What's Mine Is Mine

I woke up feeling off. No energy, no clarity. I think it started with that song he sent me—one of those macho, swaggering tracks flaunting dominance and money. A line about a woman’s power lying between her legs and that of a man’s in his wallet stuck with me. It irritated me. Maybe because I’ve been more sexually expressive lately—wanting to be, enjoying it—and yet, I don’t want that to define me. I don’t want to depend on anyone’s wealth. My North Node in Capricorn means that my life's mission is to earn my own.

He sends me music he thinks I’ll like, but I only enjoy the playful kind. The rest feels like a costume I’m being handed that doesn’t quite fit.

Lately, I've been wondering if I’m getting too attached to him. He told me he was in love with me a month into us meeting up casually (we weren't even dating yet), and I didn’t quite believe it. I didn’t feel it yet. But now I’m the one saying “I love you” more often. And maybe too often. I want to pull back a little. Out of fear? Or maybe just to feel like I'm returning to myself.

I haven’t painted, sketched, or journaled properly in what feels like a long time. I’ve lost touch with the rituals that make me feel whole. It’s as if I’ve drifted into someone else’s orbit. His ex is in pain when she sees us together, even though they split up more than a year ago. She's such a nice person, too. But as Ariana so aptly said, "[Her] energy is [hers]. What's mine is mine." My energy is sacred.

I want to anchor back to my art. Back to that beautiful, hopeful dream I had where I saw my paintings in an exhibition, people throwing money at me, telling me my work was magnificent and that they had to have it. A dream like that feels dangerous. Sacred. Like a glimpse of something you’re not supposed to see unless you're meant to change course.

There’s this line I read in The Alchemist—that God rarely shows you your future unless you’re meant to change it.

That thought scared me.

Because I’ve had this quiet premonition that he and I might get married. But if that’s what I saw... does that mean I need to veer away from it? Still, I know he’s part of my Personal Legend, at least for now. I know that he represents more than my Fatima. But I don’t know for how long.

My days have been filled with errands and freelance work—some of it exhausting. I took on an editing job that turned out to be a mess. I'm asking for Divine Help to sell enough art this month to stay afloat, to have enough for the coming weeks while I travel. I try to stay grateful, to trust in the abundance I keep calling in, but some days, the weight is too much.

There are moments when I want to overeat just to numb the ache in my chest, the cold in my limbs, the fatigue in my bones. I wish I could learn to stop myself more often. To sit with it. To let it be. I’m learning that discomfort doesn’t mean I’m failing. It means I’m feeling. And feeling is what makes me an artist.

There’s laundry piled up and dishes I haven’t washed. My hair feels dirty even when it’s clean. Everything takes so long these days. But I’m still here writing, reflecting, longing, healing.

So tonight, I breathe deeply. I ask for harmony, for the strength to return to my art. For the courage to trust in what’s unseen. And for the grace to let go of what is not mine to carry.

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