Balance in the Deep Waters of Feeling

Finding Steadiness When Emotions Run Deep

Last night my dream was vivid, layered with memory, emotion, and meaning. My mother was there and just as alive and radiant as ever, and for a moment, it felt real. Then I remembered: she had transitioned long ago. A wave of sadness rose, but instead of letting it pull me under, I reminded myself to feel it fully...and then let it pass. 

That, I realize, is an empath's sacred practice: to feel deeply without becoming paralyzed by the weight of it. My mother, my superhero, taught me so much about the power of silence, the precision of words, and the strength of presence. In the dream, she was still teaching me without saying a word. 

The scene shifted to a celebration. I was surrounded by people from every chapter of my life: family, old friends, even my children in their youth. Pink polka-dot dresses, curled hair, and a hall filled with hundreds reminded me of both a wedding and a milestone birthday (which ironically, I am celebrating this year). Perhaps it was both a union with myself as I step into a new season, my 50th year of life. 

Later, I was helping a friend who had lost her mother, sorting through dresses and memories. I told her gently it was okay not to have the strength to decide what to keep or release. In truth, I was speaking to myself as much as to her. 

Somewhere in the dream was water, a symbol of feeling, cleansing, and flow. And an old car. A reminder of the journeys I've taken and the ones still ahead. 

When I woke, I carried with me not just the images, but the lesson: I can be fully present with my feelings without letting them consume me. I can celebrate, remember, and grieve all at once. And in this balance, I honor my mother, myself, and the life I am still creating. 

Your story might not look like mine. Your waters may be stirred by different memories, people, or seasons of life, but the current is the same. We are all invited to stand in the waves of our emotions without drowning in them, to let grief and joy hold hands, and to find our own rhythm in the tide. What memories still rise in you, unannounced, and how might you allow them to teach you something new today?

With Thoughtfulness and Balance,

Stacie J.

When Healing Demands a Little Surgery

This past week has been....interesting. And by "interesting," I mean challenging. I've been walking in growth, healed in many ways (still healing in others), but life still finds a way to drop surprises in my path. 

Most mornings, I start my day in quiet time with God. Not the "let me talk non-stop until the sun comes up" kind of time I used to think was required, but the still, knowing kind. I've learned that God hears even the essence of our silence, after all, God is all-knowing!

So, I lay there...breathing, centering, listening for His voice, feeling the rhythm of my heartbeat. I read scripture and speak it over my family and those connected to me. I pray. I reflect. Sometimes I jot down my thoughts or the dreams I had the night before. Occasionally, that quiet moment births a blog post. 

Then I drink my water, always waiting for me on the nightstand, sometimes infused overnight with lemon and lime, and I consider my day. Depending on time, I might walk, job, do tai chi, kickboxing, HIIT, strength training, or yoga. Not always 2 hours at once, but I fit movement in. 

But this week? My flow was disrupted by an uninvited guest: an annoying cyst right under my bra strap. A cyst with no respect for my healing journey or my schedule. For almost a year, it lived in peace, just a little blackhead, about the size of an unsharpened pencil tip, minding its business. 

Then in less than five days, it blew up like it had been offended, growing to the size of a half  dollar, angry, red, and painful. So painful I couldn't lay back, sit comfortably, or even move my upper body without wincing. The doctor ended up removing a cyst about 3-4 inches deep and just as wide. I'll spare you the picture, but let's just say... I could have charged admission. 

Here's the thing: as I relfected on my healing journey, the books I've been reading and listening to, the supplements, the juicing, the meal prepping, the study, it hit me... of course this came out. My body is detoxing, aligning, and releasing what no longer serves me. 

When we realign, when we tune ourselves to the frequency of God, things buried deep will rise to the surface. Sometimes it's emotional pain. Sometimes it's an old habit. Sometimes...it's a cyst. Healing isn't always pretty. Purging is rarely comfortable. But it's necessary. 

Self-reflection points for your journey:

What "old things" in your life might be surfacing because you're finally strong enough to release them?

Are you resisting the pain of the purge, or allowing God to remove what no longer belongs?

How can you better listen, not just to God, but to your body, your spirit, and your emotions?

I believe God sometimes uses our bodies as living parables. This cyst wasn't just about flesh and skin, it was about patience, trust, and surrender. And now, I'm lighter. I'm freer. I'm covered. 

So whether your purge looks like tears, forgiveness, lifestyle changes, or even a minor surgical procedure, remember: healing is never wasted. The pain has purpose. 

And sometimes...the ugly stuff coming out is the most beautiful part of the journey. 

1. Purging / Removing What Doesn't Belong

"Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit." John 15:2 

2. Cleansing / Renewal

"Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me." Psalm 51:10

3. God's Healing Process

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." Psalm 147:3

Stop Apologizing

A Love Letter to the Empaths Who Carry the Fire

If you’re reading this, you probably already know that being an empath isn’t just a trait. It’s a calling. It’s a lens. It’s a whole way of being, a blessing and sometimes a burden.

We empaths carry a peculiar aura, an archetype shaped by everything we’ve endured, everything we’ve seen, and everything we still dare to hope for. We are forged by fire. We learn to read a room before a word is spoken. We feel everything: the joy, the grief, the hidden stories that others don’t speak aloud.

That is why we must be mindful, know when to step back, to steal away, to renew our spirits. Restore, discern, and guard the light we carry.

Carl Jung wrote, “Discernment is love in its highest form.” That’s something every empath should tattoo on their soul.

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The Boat and the Lighthouse

Carl Jung once described the soul as a boat adrift on dark waters, seeking the steady light of a distant shore. I’ve felt that journey in my bones, the pull of tides both gentle and fierce, the fog that swallows sight, nights when the stars seem too far away to matter.

There were seasons when I thought the storm would claim me. Yet even then, a quiet voice whispered: Row.

The lighthouse, the faithful beacon, wasn’t always in view. Sometimes I only felt its warmth in memory, a glow just beyond the veil. Each small stroke of the oar, each breath of courage, brought me closer.

One evening, I understood that the light wasn’t just ahead, guiding me. It was within me, pulsing from my heart’s own harbor.

Jung gave me the image, but life gave me the truth: the boat is my spirit. The sea is my becoming. The lighthouse is both home and self.

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For the Empaths Who Feel Too Much

You are a prophetic gift. You are ancestral fire. You are not here to fix others, though I know how hard it is to believe that. Your truest role is to hold space for them, to be the calm shore where they can rest, to allow the sacred circle. the Sangha, to do the healing.

Stop apologizing for your unique perspective. Stop letting emotional energy vampires drain your flame. Protect it. I’m grateful I learned that, though it took time.

As Jung said, “Softness is not weakness. The gift of feeling is not the end of the journey, but a doorway.”

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The Shadow Side

Here’s the truth we don’t admit too often: When we ignore our own needs, the empath’s gift can warp into defensiveness, numbness, or paradoxically, narcissism.

We become “wounded healers,” those who pour from an empty cup, and in doing so become cautionary tales.

Self-sacrifice is not love. Your purpose is not to bleed for others. Your calling is to transform wounds into wisdom.

Resolve past pains, and your aura will radiate. Heal at your core, and you can love deeply without being drained.

Brené Brown said, “Daring to set boundaries is about having the courage to love ourselves, even when we risk disappointing others.”

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My Prayer for You

Don’t let the church, or the world, tell you you’re broken, too much, or wrong because of how you see, how you feel, how you love.

God gave you this softness, this discernment, this fire, because He believed you could carry light into darkness.

So, beloved empath, stop apologizing for who you are. You are not here to carry the river. You are here to shine.

(Truth from Jung, truth lived and spoken.)

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Keys for Empathic Living

Protecting your inner light while navigating the world

1. Anchor in Stillness
   Begin or end each day in quiet reflection, prayer, or meditation to steady your “boat” before the waves rise.

2. Name the Storms
   Learn what drains you. Boundaries aren’t walls; they are shoreline markers that protect your inner land.

3. Seek the Beacon
   Identify people, practices, and sacred spaces that restore you, and return to them often.

4. Tend the Flame
   Nourish yourself with rest, joy, and healthy rhythms so your inner lighthouse never dims.

5. Travel Light
   Release the guilt of saying no. Every “no” to what dims you is a “yes” to what sustains you.

With Love, 

Stacie J.