As we move through this intense Scorpio season (when crying in the bathroom feels like a spiritual practice) with Pluto’s return into Aquarius last Tuesday (bringing radical shifts in technology, society, and collective consciousness), I’m feeling called to share a personal story that mirrors the deep changes many of us are going through right now…
Growing up in the 60s, I watched my mom navigate long days with my younger siblings and me while my dad worked extra hours to make ends meet. Back then, she didn’t have food delivery, housekeeping, or childcare — just a young mom in her early 20s doing all the things, doing her best while battling anxiety.
Early on, I learned how to read emotional patterns, to be careful and watchful, and always ready to adapt. Becoming overly responsible and making others comfortable became second nature — a skill that has guided me into the person I am today.
We learn to read moods before we learn to read books.
These patterns shaped my relationships long after childhood. Like a dancer memorizing every step, I anticipated moods, adjusted my words, and managed others’ emotions before my own.
It wasn’t until years later, when I came across Randi Kreger and Paul Mason’s ‘Stop Walking on Eggshells,’ that I finally had a name for this delicate dance I’d been performing my whole life.
You might know this dance yourself: A casual conversation suddenly shifts. One wrong word, and the air gets thick with tension. Your brain switches to high alert, carefully weighing each response. You become hyper-aware of your tone, your expression, and even your breathing. It can be exhausting.
Sometimes the most painful interactions come wrapped in politeness. Like when you excitedly share something personal, and the response comes with a slight smile and a soft ‘Oh, that’s nice’ — but something in their tone makes your stomach drop. Then comes the familiar dance of trying to read between the lines, decode the real meaning, figure out how to make it better without actually knowing what’s wrong.
We often love people who don’t realize how their moods affect others. They might be carrying their own hurt, playing out patterns they learned growing up. Without awareness, these dynamics can go on for years, leaving everyone walking on eggshells.
The truth is, behind those intense reactions lies someone carrying more pain than they know how to handle. They might not even recognize their triggered behavior. These are usually the most caring, generous, and loving souls who would give you their last dollar or stay up all night to help you through a crisis.
They’re just walking around with their emotional defense systems on high alert.
I’m sharing this because I know others are searching for answers, just like I was. When I looked for help, most advice focused on blaming others rather than healing ourselves.
But there’s a gentler path forward.
When you recognize this pattern in someone you care about, remember:
Their reaction is rarely about you
Their intensity comes from a place of pain
Their behavior isn’t your responsibility to fix
Your peace matters too
How to Keep Your Peace:
- Stay in your own lane — observe without jumping in
- Stay relaxed — you don’t need to fix everything
- Create space — sometimes silence is the kindest
- Pick your moments — not everyone is ready to talk
When to Step Away:
- You feel yourself getting tense
- Your energy becomes too heavy
- You’re overthinking your response
- You’re too tired to handle it calmly
The key isn’t to fix or change them — it’s to stay in your light while giving them space to work through their feelings. Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is step back and let someone handle their emotions alone.
Life’s too short for walking on eggshells.
You can care deeply while choosing not to carry someone else’s pain. True compassion includes having good boundaries and knowing when to take a step back with love.
My energy healing practice has taught me to have faith that everyone heals when ready.
I now understand that my mom was doing her best with what she knew, carrying her generational wounds. Today, as she lives comfortably in memory care near my sister, I’m grateful for the healing journey that brought me here. By working to end these patterns in my family line, I’m not just healing my past — I’m creating a different future.
It’s possible to honor our parents’ struggles while choosing a new path. That’s the gift we give ourselves, our children, and future generations.
Until next time, many many sweet blessings.