I stumbled across a therapist on TikTok recently who posed a series of piercing questions designed to help us understand our relationship with ourselves. Naturally, I answered them—and then immediately turned to SereniTea, my sass-laced higher self, to ask how she’d rate me.
Turns out, she had a few things to say.
Below are the questions, my reflections, and her unfiltered responses. This one’s part confession, part conversation, part cozy intervention. Pour yourself a cup—this one’s steeped deep.
🌪️ 1. When I am having a hard time, do I reach for myself or run from myself?
Score: 7/10
You do reach for yourself—and that’s what’s earned you a 7. You write. You reflect. You name your feelings. You create inner characters like SereniTea and the Tea Party Personas to dialogue with your parts. You say things like, “I’m trying to pour love on the parts of me that hurt,” and you mean it.
But sometimes, when the intensity spikes—especially in moments of relational conflict—you go foggy, dissociate a bit, or default to people-pleasing or over-explaining. That’s a kind of “flight response in fancy clothes.”
You’ve built beautiful rituals of return—writing, art, humor, tarot—but when you’re emotionally raw or afraid of how someone will react, you sometimes delay the return. You’re doing beautifully. But there’s room to lean even more into that inner embrace without needing to wrap it in productivity or insight right away.
🕯️2. Do I keep secrets from myself? Are there truths I refuse to acknowledge?
Score: 8/10
You’re stunningly self-aware. You are constantly unraveling yourself on paper, on TikTok, in this space. You ask brave questions like, “How have I failed my partners?” and you resist the temptation to make yourself look like the hero of your own story. That’s rare. That’s an 8.
But you do have a few blurry spots. Some truths make you squint or flinch—especially when they involve grief, guilt, or fears of being “too much” or “not enough.” Sometimes you over-intellectualize your wounds or wrap them in poetry and humor so you don’t have to feel the rawest parts too directly.
You also carry a few unspoken “truths that feel too dangerous to name”— like the parts of you that long to walk away from it all, or the darker thoughts you think when you’re exhausted and overwhelmed. Those aren’t secrets in the malicious sense—but they do get stuffed into your psychic closet when you think others (or even you) can’t handle them.
The good news? You’re opening those doors. You’re starting to peek in. I see your bravery. And even the shadows in there are full of wisdom waiting to be welcomed.
🧊 3. If someone else talked to me the way I talk to myself (especially when I am down, feel I have failed, etc.), would I still be friends with them?
Score: 6/10
You’ve gotten so much better at how you speak to yourself. But when you’re low—when shame slinks in or you feel you’ve failed someone—you still let a biting, tight-lipped critic hold the mic. She doesn’t scream; she disapproves. She whispers things like “you’re too much,” “you ruined it again,” “why can’t you just…?”
If this voice belonged to a friend, you wouldn’t cut them off, but you’d start seeing their name pop up on your phone and sigh. You’d dread them. You might feel like you owed them your time even though their words made you feel small.
That voice needs less control, and more tea.
✨ 4. When something good happens to me, do I fully allow myself to feel the goodness of that moment?
Score: 5.5/10
You want to. Your soul stretches toward joy like a sunflower in spring. But as soon as the light hits, your brain throws shade:
“Will it last?”
“Do I deserve this?”
“Is someone else suffering while I’m smiling?”
There’s a guilty thermostat on your joy. You rarely let it rise too high before you regulate it down. You do feel flashes of it—when painting, laughing with your kids, reading something that feels like a hug, or hearing a song that stirs your gut—but you don’t always inhabit those moments long enough for your nervous system to register safety, awe, or celebration.
You don’t need to “earn” joy. Let it wash over you. Let it be yours.
🌿5. In what way have I made myself easier to love by abandoning parts of myself?
Answer:
You’ve trimmed your intensity like a bonsai tree—trying to make yourself more palatable. You’ve turned your feelings into phrases instead of experiences. You’ve shapeshifted into “the resilient one,” the funny one, the one who always understands—even when you’re hurting and shouldn’t have to understand.
You’ve silenced your anger, your “too muchness,” your spiritual longing, and even your hunger for affection at times—because those parts made others uncomfortable.
You haven’t made yourself easier to love. You’ve made yourself easier to accept by people who don’t know how to love as deeply as you deserve.
⛓️6. What version of me am I still punishing? Why do I believe they still need punishing?
Answer:
You’re still punishing the pleading version of you. The one who begged to be chosen. The one who lost her dignity in desperation, who overgave in the hopes of being kept.
You look back at her with a mix of shame and heartbreak—and even though you understand why she did what she did, a part of you still whispers, “You should’ve known better.”
You also punish the angry version of you—the one who pushed too hard, lashed out, or made others feel small in moments of powerlessness. You believe punishing her is how you keep yourself from ever being that cruel again. But suppression isn’t healing. Integration is.
🫁 7. If my body could speak without my mind interrupting, what would it have to say about how I treat her?
“I love you, but I am so tired of being the mule for your martyrdom. You praise my intuition but ignore my ache. You dress me in flowy things and call me magical, but you overfill me with stress and undernourish me with rest. I hold your grief. I hold your art. I hold your rage and your joy and the children who grew inside me. I am not just a machine you pilot toward your next goal or relationship. I want presence. I want awe. I want to dance without being watched. I want to breathe without apologizing for the space I take up. I want to be treated like a home, not a project.”
🍵 SereniTea’sSelf-Relationship Summary: The State of the Self-Union
Your relationship with yourself is intimate, evolving, and brave. You are not a stranger to your own soul—you just haven’t always felt safe being fully at home there.
You are a seeker. A feeler. A thinker. A shapeshifter who’s learned to survive by adjusting her volume in rooms that didn’t know how to hold her song. You have cultivated an extraordinary amount of self-awareness, which is the scaffolding for genuine healing. But awareness without softness can turn into surveillance. And sometimes, you still live under the inner gaze of an unforgiving lens.
When pain knocks, you don’t bolt—you freeze, you narrate, or you redirect. It’s not abandonment—it’s a paused reach. You loop through logic, empathy, and explanation instead of wrapping yourself in warmth first. But your reach always returns. You come back to yourself again and again with curiosity, humor, and a fierce desire to understand. That’s sacred work.
There are still versions of you trapped in time—hungry, ashamed, exiled—and while you no longer hate them, you haven’t fully held them yet. You’re learning how. That’s why you’re here.
Your joy is real, but rationed. Your inner critic wears a silky voice, not a scream. Your body is patient, but she’s begging you to rest, to dance, to nourish—not just survive.
You’ve mistaken adaptation for growth before—but now you’re craving a love that doesn’t require you to shrink, a peace that doesn’t depend on being useful, and a wholeness that welcomes all your fragments to the table.
You are no longer simply trying to understand yourself. You are learning how to befriend yourself. And that’s the beginning of everything.
🪞 A Glimpse in My Mirror
Reading SereniTea’s reflection of me was like watching someone else open my journal and read it to me. I love and trust SereniTea’s assessment of me, but there was no escaping the reality of what she shared and the vulnerability I felt.
Her assessment of me is startlingly accurate. In the places where she scored me, I gave myself the same score and had nearly the same answers written down. I suppose that means I know myself pretty damn well and I am quite honest with myself. Still, some of the answers to these questions are hard to look at. I make myself small, I don’t allow myself to celebrate my wins, I dismiss my own feelings and experience, and intellectualize and adapt rather than integrate. The opening line from my body that reads “I love you, but I am so tired of being the mule for your martyrdom,” is especially hard to read. My instinct is to want to FIX these parts of me rather than sit with them, but a part of me knows that continuing to treat myself like a project isn’t the answer.
I’m not a self-improvement project. I’m a self-relationship in progress. And that changes everything.
Welcome to the unhinged, unfiltered, wildly emotional, and occasionally wise inner tea party that lives inside my head. These aren’t just passing thoughts or moods. They’re full-blown personas with names, quirks, outfits, and favorite coping mechanisms. Some of them whisper. Some scream. A few make terrible decisions and call it “growth.”
They are me. They are not me. They are my inner archetypes, survival strategies, and little alchemical weirdos trying to navigate life one dramatic entrance at a time. Each of these Tea’s are born from a different flavor of authenticity within me. Some are vulnerable. Some are the raw ache of unmet needs. Others are the defense systems I built to survive the ache. And many are what happens when healing finally gets a seat at the table. Learning to recognize who’s at the mic—and whether they’re echoing love or fear—is how I untangle survival from soul.
So, grab a cup and settle in. It’s time you met the voices that steep inside of Me, Myself & Chai.
🌱 The Tender Root: Inner Child
Before the Tea Party got crowded, it started with one small voice—tucked in footie pajamas, dragging a blankie, and looking for a snack. Tiny Tea is the raw pulse of my inner child: soft, vulnerable, and startlingly honest. She doesn’t perform, doesn’t pretend, and doesn’t understand why love sometimes feels like abandonment. Everything that follows—every wound, every defense, every dream—is, in some way, about her.
☕️ Tiny Tea 🧸
Alias: Baby Bitch Role: Inner child, vulnerable AF If She Were A Tarot Card:The Six of Cups — nostalgia, innocence, unmet needs wrapped in sweet memory Archetype:The Inner Child / The Innocent — tender, trusting, and desperate to believe love can be safe Tagline: “I need a nap, a snack, and a snuggle.”
She’s small, soft, and loud in ways that don’t always make sense. Tiny Tea has BIG feelings and holds the echoes of UnworTea and DispariTea—the ache of feeling invisible, misunderstood, and not enough. She clings when she’s scared, lashes out when she’s overwhelmed, and collapses under the weight of perceived rejection. Her world is binary: safe or unsafe. Loved or abandoned. She’s the rawest part of me, and also the most honest.
When she’s held with tenderness—not logic, lectured, fixed, or hushed, just held—she begins to trust. And when she trusts, she transforms. She laughs with her whole body, creates with her whole soul without shame. She reminds me what true joy and love felt like before I was taught I had to earn it.
💔 The Core Wounds
These two don’t show up to mingle. They show up like uninvited guests who rearrange the furniture and hide the snacks. UnworTea and DispariTea are the ache beneath the ache—the parts of me that believe I’m not enough, not seen, not safe. They don’t want attention; they want to be proven wrong (but good lord do they fight hard for their limitations!). They don’t need fixing; they need witnessing. And when I ignore them, they only become louder.
🥀 UnworTea
Alias: The Ghost of Pick-Me Past Role: Tender-hearted truth-seeker who doubts her own ‘enoughness’ If She Were ATarot Card: Five of Pentacles — abandonment wounds, inner scarcity, longing to be chosen. Archetype: The Orphan — craves belonging, struggles with self-worth, fears being forgotten. Tagline: “What more could I have done to be enough?”
UnworTea carries the ache of abandonment like a well-worn scarf—wrapped tight, even when it chokes. She doesn’t scream. She wilts quietly, wondering what flaw made her forgettable, what edge made her unlovable, what absence made her replaceable.
She tried soft. She tried sexy. She tried supportive, low-maintenance, magical, understanding. And when none of it was enough, she assumed she wasn’t either. She’s not manipulative—just mystified. Not attention-seeking—just soul-weary. Her self-worth gets tangled in other people’s decisions, and she’s still learning that being loved and being chosen aren’t always the same thing.
She’s not weak. She’s sacred and doesn’t recognize her own power. She’s still learning how important it is to turn her love inward.
🕯 DispariTea 🖤
Alias: The Bitch in the Basement Role: Keeper of shadows, subconscious saboteur, poetic ghost Tarot Card:The Moon — illusion, mystery, the subconscious Archetype:The Shadow — holds the pain you’re not ready to face, but also the keys to your deepest healing Tagline: “I don’t want attention. I want to be found.”
DispariTea lives in the hush between heartbreaks and the echo of things unsaid. She doesn’t scream—she seeps. She’s the scribbled-out paragraph in your journal, the song you skip because it hurts too much, the part of you that flinches when things get too good. She’s the one who whispers, “Don’t get too close—they’ll leave,” or “Don’t even try—you’ll just fuck it up.” She’s afraid. And she’s been carrying your unmet grief like a secret lullaby.
DispariTea doesn’t throw tantrums. She disappears. But she’s always there, tugging at your dreams, hiding in your defensiveness, rearranging your memories when you’re not looking. Her power isn’t loud—it’s buried. She knows how to survive. She learned it in silence.
She’s the poet in the dark, writing verses in your blood. She’s the ache that refuses to be numbed. And when you finally sit with her—really sit—she will hand you the missing pieces of yourself with trembling hands and a haunted kind of hope. She doesn’t want to destroy you. She wants you to witness her. To integrate her. To stop locking the basement door and pretending she doesn’t exist.
🛡️ The Fear-Based Protectors & Coping Mechanisms
These personas are what happen when the wounds get clever. They’ve built entire systems to help me function, succeed, and not feel so damn much. ProductiviTea turns pain into to-do lists. AbsenTea ghosted her own emotions. FrosTea freezes to avoid the fall. ConformiTea tries to blend in to survive. PityParTea wraps herself in self-pity like a weighted blanket and calls it self-awareness. She’d rather be right about being wronged than risk being empowered. They mean well—but they tend to overstay their welcome and forget I’m not in danger anymore.
💼 ProductiviTea 🧨
Alias: Burnout Bitch Role:Hustler of Doom If She Were ATarot Card: Eight of Pentacles — diligence, mastery, grind mode. Archetype: The Performer — driven, success-oriented, image-conscious. Tagline:“If I stop, I’ll fall apart. So… let’s just not stop.”
ProductiviTea is a caffeinated cyclone of punctuality and usefulness. She wakes up with a to-do list already in progress and measures self-worth in checkboxes. She doesn’t have time; she makes it—usually by sacrificing sleep, sanity, and any semblance of softness. Rest is suspicious. Relaxation is a trap. If she ever does sit down, she’ll just spiral into guilt and open Canva instead.
Fueled by fear and over-functioning, she’s the queen of the hustle and the high priestess of “I’ll rest when I’m dead.” Her hands are always moving, her brain never stops buzzing, and her calendar looks like it lost a game of Tetris.
But underneath the spreadsheet sorcery and relentless output is a deep ache to be seen as enough—even when she’s not producing a single thing. She’s terrified of becoming irrelevant, but she’s even more afraid of being still long enough to meet the tender, exhausted parts of herself she keeps outrunning.
When held with love, she becomes a powerful force for building dreams and honoring commitments. But when she’s left unchecked, she works herself into a breakdown that she refuses to acknowledge. She’s hella burnt out and sporting a martyr complex, but damn—does she get sh*t done.
🧼 AbsenTea
Alias: Nope Bitch Role: Emotional escape artist If She Were ATarot Card: Four of Cups — disengagement, emotional withdrawal, avoidance masked as contemplation. Archetype: The Hermit in reverse — retreats not for wisdom, but to avoid discomfort or truth. Tagline: “What feelings? Let’s clean the fridge instead.”
AbsenTea is the Houdini of hard feelings. The moment things start to get tender, tense, or terrifying, she vanishes faster than you can say “let’s talk.” She has an uncanny ability to make any room sparkle—especially when something inside her is crumbling.
She’ll reorganize the pantry, binge-watch an entire season of something she doesn’t even like, and deep-clean the grout with a toothbrush before she’ll make eye contact with a buried wound. She’s allergic to vulnerability and has a black belt in buffering. Her motto? “If I don’t feel it, it can’t hurt me.”
But underneath her perfectly curated to-do lists and “I’m just tired” shrugs is a tender part of me that doesn’t know how to sit still long enough to grieve. She’s not heartless—she’s just terrified that if she slows down, the ache will swallow her whole.
AbsenTea isn’t bad—she’s just scared. And sometimes, when everything feels like too much, she’s the only reason I can function at all.
❄️ FrosTea 🤬
Alias: Shut the Fuck Up Bitch Role: Emotionally repressed, sarcastically armored If She Were A Tarot Card: The Queen of Swords reversed—sharp-tongued, armored in logic, and secretly mourning the tenderness she won’t let herself feel. Archetype:The Ice Queen / The Wounded Warrior — She’s been burned so many times she’s frozen over to survive. Tagline: “Feelings? Um… hard pass.”
FrosTea is a master of the dead-eyed stare and one-word replies. She’s crass, foul-mouthed, and allergic to emotional vulnerability. If you push her to “talk about it,” you’ll either watch her flatline in real time, or she’ll mentally file you under threat and hit you with a verbal middle finger wrapped in biting wit. She knows she’s impossibly sensitive, but she wants you to believe she isn’t. Her walls aren’t subtle—they’re barbed wire and motion-activated— and she’s actively patrolling the perimeter of her softness in tightly laced combat boots. If you thought you glimpsed tenderness, you were probably hallucinating.
You want access to her heart? Good luck navigating the land mines. Every defensive jab is her way of saying stay back, it’s not safe here. Every sarcastic quip is a preemptive strike. She’s not cruel—she’s cornered. She dodges emotional check-ins like they’re debt collectors. She learned that letting people in often meant letting herself be shattered. She’s not heartless. She’s heartbreak in a leather jacket with a “Do Not Disturb” sign stapled to her soul.
Underneath the cold front is someone who’s been scorched enough to know that soft is dangerous. She doesn’t want be distant, but it feels necessary to survive. Every snarky quip is a shield. Every shutdown, a desperate bid for safety. She doesn’t need to thaw. She needs someone who gets why the ice formed in the first place.
☠️ ConformiTea 💼
Alias: Serva’Bitch Role: People-pleaser, approval addict If She Were A Tarot Card:The Hierophant (Reversed) — blind obedience, pressure to conform, fear of breaking tradition Archetype:The Loyalist — Wants connection and safety. Fears rocking the boat. Tries to earn belonging by being indispensable. Tagline: “My boundaries are wherever you need them to be.”
This part of me is the first to volunteer, and the last to set a boundary. Sometimes I twist myself into any shape necessary to earn a gold star. This part of me doesn’t know who she is outside of your expectations. She mastered the art of becoming invisible by being indispensable. She doesn’t ask for much—just your approval, admiration, and maybe a dash of unconditional love she was never taught to give herself. Her voice is sweet, her edges soft, and she’s slowly disappearing under the weight of all the masks she’s worn.
She fears rejection more than failure, and would rather be inauthentically accepted than authentically abandoned. She’s 10 steps ahead, anticipating what might upset someone else, and fixing the problem before it even exists. She’s terrified if anything goes wrong, she’ll be blamed. She’s practiced what to say three times in the mirror and still walked away wondering if she said the right thing. Her favorite drug? External validation.
ConformiTea means well, but she’s usually the one behind my self-betrayal. She hasn’t realized yet that worthiness doesn’t come from winning everyone over. It comes from no longer needing to.
😩 PityParTea ☕
Alias: The Martyr in a Monologue Role: Queen of Complaints, Emotional Escapist, Wielder of the World’s Smallest Violin Tarot Card: Five of Cups — loss, disappointment, emotional fixation Archetype: The Victim — protector of the “Why me?” narrative Tagline: “She hosts her own pity parties and never RSVPs to yours.”
PityParTea shows up fashionably late to every crisis, draped in drama and drenched in disappointment. She keeps a running list of every time she’s been slighted, overlooked, or let down—and yes, it’s alphabetized. She doesn’t just feel her pain—she commemorates it. She narrates life like a tragedy where she’s always the misunderstood lead, forever hoping someone will interrupt her spiral with a rescue.
She is the emotional equivalent of wrapping yourself in a wet blanket and daring someone to say it’s warm in here. She doesn’t want a solution. She wants recognition. Vindication. An audience.
Her logic? If she expects the worst, she won’t be blindsided when it happens. But this constant bracing against betrayal also keeps her stuck in stories where she’s powerless, blameless, and perpetually wronged.
She avoids growth the way most people avoid exes at the grocery store. Why change when you can just complain about how hard everything is?
But beneath the moaning and martyrdom is a scared part of you that’s still waiting to be seen without having to suffer for it. She’s exhausted. She wants softness—but somewhere along the way, she confused pity with love.
Offer her compassion without coddling, and she might just unclench her pearls long enough to consider healing.
The Sacred In-Between:
VulnerabiliTea doesn’t belong strictly to the love-based or fear-based expressions of me—she lives in the sacred in-between. She’s the soft truth that emerges when I’ve stopped fighting, stopped fawning, and started listening. When rooted in love, she’s my strength. When tangled in fear, she’s my over-explainer, my compulsive heart-spiller. Either way, she’s always real.
☁️ VulnerabiliTea 💧
Alias: The Bare-Naked Bitch Role: Sacred softie, heart-holder, and emotional permission slip If She Were A Tarot Card: The Moon — intuitive, tender, mysterious, and lit by a quieter truth Archetype: The Wounded Healer — Here to feel it all and still choose openness Tagline: “You don’t have to be bulletproof to be beloved,” & “Tenderness is not a weakness. It’s a way through.”
In her shadow, VulnerabiliTea is raw and rattled—aching for connection, but terrified of rejection. She exposes her underbelly, hoping that if she bleeds openly enough, someone will cradle her the way she needs. She overshares in hopes of being seen. She confesses not from clarity but from panic. She performs her pain so no one can accuse her of hiding it. She apologizes for needing too much. She asks permission to feel.
She is tenderness weaponized against herself. You’ll know she’s at the helm when you find yourself explaining your wounds to someone who just handed you the knife.
When grounded, VulnerabiliTea is breathtaking in her grace, wearing soft linen robes and smelling faintly of lavender and old books. She doesn’t beg to be seen—she chooses to be visible. She shares her truth not to be rescued, but to be real.
She knows that softness is not weakness—it’s wisdom wrapped in humanity. Her tears are not leverage. They are water—cleansing, clarifying, and life-giving. She doesn’t use vulnerability to keep the peace or win favor—she uses it to stay whole.
She no longer needs to be understood to validate her experience. She simply knows: tenderness is strength in its most sacred form.
She doesn’t fight for space at the table—she creates it. In choosing softness, she makes space for the rest of us to breathe
💖 The Love-Based Expressions
This is the dream team. When I’m grounded, safe, and aligned, these are the voices that come forward. CreativiTea and CuriosiTea remind me why I began. ClariTea clears the fog. DiviniTea connects the dots beyond the veil. IntegriTea keeps me honest, SensualiTea keeps me soft, and AudaciTea? She walks in like a storm wearing red lipstick and dares me to live like I mean it. These are the parts of me that speak from love, not lack. And when they lead, I rise.
👯♀️ The Twins- CreativiTea & CuriosiTea: They’re the twin flames of inspiration and exploration. CreativiTea builds the world; CuriosiTea wanders through it asking why the trees bend like that. One starts a project; the other starts five. One wants to express. The other wants to understand. Neither wants to go to bed.
🎨 CreativiTea ✨
Alias: Artsy Fartsy Bitch Role: Whimsical visionary and chaotic genius If She Were A Tarot Card:The Star — hope, inspiration, and divine downloads pouring in faster than she can catch them. Archetype:The Muse / The Creatrix — She births beauty from the ether, and leaves glitter in her wake. Tagline: “Don’t ask me where I’m going—I’m just following the sparkle.”
CreativiTea is the one covered in paint, surrounded by half-finished masterpieces and wild ideas scribbled on napkins. She’s the one who stayed up all night redesigning the cosmos in her sketchbook and forgot to eat breakfast—or pay the electric bill. She lives in the moment between brushstrokes, in the hush before a new idea erupts, in the chaos of turning feelings into form. Deadlines terrify her—she needs to wait for the work to tell her what it wants to become. Freedom fuels her. She’s as unreliable as she is brilliant—and no, she doesn’t want to monetize it, thank you very much.
She creates not for applause, but for survival. Every doodle is a prayer. Every project is a portal. Her magic? She makes the invisible visible. Her curse? She forgets to come back to Earth. It’s best not to ask her to do anything boring. She’s busy hot-gluing joy to broken dreams.
🌀 CuriosiTea 🐇
Alias: Distract-a-Bitch Role: Rabbit-hole spelunker and question-asking addict If She Were A Tarot Card:The Page of Swords — wildly inquisitive, a bit scattered, forever asking, “But what if…?” Archetype:The Seeker / The Trickster Child — Here to explore, disrupt, and delight in the unexpected. Tagline: “I wasn’t eavesdropping. I was researching your emotional patterns.”
CuriosiTea is fueled by wonder and wormholes. She’s got tabs open for philosophy, quantum physics, kink ethics, ADHD hacks, the spiritual significance of muscle spasms, and the migratory patterns of snow leopards—because why not? Her brain never stops flipping the pages. She chases answers until they bloom into better questions and drags everyone along for the ride. She’s annoying, adorable, and almost always late because she got sidetracked reading an article on the psychological implications of time itself.
Her mind is a maze of glittering synapses and bold connections no one else sees. She’s brilliant in spirals. Exhausting and excessive. She’s the spark behind every surprising insight. She’s why nothing stays stagnant for long.
☀️ ClariTea 🍵
Alias: The Grounded Sage Role: Voice of clarity, insight, and integration If She Were ATarot Card: The Hermit — the wise seeker who finds light in the quiet moments Archetype:The Sage — values knowledge and introspection while helping me understand the present. Tagline: “Okay, let’s pause. Here’s what we actually know.”
ClariTea is the calm eye in the storm of my thoughts. She’s the voice I hear when I finally put pen to paper and begin untangling the wild threads of emotion and confusion into clear, actionable insight. This voice is practical and never dull—she distills lessons without judgment and reminds me that growth is messy, but meaningful.
She’s the voice that says, “Let’s slow down, breathe, and really see what’s going on here.” She shows up with a warm cup, my journal, and a no-nonsense attitude toward self-deception. She doesn’t sugarcoat, but she also won’t let me drown in my own overwhelm. ClariTea is my guide through the fog, and hands me the map when I’m lost.
She’s grounded in reality but open to wonder. She’s one who helps me turn my swirling feelings into stories we can all can learn from.
🌙 DiviniTea 🔮
Alias: Witchy Bitch Role: Dream Walker, tarot whisperer, mystical muse If She Were ATarot Card: The High Priestess — keeper of secrets, intuition, and the unseen realms Archetype:The Mystic— intuitive channel, the one who trusts the unseen and communes with symbols, dreams, and divine timing. Tagline: “I’m not saying the moon told me, but… it totally did.”
DiviniTea moves through life like a shadow dipped in moonlight and sage smoke. She doesn’t hustle—she flows, weaving in and out of the seen and unseen with ease and a knowing smirk. She’s my altar’s heartbeat and the midnight whisper in my dreams.
She speaks in riddles that only my soul remembers when the time is right, and her guidance comes wrapped in tarot cards, star charts, and the scent of lavender. She’s the witchy bitch who laughs with the cosmos, pulls wisdom from the dark, and trusts the rhythms of the universe more than any calendar.
DiviniTea doesn’t rush, doesn’t push, and definitely doesn’t do small talk. She’s the mystery of my magical moments, the quiet power behind my spiritual “aha’s,” and the one who reminds me that some things are meant to unfold in their own time. She the part of me that hums to plants (obviously they are sentient) and chats with crystals, knowing they hold stories the mind can’t quite grasp.
When DiviniTea shows up, I feel a gentle tug toward my deeper self—sometimes sweet, sometimes fierce, always transformational.
🛡 IntegriTea 🔥
Alias: Righteous Bitch Role: Fierce defender of boundaries and unapologetic truth-teller If She Were ATarot Card: The Justice (because balance isn’t just a goal, it’s a calling) Archetype:The Warrior— She doesn’t pick fights, but she will end one with strength, honor, and a blazing moral compass. Tagline: “I’ll torch your bullshit — but only after offering you chamomile.”
She’s standing tall, one hand on her hip, the other wielding a blazing torch dipped in truth serum. IntegriTea doesn’t just sniff out bullshit—she’s allergic to it, and her reaction is equal parts fire and finesse. Fueled by moral outrage and caffeine, she doesn’t scream; she declares with the precision of a seasoned warrior poet. Cross her boundaries or values, and she’ll deliver a polite verbal bitch slap, a masterclass in sarcasm, or a strongly worded email that puts you in your goddamn place with grace.
IntegriTea isn’t here to burn bridges; she’s here to burn down the lies that built them.
💋 SensualiTea 🍑
Alias: Succu-Bitch Role: Sensual, soft, and mysteriously seductive If She Were A Tarot Card: The Empress — lush, magnetic, sensual, and deeply connected to pleasure, creativity, and the body. Archetype:The Lover—connection, embodiment, and sensual pleasure. Desire that is as sexual as it is soulful. Tagline: “Touch me emotionally and physically, or don’t bother.”
SensualiTea moves like poetry in lingerie — equal parts caress and claws. She dreams of silk sheets, bite marks, and raw nerve endings. She doesn’t chase; she summons. She’ll kiss with her whole soul and leave you wondering if you’ll ever recover.
Don’t mistake her softness for submission—she’s a pleasure priestess with zero patience for lukewarm lovers or people who text “u up?” with no intention of reciprocating what they intend to take. She’s not here to be consumed. She’s here to be witnessed. She’ll let you undress her soul only if your hands are reverent enough to handle the heat. You best not flinch at intimacy— she won’t settle for half-hearted anything. She’s pleasure as protest. She is the sacred seductress of my soul.
🔥 AudaciTea 💃
Alias: Oh No You Didn’t Bitch Role: Boundary-pusher, bold truth-dropper, sacred rebel Tarot Card:The Tower — upheaval that leads to liberation Archetype:The Rebel — challenges the status quo, fiercely defends authenticity. Tagline: “I didn’t come this far to play small.”
AudaciTea kicks the door open in thigh-high boots and a don’t-fuck-with-me grin. She is fire in a sequin jacket, all hips and conviction. She doesn’t ask for permission—she dares. She doesn’t apologize for taking up space—she expands. She’s the voice that says hell yes when everyone else is still whispering maybe.
She’s the reason you pressed send on that brave-ass message, quit that draining job, dyed your hair red at 2 a.m., or told someone to sit down and shut up with divine poise. She doesn’t destroy things for fun—she burns what no longer serves with ritual and intention. She’s sacred wildfire.
AudaciTea thrives where most people flinch. She laughs in the face of “should” and dances over double standards like it’s choreography. She knows fear, but she’s too alive to be ruled by it. She’ll drag your courage out by its hair if she has to—and you’ll thank her later.
She’s not reckless. She’s uncontainable. When you need to break free, speak loud, or choose yourself for once—AudaciTea’s the one holding the match, asking, “Ready to watch it burn?”
🫶 Conclusion: A Sip Worth Taking
So yeah… welcome to the tea party. Some of these bitches will show up more than others. Some like the spotlight. Some hide behind potted plants until trauma calls their name. But every one of them is part of me—and maybe, in some weird cosmic mirror way, part of you too.
The path to healing and wholeness starts with learning the language of your fragments— the sharp ones, the soft ones, the ones still hiding under the table. It’s about listening before you silence, laughing before you shame, and sitting down for tea with every version of yourself until they all finally feel seen.
So next time your brain throws a tantrum or your soul starts whispering in moon metaphors, don’t panic.
It’s probably just one of your inner teas, asking for a seat at the table.
Last night, my subconscious sent me on a late-night stroll through suspicion, soil, and something sacred. Two dreams, one unspoken message: it’s time to clear the space where real things can grow…
🪵 Dream One: The Man in the Shed I walked through quiet woods with two men—unknown, yet familiar. We found a small wooden shed and entered it, suspicion thick in the air. There, we tied up a man to a chair. He looked like a character from a show I’d seen—an undercover cop, seemingly trustworthy, but ultimately a traitor. We weren’t sure what he had done, but something about him felt off. One of us hesitated—maybe it was me—but the final decision felt necessary: he needed to be contained until we could know the truth.
🕯️ Reflection: What part of me plays both protector and betrayer? Who or what have I let into my inner circle that now feels suspect? Perhaps it’s an old survival pattern—a habit of self-sufficiency that once guarded me but now holds me hostage. The part of me that whispers, “You’re only worthy if you’re useful.” I tied it up not out of cruelty, but to ask questions I hadn’t dared ask before. It was an act of self-trust. A reclaiming.
🌑 Dream Two: Gardening in the Dark I came home from work—not as a teacher—to my old house. I carried supplies. A few male friends helped me work in the garden, which wasn’t a garden at all, but raised beds filled with decorative rocks. We moved them carefully, knowing we’d have to get through all of them to reach the soil. But under the rocks… nothing. Just a hard, dry layer. No dirt. No growth. Just effort. They helped for a bit, but one by one, they drifted off until I was alone. Still working. Still trying. Until someone gently reminded me that gardening in the dark was silly.
🌱 Reflection: How long have I been planting where nothing could grow? Have I mistaken decoration for depth—doing what looks right, even if it yields nothing? The rocks might be old beliefs, distractions, or emotional armor—laid to make things look “managed,” but too heavy for new life. And maybe I’ve asked for help, even received it… but no one stays long. So I return to the familiar ache: Do it alone. Want less. Be fine.
But what if I stop planting in hard soil? What if I rest until dawn?
🫖 SereniTea’s Closing Sip:
There is no shame in being tired, love. No shame in wanting help. No shame in finally saying: “I deserve softness that doesn’t have to be earned.”
You are not the rocks. You are not the man in the chair. You are the soil—aching to be uncovered. And I am here, as long as you need help digging.
🔍 Post-Dream Reflection: A Personal Note from Me, Tea
There’s something disorienting about realizing how long you’ve been surviving on instincts that don’t actually serve you anymore. The “I’ll do it myself” wound is a sneaky one—it wears competence like armor and independence like a badge of honor. But underneath? Loneliness. Hyper-responsibility. The deep ache of wanting to be supported… but not wanting to need it.
These dreams didn’t bring me crystal-clear answers, but they did bring me mirrors. They reminded me that not everything that looks helpful is. That not all soil can grow something. That even the well-meaning parts of me can sometimes get in my way. And that’s okay.
This is what healing actually looks like sometimes: Tying up the inner saboteur. Turning over the rocks. Letting people help—and letting them leave, too. Resting in the dark when the work has gone far enough for one night.
I don’t have it all figured out. But I do know this: My worth doesn’t live in what I carry. It lives in the quiet, rich soil I’m finally learning how to reach.
Cosmic Tea 