I’ve spent the past year trying to figure out what I want—love, commitment, freedom, or something in between. But after months of uncertainty and one early morning epiphany, I finally see it: maybe what I’ve been craving isn’t romance at all. Maybe it’s something even deeper.

By the time I was getting divorced, I no longer recognized the man I was leaving—nor did I know who the woman in the mirror was. I had no idea where I was going, but I knew I couldn't stay trapped in a life that had drained me of my sparkle and shine.

I never saw it coming. One minute, I was laughing at his voice note, feeling that familiar warmth, and the next—my stomach dropped. "We are not on the same side." Just like that, the connection I had trusted for over a year shattered. Now, I’m left questioning everything.

Commitment has long been defined as permanence—a lifelong promise, an unbreakable vow. But what if true commitment isn’t about forever? What if it’s about showing up, fully and honestly, for as long as the connection serves both people?

Some days, I wake up and feel fine. Other days, I can barely move. The weight of the world feels unbearable, and I wonder if it will ever change.

Overwhelmed by perfectionism and the weight of awareness, I turned to the universe for clarity. This channeled message reminds me to protect my energy, trust my role in the unfolding change, and hold onto hope even when the world feels heavy.

Direct communication isn’t mean or confrontational—it’s clarity, honesty, and respect rolled into one. In this story, I share a vulnerable conversation that redefined my relationship, proving that speaking your truth is always worth it.

A quick getaway to Myrtle Beach turned into a revelation about intimacy, communication, and self-awareness. Discover how a simple question unveiled a 20-year struggle and became a game-changer in initiating connection.

What do I actually want in a relationship? That question sat with me longer than I expected. After years of navigating expectations, mixed signals, and societal norms, I realized I wasn’t looking for a fairy tale—I was looking for clarity, depth, and authenticity. Here’s what that means for me.

I can always feel when my world is off balance—when I skip the simple things that ground me and calm my anxiety. Why does taking care of yourself sometimes feel so hard?

Today, my thoughts are racing in every direction—ideas, plans, and creative sparks, all moving too fast to catch. Maybe it’s just going to be a Netflix kind of day.