28/01/2026
I have spent the last 16 years “working on myself.”
I’ve practised yoga and meditation.
I’ve been to pe**te ceremonies, kambo, sananga, sweat lodges, sacred sexuality temples, a year long shamanic initiation, a 220 hour yoga teacher training, goddess retreats, and a ten day silent meditation retreat.
And the people I saw at these circles, temples, workshops…
I wanted to be like her. Like him. Like them.
They must be more than I am.
I’ve read the books.
Listened to the podcasts.
Watched the videos.
Analysed my birth chart, my Gene Keys.
Had my palms read. My tarot read.
Took the psychedelics.
Danced the night away.
Travelled solo across the world in search of myself…
and found dysregulation.
Codependency course.
Heal your anxious attachment course.
CBT.
Talking therapies.
Antidepressants.
And most of it didn’t go in.
Because I’ve been pressurising myself to be this version I see “up there.”
Always striving, instead of coming back down to earth to discover who I am right here, right now.
How can I integrate without stopping, stillness, and peace?
How can I grow if I don’t know where I am rooted?
How can I root inside myself if I keep reaching?
The trigger of ending a long term relationship had me trying to change even more.
Putting pressure on myself instead of simply resting and grieving.
Do hear me when I say I am spiritually leaning.
I believe in magic.
I’m connected and open minded.
But I’m finished using it to present a version of myself that isn’t true.
I’m done.
I’m detoxing from self development.
I’m settling my roots down.
I don’t have to be anything else except…
…right here. 🌱