Sanctuary of the Bone: The Sovereignty of Being Done

There is a quiet power that comes when you finally stop trying to be everything for everyone. I call it the Sanctuary of the Bone. It’s that deep, internal space where you realize your peace is the only foundation that actually matters.

The Excavation: Growing Up Too Fast

I spent my childhood learning how to be the person everyone else needed. While my friends were dreaming of tomorrow; I was negotiating for tonight. I had to learn the weight of a dollar before I knew the weight of my own dreams. I didn't get to have a "soft" upbringing; I had to become my own mother and father before I even understood what it meant to be me.

I became an expert at reading the energy of a room. I knew exactly when to shrink or when to soothe based on the way a door closed or the silence that followed a question. Back then, my "spiritual gift" was just a way to survive—I learned how to manage everyone’s moods just to keep the peace.

Framework Over Feelings: The Performance

For a long time, I moved through the world pretending I was completely healed. When I married my husband, it was a beautiful milestone—one that few in my family had ever reached—but I used it to hide behind. I wanted everyone to think I had it all together, even though I was still hurting in places I couldn't yet name.

I remember my second apartment, where I spent so much time and money on decor, trying to create a perfect home. I was trying to fill a hole with beautiful things, hoping that if my surroundings were nice, I would finally feel "whole." But eventually, I realized that the house doesn't make the home; the love and the healing inside of it do.

The Marrow: When the Illusion Broke

Everything changed on the day the weight became too much to carry. After a huge conflict where law enforcement was involved, I saw my life through my children's eyes. I was hysterical and reached out to the person I thought was my closest support—my sister—and she told me she wasn't coming back.

I felt completely alone in the world. My mother had passed, and even though my father was still here, I knew he wasn’t someone that I should call on because it wasn’t like I could find any real comfort in him. I had already done the hard work of cutting that cord.

I realized there was no point in knocking on a door that only opened when it was convenient for him.  He spent my childhood in prison, and I spent those years imagining him as a hero who would one day come home and fix everything—the poverty, the pain, the instability. But standing in that wreckage, I had to face the truth: that hero didn’t save me then, and he definitely  wasn't coming now. I had to save myself.

Gating the Temple: The End of the Lie

When my mom transitioned, it was the ultimate wake-up call. In my pain, I wanted to run back to toxic relationships just to feel less alone, but I stayed the course. I had to stop lying to myself and saying I didn't care about being loved or chosen.

It isn't a weakness to want to be important to the people in your life. It isn't an embarrassment to want to be cherished. I had to stop pretending I was "too strong" to feel and start admitting that I deserved a love that didn't require me to abandon myself.

Inhabiting the Throne: The Threshold

Today, I’m standing at the threshold. I’ve stopped holding my father to a high standard. I see him clearly now. The lenses are no longer clouded by the hopes of that little girl. I’ve realized that he is a man who never knew love himself — so how in the hell could he ever teach me? How could he ever give me something he never possessed?

He has his own path and healing to do, but I’ve had to accept that his lack of work is the very thing standing in the way of our relationship. It is a heavy truth to carry, knowing he is a father who could close his eyes at night without a second thought as to whether I am alive or well.

I can see how this father wound led me to choose partners who were emotionally unavailable, and I can see how I stayed too long trying to "fix" what wasn't mine to fix.

I can feel that I am finally done with the cycle. It’s not an aggressive feeling; it’s just a quiet, certain truth. It feels right. It feels like justice for that little girl who waited so long for a savior.

I don't dance for a ghost's approval anymore. I don't move to prove my worth to people who aren't even there.

I dance for HER. I dance for the higher version of myself—the woman I am becoming. I move to feel free, authentic, and true. The weight has finally lifted, and the sanctuary I’ve built belongs to me.

The Ritual Continues

Healing isn’t a solo journey you have to navigate in the dark. If you’re ready to gain clarity on your own cycles and step into your sovereign power, you can view my current reading availability and book a session here → Claim Your Clarity.

Let’s uncover the truth that is already written in your bones

- Love and light