My Bipolar Day

Sometimes my mind wages a battle against my heart, trying to convince me it doesn’t, or shouldn’t, feel something. My logic seeks to solve all my problems, believing that balance and happiness lie in rationality. This causes a lot of anxiety within me, and at times, I struggle to get it under control. I must face the truth that I am heartbroken, and I need to allow myself to feel that. Not to act on it, not to try and reclaim what’s lost (even if that were possible), but simply to sit with the emotion.

Yesterday, I tried to convince myself that what I felt wasn’t real, that it was just my need for connection. But today, I have realized that I truly loved him, more than I have ever loved anyone. And the pain that has come with cutting him completely out is intense. I believe we love others to the depth at which we love ourselves, and my love for myself is immense. This experience is reminding me to be careful with whom I share my heart and my life because when I love, it soars through the heavens and expands bigger than the Universe.

Grief is a strange beast that ebbs and flows like the tides of the ocean. I recently saw an incredible representation of how grief cycles through and out of our lives: a glass of red wine placed under a running faucet. The clear water slowly mixed with the deep red, diluting it. It took longer than I imagined for all the wine to disappear. That is how grief works. It is gradual, unpredictable, and even after the water runs clear a stain remains on the glass. A lingering lesson, a reminder of the pain that comes when I fall in love. Even if I do find the right person someday, I will still lose them to death. That pain will be even worse than this. If I am being honest, that thought scares me. But maybe it should scare everyone. Maybe then we would treat love with more respect. Treat each other with more respect.

I am not sure I want to go through heartache like this again. But maybe it is still too fresh, and I just need to stay present. By staying present and taking care of myself, I am finding it easier to navigate everything. I took two walks at work today. I also started a new chapter in my Sera novel. I thought it was finished, but there was more that needed to be written. The words flowed effortlessly, perhaps because I am no longer denying my emotions, even if they make me feel bipolar. Even if they make me look crazy to the outside world. She’s happy, she’s mad, she’s sad, she’s happy, she’s complaining, etc. Maybe the world needs to see that. Needs to see what actions do to people.

We try so hard to keep everyone comfortable, to avoid making a scene. But I think it needs to be seen. Otherwise, how do we change? How do we become better? I know that when I see I have hurt someone; it makes me reflect on my own toxic behaviors. I think everyone needs to reflect.

Anyway, these are just some fleeting thoughts from my chaotic day where I traveled through stress, anxiety, sadness, anger, and happiness, all while dreaming of what I want next in this life. So, I guess what I am really saying is that I am proud of myself. Proud of finally taking care of myself in the ways that I need.

True Self-Love Comes Through Solitude

Cardin told me last week that he couldn’t understand why I was so upset because, in his view, genuine love takes years to develop. A huge part of me resisted that idea. I believe that when we come from a mutual space of self-love and completeness—with no dependency—we can truly love another person right away. But I was not coming from a place of true love and completeness within myself. I got caught up in believing that this last was finally real, that I had finally found the one.

Upon reflecting this morning, I realized that what I had experienced was not true love, but a dependency rooted in my deep need for connection. I also recognized that he could never have truly loved me either, as he was coming from a place of self-loathing and his own dependencies. Our connection, as beautiful as it was, was born not from genuine love and respect but from an attempt to fill something we felt was missing in each other’s lives. You cannot truly love another if you do not fully love yourself.

I now understand my purpose in this moment, and I know why I must embrace solitude. I feel a deep call to help others learn to love themselves, and this is a goal I am now pursuing with all my energy. But to truly guide others, I must first strengthen the bond I have with myself. I know solitude will be excruciating at times, but these are the moments in which I must nurture my own inner support and love. That way, when I enter my next union, it will come from a place of wholeness and not from a need for someone to fill something within me.

This has been a hard week, yet it has also been one of deep soul-searching and untangling from people who were draining me. I have filled pages and pages of my journal and had multiple breakdowns, but today, I feel free. My path is clearer, and I no longer feel sadness over what someone else is doing. I am free to work my magick, to create the life I desire, and to eventually help others on their own journeys toward self-love, self-acceptance, and living authentically as their complete selves during their time on this planet.

I’m not sure why I’ve felt the need to share everything I go through and experience. I think it stems from the fact that when I scroll through social media, I see so much pain. I see people struggling—to find themselves, to find purpose, to find meaning, to find love. The relationship I have with my inner world is now beautiful and strong, but it wasn’t always this way. I come from a past of deep self-loathing and abuse, both from myself and others. It took me a long time to reach this point, and while I still have a long journey ahead in many areas, I am excited for what’s to come. I hope my vulnerability and raw’ness inspires the same growth in whomever reads what I pour out.

Tap Out

I have been thinking about my life and my heart more intensely over the past 12 hours than I have in an entire year. I am heartbroken—again. But this time, the pain is different. It feels different. I shared parts of myself in a way I never have before, only to be told they didn’t want a relationship.

When I am alone, I have moments of great loneliness, especially before I started loving myself. But that loneliness is nothing compared to the pain in my heart right now.

Cardin made a comment to me last night that was hard to hear. He said I get attached to people too quickly. If I look at it that way, Aaron and I were together for six months, friends for two to three months before that. The pain I feel is more than just losing a lover—I lost a best friend.

I have cut so many people out of my life over the past year—people who have violated my friendship, my body, my trust in some way or another. I wish I could leave this state, start fresh somewhere without memories lurking around every corner. This place haunts me now.

I feel like the Universe has been trying to push me into solitude for years. I lay down my fight. I tap out. I am ready to learn this lesson. I am ready for the solitude that beckons at my door.

I have unpublished all my past posts. They are versions of myself I choose to keep only for me. This is day one of my new life. Day one of finally listening.

Deep soul work is hard work—many choose not to do it, blaming some mental ailment as the reason they cannot. Or an unwillingness to step away from people and places that no longer serve them. I will never understand this. But I now realize these are not my people. Perhaps there is no one on this planet like me. And that thought no longer brings me sadness, as it once did.

I am okay letting the world be what it is. I will share how I get through things, because I think that is why I am here.