Mend My Broken Heart With Hypnosis

09/20/2025

08/25/2025

08/21/2025

Grief’s paradox: The cruelest truth in grief is also the most liberating: the hole in your heart isn’t meant to be filled. Healing begins the moment we stop trying to patch it, fill it, or fix it. Instead, we learn to live, love, and grow around it. Easier said than done for us. The grief illiterate world often thinks we could just fill it in and move on. Thoughts?

07/28/2025

07/21/2025

07/12/2025

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DL-izC-yZm6/?igsh=ZHhpenhvdzk2dzBi

07/07/2025

https://www.facebook.com/share/r/1Fk9yQrNwM/?mibextid=wwXIfr

06/29/2025

06/21/2025

For a long time now, I’ve stopped needing someone beside me to feel complete. I no longer crave messages that never arrive, or feel the need to explain where I’m going, what I’m doing, or who I am. I’ve learned to enjoy slow mornings alone, the kind where I sip my coffee in silence, talk to no one, and still feel fulfilled. I’ve made peace with my solitude — it’s not a punishment anymore, it’s a place where I rediscovered myself. I focused inward, stopped chasing what was never mine, and let love — if it still exists for me — find its own way somewhere else.

Maybe I’ve gotten too used to this quiet comfort, or maybe that last attempt at love left wounds too deep to ignore. It hurt — not just in the moment, but in all the moments that followed, when I realized I was trying harder to be loved than to be understood. I’ve met new people since then, sure. But no one has felt like home. My heart insists it’s ready, yet my soul hesitates. It’s not reluctance… it’s fear — fear of losing myself again trying to make someone else stay.

And in the meantime, I’ve fallen in love with the life I’ve built on my own. I cherish the little things — spontaneous late-night drives with friends, warm conversations with my family, writing words that heal me, listening to songs that feel like memories, chasing golden hour just to feel something real. I love that I don’t have to post a thing to feel seen, that my joy exists quietly, deeply, and fully. I love the peace I’ve created, and I intend to keep it sacred.

It’s been a while since I’ve cared to have someone — but if one day, someone truly worthy comes along, and I decide to try again, I just hope it’s someone who doesn’t come to fix me, complete me, or rescue me… but to add to my life, to love without conditions, and to know how to stay. Gently. Steadily. And without making me lose myself in the process.

Until then, I’ll be right here — whole, healing, and deeply rooted in my own light.