always moving within you, waiting for you to slow down enough to feel it.
And then the realization deepens. Not only do you have love within you, you are the source of it.
Like this quiet, glowing field… a soft, radiant bubble of light that doesn’t need anything to exist. It just is. And naturally, it expands. It spills. It reaches.
It turns into warmth, into presence, into something others can feel without you even trying.
From there, love stops being something you chase or earn, or run from. It becomes something you are, and therefore something you share. Effortlessly.
It becomes safe to feel your heart again. Safe to open. Safe to soften. Safe to dream without holding back. Safe to imagine. Safe to share.
You start remembering that you’re allowed to be joyful.
To dance. To sing. To exist in this lightness without questioning it. Joy returns. Happiness is felt like a little warm bubble dancing in your heart.
And somewhere along the way, you realize… You were never missing anything.
You are made of both sun and moon. Fire and softness. Expansion and stillness. A quiet union of everything you once thought was separate. You are a star born out of perfect harmony. You are the cosmic love story you’re looking for.
We are one. Unity. Connected. Life is an opportunity, and life is beautiful.
And yes, you are strong enough to hold all of it.
So gently… let it. Let the love move. Let the light expand. Let the calm settle where it always belonged. Let yourself fly to the stars. Into cosmic expansion.
Peace was never something to find. It was always something to return to.
You live on the 3rd floor of a slightly chaotic apartment building. Below you? Questionable shop. Loud offices. Energy that feels like someone is always arguing about invoices. Fear runs the shop. Dark.
Your floor? Noisy neighbors. Doors slamming, TVs blasting, someone always emotionally spiraling at 2am. Peaceful? Not exactly.
Now… You discover there are more floors.
On the 4th floor, people are calm. They meditate. They journal. They casually discuss their dreams over tea like it’s normal behavior.
5th floor? Full-on soft hippie energy. Everyone’s kind, emotionally available, probably hugging trees and each other. You feel oddly safe there. Connection runs the show.
6th and 7th? Penthouse vibes. Minimal, pastel colors, soft lights, quiet people who don’t say much, but when they do, it’s exactly what you needed to hear. Annoying, but impressive.
8th floor gets… interesting. Dark walls, cool decor, very little noise. Feels like time doesn’t exist there. People are calm, logical, not overly emotional. It’s giving astronaut energy. Floating, but grounded. Peace, but make it intellectual. They just know things up there. No need for Google.
9th floor? Cosmic. Galaxy vibes. Slightly rebellious. These people do not believe in authority, but somehow feel deeply connected to everything. It’s empathetic with boundaries. It’s healing. You don’t question it.
10th floor is bright. White, gold, silver. Feels like identity matters less up there. It’s less “who am I” and more “what am I here to create?”
11th floor? Angelic. Light-filled. People there feel like they’re on a mission to bring something good into the world. You automatically lower your voice when you walk in.
12th floor… penthouse of all penthouses. Everything and nothing at the same time. Unity. Silence. No questions, just… being.
And then there’s you. Back on the 3rd floor. But here’s the thing: you’ve been upstairs.
You’ve visited. You’ve seen how it feels. You’ve borrowed a bit of that calm, that clarity, that knowing. You feel the love, the peace.
Your loud mind is on the 3rd floor. You don’t hear it, just like you can’t hear your loud neighbors when you’re hanging out upstairs.
So when you come back down, yes, your neighbors are still loud. The chaos is still there. But it doesn’t hit the same. Because now you know there’s more than this.
And more importantly: you know how it feels. You know how to calm the mind. Because you know how it is when you can’t hear your mind screaming from few floors down. You know silence is more than okay.
That’s the whole point of this building. You’re not trying to escape your floor. You’re learning how to live there differently. You go upstairs, you learn, you feel it… and then you bring it back down with you.
That’s integration. Because no one hands you a permanent key to the 10th floor and says “congrats, you live here now.” You earn it by embodying it.
And that takes practice. We’re here to master energy, not run away from it.
To feel emotions, but not let them run the entire show.
To notice patterns, and choose differently.
To outgrow the stories we inherited, the fears we picked up, the limits we were taught.
At some point, you realize… you actually have more control than you were led to believe.
Your past? It happened. But it doesn’t get to define the rest of the building.
Ego softens. Old identities loosen. And what’s left is… you.
Which sounds simple, until you try sitting alone in a quiet room with no distractions and realize, oh. This is a relationship too.
Being with yourself, fully, without needing to escape, that’s a skill. I learned that the long way.
I started dating myself. Actually dating. Taking myself out, spending quality time, making my space feel safe, warm, like somewhere I wanted to be. I turned my apartment into a place my nervous system could relax in. And slowly, something shifted.
When my energy stopped chasing things outside of me, something inside me stopped running too. That inner push-pull? It calmed down. Inner union. Balance. Stability, consistency, healthy communication, calmness, peace and zen. Zero avoidance, zero chasing. All the things you want in a healthy relationship, right? Now you have it with yourself.
That’s when I started understanding what people mean by “higher self.” It’s not some distant, mystical version of you floating in another dimension. It’s just… you, on a higher floor.
And once you reach that floor: once you become that version, it’s not “higher” anymore. It’s just you.
From there, guidance doesn’t feel external or dramatic. It’s not signs and chaos and decoding everything. It’s quiet. A knowing.
And even your dreams change. Less messages. Less symbolism. More… your mind doing its natural thing. Processing, clearing, organizing.
Because at that point, you’re not constantly looking up for answers.
You’ve already brought them down. And this is one of the things that once you see, you cannot unsee.
Good Feelings Club 