emotional healing

Don’t Let Your Mind Bully Your Body

It was in my teens that I first remember turning against my body.

I had been a thin, athletic kid, comfortable in my skin — and then things started to change. My body began doing things I didn’t understand and didn’t want. It started drawing attention I didn’t ask for. And instead of curiosity, I felt betrayal.

I felt like my body had turned on me.

I already carried discomfort inside myself — parts of who I was that I kept hidden — and when my body began changing, it only amplified that discomfort. I started comparing myself to everyone around me. Measuring myself against them. Finding myself lacking in every direction.

Nothing ever felt good enough.

And that’s when the spiral began — not in my body, but in my mind.

My mind started bullying my body.

When Control Becomes the Goal

Looking back now, I can see it clearly.

What I was really afraid of wasn’t my body — it was not being in control.

There were so many things in my life I felt powerless over, and my changing body felt like the final betrayal. So I did what I thought would give me control back.

I tried to stop it.
Manipulate it.
Shrink it.
Silence it.

That path led to an eating disorder — one I was lucky to recover from.

It took years to heal. Years to rebuild trust with food. Years to rebuild trust with my body. And even now, there are still days I have to stay conscious and accountable with my thinking.

What makes me sad looking back isn’t my body — it’s the hatred I had for myself.

There was never anything wrong with my body.

The Voice Was the Real Problem

I see now that the damage wasn’t physical — it was mental.

The voice in my head was cruel.
Relentless.
Unforgiving.

The more I hated myself, the louder it got.

I wanted to disappear into the crowd.
Blend in.
Not be noticed.
Not be questioned.

So I tried to control myself into invisibility.

That voice told me I was the problem.
That my body was the problem.
That I had to fix it to be acceptable.

But the truth is: my body was never the enemy.

My mind was.

Learning a New Relationship

Today, I appreciate my body.

Not because it looks a certain way —
but because of what it does for me.

It carries me.
It heals.
It protects.
It supports my life.

And while I still have days where old thoughts creep in — because healing isn’t linear — I no longer live in war with myself.

I no longer punish my body for existing.

I no longer try to control it out of fear.

I no longer define my worth by how it looks.

Health Without Hate

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to feel healthy.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting to feel strong.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting to care for your body.

But when self care is driven by self hatred, it becomes harm.

We are not meant to all look the same.
We are not meant to fit one mold.
We are not meant to match one standard.

Different shapes.
Different sizes.
Different structures.
Different beauty.

Every body is valid.

Changing the Relationship, Not the Reflection

Healing doesn’t start in the mirror.

It starts in the mind.

In how we speak to ourselves.
In how we interpret our reflection.
In how we define worth.
In how we measure value.

Your body doesn’t need to be fixed.
It needs to be respected.

Your Body Is Not the Problem

Your body is not your failure.
Your body is not your enemy.
Your body is not your shame.

It’s your home.

And it deserves compassion — not cruelty.

Care — not control.
Respect — not punishment.
Safety — not shame.

SLAY Reflection

Let’s reflect, SLAYER:

S: What negative thoughts do you carry about your body?
L: Where did those beliefs come from?
A: What would change if you spoke to your body with compassion instead of criticism?
Y: How can you start practicing care instead of control today?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What is one way you can start treating your body with more kindness today?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who struggles with body shame, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

Not Everything That Weighs You Down Is Yours To Carry

This week has been heavy.
Not just in the day-to-day busyness, but emotionally, mentally, spiritually.

And as I took a step back, I asked myself a question I’ve learned to come back to again and again:
Is all of this mine to carry?

The answer?
No.
But that hasn’t stopped me from dragging it around—tight-chested, overwhelmed, and bone-tired.

Like many of us, I juggle a lot every day.
And most of the time, I believe I can handle it all.
Until I can’t.
Until I hit a wall.
And when I do, I don’t always meet myself with grace.
Sometimes, I meet myself with frustration and shame.

Even when I know better, I still find myself slipping into old habits—trying to carry it all.
No one is asking me to.
Help is there if I reach for it.
But there I go, dragging the weight of the world across some invisible finish line I made up in my head.

It’s time to pause.
To take a breath—or a few—and ask myself what I’ve picked up along the way that never belonged to me in the first place.

Prefer to listen? The Audio Blog version is available here.

We Learn to Carry What We Don’t Need

Before recovery, I carried everything.
It never occurred to me that I could set anything down.

The emotional weight.
The resentment.
The guilt.
The responsibility for people and problems that were never mine to begin with.

I just kept going—until I couldn’t.

Eventually, I hit a wall.
Hard.
And that wall was the wake-up call I needed.
I couldn’t live that way anymore.
It was slowly destroying me.

So I asked for help.
Not just with what I was carrying—but with how I lived.

Learning to Let Go of What’s Not Yours

Through recovery, I discovered something profound:
A lot of what I was carrying wasn’t mine.

Some of it was inherited—passed down through family, expectations, trauma.
Some of it I volunteered to carry—because I wanted to feel helpful, needed, or in control.

And some of it… I carried on purpose to sabotage myself.
To stay small.
To stay exhausted.
To prove that I couldn’t do more, be more, live more.

That’s the hard truth.
Sometimes, we don’t just carry what’s not ours—we choose it.

But once I got honest with myself, I realized I had a choice.
To let go.
To say no.
To only carry what actually belonged to me.

And that changed everything.

What’s Yours—and What’s Not

There will always be people who would gladly let you carry their weight.
There will be moments when you try to carry someone else’s pain, fear, or responsibility—uninvited.

But that doesn’t mean you have to.

Being helpful doesn’t mean taking on someone else’s journey.
Being strong doesn’t mean carrying more than you should.
Being loving doesn’t mean sacrificing yourself.

We are responsible for ourselves.
For our peace.
For honoring what we need.

That starts with putting down what was never yours to carry in the first place.

SLAY Reflection: What Are You Carrying?

  1. Do you tend to carry more weight than you need to—physically, emotionally, or mentally?
    What does that weight feel like?
  2. What are you carrying that doesn’t actually belong to you?
    Who gave it to you—and why did you accept it?
  3. Are there responsibilities, emotions, or expectations you’ve taken on to feel valuable or in control?
    How are they serving you? How are they hurting you?
  4. What would it feel like to put that weight down—even just a little?
    What would change?
  5. What can you do today to lighten your load and honor your limits?
    Where can you say no, ask for help, or simply rest?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What’s one burden you’ve been carrying that isn’t actually yours—and how are you learning to let it go?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s overwhelmed by weight they were never meant to carry, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

If It Costs You Your Peace It’s Too Expensive

I used to let my stubbornness steal my peace.
If there was something I wanted, I was hellbent on making it happen—no matter the cost. I believed that pushing, forcing, and controlling the outcome was how you “won.” But all I really won was anxiety, burnout, and a whole lot of frustration.

Peace?
I didn’t even know what that looked like. And in my mind, if I had to sacrifice it to get what I wanted, so be it.

I also let relationships rob me of my peace. I gave them too much power, placed too much value on maintaining certain connections—whether or not they were good for me.
My life was one big internal tug-of-war between what I wanted and what was actually happening.

I was never at peace. And I didn’t realize just how much that was costing me.

Peace Is the New Priority

When I started this path, I was told something that stuck with me:
Your peace is more important than anything you’re chasing.

At first, I wasn’t sure how to take that. I thought it meant giving up. But it didn’t. It meant shifting my priorities—choosing myself.

It didn’t mean stop going after what I want. It meant not letting the pursuit of it wreck me in the process.

If what I’m chasing is costing me my peace?
It’s too expensive.

That became my new measuring stick.

When the Price Is Too High

When I feel anxiety start to build, when I feel myself getting defiant, angry, or obsessive—I know.
Whatever I’m chasing has tipped the scale.
It’s no longer about the goal—it’s about control.
And that’s when I have to step back.

This way of thinking was completely foreign to me at first.
I used to believe that pushing through the pain, sacrificing myself for the win, was what strength looked like.
I thought that was self-care—doing whatever it took to succeed.

But it wasn’t self-care. It was self-abandonment.
And I didn’t know the difference until I got honest about what peace actually meant.

Real Peace Is Rooted in Self-Love

Today, I know better.

True self-care doesn’t bulldoze you to the finish line.
It doesn’t demand you give up your mental, emotional, or spiritual well-being in the name of achievement or connection.

Real peace is quiet.
Gentle.
Steady.
And the more I protect it, the more clarity I have.

I no longer force things into being.
I no longer chase what isn’t meant for me.
I no longer need to prove I’m right or make something “work” when every sign tells me it’s not aligned.

That doesn’t mean I don’t work hard. I do.
It just means I work in a way that doesn’t betray myself in the process.

Peace Over Proving

Now when something feels “off,” I pause. I check in with myself.
Is this discomfort a sign I’m stepping out of my comfort zone—or is it warning me that my peace is at risk?

There’s a difference.

One is growth. The other is self-sacrifice.

Today, I choose peace. I protect it. I guard it like the sacred thing it is—because I’ve learned that nothing I want is worth losing it.

So when something feels forced or frantic, I ask myself:
Is it costing me my peace?
If the answer is yes, then it’s not worth it.

SLAY Reflection: Is It Worth Your Peace?

  1. What things or people are you allowing to steal your peace right now?
    What’s the result of that?
  2. Why do you continue to chase things at the cost of your well-being?
    Is it a habit, fear, or need for control?
  3. What does peace actually feel like for you?
    And when was the last time you truly felt it?
  4. What boundaries could you set to protect your peace more consistently?
    What might change if you did?
  5. What can you do today—right now—to honor your peace above all else?
    Because it is not replaceable.

    Call to Action: Join the Conversation

    I’d love to hear from you.
    What’s one thing you’ve had to walk away from in order to protect your peace?
    Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

    And if you know someone who’s struggling to choose peace over pressure, send this to them.
    Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

Silence Isn’t Empty—It’s Full of Answers

There was a time when silence terrified me.

Back when I was living in the dark, silence didn’t feel still or serene—it felt suffocating. The moment things got quiet, my head got loud. I filled every corner of my life with noise: music in my ears, background TV, endless scrolling, constant distractions. Yoga? I had long quit that. Sitting alone for an hour with my thoughts? No thank you. I was afraid of what I’d hear.

But here’s what I’ve learned on the other side of that fear:
Silence isn’t empty. It’s full of answers.

What We Avoid Is Often What We Need

When I made the choice to get better, I had to learn how to sit with myself.
With my thoughts.
With the truth.
With the shame.
And ultimately—with the peace that waited beneath it all.

It didn’t happen overnight. At first, I had to work hard to ignore the lies my mind still wanted to tell me. But little by little, the static in my head started to quiet. And what I found in that silence wasn’t danger—it was guidance. Clarity.
Peace.

I realized that the silence I’d run from wasn’t trying to hurt me—it was trying to help me. I just had to be well enough to hear what it was saying.

Cleaning House to Find the Calm

In order to make peace with silence, I had to do some serious housecleaning. I worked to replace negative self-talk with words that were loving, kind, and true. I took ownership of my actions, stopped blaming everyone else, and started healing the parts of me that kept replaying old stories.

It wasn’t easy. My old patterns wanted me to believe I was always the victim, that life just happened to me. But I learned that I had choices. And even when I couldn’t control what was happening, I could still choose how I responded.

Taking responsibility gave me back my power—and that is when silence started to feel safe.

Today, silence is where I reset. It’s where I check in with myself. It’s where I listen to what I really need.
It’s no longer something I fear—it’s something I crave.

Let Silence Speak

Silence isn’t the enemy.
It’s the sacred space where our soul gets a chance to speak.

So the next time you find yourself wanting to reach for the noise—pause. Ask yourself what you’re afraid to hear. Because what scares us in the quiet is often the very thing trying to guide us forward.

Let silence be a space of peace, of presence, and of power.
SLAY on.

SLAY OF THE DAY: Reflect & Rise

Are you afraid of silence? Or have you found comfort in it?

  • What comes up for you when things get quiet?

  • Are you filling your time with noise or distractions to avoid something?

  • What’s one thing you’ve learned when you’ve allowed yourself to sit in stillness?

  • How can you use silence today to guide a decision, check in with yourself, or realign with what matters?

  • What would it take for you to see silence as a friend, not a threat?

The answers are already inside you. You just have to get quiet enough to hear them.

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What’s something silence has revealed to you that you wouldn’t have discovered otherwise?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who avoids stillness because they’re afraid of what they’ll hear, send this to them.
Sometimes, what we fear is where the healing begins.

The Shame And Guilt Quilt

When I was deep in my illness, I walked around constantly wrapped in the shame and guilt quilt. I had draped it over myself so long it became familiar—almost “safe.” But it wasn’t protecting me. It was hiding me.

I carried guilt, shame, regret—and I let them keep me distant from the people I loved, from solutions that could have helped, and ultimately, from myself. I believed I didn’t deserve better. I believed the quilt was my identity.

When Shame Becomes an Identity

We’ve all done things we regret. We’ve made choices we’re not proud of, acted out of fear or desperation, or compromised who we were for what we thought we needed. That part is human.

What turns normal regret into something destructive is when we let shame and guilt become our identity.
We wear them like badges. We drag them into new relationships, new jobs, new eras. We whisper:

“I’m a shame-person.”
“I’m a guilty person.”

When you think that way, nothing positive can penetrate your armor. The quilt blocks the light. It keeps out healing, connection, authenticity.

—

Why We Keep the Quilt On

There are many reasons we cling to the shame and guilt quilt:

  • Comfort in the familiar. Even if the quilt stifles you, at least you know it.

  • Belief in punishment. “I deserve this.”

  • Fear of change. Letting go means vulnerability.

  • Protection from hope. If you believe you’re unworthy, hope can feel dangerous.

For me, the quilt felt safer than the unknown. Better the pain I knew than having to trust someone else—or myself—to be different.

The Price of Carrying the Quilt

Pulling the quilt around your shoulders is exhausting. It weighs you down in unseen ways.

  • You avoid connection because you think you’re “too much” or “not enough.”

  • You hide portions of your life and truth, self-isolating in the name of “keeping up appearances.”

  • You stop believing you deserve healing, comfort, or unconditional love.

And still—you keep it on. Because the cost of letting it go seems higher than the cost of carrying it.

But here’s what I discovered: the cost of carrying it was far greater than the cost of releasing it.

Choosing to Shed the Quilt

The turning point for me was nearly my last. When I realized I had to step out from under that quilt—or I would lose everything that mattered.

It took:

  • Courage to acknowledge: “I’ve been hiding.”

  • Humility to ask for help.

  • Willingness to unwrap the quilt piece by piece, admitting mistakes, offering amends, offering self‐forgiveness.

One of the biggest revelations was this:

Forgiveness isn’t about excusing what happened—it’s about releasing what happened.

Once I forgave myself, the quilt began to fall. And with each piece I left behind, more light found me. More connection. More freedom.

What Happens When the Quilt Comes Off

When you let go of that old wrapping, a few things start to shift:

  • Your identity changes. You stop seeing yourself as the sum of your mistakes.

  • Your relationships open up. Others don’t have to tiptoe around your walls. You don’t have to hide.

  • Your decisions become driven by growth, not by fear of being found out.

  • Your mental & emotional energy frees up. You’re no longer spending 80 % of your day hiding what you’re trying to heal.

The quilt may have kept you “safe” from being seen—but spending life unseen is a cost you never wanted to pay.

How to Begin Removing Your Quilt

  1. Acknowledge what you’ve carried. Sit with one piece of the quilt—guilt, shame, regret—and name it.

  2. Write it out. Get the shame on paper. Speak out loud what you’ve been hiding.

  3. Ask for help. You don’t have to do this alone. Connection replaces isolation.

  4. Offer yourself forgiveness. “I saw, I felt, I made choices—and now I choose something different.”

  5. Choose differently today. One small boundary, one honest conversation, one act of self-respect. The quilt loosens.

  6. Celebrate unwrapping moments. Each time you live without the weight of a secret, light finds you.

SLAY Reflection

  1. Do you feel like you’re still wrapped in a shame and guilt quilt?

  2. How does carrying it help you—and how does it hurt you?

  3. What would letting it go allow you to feel or do?

  4. How would your day change if you didn’t have to hide parts of yourself?

  5. What is one small step you can take today to un-wrap something you’ve been carrying?

S – See the quilt you’ve been wearing
L – Let the light of truth and forgiveness in
A – Align with your worth beyond your mistakes
Y – Yield to freedom—un-wrap, un-hide, unleash the real you

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What part of your shame and guilt quilt are you ready to set down—and what might you gain when you do?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s walk out of the shadows—together.

And if you know someone who’s still carrying that quilt, send this to them. Sometimes, someone else saying: “You don’t have to keep carrying it,” is enough to help the process begin.

#SlayOn

Name Them, Claim Them, Dump Them

For a long time, I treated my feelings like enemies. I did everything I could to ignore, numb, or bury them—hoping they’d disappear on their own. Spoiler alert: they didn’t.

Sure, I could silence them for a while. Sometimes for years. But those unspoken feelings came at a high cost. Eventually, they nearly cost me my life.

When We Bury Our Feelings, We Bury Ourselves

The longer I ignored my emotions, the louder they got. The more I tried to push them down, the more they pushed back. And when I finally stripped away the things I used to keep them at bay—addiction, distraction, denial—they all came rushing in.

It felt like I was drowning.

But that tidal wave of emotion was the beginning of something new. Something honest. Something healing. I had to learn to acknowledge my feelings—to name them, accept them, and then choose what to do with them.

Name It. Claim It. Dump It.

That became my process. Name it: What exactly am I feeling? Claim it: This is mine. I don’t have to like it, but I have to own it. Dump it: Let go of what no longer serves me.

Some emotions had roots in deep pain, old stories, or unhealthy patterns. Others were tied to my illness—trying to pull me back into the darkness I fought so hard to escape. But once I named them, I could choose whether they stayed.

Not every feeling deserves a seat at your table.

Feelings Don’t Want to Be Ignored

Even now, years into recovery, those old feelings still show up. Sometimes in disguise. Sometimes dressed in new circumstances. But I know better now.

If I ignore them, they grow. If I pretend they aren’t there, they get louder. But if I meet them with truth, honesty, and intention—they lose their power.

Feelings won’t kill you. But hiding from them just might.

I’ve learned that I don’t have to fear my feelings. I just have to deal with them before they deal with me. And when I stay honest, stay kind, and stay vigilant? That’s when I stay free.

SLAY Reflection

  1. Do you try to hide or stuff down your feelings?
  2. What feelings scare you the most—and why?
  3. What have your feelings been trying to tell you lately?
  4. Are you willing to name and claim your emotions?
  5. What outdated feelings are you ready to dump for good?

S-L-A-Y:

  • Slow down and tune in to what you’re feeling.
  • Label it honestly—no shame.
  • Acknowledge what’s useful and what’s not.
  • You get to choose what stays and what goes.

Call to Action: Join the Conversation
I’d love to hear from you.
What feeling are you finally ready to let go of?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s been holding back their feelings, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

Feelings Can’t Kill You, But Avoiding Them Can

We can’t outrun our feelings forever. We try. We bury them, numb them, distract ourselves from them. But in the end, what we avoid will eventually rise. And for some of us, like it was for me, it can become a matter of life and death. This is a story about learning to feel again—and finding freedom on the other side.

The Fear of Feeling

Before I started walking the path of recovery, I did everything I could to not feel. I didn’t care if the feeling was good or bad—I just didn’t want it. I got so good at pretending everything was fine that I started to believe it myself, until all that was left was the heaviness I’d shoved deep down. The more I numbed, the more detached I became—from others, from joy, from myself.

I turned to anything I could: food, shopping, relationships, alcohol, travel. And it worked, temporarily. But the feelings always bubbled back up. The older I got, the harder it became to keep them down. I was a pressure cooker on the brink of exploding. And when I couldn’t keep the lid on anymore, it nearly destroyed me.

What I Didn’t Know Then

I thought the only way to escape the pain was to end the struggle altogether. I believed no one would understand, that I was alone in what I was feeling. But that wasn’t true. I was just hiding so well that no one had the chance to see me. Luckily, someone did. Someone who had been where I was bravely shared their story with me—and gave me just enough hope to reach out.

It didn’t happen overnight. It took time, more suffering, and finally a breaking point. But I reached out. And that changed everything.

The Tsunami of Emotion

When I began my recovery, I was told I’d have to learn to feel again—and that it would be OK. That idea terrified me. I hadn’t felt my feelings since I was a kid, and those childhood wounds were exactly what I’d been running from. But I couldn’t keep running anymore.

And when I stopped, it hit like a tsunami. Decades of anger, shame, fear, resentment, grief, and heartbreak came crashing in. There were days I could barely get out of bed. Days I clung to my mattress or curled in the bathtub, afraid I’d drown in it all. But you know what? I didn’t drown. I survived. And each time I allowed myself to feel, the intensity lessened. With the support of others, therapy, and time—I began to heal.

Feeling Doesn’t Mean Failing

What I’ve learned is that feelings are just information. They’re not good or bad—they just are. They tell us what we care about, what hurts, what needs our attention. Feeling them doesn’t make us weak. Avoiding them is what breaks us down.

It took time, but I began to see that not only was it safe to feel my feelings—it was necessary. And it was also OK to feel good. That was a big one. After so much pain, it took work to believe I deserved to feel joy. But I did. And so do you.

Choose to Feel

Today, I still check in with myself often. Some feelings are harder than others. Some still scare me. But I know I can face them now. And I know I don’t have to face them alone.

Your feelings can’t kill you—but avoiding them can. They are part of your story, and they deserve to be heard. You deserve to feel, to process, to heal. Take your time. Ask for help. Let the emotions teach you something. Let them show you who you are.

Because when you stop running, that’s when the real journey begins.

SLAY on.

SLAY Reflection

  1. Do you avoid certain feelings? What are they?
  2. How do you typically numb or distract yourself when emotions get hard?
  3. What’s one feeling you’re afraid to face—and why?
  4. Who in your life could support you in feeling safely?
  5. What might change if you let yourself fully feel, without judgment?

S-L-A-Y:

  • Stop numbing and start noticing.
  • Let your emotions rise without shame.
  • Ask for support when you need it.
  • You are allowed to feel—and to heal.

Call to Action: Join the Conversation
I’d love to hear from you.
What’s one feeling you’ve been avoiding—and what’s one small way you could start feeling it today?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

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

H.O.W. – Honesty, Open-Mindedness, Willingness

Before walking this path, I constantly asked myself how.

How did I let things get this bad? How had I lost control of my life? How could I stop the pain?

What I didn’t realize was that the answer was in the question itself: H.O.W.—Honesty, Open-mindedness, and Willingness.

It was right in front of me the whole time. I just wasn’t ready to see it.

The Missing Ingredient

Back then, I wasn’t practicing any of those things. I was stubborn. I wasn’t being honest about my part in my suffering. And I wasn’t willing to change.

I had to fall a lot further before I finally landed on my knees and asked for help. That pain—the kind I had a hand in creating—was the very thing that pushed me to take action. Once I committed to getting better, I was told I had to live by H.O.W.

To get rigorously honest. To stay open to new ways of doing things. To be willing to do the work.

It didn’t all come at once. Sometimes willingness was all I had—and that was enough to begin. Because willingness almost always leads to action, and action leads to change.

A Lifelong Practice

Today, I still check in with myself using H.O.W. I ask:

  • Am I being honest about where I am?
  • Am I open to the next right step?
  • Am I willing to take action even when it’s uncomfortable?

Because here’s the truth: we don’t graduate from this work. We stay in it. We grow from it. And we live better because of it.

You Already Have the Answer

No matter where you are on your journey, ask yourself: Are you living with H.O.W.?

Are you stuck somewhere because it feels comfortable—or because you think it’s where you deserve to be?

When you get honest about your answers, stay open to new perspectives, and become willing to act, you can change your entire life.

H.O.W. isn’t just a tool. It’s the roadmap.

You hold the key. SLAY on.

SLAY Reflection: What’s Your H.O.W. Check-In?

  • Do you keep asking how you got to where you are—and how to break the cycle?
  • Are you being truly honest about your patterns and choices?
  • How open are you to doing things differently—even if it’s unfamiliar?
  • What small action can you take today with willingness at the center?
  • What would your life look like if you really leaned into H.O.W.?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What’s one way you can practice honesty, open-mindedness, or willingness this week?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s ready for change but doesn’t know where to start, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a roadmap—and a nudge.

We Are Mirrors Of Each Other

We’re all mirrors for each other.
We have more in common than we think, and when we allow ourselves to look for the similarities instead of the differences, something powerful happens—we begin to see ourselves in others. And when we truly see ourselves, healing begins.

Before I started this path, I wasn’t open to that idea.
I judged others. I needed to feel better than the people around me, so I pointed out what separated us. I picked at their flaws to cover up my own. It made me feel superior—but it also kept me sick and isolated.

The truth?
I believed I was a piece of crap, but still thought I had a better solution than you did. That’s how twisted my thinking was.
It wasn’t until someone shared their story with me—raw and honest—that something shifted. I saw myself in them. For the first time, I recognized my reflection in someone else. And it changed everything.

Seeing the Truth in Someone Else

They had the same mental illness I did. They struggled the way I had. But they were getting help. They were doing the work.

In that moment, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.
I wasn’t different.
I wasn’t better.
I was just like them.
And if they could find a way forward… maybe I could too.

The Power of Similarities

Early in recovery, I was told: “Look for the similarities, not the differences.”
That became my mantra.

So I listened.
I really listened—to what people were saying, how they were living, what they were feeling. And the more I listened, the more I saw myself reflected in their stories. I began to connect.

But here’s the thing: you have to be willing to see it.
You have to let go of the need to feel different or better.
You have to get honest about who you are.

And sometimes that honesty is tough. Those mirrors don’t lie.
They show us the parts of ourselves we’ve been trying to hide.

Learning to Accept the Reflection

Looking in the mirror hasn’t always been easy.
There were times I saw things I didn’t like.
But I knew if I wanted to get better, I had to face it.

That meant living with rigorous honesty.
If I saw something in myself I didn’t like, I had to:

  • Address it
  • Change it
  • Or learn to accept it if I couldn’t

We all walk around with mirrors. Sometimes our reflection helps others. Sometimes someone else’s reflection helps us. Nothing is accidental. We cross paths with the people we’re meant to—people who inspire us, challenge us, or show us who we really are.

And if we’re paying attention, those reflections can save our lives.

From Shame to Shared Light

I no longer hide my reflection. I don’t carry shame about what I’ve lived through or how far I’ve come. My reflection is what connects me to others. And if someone else sees a piece of themselves in me? Even better.

Because just like someone else once helped me recognize myself, maybe my story—my mirror—can help someone else too.

I also pay attention to what I see in other people.
If I’m triggered, if something feels off or uncomfortable, I ask myself: What is this showing me about me?
Maybe it’s something I need to look at. Maybe it’s something I need to change. Maybe it’s something I need to love.

Recognizing myself in someone else’s reflection is what saved my life.
And it might just save yours—if you’re willing to look.

SLAY Reflection: What Do You See?

  1. Are you open to seeing the commonality in others?
    What might be keeping you from looking?
  2. Do you sometimes feel superior to others?
    Where did that come from—and how might it be holding you back?
  3. What reflections have others shown you about yourself lately?
    How did you respond to them?
  4. Are there parts of your reflection you’ve been avoiding?
    What’s one small step you can take toward healing or accepting it?
  5. Have you ever seen yourself in someone else—and felt less alone because of it?
    How did that moment change you?

    Call to Action: Join the Conversation

    I’d love to hear from you.
    Have you ever seen yourself in someone else’s story—and how did that moment change you?
    Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

    And if you know someone who needs a reminder that they’re not alone, send this to them.
    Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

Your Problem Isn’t The Problem, It’s Your Reaction To The Problem

There are so many things in life we have no control over.
But one thing we always have control over is how we react.

Before I started this journey, I didn’t believe that. I saw life as something that was constantly happening to me. I felt like I was always on the wrong side of good—piled under problems that felt too big, too unfair, and way too overwhelming to change.

What I couldn’t see at the time was that many of those problems were the result of my own choices.
And even when I wasn’t in control of what happened, I had still made a choice somewhere along the line—choosing the person, the situation, or the behavior that led me there.

It was easier to blame someone else.
But the truth? The finger I was pointing should’ve been aimed right back at me.

The Power of Radical Responsibility

When I finally got honest with myself—rigorously honest—I had to take a hard look at my role in the chaos.
And it was tough.
It’s not easy to admit that you’ve been the architect of your own pain.

But with that realization came something surprising: freedom.
Because if I was the one who got myself into it…
I could be the one to get myself out.

Owning my choices gave me power.
And from there, I could start making better ones.

Every Situation Is a Choice Point

We don’t get to control what life throws at us.
But we do get to choose how we respond.

Sometimes the best reaction is not reacting at all.
Sometimes it’s walking away.
Sometimes it’s taking a breath and choosing to show up in a way that honors your values—not your emotions in the moment.

That’s how we reclaim our power.
Even in the hardest moments, we are not powerless when we’re clear on what’s best for us—mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

We always have a choice.
And that choice becomes the difference between staying in the problem and moving toward the solution.

The Problem vs. The Solution

When I started to shift my mindset this way, life got easier.
That’s not to say I never get frustrated or upset—of course I do. But now I ask myself:

  • Did I invite this in?
  • Can I disinvite it now?
  • What choice will move me forward instead of keeping me stuck?

That’s what it means to get into the solution.

Because staying in the problem only creates more problems.
But the solution?
That’s where problems go to die.

Clearing the Path Forward

I’ve learned that when I make decisions from a place that aligns with who I am—and who I’m becoming—I stop visiting the places that pull me back into chaos.

I stop letting problems define me.
I stop reacting from fear or ego.
And I start creating space for new energy, new opportunities, and new peace to enter my life.

So when the next problem pops up—and it will—ask yourself:

What’s the right reaction… for me?

That answer will always lead you toward your highest good.

SLAY Reflection: What’s Your Reaction Telling You?

  1. Do you let problems define your mood or your day?
    How often are you reacting instead of responding?
  2. How many of your current problems are tied to past choices?
    What patterns can you begin to shift?
  3. What small choices can you make today to create fewer problems tomorrow?
    Where can you be more intentional?
  4. How can you take your power back in difficult situations?
    What boundaries or truths are you avoiding?
  5. What does the “right reaction” look like for you?
    Is it silence, compassion, honesty, or stepping away?

    Call to Action: Join the Conversation

    I’d love to hear from you.
    What’s one situation or relationship where choosing not to engage helped you protect your energy?
    Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

    And if you know someone who’s caught in a cycle of reacting or proving their point, send this to them.
    Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.