Sovereign Abundance Orgonite

I bought this pyramid after yet another night of coming home from work scrolling his Instagram stories obsessively. I'm constantly comparing myself to his exes, feeling that pit in my stomach like I'm never enough. My apartment didn't feel safe anymore—just a place where the "why doesn't he text back" loop played on repeat.
I put it on my bedside table and honestly forgot about it for a week. Then I noticed I wasn't reaching for my phone first thing in the morning anymore. The bedroom feels softer now, like it knows I'm done chasing someone who doesn't choose me. I catch myself in the mirror and think "maybe I do deserve better" instead of "what's wrong with me?"
Two months later, the biggest change is I stopped apologizing for existing. My space feels like it holds me now, not like I'm intruding. I still have bad days, but they don't echo through every room anymore. It finally feels like my home reminds me I'm worthy, even when I forget.

I ordered this pyramid when my living room started feeling heavy with all the "he ghosted me again" energy. I'm an empath who absorbs everyone's relationship drama during class, then come home to my own anxious attachment spiral. My space felt like it was conspiring against me—every corner reminded me of being left on read.
I placed it on my coffee table right in the center and let it sit there. Within days, I noticed conversations with friends flowed differently—I wasn't over-explaining my heartbreak or fishing for validation anymore. People started commenting "you seem lighter." The apartment went from suffocating to spacious, like it breathed with me.
Three weeks in, I'm sleeping through the night without that chest tightness. My home feels like it finally stopped begging for his attention and started witnessing mine. I meditate there now without feeling desperate for answers. It's holding space for the woman I'm becoming, not the one who keeps settling.

I got this pyramid after waking up from another "he's not that into you" spiral, hating my reflection before coffee even hit. My bedroom felt toxic—like every pillowcase remembered the last guy who didn't call back. As a writer, my anxious thoughts own that room, and it was exhausting fighting them daily.
I put it on my nightstand facing the bed and didn't think much of it. By day four, I caught myself humming in the shower instead of analyzing texts. The bedroom shifted from judgment zone to quiet witness—the kind of safety where you can be messy without apology. I started writing again without that "prove your worth" pressure.
Six weeks later, I'm not bracing for rejection when my phone lights up. My space feels like it knows my value even when I doubt it. Men who weren't choosing me just fade into background noise now. The pyramid didn't fix me—it made room for me to remember who I was before I started chasing.