TIDES

Whoa there, partner… how is it April already? Crikey, time is flying!

I've been pretty absent from writing here lately. If you scroll back to my last post, you'll notice the time jump—it’s been a minute. So, hello, hola, howdy, hi.

How are we feeling? How are we doing? I’ll start.

The past few months have been, in short, a wake-up call to discernment. Maybe even my Saturn Return or a "dark night of the soul." That feeling when everything crumbles because the universe has bigger plans than the ones you had for yourself, but you’re too buried in the weeds and smog to see it. Lessons, blessings, shifts. Painful as hell. But with the arrival of spring, a new home, and the support of a group of humans I have the immense privilege to call friends and family- I feel like I’ve regenerated.

But ouchy, I went through some really painful times recently. I lost so much of my joy, love, and light because of people's choices, actions, and words. And sure, I can take responsibility—I could have set firmer boundaries, advocated for myself sooner. But hindsight, right?

I've always been someone who pours energy into nourishing and creating community. To me, community is a web of delicious humans who uplift, nourish, and reflect each other. A space of reciprocity, where energy flows in a balanced dance of giving and receiving. A shared experience, built on trust, care, and the unspoken understanding that we are better together. I celebrate and deeply love the people who enter my life. I see the best in others.

Most of the time, this has led to magical connections and a reciprocal, soul-filling love that has carried me through hard times. But sometimes, like recently, it’s landed me in a pile of rubble—surrounded by the craggy rocks and shards of someone else’s decision to choose vengeance, distrust, a desire to take take take and refuse to do the ‘right’ thing. The pain of being enmeshed in someone I let in too quickly. The pain of trusting something and pouring energy and love into it, only for it to be all taken away, almost overnight. The pain of losing so much, after trusting too soon.

Betrayal hurts. Being misunderstood hurts. Being screwed over, abandoned, rejected—yeah, that all hurts too. If you’re feeling any (or all) of these right now, I’m with you—spiritually holding your hand. Because, damn, it hurts.

Life is complex. Despite the fact that humans are 99.9% genetically identical, that we’re all made of the same stuff as each other and as the stars, we all live in our own realities. Our personal narratives are shaped by experiences, beliefs, and expectations. We never truly know where someone else is in their cycle of behavior or emotion when we meet them—or how they see the world. We don’t know until we learn how people react or what their true intentions are. We don’t know what people want from us, whether they hold our hearts and our love in a place of pure safety or they play us. People can mask to be something they are not, act like a friend, build your trust and then weaponize that very trust against you. Sure enough, people show you who they are. Interestingly as well, when all the shit falls down, life is fucked up, you’re afraid and feel wounded and alone, you’ll see who is there. You’ll learn, if you observe, who shows up and who does not.

Our emotions and experiences, like the tides, the moon, and the seasons, are not permanent. Nothing in nature blooms endlessly without respite. Everything is cyclical. Some people cling to pain, standing on burning sand, waiting for someone else to bring them water instead of taking a step toward the ocean. Others complain about the heat, never moving from the shaded treeline. Some sprint straight into the waves, finding the joy in the contrast. Some watch from the sidelines, cheering others on. Some let pain fuel their anger, standing in burning sand, swearing at the universe or those around them for the pain they are in, without taking a single step. Some project their wounds onto others. Some stay in cycles of negativity because it’s all they’ve ever known. And some, despite burning feet, choose to laugh, leap, and move forward, knowing the ocean will be there to soothe them soon enough.

That’s life—it’s lived best when we move forward. With joy. With love. With resilience. It’s more fun to dance through the heat, to embrace the ebb and flow, to splash in the waves knowing the pain will soon pass.

Like the tides, I started this year at my lowest ebb. And, romantically, that’s my favorite time to visit the beach—when the shore is wide, the air shimmers with heat, the sand is hot underfoot, the water distant but returning. I stood on the burning sand, running as fast as I could, trying my best, forgiving the sun for the scorched soles of my feet. I lost so much. I’ve grieved. I still grieve. I’ve grown. Every painful step across the burning sand brought me closer to the water. Loss is loss. Pain is pain. We can often times forget that pain is our biggest teacher.

The last few months have been relentless—lessons coming at me from all angles, leaving me drained, aching, questioning everything. How did I get it so wrong? How did this happen? What did I do to deserve this? Those questions flood our minds when we try to make sense of other people’s actions. But here’s the thing: when people show you who they are—let them.

Mel Robbins' “Let Them” theory has been popping up all over my feeds lately, and honestly, it’s a game-changer. It’s about releasing control over others’ actions and focusing on your own peace. Let them ignore you. Let them leave. Let them be who they are. Their behavior reflects them, not you. And embracing this mindset? It frees you. From overthinking, from disappointment, from stress. It creates space for growth, clarity, and the right connections.

Recognizing reciprocal energy is part of growing up. Not everyone deserves your love and light. Not everyone can receive it, respect it, or give it back. And when we shine brightly, we sometimes illuminate the darkness in others, triggering their insecurities. We can’t expect people to love as we do or navigate challenges the same way we can with our unique toolkit. Some people see relationships as things to conquer. Many women and female-presenting humans experience this again and again—being treated as something to take from. Some justify it with beliefs, values, or religion. Doesn’t make it okay, though, does it?

Looking back, my lowest moments—the ones that felt like I was being buried alive—turned out to be the very moments I was actually being planted. And with time, care, support, and patience, I’ve grown. These dark times, though brutal, have led to a blossoming I never could have imagined.

I’m learning to welcome the pain, to let it rip through me, to sit with sadness and allow it to be seen. Feeling, growing, being—that’s the human experience. The tides come in and out. Leaves fall. We fall. We get buried. We grow again. We get back up. We strive forward and choose to let go of control. Letting go of control is really the only form of control we have.

So, we can choose to feel. Feel and feel and talk and talk about how much you feel until the feeling shifts and you are free from its clutches. I choose love. I am choosing to prioritize and empower myself to break cycles and seek new beginnings. We don’t shame a plant for struggling in a dark, dry place—we move it into the sunlight, repot it, water it, and allow it to bloom. We can start again.

So, hello, you. I feel like I’ve flowered out of a dark place, and I feel bloomin’ good again. I hope you are, too. I hope you’re evolving, feeling, laughing, and thriving. If you are in the depths of the pits of emotional hell, you will get through this. You didn’t come this far to give up now did you? I hope you’re filling your cup, choosing love, embracing the ebbs and flows, the highs and lows, and all the in-betweens.

Love you,
Frankie x