Healing, Evolving, and Reclaiming My Power

There’s something beautiful and painful about growth—it comes with reflection, peeling back layers, and sitting with truths we often avoid. Recently, I’ve been diving deep into mine. Looking back on past relationships, the patterns, the energies I attracted—narcissists, avoidants, emotionally unavailable men—I see now how much of that was tied to who I was then: an empath, a healer, a woman who constantly over-accommodated, even at her own expense.

Let’s talk about avoidants and narcissists—two very different energies, both emotionally unavailable in their own ways.

Avoidants fear intimacy. Their walls are built from childhood wounds, betrayals, or emotional neglect. They crave connection, but when it shows up, it feels threatening. So they pull away, shut down, cancel plans, or communicate inconsistently. They often send mixed signals—hot and cold energy that leaves you confused. You start doubting your intuition, questioning your worth. But it’s not about you—it’s about them. Their need for space is one thing, but their inability to communicate that need respectfully is where the damage happens.

Narcissists, on the other hand, operate from ego. Their validation comes from control, admiration, and power. They mirror your strengths at first—charming, intense, romantic. But over time, their true self emerges. Emotional manipulation, gaslighting, lack of empathy, the constant need to dominate. Being with a narcissist is like chasing approval you’ll never get. And empaths? We’re their favourite targets. We feel deeply, we forgive easily, we love fully. But to a narcissist, that’s fuel.

The difference? Avoidants hurt you because they’re afraid. Narcissists hurt you because they don’t care. One operates from fear of connection. The other from a need for control.

Anyway, I’ve always had this radiant, positive energy. The type that draws people in. I used to wear that like a badge of honour, not realising that sometimes light attracts the wounded—the ones who feed off your strength because they haven't cultivated their own. I found myself giving, pouring into others, wanting so badly to help, to support, to love them into wholeness. But I forgot about myself.

I questioned if my yearning for protection, stability, and love came from the absence of a father figure. I never liked the term “daddy issues,” but maybe that lack created a silent hunger for masculine energy—a desire to be seen, protected, and cherished. Yet somehow, I ended up in roles that forced me into my masculine side. As a single mother, I had no choice. I had to show up, provide, lead, and survive. But at what cost?

My relationships became mirrors. Each one revealing something I needed to heal. I noticed red flags early on—emotional unavailability, disappearing acts—but instead of walking away, I tried to fix it. I believed in their potential more than their reality. I gave chances, excuses, compassion. I poured love into broken cups, hoping they’d hold the water. But they never did.

Anxious attachment ruled me for years. I overanalysed, overgave, overextended. But something has shifted. I’m learning to choose me. To set boundaries. To say no without guilt. To walk away at the first sign of manipulation or avoidance. I’m becoming secure—knowing what I want, what I deserve, and refusing to be tested to prove my worth.

Men who push and pull, who give you just enough to stay but never enough to feel safe—they’re not mysterious, they’re not "complicated." They’re unavailable. Still playing games with hearts because they haven’t healed their own. If you don’t want love, don’t chase it. If you’re not ready for honesty, stop dragging others into your confusion.

Excuses, ghosting, canceled dates, inconsistent effort—it’s not deep. It’s disrespect. What I do now? I delete. I disconnect. I don’t beg for clarity anymore. If my presence was too easy to take for granted, then my absence will speak volumes.

The truth is, my energy is sacred. My love is powerful. And if you can't meet me where I am—grown, self-aware, intentional—then I won’t dim myself to make you comfortable.

I’m still healing. Still learning. But I am no longer available for half-loves, mixed signals, or emotional projects. I’m not here to fix you. We are too grown to be fixing men we’re dating. I’m here to love, to grow, and to be met with the same depth I offer.

To every woman walking this same path: You are not too much. You are just enough for the right one. Protect your peace. Know your worth. And never again abandon yourself to keep someone else from feeling uncomfortable.