A Sorrowed Frenzy

Last night was not a good night for me. My son needed to be rescued from some difficult circumstances, and my attachment got the best of me. I found myself reaching out, grasping at whatever connection I could get ahold of, grasping for answers, grasping for validation. All I ended up doing was prolonging my suffering.

I have a hard time with loss. Losing love, or more so, losing connection. This morning, I realized how my attachment was causing me to put pressure on the people I love. My kids, my partners, my friends. I saw how much I was wanting from another person instead of simply enjoying their presence.

Last night, my ego took control for a few hours, and I was not the best version of myself. I lost control and found myself wondering what was wrong with me, questioning why people eventually pull away. At first, I am fun and detached, but as time goes on, I start to rely on what others offer me. When that love fades, when that connection disappears, I spiral into a reckless frenzy of sorrow.

This morning, I realized I’ve just been trying to escape my pain, trying to ignore the fact that I am searching for something outside of myself. I do well on my own. I feel I have mastered solitude. I know how to entertain myself, how to take care of myself, how to love myself. But when I enter a relationship, I become needy.

I know I need connection. I know I need love. But I must be willing to let people love and connect with me in their own ways, not just in the ways I expect or demand them to. I don’t know what this world holds for me in terms of connection, but I do know that I will continue to know and love myself. I will continue to reflect and heal. One experience at a time.

Connection

Last night, I was reflecting on why I feel the need to post so much when I go through heartache. I realized it’s my way of seeking connection—of trying to find meaning. When I talk aloud to people, I think more clearly and in turn I am able to come to revelations about why I am the way I am. Talking helps me grow as a person. I don’t have a support system in place for the heavy times, I don’t even have a support system for lighter and happier times, so I write my heart out to anyone who will listen or read.

When I’m in a relationship, I talk to my partner. That relationship becomes the only relationship I need. But when that relationship ends, I find myself in a space of extreme solitude. A space where I need someone I trust, yet there’s no one to turn to—no one to just pick up the phone and vent to, cry to, or lean on. There is no one there to help lift me back up. I know some people would say, “Just call!” but in that headspace, I don’t want to burden people I haven’t spoken to in months, or even years, with a blubbering call just because I’m hurting. So, I suffer alone. I always have.

I’m realizing that I need to build stronger connections, and I know this is where my current lesson lies. My goal this year is to cultivate genuine, healthy, friendships. I know I can handle my inner world, but I also know I need connection. That starts by giving people my time—by reaching out to those I love spending time with and fostering bonds that can grow into something stronger and more meaningful.

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.

Going BareFoot: A Collection of Poetic Reflections, Art, and Photography

Coming Soon!!

Going BareFoot: A Collection of Poetic Reflections, Art, and Photography is a heartfelt, creative journey through the ups and downs of life. Filled with poetry, art, and photography, this collection invites you to walk alongside the author as she shares her personal story of healing, growth, and finding peace after trauma.

Each piece captures a moment, a feeling, or a lesson learned along the way, while the accompanying reflections and thought-provoking questions encourage you to look inward and explore your own path to healing. Whether you’re processing your own experiences or simply seeking a little inspiration, Going BareFoot offers a gentle space for self-reflection, creativity, and connection.

With honesty, lightness, and a touch of vulnerability, this collection reminds us all that healing is a journey—and sometimes, it’s best walked BareFoot.

Available for purchase on April 1st, 2025