How was my year?

It didn’t destroy me.

It exposed me.

It showed me how often i was outsourcing my grounding.

How easily i handed my center to love, to attention, to being understood.

How much weight i expected other people to hold for me.

This year wasn’t about heartbreak.

It was about responsibility.

I lived intensely.

I loved fully.

I didn’t dilute myself to be digestible.

But i learned the hard way that intensity without self-rooting becomes survival mode.

That passion without internal safety turns into quiet self-abandonment.

I lost people, not in explosions, not in betrayals.

Just in the sober realization that no one is meant to be my answer.

There were nights i wanted to be rescued from my own depth.

Moments i waited for someone to name what I was feeling,

to stabilize me, to make it make sense.

No one did.

And that was the point.

I questioned myself brutally.

Was i too much?

Too emotional?

Too alive?

No.

I was just looking in the wrong direction.

This year taught me something unforgiving and necessary:

the answer was never in another body, another voice, another choice.

It was always inside me…

unclaimed, unused, waiting.

I didn’t close myself off.

I didn’t harden.

I didn’t stop loving.

I learned how to stand inside myself while feeling everything.

How to let emotions move without letting them run the house.

How to survive without asking someone else to save me.

That’s the shift.

I still live intensely.

I still go all in.

But now I come back to myself first.

I didn’t come out healed.

I came out equipped.

And whatever comes next

W

on’t find me searching for myself in someone else again.