✨ When the Fire Comes: A Love Letter to My Burning, Tired Spirit

I’m tired.

Not just “I need a nap” tired—I’m soul-weary, scream-into-a-pillow, bone-deep tired.

Tired of believing with my whole heart that this work matters—my blog, my shop, the words I craft with trembling hope—and being met with silence. Tired of trying to hold space for everyone else’s healing while my own spirit is screaming for someone to just fucking see me.

This work is sacred to me.

But today it feels like I’m pouring it into a void.

I thought following my purpose would feel fulfilling. I thought when I finally stepped into who I truly am—a witch, a healer, a writer, a creator—I’d feel surrounded by connection. But instead, I feel like I’m screaming into a circle of people who are too busy or too shallow or too small to even notice what I’m building. And I’m fucking angry about that.

I’ve spent so much time trying to stay soft and approachable.

But right now?

I’m not in that place.

I’m on fire.

Because I’ve given and given and given—offering magic, comfort, wisdom, rawness—and the echo back has been crickets. Or worse: judgment, dismissal, indifference.

And I know—I know—that I’m not the only one.

So maybe this isn’t just a vent. Maybe it’s a prayer lit with rage.

A love letter to the parts of me (and you) that keep showing up even when no one claps.

To my tired, burning spirit:

You’re allowed to be pissed.

You’re allowed to scream.

You’re allowed to want more than what’s been given.

But you’re also allowed to rest.

You don’t have to prove your worth through pain.

You don’t have to earn visibility by bleeding yourself dry.

You are the flame, not the fuel.

And to the ones reading this who feel the same—who are trying to do something meaningful in a world that sometimes doesn’t seem to give a shit—I see you.

You’re not alone.

And maybe this post, this moment, this fire—Is the beginning of something different.

🕯 I don’t have all the answers. But I know this:

I’m not done.

I’m not giving up.

I’m just letting the fire speak for once.

Blessed be,

Bobbi Ann