The Alchemy of Authenticity
On Feeling Whole and Trusting the Unseen
For the longest time, I thought my dream life was something I had to reach for. Something tucked away in a place I hadn’t yet reached—another city, another tax bracket, another version of myself that had finally figured it all out.
But today, I stood in my kitchen, watching the snow fall,
stirring a pot of something warm,
and I felt it.
Joy.
Not the kind that comes from a milestone.
Not the kind that looks good on paper.
Not the kind that needs validation or witnesses.
Just the kind that exists, because I do.
I see myself. And that feels like everything. (Funny how I’m writing this while watching this part of Aladdin—feeling like King Robin again, but this time, it’s about me.)
For the First Time, I Feel Happy
Not because everything around me is perfect. Not because I’ve checked off every goal on my list. But because, no matter what’s happening outside of me, I know who I am. I know where I’m at. I know where I’m going.
I trust myself. I trust my path. I trust life itself.
And more than anything, I have faith when I don’t have anything else.
Faith in something bigger than me.
Faith in the way life bends and shifts, always conspiring in my favor.
Faith that even the detours are divine redirections.
Every twist and turn, every loss and lesson, has been shaping me into exactly who I was meant to become.
No Regrets, Just Alignment
I don’t regret my past—not the times I held myself back, not the silence I wove around my own needs, not the years I wandered through the fog of depression and anxiety, convinced I had to be someone else to find "success."
Because every piece of it had to unfold exactly as it did to bring me here.
I had to forget myself so I could remember.
I had to lose parts of myself to find my wholeness.
I had to be afraid of my truth so I could marvel in its strength.
It isn’t the same for everyone, but God’s plan definitely took my resilience, and stubbornness, into account.
The more I unmask, the clearer it becomes: my mind has always moved to its own rhythm. Shedding the past isn’t becoming someone new; it’s stepping into something familiar, an era I’ve always belonged to but once kept at arm’s length. I seek the correct psychological labels when I can, but deep down? I think I’ve always known.
“Every inch of me is trembling
But not from the cold
Something is familiar
Like a dream I can reach but not quite hold
I can sense you there
Like a friend I've always known
I'm arriving
And it feels like I am home”
“I've never felt so certain
All my life I've been torn
But I'm here for a reason
Could it be the reason I was born?
I have always been so different
Normal rules did not apply
Is this the day?
Are you the way
I finally find out why?”
“Show yourself
Step into your power
Grow yourself
Into something new
You are the one you've been waiting for
All of my life
All of your life”
Those lyrics make me cry, every time.
This is probably why I naturally gravitated toward the neurodivergent community and children with developmental delays at school, why I wanted to work with them as a teacher, and why I feel so deeply for those who never quite fit the mold—something my dad always highlighted in me.
However, the people who gravitated toward me—the ones I admired, the ones I longed to impress, the ones I hoped would see me—they moved through the world differently. Their type of “weird” was not the same as mine. Their different was not my different. And so, I learned to quiet the parts of myself that stood out, to smooth the edges, to shape my rhythm into something more uniform. I mirrored, I matched, I became something easier to understand. I learned how to be the same.
I’ve always had a magnetism about me, a natural pull that made people want to be in my orbit. And I liked that people liked me. But I thought I had to shape-shift, fit the aesthetic of whoever I was around, to have that continue. Classic people-pleaser behavior. The matcher, if you must.
My blockages and delays weren’t as obvious—I could adapt, I could learn quickly, I could pass as someone who fit in. And so I did.
The social media baddies deemed me pretty enough, so as I got older, I felt like I should be one too. These days, I still love getting dressed up, and I’m not ashamed of how I presented myself when I did feel this way. I’m not exactly a conservative person, but I don’t feel the need to continue trying to prove I fit the “baddie” mold—I already know I am one, with or without the pics.
I wanted to have a music taste as refined and modern as my sister’s, and a fashion sense as effortlessly stylish as hers.
I wanted a hobby that felt solid and defined—never acknowledging the fact that I already have about fifty, just cycling through them on rotation.
I put so much pressure on myself to graduate college, to pick a career that was stable, practical, reasonable.
But as my values changed, as I let myself explore what actually felt right to me, I realized something: the people I surrounded myself with didn’t really see me, and I didn’t really want to be like them in the ways that I thought. They didn’t even know me. Because I didn’t know me.
I stood in my kitchen today, reflecting on how I walked outside while it was snowing and took a video of myself, tongue out, catching snowflakes. I thought, “I could post this with a caption like ‘Don’t fear! It’s just recycled dinosaur pee!’” because that was the thought that crept into my mind and it made me giggle.🦖🌨️
But then I paused. That would be weird. People would think that’s weird. People wouldn’t like that post. They’d judge me.
And that’s when it hit me.
Isn’t that what authenticity is?
What everyone is so afraid to show on Instagram, but we all flock to Substack for?
I always thought of myself as an open book, but the truth is, I’ve been holding back. I knew I was afraid of people not accepting or liking the real me, but I couldn’t quite figure out why. What was I clinging to? Why was I hiding?
The thing is… I’m silly.
I’m goofy—full-on goofy-goober levels of ridiculous. As I was getting older, my dad would say I always had a natural high, especially when I’m tired😅 I would let the energy flow through me as I felt it.
That’s just who I am. (But maybe I’ll still keep that little gem to myself…)
But in all seriousness, I took a moment to pause and actually listen to the thoughts swirling in my mind—the things I’d say out loud if I lived alone, the random actions I’d make without fearing that someone would think I was acting strange, manic, or excessive. The weird, silly, goofy thoughts, feelings, and impulses that come naturally to me.
Things that aren’t prim and proper. Things that wouldn’t turn heads or make me the ultimate baddie with all the boys and the cool friends.
Just Jordan.
And I love it. I’m feeling some true main character energy lately, and that’s all I’ve ever been looking for, I guess. Something I had to find within myself, so the universe made me.
I don’t regret a single thing.
Every lesson.
Every loss.
Every mask I wore.
Every tower moment that felt like the end but was really just the beginning.
It was all leading me here.
I used to fear my own weirdness. My curiosity.
The way my mind stretches beyond what can be proven.
I used to tell myself I was imagining things—that magic wasn’t real, that synchronicities were coincidences, that the things I felt so deeply were just in my head.
But I don’t believe that anymore.
I believe in what I see, what I feel, and what I know.
I believe in the mystical—energy, intuition, alignment, magic. I know I’m moving through the hardest part, the final phase—the shedding, the releasing—which is why I have to hold on just a little longer. Anything that leaves my life in the process is simply divine protection, making space by clearing out what was never meant to stay.
If that all makes me strange, then I was always meant to be.
The Joy of Living in the Now
Maybe I don’t have everything I thought I needed to feel complete, but I feel complete.
I feel strong. I feel at peace. I feel more resilient, more magical, and more me than ever before. And I know that the people meant for me—the friendships, the love, the community—will recognize me because I’m finally showing up as my true self.
And when that happens? I won’t feel so lonely. Because real connection can only come when you stop hiding and pretending to be something you’re not.
So, yeah. 2025, prepare to be sick of me. Because I’m just getting started!
Reflection Prompts
I really loved this TikTok from Monet McCmichael where she talks about intentionally isolating herself for a week—something I started doing a few years ago when I realized I didn’t actually know who I was.
Who are you when no one else is around?
If you weren’t trying to be likable, if you weren’t adjusting yourself to fit in—what parts of you would start to shine through?
Spend a day with just yourself. No outside distractions, no social media, no need to perform. Pay attention to the things that bring you joy, the way you talk to yourself, the little quirks that make you you.
And then ask yourself: How can I bring more of this into my everyday life?
Thank you so much for reading The Divine Vitality!
If my stories, readings, and reflections bring value to your journey, inspire, or guide you, I would be truly grateful if you’d consider supporting me. You can become a paid subscriber, book an affordable tarot reading to help me practice and grow, or even offer a small contribution via my tip jar.
My heart for this blog has always been to share love, light, and healing openly, and I deeply desire that everyone who visits here finds something meaningful. At the same time, your support empowers me to keep creating, sharing, and learning as I pursue this as my career. Every bit of encouragement and support is a blessing, and I’m endlessly grateful to each of you for helping make this journey possible.
Thank you for being here💛
I’m smiling at your joy, authenticity, and completeness. Thank you for sharing your beautifully honest journey.
I resonate with so much of this ✨