Walking Away to Remember Who I Am

I came home today with my palms full of green pinecones and kapok cotton. My husband and I had just returned from a foraging walk—one of those grounding, soul-nourishing moments where the air feels full of medicine and the earth, an old friend. We had collected pinecones to make healing syrup and soft kapok fiber to tend to my mattress, our steps slow and mindful, our hearts in rhythm with the land. For a brief moment, I felt like myself again, rooted, joyful, and clear.

But, as soon as we walked through the door, the old energy returned. My mother-in-law made a seemingly small remark about a plant I had brought into the house over a year ago. “It shouldn’t be indoors,” she said, citing some superstition, her tone laced with the kind of passive-aggressive disapproval I’ve grown too familiar with. It may have sounded trivial to someone else—but to me, it wasn’t about the plant. It was about years of subtle control, micro-criticisms, energetic dominance. I felt the sting rise in my chest, but this time, I paused. Instead of reacting, I breathed. I reminded myself: This is not mine to hold.

These past few days have been full of waves. The energy in the family has been dense, swirling with unresolved tension. Ironically, it’s not me or my husband in the center of it this time. The same voices that once judged and accused us are now turning on one another. Gossip is flying, old wounds are surfacing, all unfolding in front of us. It’s like Spirit positioned us to bear witness—not to intervene, but to observe what happens when unhealed pain continues to echo in a family line.

In the past, I would have internalized all of this. I would have been tangled in guilt, confusion, people-pleasing, or emotional exhaustion. Now, I am learning to witness without absorption. And yet, it’s hard. My nervous system still reacts. I still feel the pressure in my chest, the sudden spikes in my blood pressure, the desire to flee the room when that familiar, dense energy enters. I’m realizing that just because I’m not in the eye of the storm doesn’t mean I’m unaffected. My body still remembers. My heart still contracts. And that is okay. This, too, is healing.

After the plant comment, I stepped away. I decided to pull oracle cards—three from five decks, my sacred language with Spirit. I let them speak to me.

The cards painted a powerful picture:

✨ Agape. Eros. The Offering.

✨ Sea Otter, Tiger, Puffin.

✨ Flame Tree. Eternal Love. Moonlight.

✨ Harvest. Salt. Oak Tree.

✨ Thoth Codes. Halls of Learning. Stellar Gateway Activation.

Spirit showed me the mirror of it all.

The anger, the discomfort—it’s not regression. It’s refinement. I’m not broken again. I’m shedding layers again. And it’s working. The old me would’ve reacted with fire. The evolving me witnessed the spark and chose not to fan it into flame. I chose devotion over defensiveness. That’s what the Agape card reminded me—unconditional love asks us to step out of the ego and see the bigger picture. Even if others don’t change, I can still evolve.

The Offering asked me: What are you willing to release in exchange for peace? And my answer was this—I offer the pattern itself, the one that keeps pulling me back into proving myself, into defending my worth. I offer it to the fire of transmutation.

The Salt and Oak Tree cards validated my need for strong boundaries. It’s okay to say, “No more of this energy in my space”. I’m not avoiding confrontation out of weakness—I’m choosing stillness out of wisdom. The Harvest card reminded me that all this work is bearing fruit. I’m exhausted, yes. But it’s not in vain.

And the most tender message of all? It came from Moonlight and Eternal Love. They whispered, "You are safe to soften. Behind the tension, there is love. Healing doesn’t mean returning to the battlefield stronger—it means leaving the battlefield altogether."

Lastly, the Thoth Light Codes and Halls of Learning confirmed what I’ve sensed all along—I am not just enduring this for myself. I’m learning how to teach from it, to lead from love, to embody what I came here to remember. This isn’t just a cycle. It’s an initiation.

And I’m choosing to walk it with grace.

I am being shown what it means to stay sovereign—to walk my path even as the winds swirl around me. I am being reminded that not everyone is operating at the same level of consciousness, and that is not a judgment—it is simply truth. We all awaken in divine timing. It’s not my job to fix anyone. It’s not my role to absorb their pain. My offering is my presence. My power is my peace. “LET THEM”, Spirit says.

So, tonight I return to what nourishes me: the scent of pine sap drying on my hands, the hum of my dehydrator preserving wildflowers, the smile of my child as he eats dinner, the quiet glow of a candle, dancing like an ember of hope. I am not above the storm—but I am no longer consumed by it. This, to me, is liberation.

If you're going through something similar—feeling the tension of old stories resurfacing just as you think you've moved beyond them—know this: You are not failing. You are refining. You are becoming.

Keep choosing the path of peace, even if it’s messy.

Keep returning to your roots.

Keep tending the sacred fire of your truth.

You are doing beautifully.

With so much love,

Solarys