Today, I want to have a real heart-to-heart about “Tower Moments.”
You know the ones—when it feels like everything is falling apart… and falling nowhere at the same time.

Being spiritual doesn’t make you immune to chaos.
It doesn’t exempt you from painful growth, identity crisis, or those seasons where nothing makes sense anymore.

Especially if we haven’t yet figured out how to merge our humanity with our divinity.
How to let one hold the other.
How to stop living like they're at war with each other.

Sometimes we get so deep into our human programming—survival mode, self-doubt, old patterns—that we forget we are also Divine.
And while we’re unraveling, our Divine blueprint is gently tapping us on the shoulder… again and again.

Our soul doesn’t forget who we are.
And that’s exactly why we feel torn—right down the middle.

So what do you do when you’re having a Tower Moment?
When it feels like everything is crashing down, but there’s no solid ground beneath you either?

You name it.

You name the chaos.
You name the numbness.
You name the part of you that’s over it all—and the part that still has hope.

Because naming the truth is an act of power.

And the truth is: this moment is the initiation.

You’re not just breaking down.
You’re breaking open.

You’re not just tired.
You’re in a soul-deep restructuring.

You’re not just confused.
You’re standing in the threshold space—the wild and holy void between what was and what’s becoming.

And yes, it’s uncomfortable.
It’s disorienting.
It’s the kind of space that makes you want to scream into the void and whisper prayers into the dark all at once.

So if you’re feeling like a walking contradiction—you’re not doing something wrong.

You’re right on time.

These moments can look like:

Feeling Overwhelmed and Underwhelmed.

You're carrying too much and nothing feels nourishing.
Your nervous system is fried, and your soul is bored.
That paradox alone would make anyone want to scream into a pillow (or three).
You need something to anchor into—something that’s YOURS again.

You're Angry—and It’s Valid.

Your anger in relationships, finances, in circumstances and situations, even the unfair timing of things—it’s not wrong.
You are allowed to feel betrayed by life and still hold space for the divine timing of your soul's truth. 

Both/And.

Anger is sacred fire.

It’s saying: Something’s not in alignment. It’s not there to punish you—it’s trying to liberate you.

What About Those Times You Feel Disconnected From the People You Love?

It hurts. There’s no bypassing this. The falling outs, the misunderstandings, the emotional distance—it leaves you tender and raw.
And yes, maybe you are the common denominator—but that doesn’t make you the villain.
It makes you the mirror. And mirror work is brutal when all we want is peace and love and a little damn stability.

It’s like standing in the middle of a spiritual storm, arms wide open, soaking wet with contradiction—and still trying to figure out which way is north.

And I just want to tell you, if you are in one of those moments: You are not crazy for feeling this way. You're not broken. You're not behind. You're not lost.

When you are in this space, know that you are in the middle of something sacredly real and profoundly human.

You're in a threshold space.

A liminal void where the old ways don’t work anymore… but the new ways haven’t fully landed yet.
It’s uncomfortable, rage-inducing, disorienting—and also, strangely ripe with potential.

But when you're in it? It just feels like you're unraveling.

Let’s take a deep breath together right here.
🫁 Inhale: I’m still here.
🫁 Exhale: I don’t have to fix it all today.

Here's what I want you to know:

You’re not failing. You’re feeling. And that matters.

You’re shedding. You’re shifting. You’re in the hard part of the rebirth arc.

This isn’t a mindset tweak. This is soul work.

It’s the underworld part of the heroine’s journey—where the guides go quiet, the tools feel dull, and your own shadows start talking louder than your affirmations.

And let me say this loud for the woman in the liminal space:

If I could offer a tiny path through right now…

Not to solve it, but to hold you while you move through it:

 1. Feel Without Fixing.

Tonight, just sit with yourself. No journaling, no answers, no trying to "heal" anything. Just let yourself be a stormy ocean. Put your hand on your chest and say,
"This hurts, and I don’t need to explain it."

 2. Let Something Burn.

What are you done pretending to like? Done pretending to be okay with?
Write it out in a raw list. Then burn it.
Fire = release.
You don’t have to understand it all—you just have to stop holding all of it in your hands.

 3. Ask This One Question:

Instead of "what do I want?" (which can feel paralyzing in this state), ask:
“What would feel a little more true today?”
Maybe it’s crying in the car, taking a walk in silence, or refusing to answer one more text that drains your soul.

 4. Find One Safe Place.

Is there one space or one person where you can be 100% unfiltered right now? If not, let’s create it. Let this be your space for now. A space where nothing needs to make sense yet.

This isn’t your ending. It’s the void before the rebirth.
You’ve cracked codes others haven’t even thought to question.

You’ve healed generational wounds.

You’ve built a bridge between spirit and human life—and now you’re standing on it, shaking, wondering if it was all worth it.

And I’m telling you right now—it was. And it is.
And this part? The messy, maddening contradiction?
This part is still sacred.

I'm not here to give you quick fixes. I'm here to sit with you in the middle of this contradiction and say:

You’re still worthy. You’re still wise. You’re still a divine force of nature, even in your confusion.

Let me walk this with you, as slow as you need. 💛