The Weight of Being The Safe Place

It is a deep pain that words cannot hold a flame to when I see my daughter experiencing the same traumas I endured. Her physical experience is different, but what she is going through emotionally, I know all too well.

Dissociation, distrust, not feeling safe. Anger. She is experiencing passive neglect and verbal and emotional hostility. This is causing her to retreat—to be angry instead of sad, instead of feeling the pain. She shuts down at her dad’s and explodes at home. I know why she does it. I know I am the only safe place she has. But some days I crack. Some days my voice raises and I try to get her to talk, try to get her to open up so she can feel better. It only makes things worse for her.

Today I am practicing breathing, being present. To be her anchor, not her fixer. To be her container, not her rescuer. I am learning to be the calm, safe harbor to her storm, so she knows that no matter what she is going through, I am her safe haven. That I love her no matter what she is expressing.

I need a circle of people who can help me support her in a way that shows her what true love and support look like. People who show her what softness is, what love is, what trust is. She sees that in me, but I am afraid I am the only one she sees it from. I know she doesn’t get it at her dad’s. I also know that she has no healthy male role in her life at all. She tells me every week how she has stayed in her room watching YouTube and shows for most of the weekend. She even eats in her room. She isolates herself, and he lets her… because it is easy. Easy to live the life you feel you deserve because you work… I don’t want my anger to steer this but I cannot deny that it is there and it is powerfully strong. Controlling it is exhausting.

I feel powerless, helpless. Stepping away from my fixer role has been one of my most painful lessons lately, especially for my kids. I am realizing how I have only ever surrounded myself with the wounded—with people who need help, with people who would rather not do the work to better themselves. With people who want to lay all of it on my shoulders. And I have done it, for far too long. I can see and feel the people I call into my life now are different, are willing to put in the work to be better people, without me pulling the strings to get them there. I know my energy demands a lot from people, without me even having to say anything. I know what being with me requires from someone, and I honor those who stay.

My life, my soul, is demanding something different from me now. It is hard letting go, letting that control go. But it has served its purpose. I am more stable and secure than I give myself credit for. I know I can do this. But I now also know that I cannot do it alone. And that no one truly can.

My Mistake

Last week, I made a mistake.

What I viewed as a calling to heal a witch wound, and it was in many ways, led me down a path that began causing me more inner turmoil than I ever imagined it could. I realize now I was operating from fear rather than exploration. Let me share my story.

Last week, I joined a sex site to explore my sexuality and to make money. But to give the full picture here, I need to backtrack a bit.

A couple months ago, I was told that I should take the LinkedIn courses my company offers to buffer my resume. He was so pleased with himself telling me this, like he was helping me in some grand way. I asked him if this was for a new role in this company or another one. He squinted his face and, through a bit of a whiny timid voice, said, “a new company possibly,” and then proceeded to change the subject.

I could see that he thought he was doing some grand gesture of helping me. That was the furthest from the truth. Instead, an inner turmoil of stress and anxiety exploded and I found myself in a space of intense dread. I have been looking for jobs in my field ever since, and every one I have applied to has either been overwhelmed with applicants and I just was not chosen, or they want someone to sit and push out graphics like a machine, not caring if the end product is of high quality.

A coworker had mentioned a few weeks ago that I should do streaming because I have so many things that I do and that I am into and that people would be interested in watching all the stuff I do on a regular basis. He then jokingly mentioned OnlyFans, and even though I brushed it off at first it planted a seed in my mind that I mulled over it for weeks. I did tarot pulls, connected with my guides and divinity, journaled page after page on it. Finally, I decided to just give it a shot.

I signed up for a bunch of sites and waited for the verification processes to finish. On the twentieth, I was approved on one of the sites, so I decided to dive right in. At first it was fun exploring raunchy sexting, risqué topics, endless D pics, and receiving gifts of money for sending a pic here and there. But as I gained regulars who really just wanted connection, I found myself starting to care for these people. Not in a romantic way, but in a human, womanly way. They would chat with me like I was a person, and then all of a sudden the raunchy came out after a few days of messaging.

I found myself losing interest in chatting with them, but keeping it up because I was getting paid for each message sent. I was making decent money for just texting people. But when it switched from me doing it for exploratory reasons to doing it for money, something in me shifted. It challenged my integrity in a way that started me down a path I did not want to go down.

Lying to these men that I was pleasuring myself when I was cleaning, or at work, or simply out and about or watching a movie left me in a space of feeling in-authentic. Honesty is an integral part of who I am and what I am all about. I found myself living in this space where so many are comfortable lying, but I am not.

I even let myself get manipulated into connecting with one of them outside the app, which is a no no. We did not meet in real life, but I also did not get paid for the encounter. It was fun, but there was no real connection.

I was fine with it at first, but last night a small voice said, “you need to let them all go.” The voice was so quiet, I almost did not hear it.

So that is what I did. I let them all go. I said no. I did an Irish goodbye and deleted all the apps I was on, and I blocked the one person I connected with outside the app.

The voice that told me to let them go was not cruel. It was not harsh. It was quiet, gentle, and clear. It felt like love.

This past year has been a journey through my own layers. Through grief, through reinvention, through reclaiming my worth. I have traveled through my own shadows. I have moved across states and seasons, letting old versions of me fall away.

Tarot has shown me again and again that I am being called to build something rooted in truth.
To create, to connect, and to serve from a place of sovereignty, not survival.

And yet, there I was. Back in a space of performing. Back in a role that asked me to pretend, to lie, to mold myself into something for the comfort and gratification of others. I thought I was exploring empowerment, but really, I was replaying an old wound.

The witch wound.

That ancient echo of being punished for expressing too much, wanting too much, being too much. I realized that the healing was not in submitting to it. The healing was in recognizing it and saying no.

What I have come to understand is that self control is not denial. It is direction. My soul does not want to be caged. She wants to be free. But freedom is not found in abandoning my values to chase comfort. Freedom is found in choosing myself, again and again, no matter how quiet the voice or how uncomfortable the truth.

I am not here to sell parts of myself just to feel seen. I am here to be whole.
To guide others toward wholeness. To create from the well of my own healing.
To help people come home to themselves, just as I am learning to come home to me.

This is not a story of shame. This is a story of returning.
Of listening.
Of shedding another layer.
And for standing up, being more honest, more aware, and more rooted than before.

So if you are in a season of questioning…
If you are exploring parts of yourself that feel unfamiliar or uncomfortable…
If you are caught between curiosity and your own inner truth…

Please know this:

You do not have to abandon yourself to be free.
You do not have to perform your worth to be loved.
You do not have to stay in something just because it offered you comfort at first.

You are allowed to change your mind.
You are allowed to listen to your intuition mid-journey.
You are allowed to walk away from anything, even from the things you once asked for.

The path back to yourself is not always loud.
Sometimes it is a whisper.

And when it comes… may you have the courage to listen.

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