Carpe Diem

Growth doesn’t always look graceful. Sometimes it looks like love, loss, fire, and freedom—all at once. I was convinced I needed to keep my guard up. For so long, it felt safer to armor my heart than to risk being hurt again—especially by someone I believe I was meant to awaken with. A huge part of me still feels that my husband and I are soul-contracted, if you will, to walk this journey together. But despite that deep inner knowing, I felt the need to convince him—and myself—that I was done. And maybe I  was  meant to feel that. Maybe I had to stand in that conviction, to see my own strength more clearly. Because every day since then, my perception has been shifting. Slowly, gently… I feel myself being pulled back to the truth. Not the fearful truth that says “protect yourself at all costs,” but the soul truth—the one that whispers,  You are ready. You are safe. You can love without losing yourself. I’m no longer waiting for a guarantee. I’m not here to chase or to fix....

I’ve come to find that the pathway to enlightenment cannot happen without the complete breakdown of condition. It’s not that it has to be painful—though life will always have its messiness. That’s the beauty of it: the concept of light and dark… balance. But the reason it feels so chaotic, especially right now, is because everything false has to fall away. The stories we were told, the identities we clung to, the roles we were expected to play—it all has to shatter so we can finally see. I’m starting to understand that the breakdown isn’t punishment. It’s permission. It’s how we return to our truth. And in that mess, I’m choosing to breathe. To trust. To rise. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s real. And even though I’m not well educated in it, I  do  believe this awakening is part of something greater—something tied to the current ascension. There’s a reason so many are waking up right now. We’re fighting for something better… something that should have always been ours....

There comes a moment when silence speaks louder than words—when the people you once trusted stand beside your pain’s source instead of you. That moment hit me hard. When my world crumbled, when I needed love, support, even a sliver of belief—most of the people I called “family” or “friend” looked the other way. Some even chose to believe the person who hurt me. That kind of betrayal doesn’t just break your heart—it shakes your sense of self. But through that silence, I heard something else: me. My voice. My truth. My strength. And I had to ask: Do I keep clinging to relationships built on conditions and blind loyalty? Or do I choose  me —even if that means walking alone? I’m choosing me. Not out of bitterness, but out of love. Because I’ve learned that not everyone deserves access to your heart—especially those who only show up when it’s easy. This isn’t about revenge. It’s about realignment. It’s about knowing you’re worthy of being seen, heard, and held in your truth. So if you’r...

Embracing the Path: Walking Alone to Find Your Truth There comes a moment in life when you realize that the only way to find your true self is by walking alone. It’s not about abandoning the people around you or pushing them away; it’s about honoring your own journey. It’s about understanding that sometimes the only person who can give you the answers you seek is you. I know this journey. I’ve walked through storms, faced my darkest moments, and questioned everything. But what I found in those quiet, lonely places was a power I never knew existed. It’s in the silence, in the moments when you stand alone with nothing but your doubts, that you begin to hear the truth. And that truth is: You are capable of more than you ever imagined. A Journey of Transformation Growing up wasn’t easy for me. I lost my mother at a young age and was raised by a father who struggled with alcoholism and a toxic stepmother. I spent time in foster care and placement centers, learning to survive instead of thri...

I helped my husband uncover some dark, buried truths about his past—truths he had never spoken aloud for 36 years. I sat with him in the discomfort, I held space for the pain, and I gently encouraged him to finally speak to his parents about what had happened to him. He was grateful. He told me I was saving him. But within 24 hours, everything shifted. Suddenly, I was the one who was “losing it.” He said I needed to be admitted to the hospital. That he needed to “save me.” I was forced into a hospital for evaluation—terrified, confused, and heartbroken. I was cleared. But the damage had already been done. Now, I find myself more lost than I was before I ever tried to help him. How does something that began with love, end in betrayal? How can two people, both trying to help each other, end up hurting each other so deeply? This is what I’ve been sitting with. What I’m beginning to understand is that trauma—especially unspoken, lifelong trauma—reshapes reality. When I encouraged him to co...