mindset shift

Frustration Is an Invitation You Don’t Have to Accept

We all know the feeling—traffic that doesn’t move, a conversation that goes sideways, a plan that unravels in real time. Frustration builds, and before you know it, you’re simmering in anger, irritation, or resentment.

But here’s the truth that changed everything for me: frustration is always self-induced.

The outside world can invite us to be upset, yes—but we are the ones who accept the invitation.

When I first heard this idea, I bristled. Surely the rude driver, the unfair boss, the inattentive friend—they were the source of my frustration. But as I dug deeper, I realized the common denominator in every moment of anger was me. I was the one choosing to hold onto the irritation, the one letting it hijack my energy, the one letting the external world dictate my internal peace.

And that was the moment I understood: I can’t always control what happens, but I can always control whether or not I RSVP to frustration’s invitation.

The Hidden Cost of Accepting the Invitation

Frustration feels powerful in the moment. It gives us something to cling to, a sense of being “right,” or even righteous. But that power is fleeting, and the cost is high.

Every time we accept frustration’s invitation, we:

  • Drain our energy on things that don’t serve us.
  • Poison our mood, often for hours or days after the fact.
  • Damage relationships by reacting instead of responding.
  • Distract ourselves from solutions by obsessing over problems.

When I look back at my own life, I see how many days I lost this way—days spent stewing instead of living, days consumed by anger that did nothing but make me miserable. And all of it was preventable.

The truth? Frustration doesn’t come from what happened. It comes from the story we tell ourselves about what happened.

Pause Before You RSVP

The good news is that frustration is optional. Just because you’re invited doesn’t mean you have to attend.

Here’s what I practice today:

  1. Notice the rise. That heat in my chest, that quickening of my thoughts—I know frustration is knocking.
  2. Ask: Is this worth my peace? Nine times out of ten, the answer is no.
  3. Choose my response. Instead of spiraling, I take a breath. Sometimes I literally step away. Sometimes I laugh at how small the trigger really is. Sometimes I pray.
  4. Reframe. Instead of “Why is this happening to me?” I ask, “What is this showing me?” That shift turns frustration into information.

When I don’t RSVP to the invitation, I keep my power. I keep my peace. And I remember: the world doesn’t get to run my emotions—I do.

Frustration Reveals What We Value

Here’s the part most people miss: frustration isn’t all bad. It’s actually a teacher, if we’re willing to listen.

Frustration shows us what matters to us, what we expect, what boundaries may need adjusting. For example:

  • If traffic frustrates me, maybe it’s not about the cars—it’s about my lack of preparation or my need for control.
  • If someone interrupts me and I feel rage, maybe it’s pointing me to a wound around not feeling heard.
  • If I’m furious that a plan changed, maybe it’s about my deeper need for certainty and security.

When I stop blaming the outside world and start looking inward, frustration becomes less of a punishment and more of a flashlight.

It shines a light on the gap between my expectations and reality—and that’s where my work begins.

Choosing Peace Over Frustration

It’s not about denying your feelings. It’s about remembering that frustration is optional. You always have another choice:

  • You can let go. Not everything deserves a reaction.
  • You can laugh. Humor disarms frustration in a heartbeat.
  • You can learn. Ask what this moment is teaching you.
  • You can move on. Protect your energy by refusing to give it away.

When I practice this, I notice how much lighter my days feel. I have more energy for the things that actually matter. And maybe most importantly, I stop letting other people’s behavior write the story of my day.

Because at the end of the day, frustration is a story. And you get to decide whether or not you keep telling it.

Frustration Will Knock Again—Be Ready

Don’t get me wrong—I still get frustrated. I’m human. But now, instead of automatically reacting, I pause and ask myself:

Am I about to accept an invitation to frustration? Or am I going to choose peace instead?

That moment of awareness has changed my life. It’s not always easy, but it’s always worth it.

Frustration may knock, but peace is the one I let in.

SLAY Reflection

  1. What situations frustrate you most often?
  2. What expectations lie beneath that frustration?
  3. Can you trace your frustration back to an old story, wound, or belief?
  4. How does your day feel different when you choose not to engage with frustration?
  5. What’s one way you can practice pausing before accepting frustration’s “invitation” this week?

S – Stop and notice when frustration rises
L – Let go of the need to control what you can’t
A – Align your response with peace, not anger
Y – Yield to wisdom, not to the story frustration tells

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What’s one frustration you’ve learned to stop accepting—and how did it free you?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who feels constantly hijacked by frustration, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a reminder that peace is always a choice.

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.

Slay Say

TRUST THE STRENGTH YOU’RE BUILDING

Comfort is fleeting.
It’s easy to map out your life for the good days, the smooth seasons, the times when everything flows.

But those aren’t the days that test the strength of your foundation.

True growth happens when you shape your future with resilience in mind—when you build a life that can hold you steady through the storms, not just the sunshine.

This is your reminder: The stronger you become in the hard moments, the more unshakable your path forward will be.

SLAY on!

Slay Say

NOT EVERYONE CLAPS WHEN YOU RISE

We don’t lose people when we grow—we reveal them.
Not everyone who starts the journey with you is meant to finish it beside you.
Your success may make others uncomfortable, but that doesn’t mean you should shrink.
Let go of the need for approval and keep climbing.
The ones who are meant to walk with you won’t fear your elevation—they’ll fuel it.

This is your reminder:
You don’t need universal applause to be on the right path.
Just the courage to keep going.

SLAY on!

Slay Say

The Detour Might Be the Destination

Sometimes the road that disappears was never yours to travel.
Sometimes the no, the silence, the sudden shift
isn’t a rejection—it’s redirection.
Letting go doesn’t mean giving up.
It means making space for the greater good
that’s already finding its way to you.
Keep walking. It’s not the end.
It’s just not that path.

SLAY ON.

Name Your Brain

Ever catch yourself spiraling into self-doubt or reacting like the sky is falling… when it’s really not? You’re not alone. That voice in your head—the one that catastrophizes, criticizes, or convinces you you’re not enough—it has a mind of its own.

So what if you gave it a name?

That’s right. Name your brain. Give that voice a personality, an identity, a little flair. Why? Because separating you from your thoughts helps you manage them with more clarity—and maybe even a little compassion.

Why Naming Your Brain Works

When you name your brain, you create space between you and the mental noise. You stop treating every thought as truth and start seeing them for what they really are: patterns. Most of them were wired in long ago—through experiences, messaging, and survival mode. But they’re not your whole story.

Let’s say your brain loves worst-case scenarios. It goes from “I made a mistake” to “I’m going to lose everything” in under five seconds. Instead of spiraling with it, what if you said:

“Okay, here comes that same old voice again. We’ve heard this one before—and we’re not falling for it.”

Naming helps you shift from fear to awareness. You start to notice your patterns, question them, and choose a new response. It turns down the emotional intensity and gives you the power back.

What’s Your Brain’s Personality?

Start by observing. When stress hits, how does your brain talk to you?

  • Is it hypercritical? (“You’ll never get this right.”)
  • Dramatic? (“This is a disaster!”)
  • Perfectionist? (“Not good enough. Try harder.”)
  • People-pleaser? (“Don’t speak up. You’ll upset them.”)

Now give that voice a name and a persona. Think of it like casting a character. Your name can be oddly specific, or just descriptive—whatever helps you take the edge off and reclaim your power.

For me, naming my brain made me think of it in a different way—less like a runaway train and more like an annoying voice or committee that would show up and try to spoil my day. Giving it a name helped me keep it in perspective. It gave me something specific to talk back to—and even tell to take a hike.

I mean, I wouldn’t put up with someone else saying the kinds of things my brain sometimes did—so why would I take that abuse from myself?

These days, when that voice pops in, I can say: “I hear you, but we’re not doing that today.” And it really does help.

From Reaction to Redirection

Once your brain has a name, you can start redirecting instead of reacting.

“Thanks for your concern, but I’ve got this.”

“We’ve heard enough from that old voice—let’s listen to truth instead.”

You’re not ignoring your emotions—you’re choosing to respond differently. That’s the real flex. When you stop giving your inner critic the mic, you make space for the wiser, calmer, more grounded version of you to speak.

Naming Isn’t Silly—It’s Self-Awareness

This practice is rooted in mindfulness and psychology. Creating mental distance from unhelpful thoughts is a proven way to disrupt negative cycles and build emotional resilience.

It’s not about dismissing your feelings. It’s about shifting from “this is me” to “is this me—or is this an old pattern or story?” It’s about knowing your truth, staying present, and calling out those old thoughts—and showing them the door.

The name is just a tool to help you step into that choice. Again and again.

Who Do You Want Driving the Bus?

At the end of the day, your brain will keep doing what it’s always done—unless you take the wheel. When your old mental pattern starts driving toward chaos, anxiety, or shame, you get to say:

“Thanks for the warning, but I’m steering us in a different direction.”

Empowerment starts when you realize you are not your thoughts. You’re the observer. The narrator. The author. You can write a different story—and still let those old characters pop in from time to time, without giving them control.

SLAY Reflection

  1. What type of thoughts show up when you’re stressed, insecure, or overwhelmed?
  2. What name would you give the voice that fuels those thoughts?
  3. How does it feel to separate yourself from that voice?
  4. What kinds of things does your brain say that you no longer believe?
  5. How can you start responding with curiosity and compassion instead of judgment?

S-L-A-Y:

  • Separate yourself from your thoughts
  • Label the patterns
  • Acknowledge the impact
  • You are in charge of your response

Call to Action: Join the Conversation
I’d love to hear from you.
Have you ever given your brain a name? What would you call the voice that tries to take over?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s stuck in a spiral of self-doubt, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

Slay Say

Rewrite the Narrative

You are the narrator of your own story—
and the tone you use matters.

Your inner dialogue isn’t just background noise—
it’s the blueprint your mind is building from.

Speak from awareness, not habit.
Speak from truth, not fear.
Speak from love, not lack.

Because the words you choose today
are quietly shaping who you’ll become tomorrow.

This is your reminder to be intentional with your inner voice—
it’s always listening.

SLAY on!

Slay Say

Truth Without Testing

We often accept the thoughts we think every day as truth—without ever asking where they came from or if they’re even real.
But your dominant assumptions are more than thoughts.
They’re blueprints, quietly sculpting how you see yourself… and how you show up in the world.

If you never stop to question the story, you might keep building a life on someone else’s beliefs.
This is your reminder to pause, get curious, and challenge what you’ve been living on autopilot.

Your mind is listening.
Make sure it’s following a truth that’s actually yours.

SLAY on!

Stop Waiting To Feel Ready

If I’m being honest, most of the time…I don’t feel ready.

Whether it’s a new opportunity, a big decision, or even sitting down to write something like this—I rarely feel 100% ready. If left to my own devices, I’d keep fine-tuning, researching, adjusting, and second-guessing. I’d wait until everything was “perfect.”

But what I’ve learned on this path is simple and powerful: ready isn’t a feeling—it’s a decision.

The Myth of “Feeling Ready”

We tell ourselves we’ll start when we feel more confident.
We’ll speak up when we feel more prepared.
We’ll leap when we feel less scared.

But the truth is, that feeling of readiness? It doesn’t always show up. And if it does, it usually comes after we’ve already taken action—not before.

The illusion of “readiness” keeps us stuck. We wait, thinking there’s some magical moment where we’ll feel different—bolder, braver, more equipped. But most opportunities don’t wait for us to feel ready.

They ask us to decide to be ready.

The Power of Deciding

In my life, there have been countless times I’ve had to make that decision.

Sometimes it was because of a deadline.
Sometimes it was because an opportunity had an expiration date.
Sometimes I just knew if I didn’t move forward, I’d stay stuck.

And every time, I’ve learned this: I didn’t need to know everything. I just needed to know enough to start.

Being ready doesn’t mean having every answer. It doesn’t mean knowing the full path. It means saying, “I’ve got what I need to take this step, and I’ll figure the next one out as I go.”

Do What’s In Front of Your Hands

One thing I’ve carried with me on my journey is this simple reminder:
Do what’s in front of your hands.

That means staying grounded in the present step—even when your mind wants to jump five steps ahead. Yes, it’s wise to have a vision. I like to look a little ahead, to prepare for what’s coming. But the real growth? It happens in the now.

When you focus on what’s right in front of you—just the next task, the next decision, the next act of courage—you start to build momentum. And that momentum leads to clarity, confidence, and more opportunity.

Progress, Not Perfection

Waiting until you feel ready often comes from a deeper fear of making mistakes. But perfection isn’t the goal—progress is.

You’re allowed to make messy starts.
You’re allowed to learn as you go.
You’re allowed to pivot, evolve, and adjust your plan.

Because the truth is, the journey is the point. It’s not about getting it “right” the first time. It’s about moving forward, learning, and becoming.

You’re not behind. You’re not unqualified. You’re simply standing at the edge of the next thing. And all that’s left is to decide to begin.

Make the Decision Today

If you’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to start, here’s your sign: stop waiting.

Make the decision. Be willing to show up before you feel completely ready. Trust that you’ll grow into each next step—and that you already have everything you need to begin.

The truth is, you won’t always feel ready.
But you can always choose to be.

SLAY Reflection

Let’s check in, SLAYER:

  • S: What are you currently putting off because you don’t feel “ready”?
  • L: What would change if you decided to start anyway?
  • A: Can you identify one small step you can take today, even if you don’t feel prepared?
  • Y: How can you reframe readiness as a mindset instead of a feeling?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What’s something you’ve been waiting to feel ready for—and how can you choose to begin today instead?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s stuck waiting for the “perfect moment,” send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

Find Your People, Find Your Truth

For most of my life, I felt like a chameleon. I’d shift and mold myself to fit the people I was around. I convinced myself that if I acted the way they wanted—or the way I thought they wanted—I’d finally belong. But deep down, it didn’t feel right. And often, I’d leave those interactions feeling drained and wondering, “What’s wrong with me?”

I’d watch others with envy. They seemed to flow effortlessly through social situations, forming connections with ease. I couldn’t understand why it felt so hard for me. Why did it feel like everyone else had the key to belonging, while I was stuck on the outside looking in? I’d analyze every interaction, wondering what I did wrong, why I couldn’t seem to fit.

The truth is, it wasn’t about being wrong. It was about being in the wrong rooms.

The Missing Piece: Discovering Self-Truth

It wasn’t until I began my journey of self-discovery that the truth hit me: there was nothing wrong with me. I just wasn’t with the right people. I wasn’t being true to myself, and I wasn’t choosing connections that were aligned with who I really was—because, if I’m honest, I didn’t even know who I really was.

I’d spent so long being a version of myself that I thought others wanted me to be, that I lost touch with my core. The parts of me that were silly, passionate, curious, and maybe a little bit weird were buried under layers of trying to fit in. I muted my personality. I downplayed my dreams. I laughed at jokes I didn’t find funny. I agreed with opinions I didn’t fully believe in. All because I thought that was the way to be accepted.

But acceptance built on pretending is fragile. It’s conditional. It’s a house of cards ready to collapse the moment you stop performing.

Those people I admired weren’t more skilled or more likable than me—they were just authentic. They were showing up as themselves, unfiltered and unafraid. I, on the other hand, was performing a version of me I thought was acceptable. And in doing so, I was hiding the parts of myself that actually made me unique and magnetic.

Why Authenticity Feels So Hard

For so many of us, the idea of being our true selves feels risky. Maybe we’ve been hurt in the past when we showed vulnerability. Maybe we’ve faced rejection, criticism, or ridicule. Maybe we grew up in environments where it wasn’t safe to be fully seen. Over time, we learn to armor up. We put on masks. We adapt.

But here’s the thing: that armor may protect us from pain, but it also shields us from connection. When we hide our truth, we also hide our light.

The reason social situations felt so hard for me wasn’t because I was broken or unlikable. It was because I wasn’t showing up as me. I was exhausted from pretending. And deep down, I felt the ache of knowing that I wasn’t being true to myself.

The Shift: Coming Home to Yourself

Everything changed when I started to get curious about who I really was. I asked myself hard questions:

  • What do I truly value?
  • What brings me joy?
  • What kind of people energize me instead of draining me?
  • What parts of myself have I been hiding, and why?

The answers were both surprising and freeing. I realized that the right people—the ones who would become my “chosen family”—weren’t the ones I had to impress. They were the ones who loved me for me. They were the ones who felt easy to be around, where conversations flowed, laughter was real, and silence was comfortable.

I stopped chasing approval from people who didn’t value my authenticity. I started prioritizing connections that felt reciprocal, nourishing, and aligned with my values. Slowly, my circle shifted. And with it, so did my confidence.

Finding Your People

Finding your people doesn’t happen overnight. It takes patience and courage. It requires being honest with yourself about the relationships in your life:

  • Are you giving more than you’re receiving?
  • Do you feel energized or depleted after spending time with them?
  • Do you feel safe enough to be fully yourself?

If the answer to any of those questions is “no,” it might be time to reevaluate.

Here’s what I’ve learned: the right people will get you. You won’t have to explain yourself or perform. They’ll love your quirks, celebrate your wins, and hold space for your struggles. They’ll lift you up, not tear you down.

And the beautiful thing is, when you start showing up as your true self, you naturally attract those people. Authenticity is magnetic. When you let your real light shine, it draws others who resonate with that light.

The Liberation of Letting Go

One of the hardest but most liberating steps is letting go of relationships that no longer serve you. It doesn’t mean those people are bad or wrong; it just means they’re not your people.

Letting go creates space—space for new connections, space for self-growth, and space for deeper alignment. It allows you to breathe easier, to trust more, and to open your heart to those who are meant to walk this journey with you.

I promise you this: when you find your people, you’ll look back and realize that you were never broken or wrong. You were simply waiting for the right connections to show you how beautiful and worthy you’ve always been.

Your Light Is Needed

Here’s what I want you to remember, SLAYER: you don’t have to dim your light to fit in. The world doesn’t need a watered-down version of you. It needs you—fully, unapologetically, courageously you.

When you find your people, everything clicks into place. Life feels easier. Conversations feel more meaningful. Connections deepen. And you start to trust yourself in ways you never thought possible.

Because finding your people isn’t just about them—it’s about you finding yourself. It’s about coming home to your truth and realizing that you were never meant to fit in. You were meant to stand out.

SLAY Reflection

Take a moment to reflect and journal on these questions, SLAYER:

  • S: Where in your life are you still trying to fit in instead of standing out?
  • L: What relationships make you feel most like yourself? How can you nurture those?
  • A: Who or what do you need to let go of to make space for the right people?
  • Y: What’s one brave step you can take today to embrace your authenticity and attract your true community?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
Have you found your people, or are you still searching?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

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