“Can I ever love again?”

Maybe you’ve asked it quietly… while scrolling past a happy couple. Or screamed it into your pillow after another night of flashbacks.

Here’s the truth:

Your heart isn’t too broken to be loved. It’s just relearning safe touch.

You were conditioned to accept crumbs and call it a feast. But love, real love, won’t ask you to starve.

So if the idea of trusting again feels terrifying… That doesn’t mean you’re unlovable. It means your body remembers pain. And it's trying to protect you.

And that’s not wrong.

Healing love doesn’t rush. It listens. It honors your pace.

And you, wild wolf, are learning to love yourself that way first.

Here's a reframe for your heart:

“I don’t need to rush into love. I need to remember what love actually feels like.”

Practice this: Place your hand on your chest. Speak softly to yourself:

“I am lovable. I am safe. I get to choose who enters my life.”

One day, love won’t feel like chaos or confusion. It will feel like home.

And you’ll recognize it because you became it first.

From gaslight to gold

You are not too far gone. You are just arriving.

“What if healing is slower than I thought?”

If you've ever looked at your own healing timeline… and whispered, “I should be further along by now…”

This episode is for you.

Healing doesn’t happen on a timeline.

It happens in spirals. In pauses. In pieces.

Especially when you've lived through emotional abuse, gaslighting, or trauma, your nervous system isn’t broken… it’s tender. It’s cautious. And wise.

Some days, you’ll feel like fire. And other days, like ash. Both are holy.

So when you feel behind, I want you to try this reframe:

“I’m not behind. I’m rebuilding in truth.”

Healing isn't linear. It's cyclical. You revisit wounds not because you failed, but because you're safe enough now to see deeper layers.

Try this practice: Look back six months, not at what you haven’t done, but at what’s changed. One boundary you held. One trigger you faced. One truth you spoke aloud.

These are milestones. Even if no one clapped. Even if you didn’t feel ready.

You are healing in real time.

Not on a schedule. Not on a stage. But in the quiet miracle of your daily courage.

And I’m proud of you.

From gaslight to gold, You’re not late, you’re becoming.

“I don’t trust myself anymore.”

If you’ve said this—I get it.

When someone has twisted your intuition into insecurity… When you’ve been told again and again that your feelings are wrong…

Self-trust becomes the first casualty of manipulation.

But let me tell you something revolutionary:

Your intuition never left you.

It was overridden. Not erased.

You doubted yourself because you were trained to. Conditioned to believe your gut was drama… your heart, too much.

But inside you still lives a wild, wise knowing. She’s not gone—she’s just buried under someone else’s voice.

Let’s dig her out.

Try this practice: Body-Based Truth Testing.

Ask your body a yes-or-no question you already know the answer to.

“Is my name Sarah?”

Feel how your body leans or tightens. That’s your baseline.

Then ask: “Do I trust myself?”

Listen, not with judgment, but with curiosity.

Your body remembers what your mind was trained to ignore.

And every time you listen, even for a moment, you rebuild the bridge.

From hesitation to holy inner knowing.

From gaslight to gold.

Your self-trust isn’t broken.

It’s waiting for you to choose her again.

“I feel guilty for going no-contact.”

Guilt.

That ache in your chest when you block their number. That whisper in your mind saying, “You’re being cruel.”

If you've gone no-contact… and guilt showed up like an uninvited guest… this message is for you.

You didn’t go no-contact to punish them.

You did it to protect you.

And here’s the hard truth most people won’t say:

When you’re trauma-bonded, love and danger get tangled. So choosing safety feels like betrayal. But it’s not.

It’s healing.

Guilt often means your boundaries are working. It means you’re breaking a generational contract that told you to self-sacrifice to keep the peace.

So here’s a reframe:

“I didn’t abandon them. I returned to me.”

You don’t need to explain or justify peace.

Try this: Write a letter—not to send, but to release.

Let your voice say what your silence now protects.

Then read it aloud, and burn it, bury it, or bless it.

Guilt is just grief in disguise.

And your healing is worth the mourning.

You didn’t close the door out of hate.

You closed it to finally breathe.

That, my love, is sacred.

“What if I attract another narcissist?”

That fear? It’s sacred. It means you’re aware. Awake. No longer walking with blindfolds made of red flags.

But let’s shift the question.

Instead of “What if I attract another narcissist?”—

Ask, “What if I’ve changed so much that narcissists can’t hook me anymore?”

Because the truth is, we don’t attract what we want. We attract what we tolerate. And you, my wild one, no longer tolerate confusion masquerading as connection.

That version of you who fell for breadcrumbs?

She didn’t fail. She survived. And now you’re becoming someone new.

Try this: List three red flags you ignored before—and write down the new boundaries you’ll hold.

That’s not paranoia. That’s protection. That’s evolution.

Narcissists thrive in confusion. You now thrive in clarity.

You won’t repeat the cycle. Because you’ve interrupted it.

This time, you choose you.

And that… is magnetic to everything real.

Keep rising. You’re already gold.

“Why can’t I stop thinking about him?”

I used to ask myself that every day—while brushing my teeth, while driving, while trying to sleep. He was everywhere in my mind, even after I blocked him.

But here's what I want you to know:

Your brain isn’t obsessed. It’s injured.

What you're experiencing is trauma looping, not longing.

When you’ve been trauma-bonded, your nervous system links “love” with danger, inconsistency, and adrenaline. It’s not the person you’re hooked on—it’s the chemical chaos your body mistook for connection.

You’re not weak. You’re detoxing.

And there’s a path out.

Try this: Name the loop, then ground the body.

Say aloud: “This is a trauma loop. It’s not truth. My body is safe now.”

Then breathe in deeply—hold—and slowly exhale, like you're releasing a ghost.

Do that three times. Each breath sends a signal: We’re not in danger anymore.

It may not silence the thoughts at first—but it starts teaching your body the difference between survival and safety.

And that’s the gold in the gaslight.

You’re not crazy for thinking about him.

But you deserve to think about you more.

Stay with it. You're coming home.

This one’s for you, the woman replaying memories like a courtroom in her mind, trying to prove her pain was real.

Maybe today you wondered, “Was it really that bad?”

That question is not your voice. It’s the echo of manipulation, gaslighting, still rattling around in your nervous system like it has squatters’ rights.

Here’s the truth: If your body still flinches, if your heart races when his name comes up, if you doubt your memory even though you lived it, then yes. It was that bad.

Narcissistic abuse doesn’t always leave bruises. Sometimes it leaves breadcrumbs of confusion... a thousand cuts to your self-trust.

You’re not crazy. You’re conditioned. And that’s reversible.

Here’s one tool: The Reality Journal. Write down what happened, not how you “should” feel. Use this prompt:

“Here’s what I saw. Here’s what I heard. Here’s what I felt.”

Let your body write the truth. Not your fear.

Healing begins when we stop editing our own story.

You don’t need their validation. You need your voice back.

And you’re doing it, right now. Keep going.