When Endings Taste Like PreparationđŠ
đ° The Salt in the Cake
My dad used to tell me, âYou canât have a good cake without a little salt. That just means youâre baking a damn good cake.â
And if youâve ever baked, you know itâs true; without salt, a cake tastes flat.
Salt doesnât ruin the sweetness.
It reveals it.
I think about that a lot.
Especially now.
Because every week I sit down to write these posts, something in my life has shifted, something in my spirit, my circumstances, or my healing. Every week thereâs a new lesson, a new layer. And lately? The universe has been handing me a whole handful of salt.
đ A Job Thatâs Teaching Me More Than I Planned
Since my last post, so much has changed.
My new boss has been on a power trip, criticizing, nitpicking, humiliating more than teaching. The kind of environment where mistakes arenât corrected, theyâre punished. Itâs a pattern Iâve seen in every job Iâve ever had: someone trying to break me in order to âbuildâ me.
But somehow, I always rise.
Always exceed.
Always transform the salt into a damn good cake.
Maybe sheâs my salt right now; the thing thatâs bringing the best out of me, even if it stings on the tongue.
đŸ Cycles Closing (And What Theyâre Making Space For)
Men from my past have been coming and going like shadows, each one resurfacing only long enough for closure.
My therapist said, âTheyâre coming back to close the door.â
And thatâs exactly what it feels like.
I have Saturn in Aries in my 7th house, and with my Saturn return hitting full force, I can feel the universe reshaping my relationships.
These old chapters arenât for me anymore.
The healed version of me doesnât react the same way she used to.
And thatâs another kind of salt; not the painful kind, but the revealing kind.
The âlook how far youâve comeâ kind.
đïž My Fatherâs Final Chapter in My Story
And then the biggest shiftâŠ
My dad passed away.
I had just spoken to him on Friday.
By Monday, he was gone.
When I heard the news, my knees gave out.
I literally fell to the floor.
All the complicated emotions, the grief, the shock, the childhood wounds, the adult acceptance, rushed forward at once.
Our relationship wasnât easy.
He wasnât the father I needed him to be growing up.
But as I got older, I learned to see him.
To accept the version of love he could give.
To understand him as a human, not just a parent.
And as painful as this is, the spiritual part of me knows this wasnât random.
It feels like a soul contract completed, his chapter in my life, and mine in his, both reaching their end at the exact moment the universe intended.
Somewhere inside that knowing⊠Iâve found a strange peace.
đž Showing Up Through the Salt
My dad would want me to keep going.
He wouldnât want me to stop writing; the thing that helps me make sense of myself and my healing.
So even through these salty tears, Iâm still here.
Still writing.
Still becoming.
Still honoring his legacy in the only way I know how: by showing up.
This weekâs salt is heavy.
But itâs still part of the recipe.
Life will always give you salt,
but itâs our job to add the other ingredients and make a damn good cake.
And I know I will; I hope you will too.
đ A Gentle Reminder for Your Weekend
This weekend, remember: not everything that feels uncomfortable is a setback.
Sometimes the âsaltâ life hands you is proof that youâre growing, maturing, rising into a version of yourself you prayed for.
Let the closing doors be a blessing.
Let the quiet be confirmation.
Let the shifts soften you, not scare you.
Youâre not falling apart; youâre finally coming together.
đ· Thank You for Reading
If you made it here, thank you for walking with me through a week of closure, clarity, and spiritual alignment.
I hope these reflections remind you that nothing in your life is random; not the salt, not the sweetness, not the timing, not the lessons.
You are held, even when youâre stretching.
You are guided, even when you donât feel ready.
You are becoming, quietly but undeniably.
âš Affirmation Set:
I trust that every ending in my life is making space for something aligned to begin.
Even when life feels unfamiliar, I am guided, protected, and exactly where Iâm meant to be.
I am allowed to grow out of what once comforted me â my evolution is not a betrayal of my past self.
I trust the timing of my life; nothing meant for me can pass me by, and nothing Iâve outgrown can follow me.
I honor the chapters that are closing, and I open myself fully to the sweetness that is forming.
Even when I cannot see the full picture, I trust that the universe is arranging things for my highest good.
đ Soft Return Reflection Prompts:
In what ways am I still trying to hold onto comfort that no longer aligns with the woman Iâm becoming?
What version of me is this season asking me to release â and what version is rising in her place?
Where in my life am I interpreting âsaltâ as punishment, when itâs actually preparation or protection?
Which chapters feel complete, even if part of me is afraid to let them close?
What patterns, relationships, or environments am I finally responding to differently â and what does that reveal about my growth?
Until Next Time đș
