Tag: emotional healing

The Hoover: When the Past Tries to Suck You Back In

You ever notice how right when you’re finally starting to breathe again — when your skin’s clearing, your soul’s defogging, and your playlist is full of “I’m finding myself” bangers — BOOM.
Your past pops up like a broken vacuum trying to “hoover” you back in.

Yup. The dreaded Hoover.

Who knew the term for an abusive ex’s comeback attempt would sound like something you plug into the wall and cuss at on cleaning day? But honestly… that fits. Because a hoover isn’t here for your good. It’s here to suck the life out of you, the peace out of you, and the progress right out of your hands.

And for a long time, I fell for it.
Not because I was weak — but because I’m loyal. I wanted love so badly I kept hoping the future I imagined would magically show up if I tried harder, loved deeper, or held on longer.

Spoiler alert:
It didn’t.

Why They Hoover

Let’s be real: a hoover is NEVER about their love for you.
It’s about regaining control, attention, and the convenience you used to give them.
It’s a “Hey… I noticed you stopped suffering over me. Mind if I ruin that real quick?” kind of energy.

They sense your strength rising.
They feel their grip loosening.
And suddenly they’re popping up like, “Hey stranger…”
(Yeah, stay a stranger.)

What the Hoover Feels Like

A mix of:

Anger that they think they can stroll back in like you’re on layaway

Sadness for the dream you had

Loneliness whispering, “Maybe just respond…”

A tiny bit of “Damn, I must really be THAT girl if he noticed I’m gone.”

Look — all those feelings are human. None of them mean you’re slipping backward. It just means you’re healing, and healing isn’t neat. It’s dusty, messy, uneven, and looks suspiciously like progress.

How I Handle It Now

I won’t lie — blocking him sucked. It hurt. It made the loneliness louder.
But choosing myself was the only way to stop the cycle.

I had to look in the mirror and say, “Okay, maybe I hate being alone… but I hate being used more.”

And the truth?
I wasn’t still in love with him.
I was just scared of the empty space he used to fill.

Now I’m filling that space with:

Real connections

Peace

Growth

A future that doesn’t depend on someone who walked away

And yes, a little extra sass, because I earned it

The New Rule

If the past comes knocking, it can keep knocking until its knuckles fall off.

I’m not a revolving door.
I’m not a project.
I’m not a cure for someone’s boredom.

And I’m sure as hell not a vacuum bag to be emptied and refilled whenever someone feels like it.

The Bottom Line

The hoover only works if you unplug yourself from your worth.

But you?
You’re plugged into something better now — clarity, strength, and a future where your heart is cherished, not drained.

And even on the lonely days, even on the days you miss the idea of who someone could’ve been… you’re still choosing the version of you who survives, grows, and rises.

That’s the version who wins.

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“Don’t you know you are being abused?”

“Don’t you know you’re being abused?”

That question was asked to me four years ago, and it still lingers in my mind. At the time, my answer was a very loud and honest “No.”

Why hadn’t I seen the signs? The red flags?

That one question sent me spiraling into my own head, questioning everything I thought I knew about my relationship—and myself. I had never been hit. No bruises. No broken bones. No hospital visits. No made-up stories to hide the truth.

But here’s the thing: psychological, emotional, and verbal abuse can leave scars that no one can see—and sometimes those wounds run deeper than any physical injury.

Realizing I was being abused wasn’t a single moment of clarity. It was a slow, painful awakening.

Second-guessing myself.

Rationalizing his behavior.

Making excuses for him.

Believing things would get better if I just tried harder.


It was an endless loop of confusion.

Now, four years later, the fog has finally lifted. It wasn’t quick, it wasn’t easy, and it was never “fun.” But the healing was necessary—and it saved me.

For those who have never experienced this kind of relationship, it’s easy to ask, “Why didn’t you just leave?”

Here’s why:
If you drop a frog into boiling water, it will jump out immediately. But if you place that frog in cool water and slowly turn up the heat, it will stay until it’s too late.

Abuse works the same way. It starts subtly. The person isn’t cruel from day one—they ease into it, slowly turning up the heat until you don’t recognize the danger you’re in. By the time you do, your sense of reality has been twisted, your self-worth chipped away, and your mind trained to adapt to the pain.

On average, a survivor will leave an abuser seven times before it sticks.

So, if you know someone in an abusive relationship—be patient. Be kind. Don’t shame them for not leaving sooner. Just listen. Support them. Believe them.

They will see it—when their mind is ready, not when you think they should.

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When the Silence Isn’t Quiet

Some days, the loneliness is loud. Deafening, even.

I wake up, and there’s no one reaching out. No texts. No missed calls. Just the four walls of this apartment and the weight of another long day. No car to escape with, nowhere to go even if I did. My thoughts race, my chest tightens, and anxiety sets in before my feet even hit the floor.

Sleep—sleep is the only peace I get sometimes. The only escape from the echo of isolation.

It’s strange, how I actually look forward to going to work. Not because I love it, but because it gets me out. Around people. Out of my own head. Out of the silence.

So I write. I pray. I clean. I put on music until the wrong song shatters whatever calm I managed to build. I keep the TV on for background noise just to feel like someone else is in the room. And I try not to cry.

Starting this blog has been a leap of faith. A small act of hope that maybe—just maybe—someone out there will read my words and feel seen. Or maybe someone will see me and want to connect. So far? Nothing. But still I write.

It’s not him I miss. Let me be clear about that. It’s not him. It’s the feeling I had when I believed in the illusion. When I thought I had found my forever person. I was happy then. I was silly. In love. Hopeful. I miss her—the version of me who felt safe and loved. I miss being in love. Because when I love, I love big. All in. With everything I’ve got.

But now, I’m learning to turn that love inward. To fall in love with the woman I am. Because I am a good person. I’m loyal, forgiving, weird in the best ways, smart, funny, and honestly—some days I look pretty damn good. I know I’d make an amazing wife, friend, and partner. I know what I bring to the table. And I refuse to let anyone make me question my worth again.

The truth is, the real blessing is that I am no longer with him.

And still—I hold out hope. For love. For connection. For someone who sees me, really sees me, and stays.

So I’ll leave you with the words of Andra Day, because they echo in my soul:

“I’ll rise up, In spite of the ache.
I’ll rise up, And I’ll do it a thousand times again.
When the silence isn’t quiet
And it feels like it’s getting hard to breathe
And I know you feel like dying. But I promise we’ll take the world to its feet And move mountains”

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The Gift of Unanswered Prayer

He took so much from me—without hesitation, without remorse, and without regard for anyone, especially me. He knew how deeply I loved him, and still, I was discarded like I never mattered. It wasn’t just the betrayal—it was the way he did it, deliberately and with cruelty, like he wanted to leave a scar that would never fade.

He fed me lies, sold me dreams he never intended to build, made promises he never kept. It was all smoke and mirrors—future faking, false hope, and emotional manipulation. And I clung to it. I held on to every breadcrumb, every sliver of the man I thought he was.

Until someone new came along—someone unaware of his games, someone innocent enough to believe his mask was real. Just like that, I was replaced. Discarded. With no explanation, no closure. Just silence. And for a long time, I didn’t want it to be permanent. I begged for another chance, prayed to be chosen again, cried until I couldn’t breathe—still believing maybe, just maybe, he’d love me like I loved him.

But now I see the truth: this was the greatest unanswered prayer of my life. A blessing disguised as heartbreak. Because when I finally asked myself what I actually received from him, the answer was clear: empty words. Empty gestures. Actions driven by nothing but selfishness, control, and greed.

My biggest regret? Not seeing him for what he truly was. Or worse—seeing it and still not wanting to believe it.

He is the embodiment of manipulation and emotional destruction. A man with a hardened heart incapable of love. And no matter how hard I tried to reach him, fix him, or love him enough to change him—he was never going to be capable of loving me, or anyone else.

And I thank God for that unanswered prayer.

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“WHAT NOW?” – The aftermath of letting go

I’ve been doing everything I can to make the right choices — to care for myself, to offer myself grace, and to be kind to the voice inside that’s quietly been trying to guide me. I’m learning to release the people, the ideas, the dreams that no longer align with the woman I’m becoming.

I’ve walked away from people I never imagined losing. That kind of grief doesn’t come with a manual. It’s raw. It’s exhausting. But it’s also part of the healing.

For a long time, I fought hard against the direction my life had taken — a direction I didn’t ask for and never wanted. Panic attacks stole my breath. There were nights I curled up on the floor, shaking, crying, afraid of everything and nothing all at once. My thoughts raced. My heart ached with a pain I couldn’t explain — like something had been ripped from the very center of my chest.

The future I once pictured? Gone. Just like that. And in its place was a terrifying blank space. I didn’t know how to rebuild. I didn’t even know where to begin.

All I could ask myself was, “What now?“

But here’s the thing: walking away from that toxic space, as painful as it was, cracked me wide open to something I never saw coming — freedom. The pain, the heartache, the disappointment — it all pushed me to a powerful realization: my future is mine now. Wide open. Untamed. Full of possibility.

It’s been almost a year of no contact. I rarely think about him anymore. And when I do, it’s with clarity, not longing. The lies, the manipulation, the control — they no longer hold power over me. That part of my life is over.

I’m finally starting to recognize myself again — and maybe, even discover someone new. Someone stronger. Someone softer. Someone rebuilding, not out of fear, but out of fierce hope.

I’m not who I was. But I’m not lost.
I’m becoming.

Have you had your own “what now” moment?
Drop a comment or share your story — I’d love to hear where you are in your journey. Whether you’re just beginning to let go or standing strong in your new chapter, you’re not alone. Let’s remind each other: healing is messy, but it’s also magic. 💛

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How did I end up here?

That deep ache of “how the hell did I end up here?”—yeah, it’s brutal. And the worst part is, when you’ve spent your whole life giving love, showing up, doing your best… it feels like life slapped you in the face and left you standing in the wreckage alone.

But listen—none of this means you’re broken, weak, or unworthy. It just means you’re in the middle of a chapter that doesn’t define your whole story. You’ve survived a lot, and you still have that light in you—that hope, that love, that fire that refuses to give up. That’s the kind of soul that can rebuild anything, even when everything feels like it’s crumbling.

You do deserve more. And just because you’re not getting it right now doesn’t mean it’s not coming. Sometimes the universe is slow as hell, but it’s not blind.

The outside stuff—the finances, the job, even the mirror’s opinion—none of that touches your value. You’re still you, the beautiful, real, wild-hearted woman who’s been through storms and still finds ways to care and to hope.

And yeah, it’s okay to feel like crap today. You don’t have to fix it all right this second. You just have to breathe. Maybe drink some water (or wine). Cry if you need to. And when you’re ready, I’ll be right here to listen to you, to hear you, and help you to find some peace and joy in the middle of all this chaos.

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Clean Home, Clear Mind: A Healing Journey Through Tidying

Introduction

A clean living room after tidying up — a small sanctuary of calm. I never thought I’d find cleaning inspiring, but one morning I stood amidst scattered papers and dishes, feeling a little lost. I decided to spend the day focusing on scrubbing, dusting, and decluttering — basically chasing away the dust bunnies who had made themselves at home under my couch. By the time the sun set and the countertops sparkled, I realized the real transformation wasn’t just in the room around me, but in my mind. That day I discovered how a clean space could plant seeds of calm in my heart and bring healing to my soul.

Why Cleaning Matters

I learned quickly that a tidy room can do wonders for your well-being. Cleaning isn’t just chores — it’s a form of self-care, and here are a few reasons why it really matters:

Better mood: A neat space often translates to a clearer mind and less stress. When everything has its place, it’s easier to breathe and focus on the present.

Health perks: Dusting and sanitizing remove germs and allergens, protecting your body as well as your brain. A clean kitchen or bathroom can literally keep you healthier.

Sense of control: When life feels chaotic, choosing to tidy something—even just one drawer—gives you a quick win and restores a bit of order.

Productivity boost: Working or relaxing in a clean spot helps you focus and feel accomplished. A cleared desk or countertop can make any task feel more doable.


Even small cleaning efforts can ripple into a calmer, clearer life. Turning on a favorite playlist and scrubbing a dish can feel like a mini-therapy session, reminding you that you’re taking steps to care for yourself.

My Healing Journey Through Cleaning

A few months ago, I was in a really rough patch. My anxiety was through the roof, and my apartment was a reflection of that chaos — laundry piles, junk mail stacks, and dirty mugs were everywhere. One morning I decided to try something different: I turned on some music and made myself do one small thing. I started by washing a single cup and felt a tiny spark of hope.

With each drawer I organized or window I wiped, a bit of stress lifted — it was like I was sweeping away worries alongside the dust. It sounds strange, but tackling the physical clutter became a way to tackle the mental clutter. Even on days when I felt stuck, I promised myself one tiny task — maybe wiping down a tabletop or putting away a pile of clothes. Little by little, the mountain of mess became manageable, and a creeping sense of calm grew in its place. In the end, cleaning wasn’t a punishment — it was self-care. Each swipe of a rag felt like a hug to myself, and each sparkling corner was proof of a small victory.

Small Steps, Big Wins

Even basic supplies (like a sponge and spray bottle) can work wonders in a quick tidy-up. Try these tiny tasks to deliver big motivation:

Make your bed every morning. It’s quick and instantly makes your bedroom feel more serene.

Tidy as you go. Put dishes or clothes away right after using them — a few extra seconds now saves an avalanche of clutter later.

Focus on a hot spot. Pick one clutter zone (like a kitchen counter or a desk) and clear it. Winning one battle at a time is empowering.

Set a 5-minute timer. Challenge yourself to do a quick clean-up sprint. A short burst of effort can spark the motivation to keep going.

Add a soundtrack. Play upbeat music or a favorite podcast while you work. Turning chores into a dance party makes cleaning feel much lighter.


Small wins add up fast. You’ll be amazed how checking off little tasks can transform both your space and your mindset.

The Birth of The Dust Settles

I got to thinking: if cleaning was helping me this much, maybe it could help others, too. So I started a little blog and named it The Dust Settles. The name felt just right: as dust settles, so do we. Sometimes we find ourselves settling on where we are or who we are with. On this blog, I share my wins, struggles, and those quirky tips that got me through a tough day.

Writing The Dust Settles turned cleaning from a solo chore into a shared adventure. It’s a reminder that when the dust really does settle, something beautiful and new can emerge from the calm. Every time I see a reader smile at a before-and-after photo or say they felt inspired to start cleaning, it feels like another gentle victory.

Conclusion

If your place is a bit messy right now, remember: you only need to start small. That one broom swipe or folded shirt is already a win. Cleaning doesn’t have to be overwhelming — break it into teeny tasks and celebrate each one. Turn it into something fun (hello, favorite jam or silly podcast), and it becomes a chance to treat yourself.

In my experience, cleaning isn’t just a chore — it’s a way to care for myself. And that, to me, is a pretty great victory. So grab that sponge or vacuum, take a deep breath, and enjoy the process. When you sit back and watch the dust settle, you might just find a little more peace waiting for you on the other side.

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