Out of the Fire: What My Karmic Relationship Taught Me About Love, Truth, and Power

There are some relationships that feel like destiny — electric, intense, impossible to ignore. You think you’ve met “the one.” You dive in deep, heart first, spirit open, ready to rise in love.

But sometimes, what feels like a twin flame is actually a karmic fire.

And fire doesn’t just warm — it burns.

I recently walked out of one of the most transformative relationships of my life. I loved her deeply. I tried — over and over again. I showed up with my flaws, with my wounds, with my whole damn heart. We danced through light and shadow, through joy and destruction. We had beautiful moments — late night parties just the two of us, laughing under the stars, music and magic and a sense that we were made of the same strange stardust.

But love, real love, is not chaos.

What began as deep connection slowly morphed into cycles I couldn’t ignore. After every high came a crash. After every party, a shift — her energy changing, more manipulative, more narcissistic. At first, I didn’t see it. I blamed myself. I tried harder. I held on. But the pattern became clear. I wasn’t crazy. My spirit was speaking.

And still — I’m not perfect either.

Twice, I hurt her in ways I’m not proud of. I take accountability. I feel the shame, the regret, and I let it teach me. I’m learning to stop using words as weapons. To be direct, clean, and honest. That was one of the biggest lessons: truth over control. Communication over cleverness. Real over right.

That relationship showed me the raw, unfiltered mirror of myself — not just the good, but the wounded, reactive parts I had tucked away. And in facing them, I found power.

I learned discipline.

I learned emotional awareness.

I learned how to stand in my own energy without needing hers to feel whole.

In the end, our final fight was brutal. The kind that breaks something for good. She pushed. I pushed back. And for the second time, I crossed a line. No excuses. Just truth. It hurt. But it was the final crack that let the light in.

Now, I see her for what she was in my story — not a forever love, but a karmic teacher.

I believe there was deception behind my back. And through deep spiritual work, even tarot, I’ve found confirmation. I’m not here to curse her. I send her love. If she ever truly needs help, I told the universe: she can call my name. But I also believe in divine justice. And I am a chosen one.

So I walk forward — not bitter, not blind, but blessed.

I am love.

I am light.

I am truth.

I am peace.

I am balance.

I am abundance.

And sometimes that means crying like a wild animal. Screaming “f*ck you” in your head. Swinging between mourning and rage and back to grace. That’s healing. That’s sacred release.

Because emotions aren’t polished. They’re primal.

Primary emotions — like anger, grief, fear, joy — come from the bones. The soul. They rise like a wave and teach you something true.

Secondary emotions — guilt, shame, jealousy — they’re layered, human, shaped by society. They’re not wrong, but they’re not truth in the same way.

So I cry. I rage. I breathe.

I laugh. I learn. I rise.

This karmic school? It was hard. But I walked out a different man — more whole, more sovereign, more aligned.

To anyone reading this: if you’re in a love that feels like a battlefield, listen to your spirit. Not every deep connection is meant to last. But every one can help you remember who you are.

And me?

I remember now.

🔥💛

— Patrick