I was in my 50s when I finally realized my heart didn’t need to open more—it needed to learn how to close. Not shut down. Just... close when it needed to.
I’d spent decades living like life was just happening to me. Saying yes when I meant no. Staying when I wanted to leave. Giving and giving until I was hollow. I’m a naturally nurturing person—it’s in my wiring—but somewhere along the way, I forgot that nurturing myself wasn’t optional.
When I decided to get a divorce, it wasn’t because I stopped caring. It was because I finally started listening to the voice inside that had been whispering for years: “Is this honoring you? Is this how you want the rest of your life to go?”
And honestly? Part of me wondered if it was too late. If I’d waited too long to start living for myself instead of around everyone else.
But here’s what I learned: Boundaries aren’t the opposite of love. They’re what make love sustainable.
And that realization—that my heart could be soft and have edges—changed everything.
Most of what you hear about the heart chakra sounds like this:
Open more. Love more. Forgive more. Radiate compassion. Let go.
And yes, the heart holds love. Connection. Tenderness. The ability to feel deeply.
But here's what they don't tell you:
The heart also discerns. It protects. It knows when to close. It holds boundaries.
A truly balanced heart doesn’t just open—it chooses when, how, and to whom it opens.
The healthiest heart isn’t a door left wide open for anyone to walk through. It’s a threshold you tend with care.
The Work (And It IS Work), let me be real with you: rewiring a lifetime of people-pleasing, over-giving, and ignoring your own needs? That shit is hard.
At first, it feels like you’re fighting against yourself. You’re naturally caring, so setting a boundary feels selfish. You want to be there for people, so saying no feels “mean”. You’ve built your identity around being the one who holds space—so what happens when you need to stop holding and start protecting?
But here’s the thing: honoring yourself first isn’t selfish. It’s necessary.
I’m still figuring out the balance—between enough and too much, between giving 100% to people who’ve earned it and giving nothing to people who haven’t. I’m still learning that closing my heart to protect my energy doesn’t make me cold. It makes me honest about my capacity.
This is a work in progress. And that’s okay. Because the alternative—staying open until you collapse, giving until you’re empty, loving everyone except yourself—that’s not sustainable. And it’s not what your heart actually wants.
Here's what I've learned through Buddhist teachings, through getting burned, through my own messy energy work:
Your heart’s first relationship isn’t with a partner. It’s with you.
And most of us have never learned to meet our own hearts with the same tenderness we offer everyone else.
We’re taught that the heart chakra is about romantic love, soul connections, and opening to others. But what if heart work is simpler than that?
What if it's just learning to touch your own chest and feel the love that's already there?
I’ll never forget the first time I did this—actually placed my hand on my chest, breathed into my ribs, and realized: there’s enough love in here for me. I don’t need it from elsewhere, even though that’s nice to have.
That moment shifted something.
Not because I “fixed” my heart. But because I finally honored it.
You can’t heal the heart by thinking about it. You have to tend to it.
- Slowing down long enough to notice: where does your breath stop? Where does it flow? What does your chest feel like right now—tight? open? held?
- Ritual as devotion: Anoint your chest with oil after you bathe. Let your hands move slowly over your sternum, your ribs. This isn't about fixing anything. It's about saying, "I see you. I'm here."
- Clear the air: Light incense before you ask your heart to open. The heart needs atmosphere—space that feels safe enough to soften in.
- Wear something at your chest that reminds you: soft, but sovereign. A stone. A piece of copper or brass. Adornment as anchor.
- Just breathe. You don't have to change anything. Just notice where the breath moves freely and where it hesitates. The heart opens through breath, not force.
Feel Your Feels (But Don't Live There)
Your heart holds everything:
- Joy and grief, side by side
- The people you've loved and the ones you've lost
- Disappointment and devotion
- What was said and what was left unspoken
A heart in balance makes room for all of it. It doesn’t bypass the hard stuff. It doesn’t “love and light” its way through pain. But it also doesn’t get swallowed by it.
Here’s what I tell friends (and remind myself constantly):
“Feel your feels. Honor them. Release them. Don’t live there.”
Grief is real. Disappointment is real. Exhaustion is real. Let yourself feel it. But don’t make a home in it. And as we know better, we do better.
That's the work. Every damn day.
My Invitation for you…
Your heart doesn’t need fixing.
It’s been protecting you all along. It’s survived disappointment and still found beauty. It’s closed when it needed to and opened again when it felt safe.
But now it's asking you: What would I need to feel safe enough to soften—even just a little?
Maybe that’s boundaries. Maybe that’s rest. Maybe that’s your own hand on your own chest, saying, "I’m here. You’re safe.”
Maybe it's finally admitting that honoring yourself isn't selfish—it's the most rewarding work you'll ever do. Because who else is gonna do it if you don’t?
Not your partner. Not your family. Not the world that keeps asking you to give more.
Just you.
Soft where you can be. Protected where you need to be.
That’s the heart this world needs—not the one that gives until it’s empty, but the one that knows its edges and honors them.
BE soft. BE sovereign. BE in your element.
This is heart work.
Tammi
Tend to Your Heart:
Anoint your chest — Body oils for softening and honoring
Wear your intention — Copper and brass jewelry as heart anchors
Clear the space — Sacred incense for atmosphere
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