brave not perfect

If You’re Strong Enough To Destroy Something, You’re Strong Enough To Repair It

There was a time when I believed strength meant walking away.
Ending things.
Burning it all down before anyone could get too close.

And I had a lot of strength.

But I didn’t always use it for good.

Especially toward the end of certain chapters in my life, I used my strength to destroy:
Relationships. Opportunities. Myself.

Sometimes intentionally.
Other times, impulsively.
But almost always out of fear.

Fear of being exposed.
Fear of being seen as damaged.
Fear of being me.

So I built walls. I pushed people out. I burned bridges and convinced myself I didn’t have the strength to fix any of it.

But that wasn’t true.

What I didn’t have was the humility to try.

I had the strength all along. I just didn’t yet understand what real strength looked like.

Because real strength doesn’t lie in the destruction.
It lives in the repair.

It’s easy to tear something down.
It’s much harder to own your part and build something better in its place.

But that’s where we grow.
That’s where healing happens.

When I began to get better, I slowly learned how to channel that strength in a new direction.
One that looked more like forgiveness.
Like compassion.
Like showing up for myself and the people I loved.

I stopped using my strength to protect the wound and started using it to heal.

Here’s what else I learned:

That voice in your head—the one that says you’re “stronger alone” or that you’re “cutting off what doesn’t serve you”—sometimes it’s not wisdom.

Sometimes it’s fear talking.
Sometimes it’s pain pretending to be power.

There’s a difference between walking away to honor yourself and walking away to avoid yourself.

I’ve done both.

I’ve ended relationships and convinced myself I was doing the strong thing… when really, I was just afraid to look at the part I played in their breakdown.

It’s easier to point the finger.
It’s harder to say, “I chose this dynamic.”
“I allowed this behavior.”
“I contributed to the pain.”

But that’s the work.

That’s the kind of strength that transforms everything.

And here’s the beautiful part:

The more we practice using our strength to build, the more of it we gain.
Just like self-esteem comes from estimable acts, our inner strength multiplies when we use it for repair, growth, and truth.

We become stronger when we’re brave enough to face ourselves.

To say the hard thing.
To make the amends.
To walk toward the mess instead of away from it.

Because if you’re strong enough to destroy something…

You’re strong enough to repair it.

SLAY Reflection

S – SHOW UP: Are you using your strength to avoid, escape, or destroy? Or to face, heal, and rebuild?

L – LEARN: What’s one moment where your strength showed up in a way that surprised you?

A – ACCEPT: Can you accept that real strength might look like softness, honesty, or vulnerability?

Y – YOU MATTER: What’s something broken that you still have the power to repair?

BONUS: What could change if you used your strength for good—starting today?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
Have you ever used your strength to heal something you once damaged?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s struggling with what it means to be strong, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

Sometimes You Just Need A Good Cry

We’re often taught to hold it together, to keep a straight face, to brush it off. For years, I believed that crying meant I was weak—that I wasn’t strong enough, brave enough, or resilient enough. So I did what many of us do: I stuffed it down. I distracted myself. I numbed out. I pretended I was fine.

Until I couldn’t anymore.

Eventually, the pain started leaking through the cracks. It came out in moments I couldn’t control—late at night, alone on the floor, sobbing into the silence. I was breaking down in private because I didn’t feel safe enough to break open in front of anyone else.

Permission to Feel

In my June SLAY TALK LIVE livestream, I shared how someone once gave me a gift I didn’t know I needed: permission to feel sad.

It was such a simple moment. I was fighting back tears in front of a friend, terrified they’d think less of me. I had built this perfectly polished image, and I wasn’t about to let a few tears ruin it.

But then, they looked at me and said gently, “It’s okay to cry.” And just like that, the dam broke.

What followed wasn’t pretty. It was messy. Emotional. Overwhelming. Years of grief, heartbreak, disappointment, and pain all rose to the surface. But instead of pushing it back down, I let it out—in front of someone else. I stopped hiding.

And the most surprising thing? It didn’t push them away. It brought us closer.

Crying Isn’t Weakness—It’s Release

No, I wasn’t crying on cue or sobbing through every meeting. But when I felt the tears come, I didn’t edit myself. I let them roll. And each time, I reminded myself: this is healthy, this is human.

It turns out, crying didn’t make me less lovable. It made me real. And it connected me to others who had felt the same pain—or were still working through it.

Unexpressed pain doesn’t just disappear. It stores itself in your body, in your mind, and in your relationships.

When we don’t let ourselves feel, we carry that weight in unhealthy ways. It shows up as anxiety, illness, irritability, or disconnection. There is no strength in pretending it’s not there. But there is deep, quiet power in releasing it.

Of course, timing matters. There are appropriate spaces to let it all out—and when the tears come unexpectedly, you can still honor them. I’ve excused myself from meetings, slipped into a restroom, cried it out, washed my face, and come back lighter. There’s nothing wrong with needing a moment.

Let Your Truth Show

The people who deserve a place in your life won’t shame you for being emotional. They’ll hold space. They’ll nod in understanding. They might even cry with you.

You don’t have to go through life with your emotions locked behind a wall. Vulnerability invites connection. And connection brings healing.

There’s always a reason we feel what we feel. Sometimes it’s grief. Sometimes it’s anger. Sometimes, it’s the echo of something unhealed. If we ignore it, we stay stuck. But if we honor it, we grow.

Tears can be a sign. That a person or situation isn’t right for you. Or that something buried deep inside is asking to be seen. Sometimes, it’s just that you’re finally safe enough to feel.

So let yourself feel. Get sloppy. Get snotty. Get real. Sometimes, a good cry is the most powerful thing you can do.

Let the healing begin.

SLAY Reflection

  1. Do you let people see your emotions? Why or why not?
  2. What’s your relationship with crying—do you see it as strength or weakness?
  3. When was the last time you gave yourself permission to cry?
  4. Is there something you’ve been holding in that needs to be released?
  5. Who in your life can hold space for your tears without judgment?

S – Sit with what’s rising instead of stuffing it down
L – Let the tears come, even if they feel uncomfortable
A – Accept that feeling doesn’t make you fragile—it makes you whole
Y – Yield to healing by letting yourself release what hurts

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What emotions have you been holding in that might be ready to be released?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s afraid to cry, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.