Category: Thought Box

You’re Not Setting Boundaries, You’re Just Making Rules

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You’ve heard it a thousand times. “I’m setting a boundary.” It sounds healthy. Empowered. Self-aware.

But here’s what most people miss.

Half the time, what you’re calling a boundary is actually a rule you want someone else to follow.

And the difference matters more than you think.

The Language Pattern That Gives It Away

Real boundaries and disguised rules sound completely different once you know what to listen for.

A boundary is self-referenced.
A rule is other-referenced.

That’s the core distinction.

When you’re truly setting a boundary, your language centers on your behavior, your limits, and your consequences. When you’re disguising control as a boundary, your language shifts responsibility onto the other person.

What a Real Boundary Sounds Like

A genuine boundary follows this structure: “If X happens, I will do Y.”

Examples:

“If I’m spoken to disrespectfully, I’ll end the conversation.”
“If plans are changed last minute, I won’t be able to attend.”
“I’m not available for conversations where I’m being yelled at.”

Notice what’s missing: no instructions, no policing, no demand that you change, no threat disguised as morality.

They’re simply stating what they will do to protect themselves.

What a Disguised Rule Sounds Like

A control-based “boundary” follows this structure: “You need to / You can’t / You have to, or else…”

Examples:

“My boundary is that you can’t talk to other people about this.”
“I’m setting a boundary that you need to respond faster.”
“My boundary is that you stop doing that.”
“If you cared about my boundary, you wouldn’t…”

This is not a boundary. It’s a behavioral mandate.

The giveaway is that their emotional regulation depends on your compliance.

The Mic-Drop Test

Here’s the cleanest way to spot it instantly.

Ask yourself: “If I don’t comply, are they describing what they will do, or punishing me for not obeying?”

If they adjust their behavior, it’s a boundary.
If they escalate, shame, withdraw, or threaten, it’s control.

Boundaries don’t require enforcement. Rules do.

What They’re Actually Protecting When They Enforce

When someone “enforces” a so-called boundary through escalation, shaming, or punishment, they’re not protecting themselves.

They’re protecting an internal structure.

Their Identity Narrative

They’re protecting the story they need to believe about themselves: I’m reasonable. I’m the victim. I’m the emotionally evolved one.

If you don’t comply, that identity cracks.

Enforcement becomes an attempt to stabilize the story, not the nervous system.

Their Sense of Control Over Emotional Safety

They don’t experience safety as something they generate internally.

Safety, to them, is predictability from others. Compliance. External regulation.

When you don’t comply, their system reads it as danger. Punishment becomes a way to re-establish control.

It’s not protection. It’s containment of their anxiety.

Avoidance of Internal Work

A real boundary requires tolerating discomfort, letting go of outcomes, accepting that others have autonomy.

That’s hard.

Rules avoid that work entirely. If they can make you responsible for their comfort, they never have to sit with insecurity, jealousy, fear of abandonment, or powerlessness.

Enforcement is avoidance with a moral label.

Their Role in the Dynamic

They’re protecting the role you play for them: the regulator, the validator, the mirror that confirms their worth, the stabilizer of their emotions.

If you step out of that role, enforcement pulls you back in.

The punishment isn’t about the behavior. It’s about restoring the function you serve.

Self-protection creates space. Control collapses space.

The Codependency Mirror You Don’t Want to See

Here’s the uncomfortable truth.

Someone who survives narcissistic abuse doesn’t automatically heal the function they were trained to perform. They often just change the language around it.

The behavior looks different. The vocabulary sounds healthier. But the role is the same.

Survival Skills Get Rebranded, Not Released

In narcissistic dynamics, you learn early and deeply: My safety depends on managing someone else’s emotional state.

That creates a role: regulator, stabilizer, emotional translator, peacekeeper.

When you leave the abusive dynamic, that role doesn’t disappear. It goes underground.

Instead of appeasing, people-pleasing, walking on eggshells, it morphs into “healthy communication,” “boundaries,” “emotional standards,” “trauma-informed language.”

Same nervous system job. New dictionary.

Why the Role Gets Recreated

Control felt like safety back then.

If you could anticipate moods, soothe reactions, prevent explosions, manage outcomes, you stayed safer.

Your nervous system learned: Regulation equals control.

So later, when someone doesn’t behave predictably, your body doesn’t think “This is uncomfortable.” It thinks “This is dangerous.”

The old skillset activates automatically.

Healing without detaching the role.

Many survivors do cognitive healing first: therapy language, insight, awareness, concepts. But the somatic attachment wiring is still intact.

So instead of saying “I need you to calm down or else,” it becomes “I’m setting a boundary around this energy.”

The behavior hasn’t changed. Only the justification has.

Identity whiplash.

After narcissistic abuse, there’s often a swing from silenced, minimized, controlled to hyper-sovereign, hyper-defensive, hyper-protective.

Boundaries stop being self-containment and start becoming territorial control.

Why? Because power feels like safety after powerlessness.

The Brutally Honest Truth

Most people who leave narcissistic abuse are not healed of relational control.

They’re healed of being controlled.

Those are not the same thing.

Without deep integration work, you can unconsciously become emotionally rigid, outcome-attached, regulation-dependent, intolerant of autonomy.

Just like the dynamic you escaped. Different flavor. Same mechanism.

Healing happens when you can say: “I can be dysregulated and still let you be autonomous.”

What the Shift Actually Looks Like

This is where theory either becomes lived or stays cosmetic.

Someone you care about does something that triggers you. They don’t respond how you hoped. They set a limit. They disagree.

Your body reacts first. Chest tightens. Heat in the face. A surge of urgency.

This isn’t okay. I need to fix this.

Old reflex: reach out, correct, clarify, explain, enforce, reframe it as a boundary.

The Fork in the Road

There is a 2–5 second window right here. Not long. But it exists.

The question is not “What should I say?”

It’s: “Am I trying to regulate myself or regulate them?”

That question alone interrupts the loop.

Step 1: Name the Truth Internally

Not “I’m setting a boundary.”

But: “I am dysregulated right now and I want relief.”

That honesty matters. No self-shaming. No spiritual bypass. Just truth.

Step 2: Allow the Sensation Without Action

This is the hardest part.

Instead of sending the message, enforcing the boundary, withdrawing to punish, explaining yourself into safety—you pause.

You let the sensation exist without resolution.

You might say internally: “This feels unbearable, but it is not dangerous.”

Your nervous system hates this. That’s the point.

Step 3: Separate Discomfort from Threat

Here’s the reframe that changes everything:

“I feel unsafe because I’m attached to an outcome, not because something bad is happening.”

That sentence dissolves entitlement to compliance.

You stop telling yourself “They’re being unfair” or “They’re violating me” and start telling the truth: “I don’t like this, and I don’t get to control it.”

Step 4: Choose Containment Over Control

Instead of doing something to them, you do something for yourself.

You put the phone down. You step outside. You breathe slower than your urge. You move your body. You sit with the urge without discharging it.

This is not repression. This is capacity building.

You’re teaching your system: “I can survive not being soothed.”

Step 5: Let the Outcome Be Uncertain

This is where the old self would enforce.

The healed self says: “I don’t know how this will turn out. And I’m staying present anyway.”

No chasing. No punishing. No moralizing. Just tolerance.

Healing is not calm. Healing is staying when you want to control.

What Makes the Pause Possible

The pause is not a personality trait. It’s a capacity.

Most people don’t lack insight. They lack nervous system bandwidth.

Their Nervous System Has Learned That Discomfort Is Survivable

For people who can pause, their body has already learned this truth: “Nothing terrible happens if I don’t act immediately.”

That learning didn’t come from insight. It came from repeated, embodied experiences of staying in discomfort and surviving it.

Without that history, your system fires: Act now or die.

They’ve Lost Faith in Urgency

People who can pause no longer believe urgency equals truth, intensity equals importance, or discomfort equals danger.

They’ve been wrong too many times.

Their system has learned: “Every time I rush to fix this, I make it worse.”

They Don’t Need the Other Person to Regulate Them Anymore

People who can’t pause still depend on reassurance, agreement, responsiveness, compliance to settle their system.

People who can pause have internalized regulation enough that relief does not require someone else changing.

That removes the chase reflex.

They Can Feel Shame Without Collapsing

The pause often opens with shame: I’m wanting to control right now. This isn’t about them. I’m attached to an outcome.

People who can’t tolerate shame discharge it outward through blame, righteousness, moral language, enforcement.

People who can tolerate shame can stay still long enough to choose.

The pause lives on the far side of shame tolerance.

Where to Actually Start

If you realize you’ve been making rules and calling them boundaries, here’s the first structural change.

You stop using other people as your primary regulation strategy.

Not emotionally. Not morally. Not relationally. Practically.

End Outcome-Leverage

When people turn rules into “boundaries,” they’re attaching their sense of safety to a specific outcome: you responding a certain way, you agreeing, you staying emotionally close.

The rule exists to force the outcome.

The first structural change is to remove outcome leverage entirely.

Old architecture: “I’m not okay unless this goes the way I need.”

New architecture: “I am responsible for staying regulated regardless of the outcome.”

Stop Announcing Boundaries Mid-Activation

Most rule-based “boundaries” are declared while dysregulated.

That trains your system to believe: “I only feel safe if I externalize control.”

So structurally, you stop doing this. Instead, you take space without explanation. You delay communication. You do not define, clarify, or correct in the moment.

This feels unbearable at first. That’s withdrawal from enforcement.

Build a Personal Regulation Protocol

People who don’t enforce boundaries have ritualized self-regulation. Not affirmations. Not insight. Physical, repeatable actions.

For example:

Walk before responding
Cold water on wrists or face
Breath pacing longer than the urge
Movement until sensation shifts
Writing without sending

This becomes the new containment structure. The rule was doing this job before.

Replace “You Can’t” With “I Will”

Not just in language. In behavior.

Old structure: “You can’t talk to me like that.”

New structure: “If this continues, I will step away.”

And then you actually do. No explanation. No punishment. No moral charge.

This retrains your nervous system to trust self-execution, not compliance.

Allow the Relationship to React Without You Managing It

When you stop enforcing, some people escalate. Some withdraw. Some reveal dependence. Some stabilize.

You do nothing to correct their reaction.

Why? Because internal architecture requires this belief to land somatically: “I do not need to manage other people’s responses to be safe.”

“I don’t need this to go my way to stay with myself.”

What Happens to Relationships

When you stop enforcing and start removing yourself, relationships don’t fail randomly. They sort.

What Breaks

Relationships built on regulation roles.

These are relationships where you were unconsciously assigned a job: emotional stabilizer, conflict diffuser, meaning translator, reassurer.

When you stop enforcing and simply remove yourself, the other person feels uncontained. Their response often looks like escalation, moralizing, panic, rage.

What’s breaking here is not intimacy. It’s dependence.

Bonds sustained by fear of rupture.

Some relationships only felt close because someone was always preventing collapse. When you stop doing that, silence stretches, awkwardness appears, distance grows. And no one repairs it.

Not because repair is impossible, but because repair was never mutual.

Dynamics where compliance was confused for love.

If your “yes” was how safety was maintained, your neutral absence will feel like rejection. These connections often end with accusations of coldness, rewriting of your intentions, character attacks.

That’s not about you leaving. It’s about the system losing control.

What Survives

Relationships with internal regulation on both sides.

In healthy relationships, when you remove yourself instead of enforcing, the other person pauses too. They self-reflect. They don’t chase, punish, or escalate. They respect the space without resentment.

There may be discomfort, but not chaos. These relationships often deepen after the shift.

Bonds that can tolerate uncertainty.

Some relationships survive because they were never built on predictability. They were built on choice, goodwill, curiosity, flexibility.

When enforcement stops, these people don’t interpret it as abandonment. They interpret it as: “They’re taking care of themselves.”

How You Tell the Difference

When you stop enforcing and start removing yourself, watch what fills the space.

If the space fills with curiosity, self-reflection, respect, patience: The relationship is viable.

If the space fills with blame, panic, punishment, narrative control, character attacks: The relationship was dependent, not relational.

No amount of enforcement would have made it healthy.

The Lonely Middle Phase

You will feel lonelier at first, even in healthier relationships.

Why? Because predictability creates a false sense of closeness. Autonomy creates real distance. That distance is what allows choice to return.

But here’s the question: How do you know you’re building architecture and not just becoming avoidant or emotionally detached?

The Core Distinction

Avoidance uses distance to escape feeling.
Architecture uses distance to stay with feeling without outsourcing it.

Same behavior. Opposite function.

The diagnostic isn’t “Am I stepping back?” It’s “What am I doing with myself while I’m back here?”

What Avoidance Feels Like Internally

Avoidance feels like relief first. There’s a shutting down. A flattening. A sense of “I don’t care anymore.”

Common markers:

Emotional numbness or fog
Justification narratives: “I don’t need anyone”
A subtle superiority or detachment stance
Rapid replacement behaviors: distractions, new attachments, busyness
No grief, just dismissal

Avoidance distances from vulnerability. It creates safety by shrinking contact with feeling itself.

What Architecture-Building Feels Like Internally

Architecture feels worse before it feels better. There is no numbness. There is exposure.

Common markers:

Loneliness that’s sharp, not hollow
Grief without a clear target
The urge to reach out, explain, fix, enforce
Anxiety without immediate discharge
A constant pull to abandon the process

You are not detached. You are present without relief.

Architecture distances from control, not from connection. That’s why it hurts.

The Most Reliable Test

Ask yourself honestly:

“Am I unavailable to avoid discomfort, or am I available to my discomfort without making it someone else’s job?”

Avoidant distance says: “I don’t want to feel this.”

Architectural distance says: “I am feeling this, and I’m staying.”

One collapses feeling. The other metabolizes it.

What Happens to Desire Is the Tell

In avoidance: Desire goes offline. People become interchangeable. Connection feels optional or burdensome.

In architecture: Desire remains, but you don’t chase it. You miss people without pursuing them. You feel longing without turning it into action.

Avoidance kills longing. Architecture contains it.

The Relationship Signal

If someone reached out respectfully tomorrow, would your system tense and want to disappear, or feel activated but open?

Avoidance forecloses possibility. Architecture leaves the door unlocked without standing in the doorway.

If distance makes you smaller, it’s avoidance. If distance makes you sturdier, it’s architecture.

The Final Truth

A boundary says: “This is what I will do to care for myself.”

A rule says: “This is what you must do so I don’t have to.”

Once you hear that shift, you can’t unhear it.

Enforcement preserves relationships by force. Removal preserves self-respect.

The relationships that survive self-respect were always real. The ones that don’t were only stable because someone kept holding the structure up.

Letting them fall is not abandonment. It’s gravity doing its job.

The lonely middle is not where you disappear. It’s where your internal load-bearing walls get built.

And yes, it’s supposed to feel quiet, exposed, and unspectacular.

That’s how you know it’s real.

You’re Not Attracting Unavailable People: You Are One

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;When someone tells me they’re ready for a real relationship but their dating history reads like a catalog of emotionally unavailable partners, they’re not describing readiness.

They’re describing a familiar nervous system.

What they’re unknowingly revealing: They equate intensity with connection. They’re more practiced at chasing than choosing. They feel chemistry most strongly where safety is absent.

This isn’t a character flaw. It’s conditioning.

Readiness Is a Behavioral Pattern, Not a Declaration

If you were truly ready for a healthy relationship, your dating history would include people who were available, consistent, and capable of repair, even if those relationships didn’t work out.

Instead, what I usually see is someone who says they want intimacy but keeps selecting partners who make intimacy impossible.

That’s not bad luck. That’s alignment with an unhealed attachment wound.

What you’re really saying: “I want connection, but my nervous system only recognizes love when it feels like uncertainty, distance, or emotional work.”

You pursue emotionally unavailable partners not because you want chaos, but because calm feels foreign. Safety doesn’t register as chemistry yet.

What Happens When You Sit Across From Someone Available

When your nervous system is calibrated to uncertainty and you sit across from a genuinely available person, nothing is wrong with them.

What’s happening is an internal mismatch.

First, your body doesn’t activate. There’s no spike. No charge. No adrenaline. No hyperfocus. The nervous system that learned love through inconsistency expects tension as proof of importance. Availability doesn’t create tension, so your body reads it as neutral. Neutral gets mislabeled as boredom.

Second, your mind goes searching for a problem. Because your body isn’t lit up, your brain fills in the gap. Thoughts start surfacing like “I don’t feel a spark” or “Something’s missing” or “They’re nice, but…” or “They’re great on paper, but I’m not excited.”

That’s not intuition. That’s withdrawal from a stimulus your nervous system is addicted to.

Third, there’s a subtle sense of exposure. With an emotionally available person, there’s nowhere to perform, chase, prove, or earn. No emotional puzzle to solve. No distance to close. When someone sees you clearly and is still present, your nervous system doesn’t feel rewarded. It feels unmasked.

Fourth, your body interprets safety as loss of control. In chaotic dynamics, control comes from hypervigilance. You’re scanning, adjusting, earning. With availability, that role disappears. Your nervous system mistakes the absence of vigilance for danger.

So instead of leaning in, you disengage. You intellectualize. You stall. You friend-zone. You say “I just don’t feel it.”

What you’re actually feeling is detox.

The Addiction Loop You’re Stuck In

You’re experiencing the absence of cortisol and dopamine loops you’ve associated with love. Your system hasn’t learned yet how to register oxytocin as attraction.

Here’s the part that matters most. If you leave that situation, you’ll likely feel a sudden rush of longing later. Not because the person was wrong, but because distance reactivates the familiar signal. The moment safety is gone, desire returns.

That’s the addiction loop.

This is why you swear you “lost feelings” for healthy partners and then feel obsessed with unavailable ones. You didn’t lose feelings. You lost stimulation.

Until you retrain your nervous system, availability will feel underwhelming and unavailability will feel magnetic. Not because that’s love, but because that’s what your body learned to survive.

That’s the difference between chemistry and conditioning.

The Structural Rewiring Process

Awareness is diagnostic, not corrective. You keep mistaking insight for intervention. The pattern doesn’t break because it’s not a belief problem. It’s a conditioning problem.

Conditioning only changes through structure, not willpower.

The dopamine-cortisol loop has to be interrupted long enough for withdrawal to complete. Unavailability creates a biochemical cocktail. Dopamine from anticipation, cortisol from uncertainty, intermittent reinforcement from inconsistent reward. The loop doesn’t dissolve because you understand it. It dissolves when you stop feeding it.

Structurally, this means prolonged disengagement from activating dynamics. Not dating better people on the side. Not keeping emotionally unavailable exes in orbit. Not rehashing old connections for emotional hits.

Your nervous system needs sustained absence of the stimulus to downregulate its baseline.

Until withdrawal completes, availability will always feel flat because your system is still calibrated to a higher intensity threshold.

Your body has to learn safety through repetition, not logic. Safety doesn’t register as pleasure at first. It registers as neutrality. Sometimes even discomfort. The work isn’t to “feel chemistry.” You need to stay present long enough for your body to update its map.

That means tolerating the urge to self-sabotage when nothing is wrong. Sitting through dates that don’t spike adrenaline. Letting consistency feel boring without labeling it wrong.

Repeated exposure to non-activating connection teaches your nervous system that calm does not equal danger or loss.

The Grief Nobody Talks About

You have to grieve intensity as identity.

For many people, intensity wasn’t stimulation alone. It was identity. “I’m passionate.” “I feel deeply.” “I love hard.”

What you’re grieving is the loss of a role where suffering equaled meaning. When availability enters, the identity collapses. There’s no dramatic arc. No emotional heroism. No highs and lows to narrate.

Until you grieve the loss of that identity, you’ll keep reaching for dynamics that let you feel alive through struggle. Availability will feel flat because it doesn’t confirm who you think you are.

This grief isn’t sentimental. It’s existential.

When the Calm Arrives and You Want to Sabotage It

When the urgency softens around day four or five of no contact, you don’t feel triumphant. You feel emptied out. The adrenaline is gone. The obsession quiets. The charge drops.

Instead of interpreting this as regulation, you interpret it as loss of self.

The most common justification: “I guess this means I never cared.”

That thought is lethal.

What you’re experiencing is the absence of dysregulation, but your mind translates the absence as emotional death. If intensity has been your proof of attachment, calm feels like indifference. You panic and try to resurrect feeling, not connection.

The second justification is more seductive. “I’m in a healthier place now. I handle it differently.”

This is the relapse fantasy.

You mistake nervous system regulation for resilience. You assume that because the urge has softened, you’re now strong enough to re-enter the dynamic without getting hooked. You don’t realize the stimulus hasn’t changed, only your distance from it.

You test yourself. One text. One check-in. Closure.

The moment you re-engage, the loop snaps back online. Dopamine floods. Cortisol spikes. Your body lights up. You say, “See? There it is. That’s how I know it’s real.”

What you don’t see: you reintroduced the drug and mistook the hit for love.

How to Tell the Difference Between Rewiring and Forcing It

Someone reaches that point where they finally feel present instead of pursuing. Then a genuinely available person shows up.

You can force availability just as hard as you once chased distance.

I don’t tell people, “If it’s calm, it’s right.” That’s lazy and dangerous. I teach them how to tell the difference in the body over time, not in a single date or feeling state.

Calm versus collapse: When your body isn’t used to availability, you feel neutral but present. You’re curious. You can stay in the interaction without checking out. Your breath is steady. You might think, “I don’t feel swept away, but I feel like myself.”

When someone is wrong for you, your body doesn’t just feel calm. It feels collapsed. There’s a subtle constriction. You’re polite but not engaged. Time drags. You feel smaller, dulled, or slightly irritated.

Ask yourself this. “Do I feel more like myself with them, or less?” Not more excited. More yourself.

Curiosity grows or curiosity dies: With a healthy, available person during rewiring, attraction is often delayed but expanding. You find yourself wanting to know them more. You replay moments not with obsession, but with warmth.

With someone you’re forcing, curiosity flatlines. There’s no internal movement. You’re not wondering about them. You’re evaluating them.

Healthy attraction grows. Forced attraction stagnates.

Your nervous system response after contact: After spending time with a genuinely healthy match during rewiring, you feel regulated afterward. Not euphoric, but settled. There’s no crash. No rumination. No self-critique.

After time with someone who’s wrong, even if they’re available, there’s often low-grade agitation or depletion. A sense of effort. Subtle resentment.

Stop asking, “How did I feel with them?” Start asking, “How did I feel after?”

Your body tells the truth there.

The Truth You Don’t Want to Hear

You don’t become ready for a healthy relationship by wanting one badly enough.

You become ready when you can tolerate consistency without trying to earn it. When you stop mistaking potential for partnership. When you can walk away from someone who activates you instead of choosing them because they do.

Until then, “I’m ready” is often just another way of saying, “I’m tired of being hurt, but I haven’t changed the pattern that keeps hurting me.”

The shift isn’t “I choose availability no matter what.”

The shift is “I trust my body again, now that it’s no longer addicted to chaos.”

That’s when going back stops feeling tempting and starts feeling expensive.

The Darker Side of Things: Hellooooo Shaaddowww

Shadow Work! It’s tough but absolutely necessary in order to grow and heal along this do I say it?

::coughjourneycough::

Those cliché terms we hear over and over can feel like nails on a chalkboard. Sometimes “journey” doesn’t match the chaos we crawled through. Sometimes it doesn’t fit the version of ourselves who’s just trying to survive the day without breaking down. I get it. Truly.

Whether we like the language or not, the truth stays the truth: none of us walked away from our past with a clean slate. As much as we want to point to the narcissist, the ex, the parent, the betrayal… there are parts of ourselves that played a role too.

Not because we’re “to blame,” but because healing demands honesty, not denial.

Shadow work asks you to face those parts of yourself that you’d rather avoid the wounds, the patterns, the choices you made while operating from fear, abandonment, anger, or deep emotional hunger. It’s not glamorous. It’s not Instagram-cute. It’s definitely not for someone who’s just entering the early stages of healing when the nervous system is still in survival mode.

If you’re new to this process, understand: you are not behind.

You are not failing. You’re simply not at the chapter where shadow work lives yet and that’s okay. You’ll know when you’re ready because the need to understand yourself (not the other person) will hit you with a force you can’t ignore.

Trust me.

Trust yourself.

As for me, I’ve spent years facilitating support groups;several rooms on an app, holding space for people navigating trauma, codependency, narcissistic abuse, and attachment wounds.

These rooms have shown me one thing consistently: healing in isolation is slow, lonely, and often incomplete. Healing in community? That changes the entire trajectory of a person’s life.

That’s why I’m expanding. I’m building something bigger, something more intentional, something that gives people a safe place to land without judgment, without confusion, without watered-down advice.

Community is essential when you’re changing your life. It’s where you learn you’re not crazy. It’s where you l discover patterns you didn’t see alone. It’s where you reclaim your power one honest conversation at a time.

Healing is not only about moving on from what hurt you. It’s about meeting the version of yourself who let things slide, overlooked red flags, silenced your intuition, or stayed longer than you should have not to shame yourself, but to finally understand why.

Shadow work is not the enemy. Avoidance is.

When you’re ready to turn the lights on and face what’s been hiding inside, you’ll realize something profound: your power never left you. It’s been buried under unprocessed truth.

This is the work that brings it back.

And I’m building a space for people who are ready to do it with honesty, accountability, compassion, and community.

Stay tuned. Something powerful is coming.

Radical Confidence

Healing Through Self-Discovery and Progress

Progress not perfection is something I don’t believe we remind ourselves of. We can easily look at a person and admire them, witness their strengths and weaknesses, and feel we can’t ever be like them.
I want to remind you, that’s not true! Your story is someone else’s survival guide.

The voice in our head can be the worst inner critic. We feel stuck, we feel unworthy and not good enough. We feel these things but have we ever stopped and asked ourselves why?

Where did this come from? We can say it’s from us, but it’s not. It’s a sign we’ve been conditioned through the opinions of others and it’s a lie. A limiting belief. Basically, our mind creates these beliefs, and they can be lies that we tell ourselves. From this belief comes all the negative self-talk thoughts and these thoughts still up emotions. We feel sadness, we’re unmotivated, and the action from this is NOTHING. We do nothing because our emotions are the catalyst to our actions.

What is we turned that voice in our head into our best friend? Wouldn’t that voice pump us up, make us feel seen and heard and give us the validation that we are wanting? Now, with that, what happens next? We start moving and shaking and we go out and dominate because we’re feeling good. We feel powerful and we can accomplish anything.

Life happens and sometimes we get the short end of the stick but what if we started to think that there are no mistakes and only lessons. We learn from that, we now know to not allow that to happen again and what happens if it does. Do we shame ourselves? No, we come up with another way to go about things because as long as we come up with different systems, we will have different outcomes. It’s only when we keep doing the same thing and expecting a different outcome is when insanity takes place.
We can create crazy making situations, that doesn’t mean we’re crazy.

We can create crazy-making situations, but that doesn’t mean we’re crazy. It means we’re human—responding to familiar patterns with familiar reactions. But healing invites us to pause, reflect, and choose again.

The beauty of progress—not perfection—is that it honors your human-ness. It says, “I don’t have to get it right every time. I just have to get back up, learn, and take the next aligned step.” Perfection is a prison. Progress? That’s freedom. That’s breath. That’s forward motion.

And you deserve to move forward.

We often talk about self-sabotage as if it’s something broken in us. But what if it’s actually a brilliant—though outdated—protection strategy? Your fear of failure may actually be your inner child afraid of rejection. Your procrastination might be a trauma response disguised as laziness. Your overachieving might be your nervous system trying to earn love. These aren’t flaws. These are flags—asking for compassion, not condemnation.

So today, remind yourself: the goal isn’t to be flawless. The goal is to be real. To be accountable. To be curious about the parts of you that act out not because they want to ruin your life—but because they don’t know another way to be safe.

That’s where the work comes in. That’s where healing happens.

And when you heal, you don’t just set yourself free—you give others permission to do the same. You lead by example. You become the evidence that it’s possible to rise without pretending you never fell.

That’s what I teach. That’s what I live. And that’s what I invite you into.

If this resonated with you, you’re not alone. Join us in Anchored Connections, my safe and supportive WhatsApp community, or show up to our weekly Shadow Work Zoom Room, where we unpack, unlearn, and rebuild—together. Because you don’t have to do it alone, and you were never meant to.

Remember: the version of you that you’re becoming doesn’t need to be perfect.

She just needs you to keep going.

✨ Progress, not perfection. That’s the real glow-up.

—
💻 www.healingmyfeelings.com
📬 Info@healingmyfeelings.com
🧠 Blog: www.stullerAM.blog

Your story matters. Keep writing it. 🖤

Rain Check

That’s how I would describe my life. Rain Check

I sometimes feel I received less than I deserved but more than I had asked for. It’s a struggle.
I don’t know how others view themselves, but I like me. I love ME, to be honest, but it just takes one person to change the way you view yourself. To make you feel yourself worth is less than nothing. Why do we allow others to determine our worth? Is it truly lack boundaries? It is low self-esteem or co-dependency. I think it’s none of the above.

Deep down inside, I had this vision of what I expected my life to be like and it really did come out to a certain extent, but what I do remember when I was growing up, is the fact I never imagined a family or marriage. Honestly, I would not even play ‘House’ and have a fake wedding. It scared me. How? Why? I was never around a failed marriage. I never knew my parents together so how would I have known that it wasn’t right for us to not all be together? Yet, here I am, wanting someone to be in my life, I want someone to be there for me and those who have that, more than likely want to be alone.

Humans are a fickle breed.

Secrets Sway Sentiment

There was a time when I wrote freely from the heart—openly, vulnerably, and without fear. I didn’t second-guess myself or worry about how my words would be received. That was back when I felt safe.

But everything changed in February 2022.

That month marked a turning point. I began to realize that my words—my truth—could and would be used against me. That my thoughts would be twisted, and my feelings minimized. I wasn’t being heard; I was being watched, dissected, and ultimately gaslit. The more I tried to express myself, the more I felt erased.

When you’re in a toxic relationship—and I use the word toxic intentionally, even though narcissist has become the trend—it’s not just the relationship that becomes unhealthy. It’s your entire sense of self. You begin to question your instincts, silence your voice, and suppress your emotions, all in the name of keeping the peace.

Toxic people have a way of exploiting vulnerability. They take your openness as weakness and use your emotions as ammunition. When you confide in them, it doesn’t lead to understanding—it leads to control, dismissal, and manipulation. Eventually, you stop sharing altogether. Not because you don’t feel, but because feeling out loud becomes dangerous.

It’s heartbreaking, really.

If only the person who shattered my heart had received the memo: emotions are valid. Respect is not optional. I’ve never wanted to see anyone suffer—not even him. But sometimes I wish he could feel, just for a day, the depth of pain I carried. The weight of it could level cities.

Ironically, he did change. He moved on, grew into a better version of himself, and built a new life. And you know what? I’m genuinely happy for him. Everyone deserves a chance at happiness.

But here’s the paradox—I’m still unraveling.

I was the breadwinner. I was the caretaker. I held everyone and everything together. And now, after all the years and all the healing, I sometimes feel like I’m the one still falling apart. It’s almost laughable.

Especially considering what I do for a living: I’m a counselor, a life coach, a strategist. I wear many hats. 👒🎓🎩

Recently, I had a consultation with a potential client. They said they were looking for someone who “has it all together.” I asked them to elaborate—and what they described sounded more like someone who “fakes it till they make it” or someone with a need for control.

That’s not me.

I’m real. I don’t pretend to have it all figured out. I believe in guidance, not dictation. Mentorship, not control. Because ultimately, the responsibility for growth lies with the client. When someone asks to be told what to do, it’s often a sign they’re not ready to take ownership of their choices. It’s easier to blame someone else when things go wrong than to take accountability for our own role.

But that’s the core truth, isn’t it?
The only thing we can truly control is ourselves.

If you’re navigating the aftermath of a toxic relationship, or just trying to rebuild yourself in a world that often asks you to hide your messiness, know this: healing isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up—raw, real, and ready to grow. If you’re looking for support from someone who understands both the science and the soul of transformation, I’m here. Not to tell you what to do, but to walk alongside you as you figure out what you truly need.

When you’re ready to reclaim your voice and your peace, let’s talk.
Because you deserve to feel safe in your own story again.

Letters to Myself: A Journey of Self-Discovery

I write myself letters and I’ll grab a random page out of my journal, write something and then however time that passes, I’ll get to that page and see it. Tonight was one of those letters. As I share this with you all, this is also a letter for you all. Life is hard. It doesn’t need to be that way, so why do we continue to make it hard? Just something to think about. Nobody is coming to “rescue” or “save” you. I know that feeling how we want that to happen, but when that does, we lose our power. If you’ve been in that situation before, you can understand what I’m saying. I needed to read this tonight and I hope it encourages you as well. Keep going! Keep working on yourself because you’re worthy. Be the person you want to date. When you love yourself, the right kind of person will also love you. Never lose those standards. Never!

Letter To Myself:
Hey Chica, I can see you’re going through a tough time right now, and I want you to know that you’re not alone. Life can be incredibly challenging, and it’s completely normal to struggle with the choices we make and the obstacles we face.
First of all, I want to acknowledge your strength. Despite the difficulties you’re experiencing, you’re still here, facing each day with courage and determination. That’s something to be proud of.
It’s important to remember that we all make mistakes and face tough times in life. What’s crucial is how we respond to these challenges. Instead of dwelling on past choices or letting them define you, focus on what you can do right now to create positive change in your life. Stop thinking of why this happened to you. Start asking yourself “What am I going to do?”
Soo…what are you going to do?
Try these out:
Take some time to reflect on the lessons you’ve learned from your experiences. Every setback, every mistake, is an opportunity for growth and self-discovery. Use these experiences to become stronger and wiser.
Reach out for support when you need it. Whether it’s talking to a trusted friend, seeking guidance from a therapist, or finding support groups in your community, don’t be afraid to ask for help. You don’t have to face your struggles alone.
I know there is lots of shame, so grab the phone and record yourself. Remember to be kind to yourself. You’re doing the best you can with the resources you have, and that’s enough.
Treat yourself with the same compassion and understanding that you would offer to a friend in need.
Lastly, keep moving forward, one step at a time. It’s okay if progress feels slow or if you encounter setbacks along the way. What matters is that you keep pushing forward, even when it’s hard.
You are capable of overcoming the challenges life throws your way. Believe in yourself, stay resilient, and know that brighter days are ahead. You’ve got this.
Look at everything you’ve overcome. Don’t let THIS be the thing that stops you, but another stepping stone that makes you the beautiful human being you are. Look at what you’ve overcome.

Loving you Always-
The one you’re forgetting about but I’m not forgetting you.
YOU ARE AMAZING!

Unleashing Your Full Potential: Embrace the Extraordinary Within You

Life is an extraordinary journey, filled with twists, turns, challenges, and triumphs. Amidst this whirlwind, there’s a beacon of opportunity that resides within each of us—an untapped reservoir of potential waiting to be unleashed.

Today, I urge you to embrace the extraordinary within you. Stand tall in the face of adversity, for within every setback lies a lesson, a chance for growth, and an opportunity to rise stronger than before.

You are a mosaic of unique experiences, talents, and aspirations. Your journey is not defined by the opinions of others or the limitations you perceive. It’s crafted by your determination, resilience, and the unwavering belief in your capabilities.

Embrace the power of positivity. Let it be the fuel that propels you forward when doubt whispers in your ear. Cultivate a mindset that sees challenges as stepping stones, failures as lessons, and setbacks as setups for incredible comebacks.

Every day is a canvas awaiting your masterpiece. Paint it with purpose, passion, and an unwavering commitment to your dreams. Do not settle for mediocrity when greatness courses through your veins.

Surround yourself with positivity. Seek mentors, allies, and friendships that nourish your spirit, challenge your limits, and inspire you to reach for the stars. Remember, your environment shapes your mindset; choose wisely.

Celebrate your victories, both big and small. Acknowledge the steps you’ve taken, the hurdles you’ve conquered, and the growth you’ve achieved. Each moment of progress is a testament to your dedication and perseverance.

Believe in the power of possibilities. Your dreams are not distant fantasies but potential realities waiting for your commitment and hard work. Let ambition drive your actions, and determination pave the path to success.

In this symphony of life, you hold the baton. Conduct it with passion, purpose, and the unshakable belief that you are destined for greatness. Your journey may have obstacles, but it’s these very challenges that sculpt your character and reveal the strength within you.

So, embrace the extraordinary within you. Dare to dream big, work hard, and above all, believe—believe in yourself, your journey, and the limitless potential that resides within. The world is waiting for the brilliance only you can offer. Seize the day, unleash your full potential, and write a story of triumph that inspires generations to come.

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