This past week, I came face to face with the emotional weight I’ve carried since childhood. For years, I had been aware of it—but I hadn’t truly tended to the parts of myself that were still silently hurting. After becoming single in late 2023, I got sober—again—and recommitted to my healing journey.

At first, I felt light. Free. I re-entered the world of dating, not searching for love, just open to meeting people and learning about others. I had one of the most joyful summers I can remember—meeting kind souls, sharing laughter, making memories. There was no pressure, no physical intimacy beyond a friendly hug. Just connection.

Then I met someone who hit me like a wave. From the moment we spoke, I was pulled into his energy. It wasn’t just attraction—it was something deeper. Soul-familiar. He had been through so much in life, and instead of hesitating, I found it beautiful. I later realized I had unconsciously trauma-bonded. We mirrored each other’s past wounds—ones we hadn’t yet healed. After our first meeting, I began to awaken. Something spiritual cracked open in me. And just as suddenly, he started to pull away.

We went into a period of no contact. During that silence, I had a spontaneous kundalini awakening. I didn’t know what was happening to me. It was raw, intense, disorienting. I reached out, hoping he might understand. He invited me to stay for a few days, saying it might help ground me. I drove four hours with an open heart and trembling soul.

When I arrived, he wasn’t home. I sat there, waiting. Eventually, he told me the door was open, and I could wait inside. Awhile later, he walked through the door, and when we hugged, it felt like time stopped. Like I was hugging someone I had waited lifetimes to see again.

We talked briefly, then went to his room. That’s when I made a decision that changed me: I gave myself to someone who could not receive me. The next morning, the air was heavy with silence. He said nothing as he got ready for his day. By the time he returned to the room, I had already packed. He told me he was heading to the bank and gym—wasn’t sure when he’d be back.

I told him it felt awkward being there and that I would be leaving. Before I left, he let me know that our intimacy hadn’t sparked the way he wanted. He even compared it to his marriage, saying that if the connection didn’t set off the fireworks the same, it wasn’t worth pursuing. That moment shattered something in me. I had shown up vulnerable, raw, open—and now I was being dismissed like an inconvenience.

I left and cried at a gas station. My only message to him:
“If you keep treating people like shit, your life will always be hell.”
I blocked him, not wanting a reply. I needed to reclaim my energy.

A couple months later, another man came into my life. This one felt different—more grounded, sweet, even magical. I was gifted a sacred item he’d carried for years, something his teacher had passed down to him, and he told me he felt it was meant for me. We were playful, childlike, spiritually curious together. We moved between lifetimes, laughing one moment, channeling wisdom the next.

But again—there were cracks. This man, too, was still entangled with his past. When I voiced how certain dynamics made me uncomfortable, especially how quickly he brushed me off when his ex appeared during a phone call, he made me feel like I was the problem. Not once did he pause to reassure me.

And still… I stayed longer than I should have. Just like I had done before.

Then, there was someone who came into my life with a spiritual flame. We connected quickly, soul to soul. There was mystery and magnetism between us. I began to see past lives through dreams. Signs, synchronicities, even shared visions. But just like before—he began to slowly distance himself. Again, sent me in to a spiral and fix it mentality. I kept giving and giving, and again I found myself quietly heartbroken, questioning what I had done wrong.

That’s when I finally looked inward. Not with blame—but with curiosity and compassion.

Why do I keep attracting these kinds of men?
Why do I keep choosing people who don’t fully choose me?

And the answer was right there in my inner child.

I remembered growing up with an emotionally unavailable father. He was physically there—but not present. I spent my whole life trying to earn his love. I learned to associate distance with devotion, and emotional breadcrumbs with affection. I thought I had to perform, please, and perfect myself to be worthy of attention.

But none of that was true.

That version of love wasn’t love at all—it was survival. I was reenacting those early patterns, trying to heal old wounds through new people.

And now… I’m done.

I’ve made this internal vow to myself: No more self-abandonment.
I’ve begun learning how to connect with men in purely platonic ways. I’m no longer seeking recognition or approval. I’m letting my feminine energy rest. I’m not acting for attention. I’m just being—with myself.

Although it may feel lonely at times…

This isn’t loneliness. This is healing.
This is power.
This is reclamation.

There’s something deeply empowering about realizing you can take your life back—one boundary, one truth, one breath at a time.

I am choosing myself now.
And it feels like so good.

With love….