Every morning, while you're busy astral-projecting into the subconscious realms of your active dream life, your alarm has been going off for 45 minutes and you're about to be an hour late for your job.
Dating apps are set up to show compatibility based hobbies, interests, likes and dislikes, when all you really wanna know is what their zodiac sign is.
Here are just a few frustrations every spiritual girl can understand.
You send him nudes but he won't send you his birth info.
This is absolutely unfair. You've held up your end of the bargain, and sent him the nudes he requested. Then, for reasons you'll never understand, he thinks it's weird that you're asking for the date, time and place of his birth in exchange.
He sends a dick pic instead, like that's gonna give you an idea of what his moon sign is.
Take a walk, Richard. Clearly this never would've worked out, anyhow.
What you call "self-care," everyone else calls "laziness."
Calling out of work three Mondays in a row so you can take a Himalayan salt bath is NOT being lazy. Mondays grate your spirit, and if there's anything you have learned from your extensive self-help library, it's that you cannot love someone else if you don't love yourself first.
Maybe if everyone understood the way the universe worked like you do, instead of complaining about how you're lounging in your bathtub, your co-workers would be thanking you.
You are trying to restore your inner balance, for them. How does this not compute?
Date night is going great, until he tells you he's an Aries.
Conversation is bubbling, you feel an insane attraction, and the chemistry is unreal. You finally feel comfortable enough to ask the one question you've been dying to ask all night, so you go for it. You ask what his sign is, and you're almost positive he's gonna be a kind, stable Capricorn.
Then, to your horror, he smiles and tells you he's an Aries, and the future you had so elaborately planned in your head bursts into flames. "Sorry," you tell him, "but there's only room for one alpha in this relationship, and I'm it."
You want to attract people with actual self-esteem, but then you're bored.
It'd be fantastic if you could meet someone who has self-esteem, who loves themselves and doesn't drain you of all your emotional energy. You meditate on it, you do a new moon ritual, you buy crystals to attract this kind of person, and finally you meet them.
Two weeks later, you're like, "ugh...do they even need me? I miss having someone to save."
After all, you didn't spend years fine-tuning your crisis management skills to deal with someone who has their shit this together.
You try to hide your emotions, but crying is your favorite activity.
Obviously you'd love to be able to put on your big girl pants and make it through the day without crying every time an infant smiles at you, but that would be unrealistic.
Crying is literally your favorite! It's the best way to cleanse yourself on the inside, your emotional detox. No one can take that away from you!
You stopped texting months ago but keep googling "signs he's your twin flame."
OK, so you knew from the beginning he was emotionally unavailable, but sure enough, months later you were crying alone in your bedroom looking through his Instagram stories. You've come a long way since then and you've kept your promise to yourself and stopped texting him, but you can't stop thinking about him.
"But," you think to yourself, "just because two people can't be together doesn't mean they aren't universally destined to be."
...I mean, the number one sign that someone is your twin flame is that they run away from the connection.
Holding onto someone you feel a twin-flame connection with also is a fantastic way to rationalize what police might call "stalking," but police just aren't spiritual enough to understand.
Every book recommendation you give is from the self-help aisle.
You'd love to be able to recommend a good fiction novel, but your favorite book just happens to be "Codependent No More" and you believe it should be required reading for everyone you know.
Oh, and forcing a self-help book on someone else to save them from their own self-destructive patterns has nothing to do with your codependency issues, thank you very much.
You don't eat bacon anymore because it "tastes like fear."
You've told your friends a million times, you're not a vegetarian, you're an empath. You eat fish and turkey because you don't feel a strong connection to them, but you simply won't touch bacon.
Besides, you follow a million pig accounts on Instagram.
How can your friends expect you to order bacon at IHOP when you literally just watched a super cute video of one cuddling with a puppy on the 'Gram?