This isn’t a plea for sympathy. Writing helps me release stored emotions and, hopefully, helps someone else feel less alone. I used to wonder what people meant by “there’s a fine line between love and hate.” Now I live it. With certain people from my past, I swing between overwhelming anger and genuine love/compassion—sometimes within the same hour. One minute I feel deep care and gratitude for the moments they showed up; the next I’m furious at the mistreatment and lack o

For years I’ve been the friend who remembers birthdays, buys thoughtful gifts, checks in when you’re quiet, makes the plans, and listens empathetically to your hardest stories. I’ve always been the one who shows up — really shows up — because I never wanted anyone else to feel the exclusion or loneliness I’ve carried. And for years I’ve watched that effort disappear into a void. Invitations to hang out with other friends never included me. Deep conversations I treasured didn’

In recent years, I’ve felt a growing disconnect from the broader spiritual community. Don’t get me wrong—I’m deeply spiritual, and that core part of me hasn’t changed. But something shifted. I stopped listening to the popular podcasts, put down the best selling books, and stepped away from group discussions and meet ups. Why? Because it all started to feel like the same script being read aloud by different voices, often without fresh insight or personal depth. Early in my spi