I got so lost that I need more time to find myself again.
Last Friday I went to a meditation called Lion’s Gate, which carries a huge meaning. Supposedly, there is an energy portal you can cross to become your other self—a better self, your best version, or the version of you that you see in the future when you are fully connected to your heart. And something very intense happened to me.
I did the meditation with K, whom I love—she’s incredibly warm and helps me connect deeply. And I saw it clearly. I saw the threshold of the portal as a ring of fire. And I saw a girl sitting there, happy—deeply, fully happy—with an open heart, in love again. That happy girl was me. It shocked me because I saw myself perfectly, like a very tangible, very real image. But I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to cross the threshold. The woman I am today didn’t want to cross it.
Of course, it made me cry. But I also tried to hold back my tears. I wanted to look strong. I didn’t want to show myself vulnerable in that place, in that moment. It felt very strange—almost as if I intentionally chose to come back, or to stay where I was. And even though I was crying, I didn’t feel sad. I felt it was something that brought me happiness.
I have always been, and still am, certain that love will return to my life. Maybe an even stronger love will come. I’m not afraid of that. I can imagine it perfectly, and I know I’ll be able to enjoy it again when the time comes. But I also know that today my heart is closed—paused—on purpose. I had to lock it away for a reason. I don’t fully know why, but I feel it’s stored away intentionally. The heart that is shared with someone else is not available right now, and it doesn’t want to be.
And I say this not because I’m not with anyone, but because for the first time in my life, I want to say what I truly feel—even if it doesn’t align with what is expected of me.
I feel that for the first time in my life, I am genuinely happy. And I feel that happiness in my heart. I feel it slowly filling up, as if being reborn rediscovering who I am, what makes me happy, and what I want to do, personally, without thinking about others. Being free.
I realized that my ex is building what it looks like a “classic family”, so fast. Maybe this is what he was really craving. The “new experiences” he wants are actually traditional ones—the kind he learned at home. That’s where the same differences we always had shown up again, the ones that always placed me in the position that didn’t quite fit. He isn’t living his freedom. He’s living routine again. And to me, it still feels boring. Even more boring now, actually—because having the chance to do whatever he wants he chooses to do exactly the same thing. He repeats the story.
Do I forgive him for falling in love during the relationship and lying about everything he lied about? Of course not. I would be a hypocrite if I said yes. But now, I feel that I was far more trapped in that suffocating relationship than he ever was. Because it wasn’t just the marriage that suffocated me, I suffocated myself. I had put myself inside a box and couldn’t get out.
My true self exists outside of the “proper” structure—the one that makes everyone else comfortable, the correct one. Sometimes I managed to come out into the light. Many times. But most of the time, I had to stay trapped. Mostly to not be too much. Because too much is a bad word. And the fire of someone who is too much must be extinguished—because it makes people uncomfortable.
Before being with my ex, I wasn’t traditional. I did things outside the norm—from working alongside men, to things as simple as traveling alone, defending my rights, and feeling free to say what I wanted. At that time, more than 20 years ago, it was a lot. But at some point, life caught up with me, and I was supposed to do “what was right.”
I didn’t do it perfectly thought, because my ex wasn’t exactly the man people expected me to be with—but he was the closest I could get. And slowly, without realizing it, I changed myself into him, instead of the other way around.
I slowly dimmed myself. On our honey moon we went backpacking through Honduras, but it wasn’t “appropriate,” so it couldn’t be repeated. Going off on adventures wasn’t what I was supposed to do. But then suddenly I moved abroad—that broke the rules. It was hard. It had to look like my husband had adapted perfectly—to avoid criticism, and above all, to prevent all the weight from falling on me. But it fell on me anyway.
And I did the same thing with sex. I shut myself down. Because my inner flame made it too obvious that my ex had premature ejaculation—which isn’t common—and it couldn’t be talked about, so as not to offend, so as not to make him feel less of a man than I already felt he was. But that’s not something you say. And if I spoke up, I was “too much.”
Now I feel like something very strange happened to me—this act of holding myself back. As if I saw happiness and said, not yet. I don’t know if it was “I don’t deserve it yet,” or maybe yes—but not in a self-devaluing way. More in the sense that I realize that to truly enjoy happiness, you have to be at peace with yourself.
There’s a Karol G song that really represents me called “Se Puso Linda y Salió.” I love it because that’s exactly what happens to me—I get dressed up, I go out into the world, but my heart is in airplane mode when it comes to someone else. Yet it’s wide open for my kids and my friends. I feel much more connected to my emotions. But my heart is also trying to connect with me first. And that’s happening slowly. It doesn’t make me anxious—it gives me peace.
I feel like I’m on a path that isn’t fully mapped out, but it leads toward the light. It leads toward that portal where the happy girl is. But to get there, several transformations still need to happen—and they’re not finished yet.
I’m walking the path of feelings, of emotions, of small transgressions against everyday life. The path of learning how to express what I feel with clarity and maturity. The path toward being more complete, more human. The path toward humanizing myself.
I have to be ready to cross it.
I have to stand there, looking at myself in the mirror, understanding that I was given something different in life. It’s like being left-handed—it’s just there for a reason. And I no longer want to be invisible. I want to feel, to live, to exist, to love, to cry, and to feel with my whole soul—and to finally, fully humanize myself.