Come Back To Yourself Coaching Program: www.savannanoelle.com/comebackI take pride in my Sagittarius Sun, with all that fire, my adventurous spirit, and my passion, but I can be very direct. And sometimes it stings. And as of late, a series of events have brought forward this beautiful sacred rage because of the number of situations I’ve experienced in my life that continue to stun me. It’s like human decency and kindness has gone out the window in what it means to have a real, honest conversation these days.

I think about the days where cell phones and computers didn’t exist. (Yes, I was alive then.) And even further back when people wrote letters and had to wait for days to receive them in the mail or they had to ride on horseback to ask their love interest’s father if he could date his daughter. If he wanted to end the relationship, he would have to face her head on. Those times are definitely gone.

So if someone you cared about recently ended things over a text, a cold, weirdly clinical text that didn’t sound anything like the person you’d been falling for— and then went silent on you afterward… No conversation. I get it. I’ve been there. Recently, actually.

Saying “this too shall pass” or “there are other fish in the sea” is not helpful right now.

If you’ve experienced this, it’s like you are holding all this confusion and disbelief, running the whole relationship back in your head trying to figure out when it shifted, what you missed, what you could have done differently.

Checking your phone way too much. Wondering if you should reach out. Wondering if reaching out would be a mistake. The terrain is unknown because it just seems so ridiculous and cowardly.

So here’s the one thing I want to say, because it’s what actually started to help me:

A text breakup is not a reflection of your worth nor is it because you did something wrong. It’s a reflection of their capacity.

Their capacity to sit with discomfort. To have a hard conversation. To stay present when things get real and vulnerable, instead of finding the nearest exit the second love starts to feel like something they could actually lose.

And I know they probably told you the opposite. Probably said come to me when you’re upset. Probably showed up early on with a kind of presence and consistency that made you think okay, here’s someone who can do this.

These things are easy to say at the beginning when the stakes are low and their stuff isn’t activated yet. The real test is what they do when things get hard… when their fear comes up, when intimacy starts asking something of them. When their nervous system wants to run because they’ve equated love with danger. That’s where people show you who they actually are.

A text breakup is communicating this, even though not realizing it…

I don’t have the capacity to be present for this conversation. I’m more worried about managing my own discomfort and protecting myself than about honoring what we shared. I know this isn’t right but I’m doing it anyway because I don’t know how to do it differently.

And honestly? They probably know it’s wrong. That’s why some of them offer to “talk” afterward. That little breadcrumb. “Maybe we should chat sometime.” That’s them quietly admitting what they just did wasn’t enough.

But they offered the conversation AFTER the detonation. Not before.

That’s the part that matters and the part that really sucks.

Because a regulated nervous system doesn’t send a text breakup. A regulated nervous system says, “I’ve got some stuff coming up for me, can we get on the phone?” That’s the conversation that builds trust and what could have changed everything.

You weren’t given that conversation. And that’s not on you.

You don’t have to keep waiting to be chosen by someone who keeps putting you down and picking you back up. You’re allowed to choose yourself, right now, even while you’re still sad, even while the love is still real, even while you’re still kind of hoping they’ll come back around.

That’s the work I’m in too.

This week on the podcast I’m going deeper into all of: What’s happening in your nervous system when this happens, fearful avoidant attachment, the pacing conversation we never have, and what to do (and not do) in the aftermath.

I hope you enjoy!

-Savanna

You left. And then you went back. Multiple times. The shame is real as is the self judgement. I know this feeling well.

The the voice in your head says — what is wrong with you? Why do you continue going back to the person who hurts you?

Research shows it takes an average of seven attempts to leave an abusive relationship. Seven. And it isn’t because you’re crazy or weak but because the addiction is real and so is the withdrawal. I’ve been there more times than I’d like to admit, but when we can really unpack the dynamic and not just pathologize ourselves and them but truly deepen in our grace and love for our nervous system trying to protect us, we start to see that the work we are required to do to heal is within our reach.

I had to physically move to another state to sever the highly addictive abusive relationship I was involved in for 5 years in order to truly understand the hold it had on me.

In this second episode of this two part series, I share what breaking a trauma bond actually looks like. We talk about the shame of going back and the grief nobody prepares you for. And of course, the path that leads you back to yourself.

This episode is about finding your way back to you.

Listen to Part 2 — Trauma Bonding: Coming Home to Yourself — wherever you get your podcasts.

Thank you for listening. I’m super grateful. Please like, share, and subscribe here and on other platforms. Your ratings and review helps me get this podcast into more ears.

Come Back To Yourself Program- Apply at: www.savannanoelle.com/comeback

You know you should leave. You’ve known for a while. But every time you get close to the door, something pulls you back in. It feels like love. It feels like longing and a chemical rush.

You think that if you leave it, you won’t find anyone else and you’ll be left alone forever. You will not feel safe. It is toxic but familiar. You convince yourself that you need it.

I’ve definitely been there. I don’t speak often of the number of abusive relationships I’ve been involved in, but these dynamics speak directly to the way our childhood trauma sets the stage for these types of relationships we can’t seem to leave.

In Part 1 of this two-part series, we’re going deep into what a trauma bond actually is, why it forms, and what’s happening in your brain and body when you can’t seem to break free from the toxic relationship you’re in.

We’re talking intermittent reinforcement, nervous system hijacking, and the cycle that creates attachment not despite the pain — but because of it.

I’m also sharing my own experience with a specific relationship I was in where that trauma bond played out over five years — and how I finally found the courage to choose myself and what it took to let go.

If you’ve ever stayed longer than you should have, gone back when you swore you wouldn’t, or found yourself defending someone who keeps hurting you — this one is for you.

I hope you enjoy. 🤍

You know the feeling. The relationship ended, but there was no closure. It was just silence, ambiguity and more questions, leaving your brain to frantically fill in the blanks. Your nervous system is in panic, unable to come to terms.

Welcome to the waiting room.

This week’s episode goes deep into one of the most disorienting experiences we go through: the aftermath of a relationship that almost was. The one you keep replaying. The person you can’t stop checking on. That never-ending hope that maybe they’ll come back.

Hope isn’t the bad, but it can hold us hostage. Because as long as you’re hoping, you’re not healing. And the person you’re grieving? You’re not missing the real, complicated, imperfect them. You’re missing the highlight reel of how amazing they were, the good stuff. A version that can never disappoint you because it only exists in memory now.

We also get into breadcrumbs, intermittent reinforcement, and the seductive lie that you could have saved it if you’d just been different or better. You couldn’t have. You cannot love someone into choosing you or doing the “work.”

This one I wrote for myself also- its honest, gentle, and might leave you a little tender. But if you’ve been sitting in that waiting room a little too long, I think you need to hear it.

🎧 Listen now wherever you get your podcasts. I hope you enjoy :)

You make eye contact across a busy room.

Your body language is open, welcoming, flirtatious…He notices this immediately.

He smiles and grins with confidence, and begins making his way toward you. The room feels loud, crowded, alive, and yet, as he approaches, everything narrows.

You notice your breath change.Shallower. Faster.

Your heart starts to flutter because as he moves closer, there’s a rush excitement, intrigue, possibility.The way he walks turns you on.The way his eyes take you in, unbothered by the world around him.

You are his focus.His challenge.

The conversation flows easily, effortlessly, it’s like time disappeared.His body turns toward yours.Eye contact holds.Interest feels unmistakable.

He asks about your life.What brought you here tonight.What you want.

He seems to sense what you need before you name it.

He feels safe…and mysterious.A combination that pulls you in deeper.

You go home with him. And it’s absolutely magical.

He seems to know exactly how to turn you on and anticipates your needs.

He is assertive and grounded.

And it doesn’t end there.

You start seeing each other.Dates turn into weekends.It becomes comfortable and safe.The chemistry intensifies.

He’s attentive.Affectionate.Present in ways you’ve never experienced.

You feel chosen.Desired.Special.

He speaks with confidence about who he is and what he wants. He seems emotionally available, grounded, capable.For a woman like you, who’s rarely experienced a man so clear in his interest, this feels meaningful. Real.

His sexiness is in how he communicates, how he leads.His words and actions make you feel safe.Cherished.Seen.

You want more of him.He wants more of you.

At least, that’s how it feels.

Until, slowly, the rhythm changes.

It was a slow burn.

The texts still come but less predictably. Plans are mentioned but not solidified and confirmed.The warmth is still there… just not consistently.

You start noticing and observing inconsistencies.

You’re leaning forward again.Waiting.Adjusting.Re-reading messages. Obsessing and overanalyzing.

Your body remembers the beginning and keeps reaching for it.

And this is where the story pivots.

Because what connected you so quickly wasn’t proof of safety or availability … it was chemistry.Electric. Fast. Convincing.

A shortcut to closeness that didn’t require consistency to get started.

He didn’t deceive you on purpose.And you weren’t naïve.

Your nervous system simply mistook intensity for intimacy.

His charm felt like true presence. The chemistry felt like home until you realize you’re the one carrying the effort, the structure, waiting for reciprocity.

You question if it was real, if the interest is still there. You question and gaslight yourself as though what you’re feeling must have been an illusion, a fantasy you made up.

But you can’t accept the change in behavior so easily because you know what you experienced, and your mind is now playing tricks on you-

Why did he pull away? Why is he not showing effort or reciprocity?

This episode is about learning to tell the difference.

Between the rush and the hook and a paced steadiness that holds you and puts you at ease.

Between the spark that excites your body and your desire to be chosenand the consistency that lets your system finally rest.

And when you slow down long enough to notice his behavior, not just the flood of hormones and his charming words, you make space for something quieter, slower, and far more honest to find you.

Listen to the full episode now. I hope you enjoy. - Savanna

In this episode, I share a deeply personal reflection from twenty-five years on my spiritual path, and the moment I realized that real liberation begins when we stop outsourcing our authority and start trusting the voice within us.

If you’re standing in a season of transition, a pivot, questioning, or a quiet friction with the life you’ve built… this conversation is for you.

Have a listen… I hope you enjoy.

Al-Azhar Park, Cairo, Egypt. Iftar- Ramadan. 2019.

We all know the feeling. The dreaded sentence your partner or the person you’re dating utters: “I need some space” or “I think I need some time.”

And suddenly your nervous system is doing cartwheels, and sheer panic sets in. You find yourself in total disarray, heart racing, a pit in your stomach, a mad dash to the toilet, wondering if you’re about to go through a breakup or if they’re leaving you. You’re playing all the worst case scenarios through your head, calling your girlfriends to analyze every text, every conversation, quickly making your exit plan. Am I right? Definitely speaking to all my anxious attachers out there!

Today’s episode is all about the thing that all relationships need from time to time: Space.

When someone asks for space, it can feel like rejection. Like the beginning of the end. Like you did something wrong and now you’re about to be quietly replaced or you’re spiraling into making-up-stories-land. I sure do know that one. *raising hand*

I’m great at making s**t up. And the worst part of that is that our brains love to find evidence to prove that the story we’re telling, that unhealed shadowy wound and the fears we carry, are actually real and true.

I can’t even begin to tell you how many times in my life I’ve had to say to myself—in the middle of my ego hijacking the real story to protect me from hurt and rejection— “Is that really true? Can you possibly know that to be true? What else might be true? Are you making s**t up again, Savanna? “

I know this terrain. I used to joke that I was the queen of space. I learned how to detach. Step back. Wait it out. Especially with men who pulled away, disappeared, ghosted. And yes — most of them came back, eventually. They always do.

If the space has no clarity, no timeframe, and no effort, it isn’t healing.

It’s avoidance.

What I’ve had to learn the hard way is that there is a difference between space that is manipulation (giving whatever it is they need to energetically pull them back into your orbit no matter the cost) and space that is maturity and reconnection to self.

One is a definite hook. The other is recalibration and oxygen.

I never realized space was healthy. Not when my operating story was always a fear that space meant rejection or eventual abandonment. You see, in my kid narrative, we must always be connected, validated, approved of and enmeshment and codependency = Love. Whew, Lord….

Waiting around while someone decides if you’re enough? That’s self-abandonment and torture.

There is a difference between giving someone room to regulate and process and putting your own needs on the back burner while they figure out whether to choose you. Ultimately, you must always choose yourself.

Space used to mean, “If I’m patient enough, quiet enough, undemanding enough, he’ll choose me.” That wasn’t healthy space. Again, self- abandonment. Compromise.

Healthy space doesn’t require you to shrink or question yourself.

It doesn’t ask you to wait in limbo while someone breadcrumbs you with “Hey, I was thinking of you” while pretending they didn’t just ghost you a month ago and definitely did NOT change their behavior from the last time. It doesn’t mean tolerating half-assed efforts and calling it good or destiny.

Healthy space has a tether, a foundation, an energetic and clear signal.

It sounds like: “I’m overwhelmed tonight. I love you. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

Healthy space is clear, reassuring, and there is a return.

The reason I love attachment theory so much and our understanding of it-(anxious, avoidant, secure, disorganized), is because we begin to see that most conflict around space isn’t about love. It’s about safety and regulation.

For some people, distance feels like abandonment. For others, closeness feels like suffocation and engulfment.

Neither is wrong. Both are protection strategies.

But here’s the shift that changed everything for me:

Space is circulation, not separation.

It’s like breath. Inhale together. Exhale apart. Both are necessary.

Real intimacy isn’t fusion and codependency. It’s two whole people choosing each other — again and again — after reflection, regulation, and rest.

And if you’re anxiously attached, remember this: Do not wait out “space” if someone is not efforting, reciprocating, or choosing you clearly. That is not secure love. It is a front and their avoidance.

Come back to yourself. Your worth is not determined by who returns.

And if you lean more avoidant, space is not a disappearing act. It’s not using “space” to ghost someone. If you care, communicate. If you don’t have the capacity, say so. Clarity is kindness.

When held consciously and with care and respect, space teaches love how to breathe.

And breathing things…they live. ;)

I hope you enjoy this episode.

Savanna

Savanna's Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support the expansion of my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. It all matters.

I had been looking for him for a very long time. 15 years to be exact. He finally called me last March to check-in and catch up a bit. Never did I think that would be the last time we ever spoke to one another.

There are often moments in life that leave us stunned, seemingly unprepared for what is coming or what just happened. I’ve found that these moments often do not ask for understanding but more so of our ability to be present and awake… if we let them.

This episode is about one of those moments.

Months after we had caught up for the first time in 15 years, I received a call I never expected: my former boyfriend had died suddenly.

And of all the people who could have been asked, his family asked me to officiate his memorial.

What followed was a collision of grief, memories, unanswered questions, and a deep reckoning with regret. I’m not really one to hold on to regret, but having just spoken to him, I simply couldn’t fathom this reality.

What did I miss? What could I have done differently? What do we owe the people we once loved? Why wasn’t I there more?

This story isn’t about rekindling a romance or unrequited love.

It’s a story about timing. About the shadowy parts, unfinished truths, secrets we hold close. It’s about the quiet weighted regret of calls not returned. It’s about sitting with the discomfort of wondering whether presence or kindness could have been offered sooner and learning how to forgive myself for being human.

I reference in the episode a beautiful moment where I felt Chris was trying to give me a sign I asked for. Once you listen to this episode, this video below will make a lot more sense. It was a powerful moment of confirmation that our loved ones communicate with us beyond the veil. Click the video below.

In this episode, I explore:

* What regret really is and what it’s not

* Why forgiveness isn’t about erasing the past, but releasing the hope that it could have been different

* How grief can become a sacred teacher

* And how some experiences feel less like choices and more like callings - this was mine to do

If you’ve ever carried a quiet regret…If you’ve ever wondered whether something in your past still holds meaning…If you’ve ever been asked to show up for something you never imagined you would…This episode is for you.

(Chris doing what he loved best. Helping people.)

In honor and loving memory of Christopher Marshall Peyrouse and all the people he helped in his life. This episode is offered with deep respect for his family and loved ones. I share only my experience and do so with reverence for the life he lived.

Most of the time we just need to remind ourselves to chill the f**k out and trust the process. Like, really Trussssst our path when everyone is crumbling around us. I know, it’s hard to do when gossip, complaining, and judgement feels sometimes like the easier path.

I can’t be the only one who thought that January was a dumpster fire, a roller coaster of horrifying news, heavy waves of emotion that seemed never-ending….like, here in Seattle, January is alreaaaady dark, rainy, gloom but the days have seemed like one continuous depressing day hasn’t it? The stress and anxiety from this continuous nervous system disruption has us all feeling like we could really use a break.

I was thinking recently back to my childhood days where we would just pull out our Walkman with the foamy headphones and zone out or put our feet in the freshly cut grass and lay down looking at the blue sky. I remember when cassette tapes had to be rewound manually and the sound of the locusts and frogs at night as dark arrived. The locusts in west Texas weren’t there every year, but when they were, you sure did know it. Life felt much more simple then.

I’ve been thinking about what it was like to not have a phone glued to our bodies, when we went out into the neighborhood to play all day until sundown, not a care in the world, except who’s tree house we wanted to play in that day.

I remember I’d come home from riding bikes all around the neighborhood, and my mom would say “so and so called,” and landlines were legit, like we’d go back to listen to a voicemail on the answering machine. And nowadays, I hardly even have a voicemail. I rarely ever leave them myself. To think that THOSE were the days where our attention wasn’t hijacked by the next quick fix video or the most recent news scandal.

We were not meant to be inundated and flooded with this much information continuously, where panic and fear generates cortisol throughout our bodies.

It is a beautiful reminder to disconnect and recenter ourselves by any means possible.

Sooooo let’s just take a moment to disconnect from all that noise.

And the break you were looking for? Take just 10 minutes…..Here it is.

Let’s chill the f**k out together and meditate.

You’re welcome.

~Savanna

There’s a certain kind of loneliness no one prepares you for when dating—the loneliness of having standards.

It’s not about the empty bed or the unanswered texts. It’s about the ache of self-awareness. Once you’ve done the work—looked at your patterns, healed, learned to speak up for your needs—you can’t unsee what’s misaligned. You can’t go back to casual connections and pretend they satisfy completely. You can’t hand out access to people who want your presence but not the responsibility of your heart.

And so you find yourself here—in the in-between. Protecting your energy, holding your standards, and sometimes wondering if it’s worth the solitude it costs. Because when casual isn’t enough, the space between loneliness and real love can feel unbearably wide.

But maybe that space isn’t a void. Maybe it’s sacred. Maybe it’s not emptiness at all—but spaciousness.

The Price of Self-Awareness

I started my spiritual journey when I was only 16 years old, reading, exploring, discovering everything I could to uncover and untangle my traumas and unconscious beliefs keeping me hostage. I’ve spent years working on myself, in the hopes of inviting someone into my life who matches my desire to grow and evolve into a better human.

Self-awareness is a blessing—and sometimes a curse. Once you see the unhealthy patterns, once you understand the cycles of avoidance, the breadcrumbs, the half-effort—it changes everything. You start expecting more, asking for more, and the people who can’t meet you there feel even smaller in contrast.

This is why dating feels harder when you’ve done the inner work. Vulnerability is heavy for many; discomfort is foreign. And yet, you know that true intimacy requires effort, courage, and honesty. It’s no longer about just showing up—it’s about showing up fully.

Self-awareness doesn’t make you hard to love—it makes casual love feel empty, fleeting.

Protecting Access

Access to you is a privilege, not a given. Boundaries are not walls—they’re gates. Who gets your time? Your energy? Your heart?

It’s not always easy to say no. It can feel lonely to withhold yourself from those unwilling to rise. But giving access freely to someone unready is a slow surrender of your integrity. It also disrupts your nervous system, keeping you disregulated and always wondering if you will be chosen. Protecting yourself doesn’t make you cold—it makes you wise.

The Fork in the Road

When someone isn’t willing to do the work, there are two paths:

* Casual connection: companionship without depth, small satisfactions, compromises your standards.

* Staying single: integrity intact, but loneliness feels heavy, raw, and real.

Neither path is easy. Both test your patience and your courage. But only one honors the real you.

The Hidden Gifts of Loneliness

This is where the paradox emerges: the very loneliness that aches in your chest is also a gift.

Solitude gives you space to grow. It allows your creativity to bloom, your spirit to expand, your self-trust to deepen. It shows you what love truly means, and teaches discernment—the art of knowing what is worth waiting for.

Loneliness is not emptiness. It’s spaciousness. It’s sacred preparation. And in that space, you become ready to receive a love that’s equally aligned, equally brave, equally whole. It makes you wise.

Reflection & Affirmation

Take a moment to ask yourself:

* Who currently has access to my energy, and do they deserve it?

* What truths about love and relationships have I learned that make casual connection harder?

* How can I reframe solitude as preparation rather than lack?

And remember this:

I will not dim my standards to make love easier to find. My solitude is sacred. I am already whole.

If this resonated, I’d love to hear from you. Reply to this email and share your reflections on holding standards, navigating loneliness, or protecting access. You’re not alone in this journey—and together, we rise.