Untethered: The Day I Reclaimed My Freedom

There was a woman I once loved with a tenderness I rarely offered to anyone. She walked into my life like a story I was meant to read. She was mysterious, magnetic, and wrapped in a kind of spiritual hunger I recognized from a far-off version of myself.

She didn’t say much about her wounds, but the energy spoke loudly. Her field carried fractures that ran deep, long before I ever arrived. And part of me thought that if I poured enough love into the cracks, the light would eventually fill them.

So I poured.

And she received.

Again and again.

Every time she took, I told myself it was temporary. Every time she leaned, I told myself she would eventually stand. Every time she withdrew, I told myself she would one day realize the value of what I was giving.

But the truth I didn’t want to face at that time was that she wasn’t pouring back into me, us, or our connection. There was no connection. She was tethered only to her own needs, her own desires, her own emptiness.

She was focused on her desires and what others could provide for her—what I could give, what I could fix, and what I could hold. As long as I kept giving, she kept taking.

It wasn’t personal for her. It wasn’t malicious. It was simply the only way she knew how to exist. She took in energy without ever realizing the cost. But the cost was mine. Over time, I began to feel it. I could feel the heaviness, the drain, the slow erosion of my own clarity.

My energy field, once bright and expansive, began to dim around the edges.

My intuition whispered, “Something is off.”

My heart whispered, “You’re shrinking.”

My spirit whispered, “This is not love. This is depletion.”

But I still stayed because I did love her. Deeply. Sincerely. With the kind of devotion that I hoped she would one day rise with me.

I saw the damage she caused not just to me, but to people who cared for her. Patterns she could not see. Impacts she could not acknowledge. Cycles she didn’t know she was repeating.

She was unable to understand the harm. And maybe she truly didn’t care. Or maybe she simply couldn’t feel it. But I felt it every day.

The truth grew louder: I was tethered to a frequency that was slowly undoing me. And untethering meant choosing myself.

So the day came, the day I finally chose my freedom. It wasn’t a dramatic moment. It wasn’t a loud goodbye. Untethering rarely is. It was a soft closing. A quiet release. A tender reclaiming of my own field.

It hurt. Of course it did. Love doesn’t stop being love simply because it’s no longer sustainable.

But I walked away anyway. Not because I stopped caring, but because I finally started caring for myself.

As I untethered, I felt it:

The weight lifting.

The fog clearing.

My energy returning.

My truth rising.

I didn’t lose her. I released the version of myself who believed I had to save her.

Untethering was ascension. It was the reclaiming of my power, my peace, my emotional integrity, and my spiritual sovereignty.

And in that release, I remembered the most important thing: Love should never cost you your light. Connection should never deplete your spirit. Your heart is sacred, and whoever stands beside you should treat it as such.

I didn’t walk away because she was broken. I walked away because I was waking up.

And the moment I untethered, my entire field rose. I felt myself coming back into myself. I felt my clarity strengthening. I felt my future opening.

Untethering was the moment I remembered who I am.

And I’ve been rising ever since.