Walking away from my entire life of Karmic

He Who Feels It Knows It

There’s a saying: “He who feels it, knows it.” And that’s the truth.

When the moment comes to make a decision — especially one that shakes your world — make it. Don’t seek validation. Don’t wait for permission. The only one living your reality is you. The only one who knows the depth of your pain, the weight of your silence, and the courage it takes to walk away — is you.

Do not allow anyone to judge your choices from the comfort of their ignorance. Those who criticize rarely understand the battles you’ve fought, the nights you’ve spent holding yourself together, or the strength it took to survive.

Some of us are born into karmic cycles because of what we didn’t heal in past lives. We come back to this lifetime to clear those debts, to balance those energies, and sometimes that means we face triple the pain. Triple the betrayal. Triple the Judas energy. Triple the Jezebel spirits. Everything repeats until we finally learn the lesson and heal.

I know about energy now. I know how it works. I’ve become wiser, more knowledgeable, and more aware because of the experiences I’ve had. Every heartbreak, every betrayal, every loss was a teacher. And now I see the patterns for what they are — karmic contracts that I came here to dissolve.

I’ve even come to understand how it shows up in astrology. I was told that wherever you have retrograde placements in your natal chart, that’s where the unhealed karma from your past lives resides. I’m not a professional astrologer, but I know this much — my Mars is retrograde in Gemini in my first house, and my Saturn is retrograde in Leo. And you know what’s wild? My daughter is a Gemini, and my son is a Leo.

That realization hit me hard. The karmic cycles were written right there in my chart — and reflected through my own children. These energies come through bloodlines, through soul agreements, through lifetimes. We are each born to break or continue the cycle.

When you attract a karmic partner, that cycle deepens. And sometimes, when you have children with that karmic partner, those children also become part of the lesson — souls who mirror your pain, your wounds, and your healing. They are not here to destroy you, but to awaken you.

But awakening doesn’t come gently. It comes through betrayal, through abuse, through being forced to choose yourself after lifetimes of choosing everyone else.

Sometimes, forgiveness is simply letting go — letting each person live their life in their own way. You can love someone with all your heart and still have to release them because the abuse has become too much. There comes a moment where no matter what you do, it’s never enough.

You must investigate who you have children with, because when you come from trauma, it’s easy to choose a partner who feels familiar — someone you subconsciously think will save you from your family dynamic. But that familiarity is just another karmic trap, pulling you back into a deeper level of pain, where you will be abused in the most horrific way until you either stay and die or run and survive.

And I ran. I survived.

But that choice cost me the chance to raise my children and experience motherhood the way I wanted.

Learn from my mistakes. Heal before you choose. Break the cycles before they repeat through your bloodline. Because if you don’t, that pain will echo — through your lovers, through your children, through your own reflection.

Years later, I realized that even when we survive, the karmic lessons continue. Sometimes, the child you sacrificed everything for becomes the one who turns against you — abusive, disrespectful, blaming you for everything. Other times, they carry their own trauma silently, never realizing how much you endured. Either way, they too are walking their own path of healing.

You must respect that.

And you must still draw the line.

Because abuse is abuse, no matter where it comes from — a lover, a parent, or even your own child.

So when the moment comes — the one where you must choose peace over chaos, healing over history — do not hesitate.

Sometimes, love means walking away.

I had to make that choice.

I will always love my children. They are a part of me, always. But I had to save myself. I didn’t leave because I didn’t care; I left because I had no choice in the toxic, abusive environment I was surrounded by — from partners, from family, from cycles that I refused to keep repeating. I had to run. I became undocumented, forced to rebuild my life from nothing.

Years passed. Decades. When I finally reunited with my daughter, she was 29, fighting a brain tumor. I supported her — financially, emotionally, spiritually — but the pain continued. Her hurt had turned to rage, verbal attacks, and slander. That was my breaking point.

I realized that no matter how much you give, no matter how much you love, some souls are not meant to stay close — even your own flesh and blood. And that realization didn’t come from hate, but from acceptance.

I had done my part. I had loved, supported, and given. But when love turns into pain, you must let go.

To anyone reading this who battles guilt, shame, or judgment for walking away — remember: He who feels it, knows it. You do not owe anyone an explanation for saving yourself. You do not need approval for choosing peace.

Walking away is not weakness. It is divine alignment.

It is courage.

It is healing.

It is love — for yourself.