I Cleaned My House and Now I’m Dying (A Love Letter to My Allergies)

Yesterday, I decided to be productive.
You know, that dangerous moment when the soul whispers, “Let’s do it!” and the body hasn’t yet read the fine print.

I deep-cleaned the kitchen like a possessed woman on a mission from the Goddess of Domestic Overhaul. I reorganized the bathroom, cursed at Tupperware that reproduces asexually, and did something heroic: I tackled my closet. That black hole of “just in case I wear it someday” and “but this cost me money in 2011.”

Clothes were thrown. Memories were triggered. I even planned to buy a new bed — a fresh start.
I felt like Beyoncé on a spiritual Marie Kondo journey.

Fast forward to today: I’m wrapped in a blanket, leaking from every orifice, sneezing like a possessed goat, eyes red, nose blocked, voice nasal, blaming the cats — especially Mama Cat who has the nerve to exist near me.

The drama is real.
The allergies are realer.

And yes, I’m now accusing the love of my life (my cat) of attempted murder via fur particles.

But let’s get honest.
Could it be… energy?

Oh, don’t roll your eyes yet.

Because let’s face it: every time we do a deep purge — physically or emotionally — something in the body screams “¡ALTO AHÍ, HERMANA!” before throwing a tantrum that rivals a telenovela finale.

We think we’re just cleaning. But the truth is: we’re moving stagnant crap we’ve ignored for months — not just dust, but emotional clutter. Guilt, shame, failed dreams, that “diet” jeans we keep to punish ourselves. It all got stirred yesterday, and now my body’s like: “Cool story, but I’m going to release all of this through your nose.”

Is it sexy? No.
Is it healing? Maybe.
Is it annoying? 1000%.

And this is where old me would light 16 candles, pull an oracle card, and do a moon ritual with salt, cacao and crying. But not today. Not in this condition. Today, I’m a human mucus faucet with no patience for spiritual theatre.

So, is a ritual necessary?
No, love. What you need is a blanket, bad TV, and to stop fighting what your body is doing.

This isn’t punishment.
This isn’t “low vibration.”
This is the body flushing out the emotional junk drawer you just opened.

You stirred the pot. You made space. And now the system is doing what it does best: clearing.

Let it.

Sneeze. Cry. Blow your nose like a trombone solo.
Blame the cats for 30 seconds if you must — but then look at them and whisper:
“Sorry, baby. It’s not you. It’s me… upgrading.”

No, you’re not broken. You’re not sick.
You’re just integrating.
You’re evolving.
One booger at a time.

So do nothing. Literally. That’s the magic today.
No journaling, no inner child, no cacao.
Just you + mucus + surrender.

And when you come out the other side of this…
You’ll have a new bed, a clear closet, and probably super clean sinuses too.

You’re welcome.