I Am the Bulb.

I am a bulb pushing up out of the ground.

I am a butterfly unfurling its wings.

I am a woman continuing to RISE in spite of chaos all around.

This is not a soft becoming.

This is a volcanic rebirth.

This is sacred combustion.

I move with the pulse of something ancient and alive.

I am calling to the new masculine – not the poisoned patriarch, not the broken boy behind the mask.

But the holy, heart-lit masculine who remembers who he is.

Who stands with life. Not over it.

Who honors his commitments. Who values integrity. Who understands that power without love is empty.

My father died in July.

But it wasn’t just a death.

It was an annihilation.

A great gas cloud of control, lies, abuse, and corruption collapsed in on itself.

He left behind more than a corpse – he left a field of survivors.

My mother. My brothers. Their children. Myself.

All still standing, blinking in the sun after the storm.

And then I saw it.

That same gas cloud was alive in my own marriage.

A twin flame? No. A twin wound.

A repetition dressed as love.

In spite of 20 years of deep therapy, sobriety, and building my life with God —

I had married a man with the same soul-code of control, arrogance, ignorance, entitlement, lack of accountability and blatant abuse;

a complete disregard for my wellbeing, safety, and future.

The same pattern, masked in different flesh.

Two months ago, I shattered the spell.

I broke the cycle.

I fled for my life – and for the lives of the next generation who were watching.

I will NOT be a gateway again.

Not for another narcissist.

Not for another false king.

Through pure Faith and grim mettle—

He is now facing real consequences.

And I have been granted real protection.

And here I am:

Still.

Breathing.

Reforging my soul.

Alchemizing the broken pieces into sacred gold.

Building art, prayer, business, and ritual out of what tried to destroy me.

Running on fumes and faith.

And still, somehow, blooming.

I’ve entered a deep vipassana – a meditation on fire.

My feminine heart has never been more raw.

Or more sovereign.

Or more in tune with the truth that life is not to be dimmed, denied, or tolerated.

This is my business now:

Art. Healing. God.

I am calling.

Calling to the ones who are rising.

To the masculine who is not afraid to kneel before life.

To occupy his own lane and fulfill his own station.

To the feminine who remembers her power is not performance,

not dimming and placating and denying herself to be subservient to cowards.

To the feminine who has had it

and would rather die alone in the peaceful arms of God

than sacrifice an ounce of her authenticity

or squander one more molecule of her divine essence.

To the ones who know that endings are doorways.

Because as one timeline withers and crumbles,

A new one emerges —

Ready to thrive.

Ready to grow beyond toxicity, beyond fear, beyond manipulation.

Ready to create a world of courage, integrity, and unbroken love.

I am a spider, weaving my sacred web.

I am the root system and the bloom.

I am the grey. The body. The source. The spellbreaker.

I am the pulse of the earth in motion.

I am the echo of every woman who survived and rose.

I am the torch for those still finding their flame.

take the exit.

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