My Soul Is Not Open for Consumption

There is a stage of healing that rarely gets named.

It comes after forgiveness.
After empathy.
After understanding everyone’s wounds, stories, and survival patterns.

It arrives quietly — not as anger, but as clarity.

This is the moment when compassion matures into discernment. When softness becomes sovereign. When you realize that love without boundaries is not love at all — it is self-abandonment dressed as virtue.

I have lived long enough inside my own healing to know this truth in my bones:

Not everyone who feels familiar is safe.
Not everyone who recognizes your light is meant to be near it.

Some people are drawn to you not because they wish to meet you, but because they wish to feed.

They don’t always come with malice. In fact, they rarely do. More often they arrive with vulnerability, spiritual language, intensity, urgency, or admiration. They mirror your depth. They sense your capacity. They feel the nourishment of your presence before they understand it.

And because you are perceptive — because you are intuitive, empathic, open — you may initially interpret this pull as connection.

But hunger is not devotion.
Intensity is not intimacy.
Familiarity is not alignment.

I had to learn the difference slowly — through my body, through loss, through nervous-system collapse and reorganization. Through moments where I realized that my exhaustion was not coming from life itself, but from unconscious access.

There are people who siphon not because they choose to, but because they do not know how not to.

Their inner world is hollow.
Their sense of self is fragmented.
Their survival depends on external regulation — validation, energy, attention, attachment.

In spiritual language, these are often called hungry ghosts.

They are not demons.
They are not villains.
They are unintegrated beings led by lack.

And lack, when unchecked, consumes.

My soul is not open for consumption.
Hungry ghosts are not permitted near my divinity.

This is not a curse.
This is not judgment.
This is a boundary spoken in truth.

For a long time, I believed that being loving meant being endlessly available. That being spiritual meant remaining open no matter the cost. That compassion required me to stay accessible, understanding, patient — even when my body was signaling danger, depletion, or collapse.

That belief nearly destroyed me.

Healing taught me something different.

It taught me that discernment is not the opposite of love — it is the protector of it. That true compassion includes the self. That sovereignty is not hardness, but precision.

There are relationships that activate your nervous system into expansion, coherence, and safety.

And there are relationships that activate it into hypervigilance, confusion, self-doubt, and contraction.

Your body always knows the difference before your mind catches up.

When I say my soul is not open for consumption, I am speaking to this knowing. I am honoring the wisdom that lives in my tissues, my breath, my intuition. I am no longer negotiating with people who require my self-betrayal to stay connected.

I do not owe access to my inner world to those who cannot meet me with integrity.
I do not owe softness to those who misuse it.
I do not owe understanding at the expense of my own coherence.

2026 marks a threshold for me — not as a declaration of war, but as a declaration of alignment. A year where my no is clean. Where my yes is embodied. Where I choose peace over chemistry, integrity over attraction, and clarity over chaos.

This is what healed femininity looks like.

Not endless openness.
Not martyrdom.
Not emotional availability without discernment.

But selective intimacy.
Grounded self-trust.
Boundaries that are not walls, but altars.

Altars that protect the part of me that creates.
That loves.
That sees clearly.
That heals without self-erasure.

If this resonates, let it land.

You are not failing at love because you have become more selective.
You are not “closed” because you no longer tolerate depletion.
You are not harsh because you have learned to guard what is sacred.

You are maturing.

Your nervous system is reorganizing around truth.
Your soul is remembering its sovereignty.

You are not here to be consumed.
You are here to be honored.

Kat Grace