The Night I Took My Energy Back
There are nights that change you loudly—
and then there are nights like this.
I didn’t sit at my altar to beg for answers.
I didn’t light candles hoping he would change.
I didn’t pray for clarity about what he’s doing or who he’s with.
This night wasn’t about him.
It was about me taking my energy back.
I sat with Santa Muerte—not asking, not pleading—
She doesn’t require performance.
She doesn’t need long explanations.
She allows truth to reveal itself without interference.
And that’s exactly what I needed.
🕯️ The Candle Ritual — Transmutation, Not Protection
I didn’t want to block energy.
I wanted to transform it.
So I built my altar with intention:
🔺 Triangle of Transmutation
- 🖤 Black Candle (center, closest to her)
To absorb everything sent to drain me—confusion, inconsistency, emotional weight.
- 🟣 Purple Candle (front left)
To transform that energy into power, clarity, and control.
- 🌸 Pink Candle (front right)
To return that power back to me as self-worth, softness, and beauty.
- 🤍 White Candle (off to the side)
Not to act—but to witness, protect, and hold the space steady.
I created a sigil and tied it around my black candle—
a physical representation of my intention:
“My peace is protected. My energy returns to me as power.”
At one point, the string caught fire.
For a moment, the flame rose higher than expected.
And instead of panicking…
That moment said everything:
I don’t lose control anymore.
For hours, the candles burned:
The black candle went out first.
And I understood immediately.
It absorbed what it needed to absorb.
But the ritual didn’t stop.
The purple and pink continued burning—
still transforming, still returning energy to me.
And my white candle never wavered.
It stood there the entire time…
witnessing. holding. protecting.
Right in the middle of this ritual…
Another way for me to step in and carry something that wasn’t mine.
And I didn’t go beyond it.
No emotional negotiation.
That was the real ritual.
I used to think I was holding us together with love.
I was holding it together with:
And the moment I stopped…
nothing stepped in to replace it.
He’s been saying that for years.
But trying without change
is just another version of staying the same.
And I’m not staying the same anymore.
I don’t rush to answer calls.
I don’t feel urgency to respond.
I don’t feel the need to explain myself.
I don’t even feel the same attachment.
And that used to scare me.
Because I finally understand:
I’m losing the version of me that kept holding him in place.
This wasn’t a night of chaos.
This was a night of control.
The candles stayed steady.
