emotional healing

Laugh in the Places You Cried

There’s something profoundly healing about returning to the places that once broke you—and finding yourself laughing there.

It doesn’t erase what happened. It doesn’t mean the tears weren’t valid. But it does mean you’ve grown. It means that grief, loss, or hardship no longer has the same power over you that it once did.

To laugh in the places you cried is not about pretending the pain never happened—it’s about showing yourself that joy can exist there too. It’s proof of resilience. It’s a reminder that your story didn’t end in the sorrow of that moment.

Pain Leaves Marks—But So Does Joy

The truth is, we all carry places inside us that feel haunted by memory. A room you once walked out of in tears. A street where your heart shattered. A house where you fought, lost, or grieved.

For a long time, those places can feel unbearable. You avoid them, you numb yourself, or you pretend they don’t matter. But eventually, life has a way of bringing you back.

And when it does, you’re not the same person who stood there before.

When you can laugh in the same space where you once cried, you prove that your spirit is bigger than your suffering. You transform the memory. You remind yourself that you are not stuck in the story of what happened there.

Your Scars Tell the Story of Your Strength

Think of the scars you carry—not just on your body, but on your heart. They’re proof that something hurt you, but also proof that you healed.

Your tears were real, but so is your laughter.

That’s the beauty of allowing yourself to live fully in both. You don’t have to deny the moments that broke you. But you also don’t have to live there forever.

When you let joy back into the places that once felt like endings, you’re not betraying your pain. You’re honoring it by showing what came after.

Turning Memory Into Medicine

For me, there have been places I thought I could never face again—rooms where I felt humiliated, benches where I cried from heartbreak, doorways I left with shame.

At first, I avoided them. I told myself it was better to never go back. But life pulled me there anyway. And when I found myself standing in those same spaces, I realized something powerful:

I could either let the pain live there forever, or I could write a new chapter.

The first time I laughed in one of those places, it felt strange—like I was trespassing on sacred ground reserved only for grief. But the truth is, grief doesn’t own that ground. I do. And so do you.

Every time you smile, laugh, or find joy in a space where you once broke down, you reclaim a piece of yourself that once felt lost.

You’re Not Erasing the Past—You’re Expanding It

Let’s be clear: laughing in the places you cried doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten. It doesn’t mean you’ve dismissed what happened or denied your feelings.

It means you’ve grown enough to hold both truths at once.

Yes, you were hurt here.
Yes, you cried here.
Yes, you thought you might never move past it.

And yes—you are also capable of joy here now.

That’s not erasure. That’s expansion. You’ve made room for more than one emotion, more than one story, more than one version of yourself.

Healing Is Circular, Not Linear

Sometimes we think healing means “moving on” and never looking back. But often, healing looks like returning to old ground with new eyes.

You circle back—not to stay stuck in the past, but to measure how far you’ve come.

And when you can laugh where you once cried, you see the full circle of your healing. You’re no longer in survival mode. You’re no longer defined by that wound. You’ve created space for something bigger: life after pain.

Reclaim Your Spaces

What if the places that broke you could become the places that build you?

That café where you ended things with someone toxic could also be the café where you laugh with a friend years later.

That park bench where you grieved could also be the park bench where you sit and watch a sunset in peace.

That room where you cried in shame could also be the room where you stand today with pride.

Your past doesn’t get the final word. You do.

SLAY Reflection

  1. What space in your life feels tied to a painful memory?
  2. How would it feel to reclaim that space with joy?
  3. Can you think of a time when you surprised yourself by laughing in a place that once felt heavy?
  4. How did that shift your perspective on healing?
  5. What step can you take this week to create a new memory in an old space?

S – See the spaces that still carry your pain
L – Let yourself imagine joy returning there
A – Allow both tears and laughter to exist in the same place
Y – Yield to healing that expands, not erases

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
Have you ever laughed in a place you once cried—and how did it change you?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s still haunted by the places they’ve cried, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a reminder that healing makes room for joy too.

Invisible to What Isn’t Love

There’s a quiet kind of power that comes from living in love, in truth, and in alignment with who you are. It doesn’t scream for attention. It doesn’t need to prove itself. It simply is. And when you settle into that place—your authentic place—you’ll notice something miraculous: the noise, the chaos, the lies, the drama, the things that used to pull you under, can’t even touch you anymore.

It’s like you become invisible to everything that doesn’t match your frequency.

That’s not magic. That’s alignment.

Love Is the Foundation

When I talk about love here, I don’t mean the hearts-and-flowers version of love that gets wrapped up in greeting cards or romanticized movies. I mean the kind of love that starts inside you—the radical, unconditional love that says:

  • I am worthy.
  • I am enough.
  • I don’t need to perform, please, or prove my value.

When you stand in that kind of love, you stop chasing after scraps of validation. You stop bending yourself into pieces just to keep others comfortable. You recognize that your energy, your time, your spirit are sacred.

And that love becomes your shield. Not a shield that hardens you, but one that keeps out anything that doesn’t reflect back respect, kindness, or reciprocity.

Truth Sets You Free

Living in truth can be terrifying at first. Many of us were taught to hide pieces of ourselves to stay safe, to keep the peace, or to earn approval. For years, I wore masks—smiling when I wasn’t okay, saying “yes” when everything inside me screamed “no,” bending my truth so others wouldn’t have to face theirs.

But here’s the thing: bending your truth breaks you.

When I finally began to speak honestly—about what I needed, what I felt, and what I believed—I was terrified people would leave. And you know what? Some did. But the ones who stayed? They were the ones who truly saw me.

Truth is a filter. It doesn’t cost you real love. It only costs you illusions.

Alignment Makes You Untouchable

Alignment is what happens when your actions, your words, and your values finally match. It’s when your “yes” means yes, your “no” means no, and your energy flows in the direction of your highest good instead of being drained by people-pleasing, perfectionism, or fear.

When you’re aligned, you don’t need to force anything. You don’t need to beg, explain, or overcompensate. You simply are, and that “being” is enough.

And here’s where the magic happens: the things that are not love, not truth, not aligned—they literally can’t find you anymore. They bounce off. The drama you used to get pulled into suddenly looks exhausting. The games people play feel irrelevant. The old triggers don’t stick because you’ve outgrown the version of yourself that needed to engage with them.

You become invisible to what’s beneath you, because you’re no longer on that frequency.

The Power of Choosing What You Align With

Here’s what I know for sure:

  • If you align with fear, fear will find you.
  • If you align with shame, shame will chase you.
  • If you align with love, truth, and integrity, only those things can stay.

It doesn’t mean life will be free of challenges. But it does mean you’ll have the strength, clarity, and resilience to meet them without losing yourself.

And it’s in that space that you realize: peace isn’t about controlling your surroundings—it’s about controlling your alignment within them.

How to Stay in Love, Truth, and Alignment

It sounds simple, but it’s a daily practice. Here are some ways I stay anchored when the world tries to pull me out of myself:

  1. Pause before reacting. Ask: Am I about to respond from fear, or from love?
  2. Check your motives. Are you acting to be seen, validated, or liked—or because it’s aligned with your values?
  3. Revisit your boundaries. If something drains you, it’s not aligned with your truth.
  4. Speak honestly. Even if your voice shakes. Even if it costs you approval.
  5. Choose peace over proving. You don’t need to convince anyone of your worth.

The Gift of Invisibility

Being invisible to what isn’t love, truth, or alignment isn’t about ignoring reality. It’s about being so rooted in your truth that lies can’t hook you. It’s about being so anchored in love that hate has nowhere to land.

It’s about being so aligned that drama looks for someone else to feed on—because you’ve stopped giving it energy.

And that, SLAYER, is freedom.

SLAY Reflection

  1. Where in your life are you still bending your truth to keep the peace?
  2. What practices help you return to self-love when you feel unworthy?
  3. Who or what drains your energy because it’s not aligned with your values?
  4. How does it feel when you fully act from alignment?
  5. What’s one area of your life where you can choose love, truth, and alignment this week?

S – Stand firm in your truth, even when it’s uncomfortable
L – Let love, not fear, be your guide
A – Align your actions with your values, daily
Y – Yield to your highest self and let the rest fall away

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What shifted when you chose to stay in love, stay in truth, and stay aligned?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s struggling with people-pleasing, fear, or chaos—send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a reminder that alignment makes us untouchable.

Temporary People Teach Us Permanent Lessons

We don’t always get to choose who comes into our lives—or how long they stay. Some people walk with us for a lifetime, others for only a season. And while temporary people may leave as quickly as they came, their impact often lingers.

Sometimes it’s beautiful. Sometimes it’s heartbreaking. But always—it’s instructive.

Because even the ones who don’t stay teach us something we carry forward. Temporary people leave permanent lessons.

The Pain of Goodbyes and the Gift They Leave Behind

When someone exits your life, it can feel like rejection, abandonment, or loss. You may replay every moment, wondering what you could have done differently to make them stay. But here’s the truth: their leaving isn’t always about you.

Temporary people teach us boundaries. They teach us what we will and will not accept.
They teach us value. Sometimes by showing us what we deserve—and sometimes by showing us what we don’t.

Not all lessons are gentle. But every lesson has purpose.

What Temporary People Reflect Back to Us

Every person who crosses our path acts as a mirror. Some reflect our best qualities back at us—reminding us of the love, kindness, or courage we already hold. Others reflect the wounds we still carry, highlighting the work that’s left undone.

If you’ve ever noticed how one relationship reveals your need for boundaries, while another pushes you toward forgiveness, that’s no accident. Temporary people show us where we’re growing, and where we’re still stuck.

Even the ones who hurt us—sometimes especially the ones who hurt us—end up guiding us toward our truth.

Not Everyone Is Meant to Stay

We live in a culture that glorifies “forever.” Forever friends. Forever love. Forever loyalty. But life doesn’t always work that way.

The truth is, some people are only meant to walk us part of the way. They show up for a chapter, not the whole book. And that’s okay.

Because their role is not to stay—it’s to move us forward. To give us the lesson, the shift, the wake-up call we couldn’t have gotten any other way.

When we cling to people who were only meant to be temporary, we rob ourselves of the lesson. When we let them go with gratitude, we keep the gift they came to bring.

Choosing Growth Over Grief

It’s natural to grieve when someone leaves. But we don’t have to get stuck in the story of what “could have been.”

Instead, we can ask:
What did I learn from this connection?
How did this person shift me?
What strength did I discover because of them?

Sometimes the hardest people to release leave behind the clearest lessons. They teach us self-respect. They teach us resilience. They teach us that we can survive the leaving—and even thrive after it.

You may not have chosen their exit, but you can choose what you carry forward.

SLAY Reflection

  1. Who in your past was only meant to be temporary, but taught you something lasting?
  2. What lesson are you still carrying from a relationship that didn’t last?
  3. Do you find yourself holding on to people who were never meant to stay? Why?
  4. How does it feel to shift from grief to gratitude when you think of temporary people?
  5. What permanent strength or wisdom do you have today because someone left?

S – See the role they played in your growth
L – Let go of what wasn’t meant to last
A – Acknowledge the lessons they gave you
Y – Yield to gratitude instead of grief

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
Who was a “temporary person” in your life, and what permanent lesson did they leave behind?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone struggling to let go of someone who was never meant to stay, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a reminder that even endings carry gifts.

Slay Say

The Weight Was Never Yours

We often clutch what was never meant for us—regrets, expectations, the heavy burdens of things we can’t control. Our minds replay them, our hearts ache with them, and we end up carrying weight that was never ours to hold. True strength is not in forcing yourself to bear it but in recognizing when to set it down. Release is not weakness—it’s freedom.

This is your reminder to…
Choose peace over pressure. Your heart deserves rest, not heaviness.

SLAY on!

Just Because Someone Gave Up on You, Don’t Give Up on Yourself

There’s a particular kind of pain that comes when someone you believed in—someone you trusted—decides you’re no longer worth the effort. It might be a partner, a friend, a family member, or even an employer.

Sometimes they drift away quietly. Sometimes they slam the door. And sometimes, they make sure you hear exactly why you didn’t make the cut.

It’s human to internalize those moments. To question what’s wrong with you. To wonder if they saw something you didn’t. But here’s the truth—their decision to give up on you is about them, not you.

Their Choice Is Not Your Worth

When someone gives up on you, it’s easy to translate that into, “I’m not enough.” But what they’re really saying is, “I’m not willing, able, or ready to invest in this anymore.”

That’s not the same thing as saying you have no value.

We often assume that other people’s actions are direct reflections of who we are. But in reality, they’re reflections of their capacity, their priorities, their fears, and their choices. Someone’s inability or unwillingness to see your worth does not erase your worth.

When we take someone else’s abandonment as proof that we should abandon ourselves, we hand over our power. And once that happens, their absence gets to dictate the rest of our story.

You don’t owe them that power.

Self-Trust Is Your Lifeline

When the dust settles, what you’re left with is you. And that’s where the real work begins.

Self-trust isn’t built in grand declarations—it’s built in small, consistent acts of showing up for yourself. It’s saying, “I still choose me, even when they didn’t.”

Here’s the thing: if you keep believing in yourself, you always have another chapter to write.

Yes, it hurts when someone walks away. But you’re still standing. You still have dreams, talents, and the ability to create a life you love. You still have the capacity to love yourself fiercely, even if others failed to.

The most powerful way to respond when someone gives up on you is to prove—to yourself—that you never will.

Let Their Exit Teach You, Not Break You

People leaving can be clarifying. Painful? Absolutely. But clarifying.

When someone exits your life, you get the chance to ask:

  • Was I shrinking myself to keep them close?
  • Did I rely on their validation more than my own?
  • Was I ignoring red flags because I didn’t want to lose them?

The end of a relationship, friendship, or opportunity can feel like a collapse—but it can also be a clearing. A chance to rebuild in a way that’s more aligned with who you are now.

Sometimes someone’s departure forces you to look at your own patterns, boundaries, and needs in a way you never would have otherwise.

If you use the pain as data, it can actually serve you.

Your Story Isn’t Over Because They Left

It’s tempting to see someone’s departure as the end of something essential—as if the part of you that existed with them can’t survive without them. But your life is bigger than their role in it.

Think of the people you haven’t even met yet. The experiences you haven’t had. The opportunities that wouldn’t have been possible if you stayed where you were.

The world is full of people who will believe in you. People who will stand beside you, support you, and challenge you to grow—not shrink.

But the most important believer you’ll ever have is the one staring back at you in the mirror.

Refuse to Abandon Yourself

Here’s the bottom line:

  • Someone else’s choice to walk away does not define you.
  • You are allowed to grieve, but you are not required to quit on yourself.
  • You can acknowledge the hurt without adopting it as your identity.

The real loss would be if you decided their decision was the final say in your worth.

Keep showing up. Keep writing your story. Keep choosing you—over and over again.

Because the day you give up on yourself is the day you stop being open to the possibilities that are still ahead.

And trust me… there are so many.

SLAY Reflection

  1. Who in your life has walked away, and how did it impact your self-belief?
  2. In what ways have you relied on others for validation?
  3. How can you build more self-trust right now?
  4. What lesson did you learn from someone leaving your life?
  5. What’s one action you can take this week to invest in yourself?

S – Stand in your worth, even when others don’t
L – Let go of those who cannot meet you where you are
A – Affirm your value daily, without waiting for outside approval
Y – Yield to growth, even when it comes through loss

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
When someone gave up on you, what did you do to keep believing in yourself?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s questioning their worth because someone walked away, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

Learning to Love the Thing You Wish Hadn’t Happened

There are moments in life that split time in two.

There’s before it happened.
And there’s after it happened.

And sometimes, that “it” is something you would give anything to erase. A betrayal. A loss. A mistake. A failure. Something that shook you so deeply that, even years later, you still catch yourself saying, “If only that had never happened…”

I’ve been there. More than once.

For a long time, I believed the only way to be truly happy again was to go back—back to the way things were before the pain, before the fallout, before the day that changed everything. But the truth is, there is no going back. There’s only forward. And learning to move forward doesn’t mean pretending it didn’t hurt, or even pretending you’re glad it happened.

It means learning to love what it taught you.

It means finding peace in the fact that this unwanted thing—this thing you thought would break you—has also shaped you into the version of yourself you are now.

The Lie We Tell Ourselves About “If Only”

When something painful happens, our minds get stuck in loops. We replay conversations. We imagine different choices. We rewrite endings that never came.

It’s a way of bargaining with reality: If only it hadn’t happened, I’d be happier. If only it hadn’t happened, I’d be whole.

But here’s the truth no one wants to admit—those loops keep us chained to the very thing we want freedom from. Every time we run through the “if only” scenario, we hand over our present to a past we cannot change.

And if we’re not careful, we start defining ourselves by the wound instead of the healing.

What It Really Means to Love the Thing You Wish Hadn’t Happened

Loving what you wish hadn’t happened doesn’t mean excusing it, approving of it, or romanticizing pain. It’s not toxic positivity, and it’s not saying, “Everything happens for a reason” as a way to shut down your feelings.

It’s about recognizing that you did survive it. That it’s part of your story. And that by accepting it instead of resisting it, you can take back your power.

When you love what you wish hadn’t happened, you’re saying:

  • “I see what this taught me, even if I never wanted the lesson.”
  • “I won’t let this moment define my future in a way that keeps me small.”
  • “I can carry this with me without letting it weigh me down.”

That shift—acceptance over resistance—is where freedom begins.

Turning Pain Into Purpose

If I look back at my own life, the moments I once wished away have given me some of my greatest strengths.

The heartbreak that shattered me? It taught me how to listen to my intuition.

The loss that felt unbearable? It taught me to love harder and to cherish the present.

The mistake I swore I’d never recover from? It humbled me, made me more compassionate, and connected me to people I never would have met otherwise.

When you learn to love what you wish hadn’t happened, you’re essentially mining your pain for gold. You’re pulling the wisdom from the rubble. You’re saying, “If I have to carry this, I will make sure it makes me stronger.”

Choosing to See the Gift

This is the hardest part—seeing the gift in the thing you never wanted.

Sometimes the gift isn’t obvious. It’s not wrapped neatly with a bow. It might take years before you see how something awful set the stage for something better.

But I believe this: Every wound has the potential to be the very thing that builds your wings.

That doesn’t happen automatically. It happens when you choose to look for the lessons. When you decide that your story will not end in tragedy, but in transformation.

You Don’t Have to Like It to Learn From It

There’s a misconception that acceptance means approval. It doesn’t. You can still hate what happened. You can still grieve it, still wish it had been different.

Acceptance is simply saying, “It happened. I can’t change that. But I can choose how I live with it.”

And sometimes, “living with it” means integrating it into your story in a way that honors your growth instead of your grief.

From Scar to Strength

Your pain is not who you are.

It’s part of your story, but it’s not your identity. The thing you wish hadn’t happened might always sting a little, but with time, the sting fades, and the scar becomes proof—not of what hurt you, but of what couldn’t break you.

When you reach the point where you can love that scar, when you can look at it and think, That’s where I grew the most, you’ve taken back what was stolen from you.

That’s when the thing you once wished away becomes the thing that shaped you into the person you were always meant to be.

SLAY Reflection

  1. What’s one event in your life you still wish had never happened?
  2. How has holding onto resistance kept you tied to it?
  3. What’s one strength, lesson, or relationship you have today because of it?
  4. How would your life look if you could accept it fully?
  5. What’s one small step you can take this week toward making peace with it?

S – Stop replaying the “if only” loop
L – Look for the lessons, even if they’re small
A – Accept that it’s part of your story, not all of it
Y – Yield to the growth it’s given you

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What’s one thing you wish had never happened—and how has it unexpectedly shaped you for the better?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s stuck wishing they could erase the past, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

Letting Go Doesn’t Mean Forgetting

There are moments in life that mark us so deeply, they carve their names into our memory. A love we lost. A chapter that closed too soon. A person who changed us forever. And when we talk about letting go, it can feel like we’re being asked to erase those parts of our story—to forget, to move on, to pretend it never meant as much as it did.

But letting go doesn’t mean forgetting. It means learning how to carry the past with you without letting it weigh you down.

There is a quiet kind of strength in remembering. In holding onto what once made your heart full, not to relive it or rewrite it—but to honor it. Letting go is not an erasure. It’s an act of transformation.

You Can Turn the Page Without Tearing It Out

I used to think that moving on meant forgetting. That in order to stop the ache, I had to pretend the past didn’t exist. But the truth is, the ache only grew louder when I tried to silence it.

Grief, loss, heartbreak—they don’t disappear just because we’re tired of feeling them. They soften when we allow them to be part of us. When we stop fighting them. When we let them shape us, instead of shame us.

The chapters that break us open are still part of our story. They don’t need to be rewritten. They need to be remembered. With tenderness. With clarity. With the understanding that they taught us something essential about who we are.

So no, you don’t need to forget. You just need to stop clutching the past so tightly that your hands aren’t free to receive what’s next.

Memory Is Not the Enemy

We’re told to move on. To get over it. To stop living in the past. And while yes, healing requires forward motion, it doesn’t require amnesia.

You can move forward and still feel. You can carry love and loss in the same breath.

Letting go is not about abandoning your memories. It’s about finding the strength to acknowledge them—even the painful ones—and still take the next step.

I had to learn how to hold space for both: the ache of what was, and the hope of what could be. And in doing that, I discovered something surprising:

The past doesn’t hold me hostage when I stop trying to run from it.

Instead, it becomes something I carry—not with regret, but with reverence.

Life Moves On, and So Can You

There’s a moment in every healing journey when you realize: you can miss what was, love who you were, and still choose to turn the page.

Letting go is not a betrayal of the past. It’s a commitment to your future.

You can bring everything you’ve learned with you. The beauty. The brokenness. The truth. All of it.

Letting go is about making peace with what no longer fits, not because it wasn’t real, but because you are growing.

So don’t rush to forget. Don’t erase what made you feel. Let the memories come. Let them stay. Just don’t let them stop you from living the life that’s waiting for you now.

Let your purpose lead. It knows the way.

SLAY Reflection

  1. Is there something in your past you’ve been trying to forget in order to move on?
  2. How might you carry it differently—with tenderness instead of pain?
  3. What have your most difficult moments taught you about yourself?
  4. Are you ready to stop running and start remembering?
  5. What would turning the page look like for you today?

S – Sit with your memories, even the hard ones
L – Let yourself feel without needing to fix
A – Accept what was, and honor how it shaped you
Y – Yield to growth—even when it hurts

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What is something from your past that you now carry with love instead of pain?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

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

Slay Say

YOU GET TO BUILD SOMETHING NEW

Not everything passed down needs to be carried forward.
Cycles of hurt, silence, or survival may have paved your path—
but that doesn’t mean they have to shape your future.

You’re not here to repeat.
You’re here to restore.
To choose with intention.
To lead with clarity.
And to become the version of yourself your lineage didn’t know was possible.

This is your reminder to be the shift they never saw coming.

SLAY on!

Chase Purpose, Not People

There was a time in my life when I was constantly chasing people—their attention, their approval, their love.

I thought if I could earn it, maybe I’d finally feel like I was enough.

But no matter how much I gave, how much I bent, or how much of myself I lost in the process…
it never felt like enough.

Because it was never supposed to be.

I wasn’t meant to chase people.
I was meant to chase purpose.
And so were you.

When We Abandon Ourselves

When we get stuck in the cycle of proving our worth to others, we end up abandoning ourselves.

We ignore what lights us up.
We try to become what we think they want.
We twist. We shrink. We perform.

We lose the very parts of ourselves that were never meant to be hidden.

And the worst part?
The more we shape-shift to please, the more invisible we become—to others and to ourselves.

Purpose Doesn’t Need to Be Impressed

Purpose is steady.
It doesn’t need applause.
It doesn’t need permission.

It doesn’t ask you to chase it—only to follow.

When I started focusing on my purpose—my healing, my growth, my creativity, my peace—it all got clearer.

I could see what was aligned.
I could feel who was for me and who never was.
The people who truly belonged in my life didn’t need to be convinced. They didn’t need to be chased. They just showed up.

And not for what I could do for them.
But for who I was becoming.

Let Purpose Lead

The truth is:
You are never too much for the right people.
And you are never not enough for the path that was made for you.

So if you’re feeling left out, overlooked, or unseen—it might not be because something’s wrong with you.

It might be because you’re not meant to follow them.

You’re meant to follow you.

Let your purpose lead.
It knows the way.

SLAY Reflection

Do you ever find yourself chasing people instead of aligning with your purpose?
What does “chasing purpose” look like in your life right now?
Who in your life supports your growth without needing you to earn their love?
What’s one step you can take today to move closer to your purpose?
How might your life shift if you stopped proving yourself and started honoring yourself?

S — Show up for yourself
L — Let go of needing approval
A — Align with your purpose
Y — Yield to what feels right, not who feels familiar

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What’s something you’ve stopped chasing in order to start honoring your purpose?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s trying to hold onto people instead of themselves, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

When a Child is Shamed for Feelings, They Don’t Stop Feeling—They Stop Trusting

There’s a heartbreaking truth many of us come to learn too late:

When a child is shamed for having feelings, they don’t stop feeling. They stop trusting.

They stop trusting their emotions. They stop trusting their voice. And eventually, they stop trusting themselves.

We often teach kids—intentionally or not—that certain feelings are too much, too messy, too inconvenient. That anger is bad. That sadness is weakness. That fear is overreacting. We hush them. We roll our eyes. We tell them to “get over it” or “calm down.” But what we’re really saying is: Your feelings don’t belong here.

And that message doesn’t just sting in the moment. It stays.

The Seeds of Self-Doubt

When we shame a child’s feelings, we’re not teaching emotional regulation—we’re teaching emotional suppression.

Instead of learning how to navigate their emotions, they learn to ignore them, question them, or feel guilt and embarrassment for even having them in the first place.

They start asking:

  • “Why am I so sensitive?”
  • “What’s wrong with me?”
  • “Why can’t I just be normal?”

These questions don’t come from nowhere. They come from a world that told them, early on, that their natural responses were somehow wrong.

Unlearning the Silence

As adults, many of us carry this conditioning into our relationships, our workplaces, and our inner dialogue. We still quiet our feelings. We second-guess our instincts. We feel shame for emotions that are perfectly human.

But here’s the thing: Our feelings don’t go away just because we learned to hide them.

They find other ways to come out—through anxiety, depression, emotional outbursts, or chronic people-pleasing. The body keeps the score. The heart remembers.

Healing begins when we give ourselves permission to feel again. To validate what was once invalidated. To trust that our emotions have something to teach us, not something to be ashamed of.

Reparenting Starts With Awareness

Maybe you were that child. Maybe you’re still carrying the weight of being told to “toughen up” or “stop crying.”

Or maybe you’ve caught yourself repeating those phrases to someone else—not out of cruelty, but because it’s what you were taught.

Here’s the good news: You can stop the cycle.

You can start by:

  • Saying “I hear you” instead of “you’re overreacting.”
  • Asking “What are you feeling?” instead of “What’s wrong with you?”
  • Letting your own emotions be seen, so others feel safe showing theirs.

You don’t need to have all the answers. You just need to be a safe place.

SLAY Reflection

Ask yourself:

  • Was I shamed for showing emotion as a child?
  • How did that shape the way I express or suppress feelings today?
  • Do I trust my emotional responses—or do I second-guess them?
  • How can I begin validating my emotions, rather than hiding or judging them?
  • What would it feel like to create space for someone else to share, without judgment?

S – L – A – Y

S: See where your emotional patterns began.
L: Listen to your inner voice with compassion.
A: Allow your feelings to surface without shame.
Y: Yield to the wisdom your emotions are offering.

Call to Action: Join the Conversation
I’d love to hear from you.
Were you taught to suppress your emotions as a child—and how has that shaped your journey?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

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