28/09/2025 - Masking my softness with shine.

Today has been one of the hardest days so far. Lack of motivation, tiredness, and lack of motivation again. I miss too many things and have been craving them all today. Comfort first of all. The desire to stay in one place, to stop moving constantly, which I know is the whole point of the Camino, but still. I’m just exhausted from all the different plans. I want to reset.

On a sailboat somewhere, tiny bikini, limey cocktail in hand, sunglasses on, funky chill music in the background, a cute sailor in a tiny bikini too bringing me fresh tuna sashimi, my friends laughing and jumping overboard, the smell of sunscreen and salt water in the air. Fuck, I got transported there for a moment. I saw my future, and it looked bright.

But to come back to where I actually am. In my bunk bed, surrounded by fifteen people, in a little pueblo somewhere in Spain, walking more than twenty kilometers a day for… well, who the fuck knows anymore. Elevation of the mind, spiritual transformation, personal legend, public recognition, physical challenge. Big words that sound both profound and kind of empty. I do it because I can, because curiosity keeps leading me to unpredictable places. I just have to deal with it.

On the other hand, because thank god I’m not only a rational rat, I checked my birth chart before my nap. I was looking at the degrees of each planet at my birth and the correlation with numerology, and everything lined up perfectly. I’m on track. I’m walking the path of my soul. My Jupiter in Capricorn at 7° calls for discipline, solitude, study, and endurance. My Lilith in Leo, also at 7°, calls for wild creativity, unapologetic sensuality, and the refusal to dim. Both are about owning my essence through structure and self-expression, and here I am, doing exactly that.

Let me come back to the beginning of the day. I woke up around 6:30 after an okay night, got ready quickly, and went to the only café open in El Burgo. Same one where I had that delicious burger yesterday. I knew the coffee and breakfast would hit. And it did. A charming, elegant woman asked me to join her table. We’d crossed paths a few times these past days, it always happens eventually on the Camino. Her name was Chanel, from Virginia. She had that precise, composed, slightly particular vibe. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a Virgo.

We talked a little, but my social battery was low. I could already feel the pull to be alone. So I found a way to leave politely and start walking by myself. It happened a lot today, people wanting to connect, me needing to retreat. It’s a tricky balance between being open and protecting my energy. The Camino is full of encounters, and I know I naturally attract people, so I’ve had to learn when to say no. Saying to a friendly stranger, “Sorry, I don’t have the energy to talk right now,” still feels awkward, but honesty always lands softly. People get it.

As I walked alone, my mind started looping again around that dance video I didn’t post. I knew it wasn’t about the video itself. When something keeps coming back like that, there’s always something deeper behind it.

It actually started with what I posted before, a picture of me on my private story, looking a bit sad, longing for fun, for my friends, for a night of laughter and music and smoke. I was honest, but after posting it, I felt uncomfortable. Like I couldn’t end my story on that note. I didn’t want people to see me as low, dull, or heavy. I felt the urge to post something else, something light, sexy, fun, just to rebalance the perception.

That’s when I realized it wasn’t really about the dance, it was about control. I wanted to shift the energy, to prove that I was still radiant and desirable even after showing vulnerability. To leave people with an image of me that felt high again. It was the same old reflex, masking my softness with shine.

And I know exactly where that comes from. The old belief that my pain is too much for others. That I can show it, but then I must cover it up quickly, wrap it in something prettier. I used to do it constantly, especially with men. Vulnerability never felt safe, so I’d balance it with charm, humor, or sensuality. It’s how I made pain easier to digest, how I stayed likable.

Now I can see it for what it is, a protective mechanism. I don’t need to fix it or shame it, just to notice it. My mind still looks for safety where it used to find it. But maybe now, vulnerability can become the safe thing itself. Maybe that’s the new story.

Which brings me to the other theme of the day, safety and comfort. Everything I’ve been reflecting on lately seems to orbit around those two. Authenticity only really blooms when I feel safe. And walking this path, with all its discomforts, constantly shows me how deeply I crave it. When I imagine absolute comfort, I picture myself nooked in the arms of the man I love. That’s where my mind goes automatically. But I also know I can’t hand over the foundation of my peace to someone else, even someone I love.

It’s almost like I still don’t fully believe I can generate that comfort within myself. But I can. I just never learned how. What would it feel like if safety came from inside me?

I thought about those sensory deprivation pods, floating, weightless, cut from everything, just existing. That’s the feeling I crave. It reminds me of when I told my dad once that I wanted to be a small polished rock on the shore. No movement, no feelings, no noise. Just being.

So how do I create that feeling within me? I’ve felt it before through meditation, but I’ve never practiced it consistently. Maybe I should. Maybe it’s as simple as returning there every day, even for a few minutes, reminding myself that safety doesn’t have to come from anyone or anything. Maybe that’s how I stop waiting for it and start embodying it.

So no, it wasn’t just another day. It was a needed conversation with myself, an uncomfortable one but real.

I arrived at the albergue around 1 p.m., exhausted. Found a little restaurant with a sunny patio, ordered a goat cheese salad with dried meat, a glass of red wine, and a three-chocolate dessert. Heaven. I went back, showered, and collapsed for two hours. Out cold. I needed that.

Three weeks of thin mattresses, snoring, zippers, coughing, lights turning on at 6 a.m. Even my short break in Burgos feels like another life. As I write this, the woman in the bunk above me keeps moving, and every squeak of the bed makes my skin crawl. My senses are raw today, stretched thin. But I can handle it. I always do.

So that’s it for today. No grand conclusion, no neat ending. Just me, tired, reflective, still walking, still figuring it out. Sweet dreams, little rock. You’re doing fine.

With love, Loune.