GASP! Am I the Problem?

Hey hey darlings

Happy Lunar New Year to everyone who celebrates 🧧

And a blessed Ramadan to those observing 🌙

I hope you all had a weekend of love — self-love included. ❤️

How did I show myself love?
I ordered pizza and wings.

I’m not usually a pizza person, but Valentine’s Day called for it — and it was a great, satisfying self-love dinner.

Like a fickle heart, this week’s weather teased us with spring. It was sunny, in the 50s, and I heard the birds singing their early spring songs.

For the first time since all the chaos in Minnesota, I went on my first real walk/hike of the year. I was reminded how much walking soothes me and gives me peace. People were out on their boats along the river, and the eagles made their presence known.

But like all fickle things, February — especially Winter — loves to play with our hearts.

As I write this week’s blog, the snow is back. ❄️

And you know what? I’m not mad.

The snow is beautiful… as long as I’m not driving in it. LOL.

I’m reminded again of being winter sovereign.

Contained.
Still.
Aligned.

And that brings us here.

🧧 From Snake to Fire

On February 17th, we welcomed the new year — and 2026 is the Year of the Fire Horse. 🔥🐎

Last year,  2025 — was the Year of the Wood Snake.

The Snake was quiet. Strategic. Observant. It sheds.

And that is exactly what many of us did.

We shed versions of ourselves shaped by survival.
We shed scripts handed to us by family, culture, institutions.
We shed the need to be palatable.
We shed the belief that alignment must be explained.

The Snake year was not loud.

It was internal.

It asked:

What are you still carrying that no longer belongs to you?

At the start of this year, I wrote:

Not new you.
Aligned you.

Because the work was never about reinvention.

It was about returning.

Return to self.
Return to sovereignty.
Return to a baseline that feels honest.

Last week, I wrote about the Sovereign Winter Lady — the stillness of winter, the containment, the quiet permission to rest without performing productivity.

Winter gave me space to sit in alignment without announcing it.

And now —we enter the Year of the Fire Horse.

The Horse represents movement.
Freedom.
Momentum.
Independence.

Add fire to that, and it becomes passion. Courage. Forward motion.

But fire has a reputation.

For some, fire means spectacle.
Burning bridges.
Calling everything out.
Running loud and fast in a way that scorches everything behind you.

If that is your season — truly — kudos to you.

But I’ve learned something about fire.

It does not have to be explosive to be powerful.

There is wildfire.

And then there is contained flame. 🕯️

The quiet candle that shifts the atmosphere of a room without demanding attention.
The steady hearth that warms without roaring.
The flame that does not flicker at every gust of wind.

This year, my fire is contained.

It does not need to be loud to be real.
It does not need to be abrasive to be clear.
It does not need to perform strength to prove it exists.

I am not running chaotically.

I am simply no longer dimming.

And sometimes that is enough to make people uncomfortable.

Because when you stop shrinking your flame, people who preferred the dimmer version of you will call the brightness aggression.

They will call containment coldness.
They will call clarity cruelty.

But contained fire is not chaos.

It is mastery.

It is the difference between reaction and control.
The difference between burning everything down and knowing exactly what no longer deserves oxygen.

Am I the Problem?

For a long time, I believed clarity required explanation.

I explained why I felt hurt.
I explained why something didn’t sit right.
I explained my tone.
I explained my boundaries.
I explained my distance.

I thought if I articulated it calmly enough, thoroughly enough, I would be understood.

I sought validation when I questioned whether I was being gaslit.
I double-checked myself when someone told me I was “too sensitive,” and found reasons not to trust myself.
I softened my delivery when someone felt uncomfortable with my truth — even when it cost me my peace.

I mistook over-explaining for emotional maturity.

What it actually was?

Permission-seeking.

Permission to feel what I already knew.
Permission to trust my perception.
Permission to move on.

Somewhere along the way, I realized something unsettling:

I had become the emotional regulator for rooms that never regulated themselves.

I was cushioning other people’s discomfort.
Softening consequences.
Absorbing reactions that were never my responsibility.

And when I stopped — when I stopped translating myself into something more digestible — the shift was immediate.

“You’ve changed.”
“You’re different.”
“That’s cold.”
“That’s harsh.”

And for a moment, I asked myself:

Am I being mean?
Am I being distant?
Am I the problem?

The answer came back steady.

Yes.

Yes, I am.

I am the problem because I moved on.
I am the problem because I am no longer responsible for managing other people’s emotions about my alignment.
I am the problem because I no longer confuse access with love.
I am the problem because I stopped explaining what I have already integrated.

And yes — to those who benefited from the old version of me, that may feel abrupt.

But you see, darlings — growth can feel destabilizing to people who were comfortable with who you used to be.

What feels like coldness to some is simply clarity to me… and to those of you who have finally taken off your rose-colored glasses.

The unhealed version of me would have prioritized being considerate of others before thinking of myself.

But as I forge my own path and own it, I also own this:

I am not punishing anyone.
I am not withdrawing in anger.
I am not closing doors out of spite.

I am standing still.

And if that stillness disrupts what once relied on my emotional labor — then disruption was overdue.

The Fire in My 30s 🔥

There was a version of me — especially in my 30s — that was bold in a different way.

Visible confidence.
Loud certainty.
A fire that wanted to be seen.

It wasn’t fake. It was necessary.

Your 30s are often the beginning of owning your voice.

But if I’m honest, some of that confidence still needed witnesses.

Now, in my 40s, something has shifted.

The fire is stronger.

But it is contained.

I no longer argue my alignment.
I no longer defend it.
I no longer need the room to validate it.

I live it.

And that is the difference.

Not suppression.
Not shrinking.

Mastery.

I am no longer performing strength.

I am inhabiting it.

To the Women Reading This

For most of our lives, we were trained not to be the problem.

Don’t be difficult.
Don’t be inconvenient.
Don’t be too much.
Don’t make people uncomfortable.

Be agreeable.
Be accommodating.
Be emotionally intelligent — which often meant emotionally absorbent.

Be everything for everyone.

Just don’t disrupt the room.

So when you begin to realign — when you start putting yourself first — when you stop cushioning other people’s irresponsibility —

The question creeps in:

Oh my God… am I the problem?

If you are aligned…
If you are moving with integrity…
If you are at peace with your decisions…

Then yes.

You may very well be the problem.

Not because you are cruel.
Not because you are selfish.
Not because you are unkind.

But because you stopped being convenient.

You stopped being available for misalignment.

You become a problem for others.

But for the first time —

You are not a problem for yourself.

And that freedom?

It is quiet.
It is steady.
It is sovereign.

🔥 The Year of the Fire Horse 🐎

As we step fully into the Year of the Fire Horse, I am not asking to be understood.

I am not asking to be accommodated.
I am not asking for permission.

I am carrying forward what the Snake taught me — to shed what no longer fits.

I am honoring what winter gave me — stillness, containment, recalibration.

And now, with fire — I move.

Not recklessly.
Not loudly.
Not for spectacle.

But with steady heat.

If that makes me the problem in someone else’s narrative, so be it.

I would rather be the problem than abandon myself again.

This year is not about becoming someone new.

It is about embodying who you were always meant to be.

Aligned.
Contained.
Unapologetic.

And if you find yourself asking:

Hmmm… am I the problem?

Pause.

Check your alignment.
Check your peace.
Check your integrity.

If the answer is stillness instead of shame —

Then welcome to your fire. 🔥

This is your own pathway.

And you are allowed to walk it — without explanation.

Until next time,

Empress darlings. ✨

No crowns.
No performance.
Just alignment.