Page 98 of Unclench Me Softly

When the flap of my dome closes behind me and I’m finally alone, naked, sore, ash-smeared, and deeply emotionally compromised, I grab my phone from beneath a pillow and open a message to Callie with fingers that are still trembling.

ME:

i think i’ve spiritually married five men in a bonfire haze. please advise.

i just had ash sex in the woods with the forest god of brooding silences and now i’m spiritually raw and possibly addicted.

I stare at the blinking cursor for a second. Then add:

ME:

do you think i need more snacks or fewer feelings?

And hit send.

What Your Dipping Sauce Says About Your Inner Healing Timeline

Channeled during a balsamic meditation and a brief entanglement with honey mustard.

Garlic Aioli:You are sensually aware, emotionally slippery, and you probably whisper praise in bed with unsettling precision. You’ve done inner child work, but only if it ended in cuddling and snacks.Healing Phase:Post-trauma sparkle. Flirty, but with depth.Best Paired With:Eye contact. Abs. And a slow spiral into codependent worship.

Sriracha:Hot. Repressed. Ready to unravel. You’re the kind of person who says “I’m fine” while holding back 42 years of ancestral rage.Healing Phase:Mid-rage yoga. Probably growled during sex.Best Paired With:Someone telling you to unclench. Or sit on their face. Or both.

Honey Mustard:You’re a soft dom with repressed abandonment issues. You want to be wanted and also the one doing the wanting. You believe in therapy, but only if it includes snacks.Healing Phase:High-functioning anxious attachment with hand-feeding tendencies.Best Paired With:Affirmation-rich aftercare and a lap to emotionally spiral into.

Ketchup:You’re not ready to talk about your feelings, so you’re hiding behind nostalgia and comfort. Emotionally? You’re clinging to the idea that missionary isn’t intimate.Healing Phase:Pre-unclenching.Best Paired With:Sacred journaling and someone calling you out while rubbing your back.

Ranch:Avoidant. Wholesome on the outside. Secretly feral inside. You want someone to emotionally tenderize you, then tuck you in and rub your feet while pretending nothing happened.Healing Phase:Half-feral, half-frozen. Often horny. Emotionally... chilled.Best Paired With:A slow cooker and someone emotionally safe who smells like cedar.

Melted Butter:You are ready to be devoured. You’ve surrendered. You’re here for ritual, ruin, and maybe a barefoot breakfast under a quilt of tangled limbs.Healing Phase:Post-rebirth. Glowing. Slightly sticky. Perfect.Best Paired With:Pancakes, thighs, and a man who calls you “goddess” while refilling your tea.

Vinegar-Based Anything:You bite first, heal later. You’re still salty about something from 2017 but you journal now, so it’s fine. You give great advice and emotionally ghost once a quarter.Healing Phase:Spiteful growth. Tart, powerful, refuses to be overpowered.Best Paired With:Candlelit confrontation and late-night foot rub apologies.

Bonus: Salt Packets (Carried in Your Purse):You’re not dipping. You’re defending. You have built a wall out of sacred snacks and mood lighting. You only let people in if they cry during your howling circle.Healing Phase:Cursed priestess turned emotionally available legend.Best Paired With:A rewilded man who begs. On his knees. With a snack tray.

Bliss-ism #5/b

Water your heart daily. Weed out toxic masculinity. And maybe check your pH balance.

Chapter Nineteen:

The Sacred Act of Seeding with Intention™

I fluff the last meditation pillow with the kind of solemn care usually reserved for sacred relics or extremely high-end cheese trays, then step back to assess the circle I’ve created.

Twelve floor cushions. A spiral of rose quartz chunks stolen from the altar room. And a single bundle of dried herbs that smells like someone’s trying to seduce a forest fire.

This is what readiness looks like.

This is what intention looks like.

And yet, my inner monologue is less “grounded goddess” and more “sexually overwhelmed retreat leader in a minor spiritual panic.”

Because I have slept with three of them now.

Three.

Jax, with the kind of chaotic, dominant energy that left me with bruises in the shape of enlightenment.

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