This Is What Alignment Feels Like

I’m genuinely happy right now.

Life isn’t perfect, I am happy with that.
I am happy with what I have.
I am happy with how I am living.
It’s the first time in my entire life that I am happy on all levels.

Not the loud, performative bullshit kind. Not the kind that needs proof, witnesses, or a highlight reel. The quiet, steady happiness that comes from living in alignment with myself and letting my life unfold without forcing it into shapes that never quite fucking fit.

Making big changes didn’t shrink my world.

It opened it the hell up.

There’s more joy in my body. More ease in my nervous system. More laughter. More movement. More presence. More gratitude. I feel like I’m finally living from the inside-out instead of trying to secure my life from the outside-in like it was some fragile house of cards.

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Openness as a Way of Living

I’m a relationship anarchist.

I always have been.

It may come as a surprise, but I am not romantic or intimate with everyone I deeply love.

Relationship anarchy is different than that.

Relationship anarchy is pretty much as its name suggests – it has no definable rules. Relationships within this structure are fluid, and therefore have no solid differentiation between sexual, romantic, or platonic relationships.

Importantly, relationship anarchists avoid putting their relationships in boxes or categorizing them with society’s labels such as “partner”, “friend” or “lover”. Instead, this structure is about breaking down societal relationship standards, as well as focusing on relationships as a community rather than as individuals in a relationship.

While relationship anarchy has its own definable philosophy of love, it can still be connected to the concept of sexual anarchy. The definition of sexual anarchy is, essentially, a challenge to the definitions of men and women in society, targeting the unspoken rules of behavior among them. That is, perceptions such as that women should stay at home while men go out to work for the family. In contrast, relationship anarchy aims to challenge both the gender and relationship norms that still exist and pervade through many cultures.

https://www.attachmentproject.com/enm/relationship-anarchy/

For a long time, I tried to abandon the fact that I am wired this way, not because it was wrong for me, but because it didn’t feel safe as hell. I chose monogamy in past relationships because it promised security. Clear rules. Clear roles. And the comforting illusion that if I did everything “right,” I wouldn’t lose connection or get my heart smashed again. It was a way to secure the attachment I thought I had.

At the time, that made total sense.

I was looking for safety, stability, and reassurance in a world where my nervous system didn’t yet know how to provide those things internally. Monogamy felt like a container that could hold my fear of abandonment, rejection, and loss of love. It wasn’t stupid. It wasn’t weak. It was me doing the best I could with what I had.

What I’ve learned, gently, over time, is that structure does not equal safety. Not even close.

No relationship framework can replace self-trust. No agreement can prevent disconnection if it comes at the cost of abandoning myself. Choosing monogamy wasn’t a failure or a mistake, it was an attempt to meet real needs with limited tools.

Now I have different fucking tools.

Relationship anarchy isn’t something I adopted recently. It’s something I returned to. This time with clarity, regulation, and actual care for myself.

This openness isn’t limited to romance. It’s how I approach all relationships and how I’m learning to relate to myself without abandoning my own damn needs.

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Relationship Anarchy Starts With Me First

I’m also deeply honest about addiction and vices, because pretending otherwise is bullshit.

Addiction is completely normal. We all have vices. Anyone who says they don’t is either in denial or lying to themselves.

Sometimes a vice exists without causing problems.
Sometimes it quietly starts running the show.

If something becomes an issue for you, you’ll address it when the time is right. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, maybe five years from now. What matters most isn’t rushing to fix it; it’s awareness.

Not ignoring it.
Not avoiding or numbing it.
Not pretending it will go away on its own.
Just staying conscious.

That awareness is what eventually leads to change when it actually works for you.

It’s taken me years to work through my own addictions, and I’m still not magically done. I’ll conquer one and another will pop up. Life has a funny way of doing that.

I got back into long-distance walking recently and went absolutely fucking overboard. I dehydrated myself, under-ate, lost thirteen pounds in ten days, and I’m losing two toenails as a result of the intensity. Not heroic. Not disciplined. Just compulsive.

And instead of shaming myself, I noticed it.
I slowed the fuck down.
I adjusted.

That’s what recovery looks like for me now: awareness, course correction, and a whole lot of grace.

This openness is shaping my recovery too.

I’m no longer forcing timelines or chasing milestones to feel “okay” or worthy. I’m relating to my healing with curiosity instead of control. I’m letting sobriety, creativity, movement, rest, love, happiness, secure attachment, and joy evolve organically instead of white-knuckling my way through it.

My recovery is no longer a checklist.
It’s a fucking relationship.

Some days it’s gentle. Some days it’s messy as hell. All of it is honest. And that honesty has brought real happiness into my life. I feel safer in my body. More trusting of my instincts. More willing to pause, notice, and choose again instead of spiraling.

I dance because it feels good.
I walk because I love moving through the world.
I take pictures because I enjoy what I see.
I listen to music because it tickles my brain.
When I am not doing all of that, I rest when my body asks for it, without guilt.

Nothing about this feels forced anymore. And that alone feels revolutionary.

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Moving Slowly Feels Like Freedom

One of the greatest joys in my life right now is moving slowly on purpose.

I’m no longer rushing connection forward just because it feels good or because I’m scared shitless of losing it. I’m letting relationships unfold naturally, without sacrificing my need for safety, depth, and trust along the way.

Chemistry alone is no longer a reason to escalate.
Intensity is no longer confused with intimacy.

Deep connection matters to me. Emotional safety matters to me. I want intimate connections of any kind, to be grounded, mutual, and earned through presence rather than pressure or panic.

This way of relating feels spacious instead of anxious. Playful instead of performative. Alive instead of rushed and desperate.

And it applies just as much to friendships and platonic connections as it does anywhere else.

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The Gentle Power of the Irish Goodbye

I’m also deeply protective of this little guilty pleasure of mine. It brings me joy.

I’m the king of Irish goodbyes.
It’s should come as no surprise to anyone that knows me.

When something stops feeling aligned, when a space, dynamic, connection, or conversation no longer feels good in my body, I leave. Quietly. Kindly. Stealthily. Without notice. Without a long-ass explanation.

Not out of avoidance though.
Out of self-care and protection.

Explaining or asking permission to depart, has often been an entry point for arguments, gaslighting, manipulation, or people dismissing/downplaying my lived experience, emotions, and feelings like it’s up for some kind of fucking debate. Leaving early preserves my energy and protects what I’m building.

I’m building a new house now.
Solid foundation. Clean lines. Open windows.

Nothing tramples through it anymore. Not mine, and certainly not anyone else’s muddy boots.

My home is clean, and its fucking staying that way.

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What I’m Choosing Now

I’m choosing curiosity over conformity.
Alignment over approval.
Openness over fear.

I don’t need my life to look “normal” to feel fulfilled. I don’t need to follow scripts to feel connected. I don’t need to rush anything to trust myself anymore.

I’m no longer interested in codependent dynamics—no rescuing, no fixing, no disappearing, no twisting myself into shapes just to keep someone close. Connection has to be mutual, grounded, and self-responsible, or it’s not for me.

My circle now is simple, joyful, and has a few reasonable requirements:

You are welcome here if you bring peace, warmth, curiosity, safety, love, happiness, secure attachment, and magic.

If not, I wish you well…and I keep walking. Depending on what chaos or danger you bring, I may choose to walk away very quickly in the form of an Irish Goodbye.

And never look back.

Bottom line, stick with the people who pull the magic out of you, not the madness.

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An Invitation

If you’re on your own journey of recovery, connection, or self-discovery, consider this an invitation:

Let your life be curious.
Let your relationships be honest.
Let your pace be your own, damn it.

You don’t have to follow a script to live a full life.
You don’t have to rush to make something real.
You don’t have to abandon yourself to belong.

Stay with what brings you joy.
Protect what feels alive.
And keep choosing the people, and the paths, that pull the magic out of you.

Avoid the ones that cause madness.

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