Optimal Energetic Boundaries Self Care as Relationship Medicine
- Taye Bela Corby

- Jan 7
- 4 min read

Awakening the Phoenix Transmission
My Dance, My Fire
Picture this.
The same conflict again.
Same dance. Different day.
That familiar moment where love suddenly feels like work.
Where intimacy tightens instead of opens.
Where something in my body braces—before my mind even knows why.
For decades, I thought the work of the beloved relationship lived out there.
In communication skills.
In fixing misunderstandings.
In trying to finally get it right.
But somewhere along the way—
through enough pain, devotion, and persistence—
something in me burned down.
And from those ashes, something else began to rise.
What I discovered is an epiphany.
In every charged moment, there is a threshold—
a split second I was never taught to notice.
A moment where power returns.
Where intimacy either collapses into old patterns…
or reorganizes around truth.
Today, I want to speak to you from that threshold—
as a woman still learning,
still loving,
still choosing presence.
And I want to speak especially to you—
those who carry Gene Keys 20, 59, 34, and 55—
keys of presence, intimacy, power, and freedom.
What I Learned: The Primary Relationship
Here is the revelation that changed everything for me:
In every relationship, two relationships are happening at once.
One is with the other person.
That’s the one most of us obsess over.
The other—
The one that determines everything—
is the relationship I am having with myself in the moment.
Not my personality.
Not my defenses.
But my essential Self—
the part of me that can stay present without collapsing or controlling.
This is where Gene Key 20 lives.
Not in performance.
But in embodied now-ness.
For most of my life, I abandoned myself the moment intensity arose.
I outsourced my regulation.
I made my partner responsible for my internal weather.
What I didn’t understand then—but live now—is this:
The primary relationship is always with myself.
When that relationship is resourced,
intimacy deepens naturally.
When it isn’t,
even love becomes a battlefield.
This truth did not come naturally for me.
It was forged in forty years of devotion, rupture, repair, and return.
The 51/49 Balance: Power Without Force
Let me make this real.
When Daniel published his book, I wrote him a testimonial.
It was long.
Personal.
Forty years of love distilled into words.
He read it, appreciated it…
and then told me it didn’t fit his marketing needs.
Too intimate.
Too long.
He filed it away.
And there it was.
That familiar sting.
That quiet ache—
the feeling of being unseen, of being misunderstood.
The contraction that says, Something is wrong. Feels icky.
The old version of me would have moved immediately into force—
pushing,
explaining,
demanding recognition.
But something else happened.
I paused.
And in that pause, I realized:
This disappointment is mine.
What I once suppressed,
what I sometimes spiritualized,
I chose instead to hold.
I breathed the feeling into my body.
Let it burn without needing to scorch anyone else.
This is what I call 51/49%
Fifty-one percent of my energy stays with me.
My feelings.
My sensations.
My truth.
Forty-nine percent is what I bring into the shared field.
When I don’t collapse that boundary, something extraordinary happens:
Power returns without force.
Three years later, I printed that same testimonial
and handed it to Daniel—
without agenda,
without emotional charge.
This time, he received it fully.
Tears in his eyes.
Same words.
Different timing.
That moment taught me something I now live by:
When I hold my emotional intensity in my own body, intimacy becomes safe again.
This is one of my highest expressions—
a kind of permeability without loss of self.
The Threshold Practice: Presence in Motion
Here’s how this actually works when life is happening fast.
Emotion rises.
My body tightens.
The story starts.
This is the threshold moment.
My practice is simple—
not easy:
Pause.
Sometimes I place my hands on my heart.
One conscious breath.
And one question:
“What is mine to hold right now?”
Not How do I stop feeling?
But Where does this feeling belong?
In my 51%, I can feel everything—
rage, grief, longing, fear—
without making it someone else’s job to soothe me.
I am not stomping over my feelings.
I am becoming aware of them,
and learning from them.
This is emotional sovereignty.
Sometimes I catch myself mid-sentence.
Sometimes five minutes later.
Sometimes I’ve already spilled everything before I even notice.
And still—
every return matters.
This is presence
forgiving itself
into now.
My Honest Truth: The Phoenix Isn’t Perfect
Let me be clear.
I am not mastered.
I am practiced.
Some days I hold my 51% with grace.
Other days I dump my entire emotional backpack before coffee.
And yet—
here’s what decades have proven to me:
When I stay with myself,
resentment softens.
Control dissolves.
Difference becomes an informant rather than a threat.
Those “impossible” differences in long relationships?
They didn’t disappear.
They initiated me.
I stopped arguing with them
when I realized I didn’t always know their source.
Instead, I began to trust myself.
A new kind of freedom emerged—
one rooted in inner alignment,
not dependent on external circumstances.
Invitation: Deepening Self Care as Relationship Medicine
This is my invitation to you.
What if the most loving thing you could offer any relationship
is a regulated, sovereign nervous system?
You can become more aware of the ways in which your self care serves as relationship medicine.
What if intimacy deepens
not by giving more and more of yourself away,
but by holding more of yourself with conscious awareness?
This is what I mean by relationship medicine.
By keeping more energy in my relationship with myself,
I am not withdrawing from relationship—
I am purifying the co-creative space.
I am tending the field so what we create together
is cleaner, truer, and more alive.
What if power is no longer about pushing or waiting for permission—
but about allowing whatever I am experiencing
to be welcomed, honored, and expressed
within my own 51%?
The 51/49 balance is not rigid.
It breathes.
It fluctuates.
But it always returns me home.
The revolution begins with my next breath.
My next pause.
My next choice to stay present.
And if you feel this—
in your body,
in your bones—
then you already know
more than you think.
The Phoenix burns.
Rises.
And knows the way.
I am beyond excited about our journeying together.





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