May 31st, 2025

A late night journaling session.

I’m sitting here with tarot cards splashed across the table, crystals and candle lights. But also with a ~ heavy ~ heart. I promised myself that I would stay this time. When I felt like hiding myself away, when that feeling of doubt crept in on me, I would not vanish from the face of the earth (like I usually do). I promised myself that I would be transparent. That I would let you in. That I would let you witness me. Becoming who I am. Even when I’m fumbling, and don’t know what the f*ck I’m doing. So this is me showing up & trying. Living up to the promise I made to myself. I will not abandon myself this time. I’m done hiding.

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May 31st, 2025

I’m struggling a bit tonight.
I don’t know if it’s old monsters resurfacing or just the weight of showing up more and more on social media.
The more I try to share all sides of myself—the joyful, sensitive one who loves a good laugh, the inner child who wants to swing, act, dance and sing (even if she’s not good at it, she shines when she does it anyway)—
…the more I feel the walls shaking inside me.

There’s also the rebel who’s always been there.
The one who challenges every rule, every authority, every norm.
The one who won’t be told what to do.
The one who protects the inner child.
My inner nerd/weirdo.
The girl who’s obsessed with fantasy worlds, video games, crystals and books, who thinks Egypt’s history and the cosmos are wildly fascinating.
Who loves Greek mythology. Who wants to learn everything, even if she doesn’t know why.

And then… there’s the adult version of me.
The one who grew up too fast because of trauma.
Empathetic. Caring. A good listener.
But also the one who built walls around everything that felt too raw, too weird, too much.

Every time I tear down a piece of those walls and show who I really am, it feels like my heart is turning itself inside out.
Like my soul is screaming:
“Stop!! What if the world doesn’t love us?”

Doubt crashes in.
Insecurity. The urge to disappear through the floorboards.
To hide behind pretty art that makes me likable.
But you know what?

I call bullshit.

I need to show up as me.
All of me.

Not because I want you to like me or understand me. But because I want to be known by me. And I can’t figure out who I am if I keep hiding.