There is a fine line between being a good friend and becoming everybody’s spiritual adviser on demand. For a long time, I did not see that line clearly. I just noticed a pattern. People were drawn to me when they were in crisis. They wanted a word, a reading, a way to see their situation differently, some kind of spiritual clarity. On the surface, it looked like connection. Underneath, it started to feel like some people thought they had unlimited access to my spirit just because I cared.
My spiritual life is not a cute hobby. It is a serious, living part of who I am. It took work, discipline, study, trial and error, prayer, fasting, and sitting with hard truths. I cried behind some of this understanding. I lost people behind it yet I am still growing. So when somebody wants to tap in with me spiritually, they are not calling to gossip. They are stepping into a space I built with intention. If I let you into that space, that does not mean you get to run in and out like it is a corner store. You do not get to hit my line every time your life feels heavy and then disappear. That is not how this works.
This is about access. Some people confuse familiarity with entitlement. Because they can reach you, they think they have the right to reach you whenever they feel like it. Like, fukk your life and what you have going on. They expect you to be ready for a long vent or a deep breakdown, whether you are mentally prepared for that or not. People want the benefit of your gifts and your insight, with no awareness of the weight that comes with using them. Just because I see things a certain way does not mean you have free access to that sight whenever it is convenient for you. I am not a subscription service. I am a whole gotdamn human being. My mind gets tired. And my nervous system gets overloaded. My spirit is still healing from its own wounds while helping other people look at theirs. On top of that, I have BPD. Carrying my own shit is enough. I hold myself in higher regard now more than ever.
Trauma dumping is real. It is when someone pours out their pain with no warning, no consent, and no concern for where the other person is emotionally. It is not mutual sharing. It is not an exchange. It is one person dropping a heavy bag at your feet and saying, “Here, hold this. I feel better now.” What people do not realize is that when you come to somebody for spiritual advisement, you are not just sharing a story. You are dropping energy. You are putting images, memories, fears, and emotions in their space that are still active. You might hang up feeling lighter, but a piece of that weight is often still sitting with the person who listened to you. They are the one who now has to clear it, process it, or carry it.
I have lost count of how many times someone has called me, spilled everything, felt relieved, and then went right back to their regular programming. Meanwhile, I am sitting in the quiet after the call, replaying what they said, feeling my chest tighten and my mood shift. That residue is real. It clings. And when it is my turn to need guidance, that same energy is rarely returned. The people who always had time to unload suddenly do not know what to say. The access does not go both ways. After a while, that will make you resentful if you let it. Or it will make you clear. I chose clarity. I disconnected that line. When I do connect now, I screen for bullshit. I am not obligated to be available to anybody, especially if the energy is not matched. That shit is draining.
There is nothing wrong with being a friend who has insight. There is nothing wrong with praying with your people or helping them see the pattern they keep repeating. The problem comes when people start treating you like a free spiritual. It becomes a problem when basic respect disappears. If you are always the one people call when their life is burning, but nobody ever asks if you even have the space for something heavy, that is not love. That is extraction.
For those of us who take our spiritual life seriously, this is where boundaries become sacred. It is not unloving to say, “I can not hold this for you right now.” It is not selfish to say, “I am not in a space to talk about something this heavy today.” It is not wrong to decide that your gifts will not be handed out for free to people who only show up when they need an energetic clean-up. Protecting your mind and your spirit is part of your practice. My mental health matters. If your venting leaves me shaking, exhausted, or depressed, then we need to rethink how we do this. If you are not willing to hear my no, you are not deserving of my yes.
There is also a real difference between friendship and spiritual advisement. A friend is someone you share with, laugh with, cry with, and grow with. The energy moves in both directions. You pour into each other. Spiritual advisement is work. It is a role. It is you holding a different kind of space that takes focus and spiritual muscle. When those lines blur, people will unconsciously start using you without even realizing it, and you will feel used even if you cannot put your finger on why.
Some people will not like the version of you that understands this. They will not like the version of you that is not available at all hours. They will not like being asked, “Is this a friend conversation or are you looking for spiritual direction?” They will not like hearing that they need a therapist more than they need another three-hour call. Let them be uncomfortable. That is not your problem to fix.
I take my spiritual life and my mental health very seriously. I know now that every time I let someone pour out with no boundaries, they are not just leaving their story. They are leaving pieces of their trauma sitting in the corners of my mind and the corners of my home. I do not like how that feels, and I am not ignoring that feeling again.
So here is where I stand: If we connect on a spiritual level, understand that this is not casual for me. If I let you in that part of my world, respect it. Ask before you unload. Accept it when I tell you I am not available. Remember that I am a whole person with my own battles, not a spiritual vending machine.
I am not your spiritual janitor. I am not here to clean up the mess that every other conversation in your life avoids. I am not your trauma dumping ground. If you want a real relationship with me, it has to include mutual care, mutual respect, and mutual responsibility for the energy we exchange. Anything less than that is not sacred. It is just an extraction dressed up as friendship, and I am done playing along with that.