Stepping Back Taught Me More Than Pushing Ever Did

September 22, 2025 · 4 min read

It's been 32 days since I let myself write.

Dearest Reader,

When I started writing here on July 1, 2025, I wasn’t chasing followers or acclaim. I wasn’t here to make friends or build a brand. I came here to alchemize whatever madness that still exists within me into fire, passion, and purpose. I came to throw myself at the mercy of Truth as I know it and to lay my broken heart at your feet, unedited and unprotected, begging to be of value… to be seen.

The words came easily at first because I slit myself open on purpose. I wanted you to know where I came from: the wreckage, the ache, the places that built and broke me. I needed to set a foundation so that anything I write about now… or ten years from now, has context.

But that foundation came at a price: reliving years of my existence I’d spent decades trying to bury. Channeling versions of me I had fought desperately to outrun.

I didn’t do this recklessly. I’ve been training for it. Years of gathering tools, sharpening them, practicing until I knew deep down that when the war breaches the gates to my heart and mind, I am well defended and more powerful than any thought, emotion, or energetic source.

I even asked for it, out loud. “I want to master the self”. Not because I wanted to be brave; it started because I wanted an out. Five, six years ago, I told the Universe I didn’t want to come back here. I didn’t want another round of this human sentence. If I could learn my lessons this time… be a good little prisoner… maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t have to return.

My frequency has been fine-tuned since then.

The reality of bleeding out on the page is that there are energetic repercussions. Without awareness of the ties that bind us, including our past selves, it’s easy to get swallowed back into old pathways. And I did… for a bit.

There was no way I could keep up a daily writing habit. That would never work for me unless I woke up at 4 am every day or lived on a boat or a deserted island, cut off from the world and the responsibilities attached. I am currently in the 5:55 am phase of life, and even waking up that early does not give me enough time to accomplish all that I desire each day.

The guilt came fast and fierce. But instead of collapsing under it, I greeted it: “Hello there. I knew you’d show up. Sit with me while we work this out.”

So I stepped back… not just from writing, but from the constant mental loop of what version of me needs to surface today?

And life kept me busy in the meantime. I got sick for a few weeks. Went camping. Two trips to San Diego. A visit to Fort Worth. Hosted a houseguest. Installed a sun tunnel in the kitchen. Organized the house that’s been under construction for four years. Read The Emotion Code. Started making more tinctures, salves, and storable herbal remedies. Kept to at least two yoga classes each week. Gained five pounds back. Filled my gratitude journal almost daily. Meditated every morning. Talked with dear friends. Laughed with my children. Appreciated my partner. Sent blessings to my parents. And stayed off my dissociating vice of choice: TikTok. (The others are already deleted.)

This was my training put into action: digital detoxes, disconnects, days of silence. So when the storm inside came, I didn’t run. I stayed. I embraced it. I showed the storm who I was.

At one point, the winds brought me through the doors of an intensive outpatient mental health program. And because I believe what is meant for me will always find me, I went. Turns out, not because I needed saving this time, but because the Universe wanted to prove I didn’t need to stay the student. It validated everything I was already doing.

The message was clear: move forward. Fearlessly.

So I am. I looked at my schedule and made a commitment to the projects I see a future with.

This is one of them.

But I am no longer writing here daily. That was my initiation. Now comes my devotion.

These are my terms. (I reserve the right to change my terms at any point in time.)

Right now, I can devote 4–6 hours one day a week to writing. That means one post like this per week. I’ll post Notes daily because I love the friendships building here. But I’m still laying down new energetic pathways, so I limit my time on every app… including this one. Notifications are off.

I had to take a step back to decide how I wanted to move forward.

We all hear, two steps forward, one step back. What no one explains is why.

When a new truth lands, a life change, an epiphany, a lesson that rearranges your whole map - you don’t charge ahead. You step back. You acknowledge the moment. You let it settle into your bones. Only then do you step forward again, steady in your new neutral. And when you’re ready, you take another small step into the unknown. The Universe will hand you chances to use the tools you’ve gathered. You’ll succeed. You’ll stumble. You’ll step back. And then you’ll step forward again, stronger.

This is the rhythm of growth.

I was taking my second step forward when I began to write on July 1.

I took a step back a month ago to adjust.

This post is my first step forward. And I will adjust to my new neutral.

The next one is already waiting, but the timing is not relevant.

For now, I’m letting myself rest in the beauty of this moment… proof that I didn’t stay buried, proof that I still choose life, proof that I can keep walking, even when the storm shifts the earth beneath my feet.