HEALING DOESN’T ALWAYS LOOK LIKE HARMONY
It can feel like you’re turning your back on everything familiar—but what if you’re turning the page instead?
Growth isn’t always gentle. Sometimes it’s loud. Sometimes it’s lonely. But choosing a new direction doesn’t mean rejecting your roots—it means rising from them.
You’re not abandoning your story.
You’re rewriting the ending.
SLAY on!
We spend so much of our lives chasing happiness, love, and the so-called “good vibes.” But what if the real key to alignment isn’t about always being joyful or even feeling loved? What if the most powerful shift we can make is to be authentic?
Because here’s the truth: authenticity is a higher vibration than joy and love.
Energy doesn’t lie. And when you’re pretending, pleasing, or performing, your vibration lowers—even if you’re smiling through it.
Joy without truth is performative. Love without boundaries is self-abandonment.
Authenticity, however, is rooted in truth. It’s grounded in presence. It’s the real you. And when we operate from that space, we emit the clearest, most powerful frequency we have. We show up aligned—and everything around us responds to that.
There was a time when I thought I had to look happy to be happy. Smile through the pain. Be grateful when I was struggling. Be kind even when I was breaking.
But fake it ‘til you make it can only take you so far.
The day I stopped trying to be perfect and started being real—everything changed. People connected more deeply with me. My relationships became healthier. I became healthier. Because I wasn’t trying to stay high-vibe. I was trying to stay real.
And that is the vibe the universe actually responds to.
When we give ourselves permission to be real, we invite others to do the same. We create safety. We foster trust. We show others what it looks like to live in truth, not performance.
Authenticity says:
And that is where true love and joy can actually take root. Not in the performance of being okay—but in the truth of being whole.
Being authentic doesn’t mean sharing everything or letting your emotions run unchecked. It means showing up honestly.
It means:
It means being clear about who you are—and being okay with the fact that not everyone will get it. Because your alignment matters more than approval.
Your truth has its own frequency. When you live it, you attract what’s meant for you. You repel what isn’t. You stop chasing and start receiving.
Authenticity isn’t a trend. It’s a vibration.
And the more you live it, the more powerful you become. Not because you’re trying to be powerful—but because there’s nothing stronger than someone who is fully themselves.
SLAY Reflection
S-L-A-Y:
Call to Action: Join the Conversation
I’d love to hear from you.
Where in your life are you ready to get real?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.
And if you know someone who’s stuck in performance mode, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a reminder.
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!
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.
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.
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.”
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.
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.
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.
Let’s check in, SLAYER:
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.
For most of us, there’s been a time when we’ve hit bottom.
And for many of us, there have been many.
But just because you find yourself at a bottom doesn’t mean you have to stay there.
In fact, sometimes hitting bottom can be the very thing that propels you upward—it can be a turning point, a wake-up call, a catalyst for change.
What matters most is that you recognize it as a bottom.
And then decide you’re not going to live there.
Looking back, I had many bottoms before I hit the one that finally brought me to my knees.
There were so many moments I should have asked for help…
So many warning signs I ignored…
So many nights I let myself spiral deeper into darkness.
But the truth is: we’re ready when we’re ready.
And if we’re lucky, we get that one moment—the one where something shifts, where the fear becomes too loud to ignore, and we finally ask for help.
For me, that moment came from fear.
Fear of where my mental illness had taken me.
Fear of where it might take me next.
I don’t know why that particular night was different.
There were many terrifying nights before it.
But that night, I got scared enough to pick up the phone.
And in doing so, I opened the door to my own recovery.
There’s a saying I love:
“You don’t have to ride the truck all the way to the dump.”
You can get off at any time.
Even in the darkest place, even at your lowest, you have a choice.
You always have the option to get off the path that’s dragging you down.
But you have to believe that it’s possible.
And you have to take action.
When I was deep in my illness, I felt powerless.
Like I was strapped to a runaway train.
But that wasn’t true.
I always had a ticket off that train.
And the moment I picked up the phone and asked for help, I used it.
That one action—speaking my truth—shifted everything.
I didn’t have all the answers yet.
I still had work to do.
But the secret I had been carrying was out.
The weight I had been holding got lighter.
And for the first time, I realized I was in control of my recovery.
It’s so important to notice your bottoms.
To recognize when you’ve fallen harder than usual.
To acknowledge when you’re staying down longer than you want to.
Because that moment of awareness?
That’s the moment you can begin to rise.
We all fall.
We all struggle.
But no one has to stay in the pit.
Freedom starts with acceptance.
The willingness to see where you are—and the courage to choose something better.
A bottom doesn’t have to be the end of your story.
It can be the beginning of your comeback.
A bottom might just be the biggest blessing in disguise.
It might be the one thing that finally gets your attention.
The one thing that cracks you open.
The one thing that forces you to stop, reflect, and change direction.
You don’t have to stay down.
You don’t have to prove anything to anyone by suffering longer.
Your story is still being written.
And a bottom can be the moment you choose a new chapter.
Use it to rise. Use it to SLAY.
Has a past bottom ever helped you grow or pivot in a new direction?
How can you use that lesson now?
Have you ever hit a bottom in your life?
What were the signs? What did it feel like?
Have you hit multiple bottoms?
What made the most recent one different?
Are you currently in a bottom?
If so, what are you doing about it—or avoiding?
What’s holding you back from asking for help or making a change?
What could shift if you took just one small step?
I’d love to hear from you.
What helped you recognize a bottom in your life—and what did you do to rise from it?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.
And if you know someone who’s struggling to climb out of a hard place, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.
It may sound impossible at times, but in those moments when we feel our weakest, we must dig deep and find our strength.
There have been countless times in my life where I’ve had to rely on an inner strength I didn’t even realize I had. Somehow, just enough rose to the surface to help me push through.
We are all stronger than we think.
And when I take a moment to reflect on everything I’ve overcome, I’m reminded of the strength and courage that carried me.
It helps me in the present.
It prepares me for the future.
Because true strength often reveals itself when everything feels like it’s falling apart.
Looking back on my lowest points, I can admit—I didn’t always use my strength.
There were times I believed I was weak.
Times I gave in to the idea that I was broken or not worth saving.
I had flickers of power, brief moments of energy and clarity, but they’d fade. And that negative voice in my head? It would rush in, louder than ever.
That inner strength—the warrior in me—it was there.
But some days, that sword felt too heavy to lift.
There was one day in particular when I came dangerously close to surrendering.
I was at my lowest. But even then, there was a whisper of strength left inside me.
It wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t flashy.
But it was just strong enough to reach out, to ask for help, to cry for help.
And that moment changed everything.
That quiet strength was enough to rally.
Enough to begin my fight back.
For me, strength isn’t about pushing through everything without feeling.
It’s about showing up—even when it’s hard.
My strength lives in the inner warrior that walks beside me.
It’s the part of me that shields the most vulnerable parts inside.
My strength is spiritual.
It’s rooted in a connection to something greater than myself—a belief that I’m held, even when I’m hurting.
It’s also built from experience:
I also surround myself with people who reflect that strength back to me.
People who remind me who I am when I forget.
And I do the same for them.
Sometimes we need to borrow someone else’s light until we remember our own.
I’ve learned that strength isn’t something you “find” once and then never lose.
It’s a practice. A choice. A mindset.
I know now that:
And there’s always a small spark inside me—a flame that never goes out, no matter how dark it gets.
That’s what carries me.
That’s what keeps me standing.
And that’s what I want to help you find too.
We all have strength.
Even if it feels buried. Even if it’s been challenged.
Even if it’s quiet.
If this past year has shown us anything, it’s that we’re still here.
We’ve survived more than we thought we could.
We’ve made it through dark seasons, tough days, and hard truths.
And we’re still standing.
That is strength.
Now is the time to pick up your sword.
To fight for someone who matters—you.
Me. Us.
Dig deep.
Find your strength.
And use it to keep moving forward.
I’d love to hear from you.
What’s one moment when you found strength you didn’t know you had?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.
And if you know someone who’s struggling to feel strong right now, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.
Nothing changes if nothing changes.
For years, I did the same things over and over again, expecting different results.
I thought if I kept applying the same approach—harder, louder, longer—somehow life would finally cooperate.
It didn’t.
Every time I repeated the same behavior, I got the same result.
The only thing that changed was how frustrated and exhausted I became.
And when I hit that familiar wall of fear, frustration, and anxiety, the noise in my head got louder—until it drowned out everything else.
I felt stuck. Paralyzed. Powerless.
But the truth?
I had the power all along.
It started with one bold choice: stepping off the wheel I’d been running on for years.
Change can feel scary.
Unfamiliar.
Uncomfortable.
Sometimes that discomfort makes us hesitate.
Other times, it’s self-sabotage in disguise—we tell ourselves it’s safer to stay where we are.
That we’re not capable of change.
That we don’t deserve it.
That nothing will really be different anyway.
But that’s a lie.
There is always a way out—or at least a better way forward.
We just have to be willing to take it.
If it feels uncomfortable, that’s probably a sign you’re doing the right thing.
It means you’re stepping into new territory.
It means you’re trying something different.
It means you’re finally breaking the cycle.
Change is rarely easy.
But staying stuck is harder.
What helped me most was shifting how I thought about change—not as something to fear, but as something that could bring growth, healing, and expansion.
We aren’t meant to stay where we are forever.
We’re meant to evolve.
To move forward.
To learn and grow.
And that means we have to be willing to do things differently, even when it feels awkward, messy, or uncertain.
Stepping off the wheel doesn’t require a perfect plan.
It just requires a step.
Even if the first thing you try doesn’t work, you’ll learn something.
That one step might be what sets everything else in motion.
The journey is the point—not just the outcome.
We are not victims of our circumstances.
We may not control every situation, but we can always control how we show up, how we respond, and what we’re willing to change.
Without that inner work, even if we move into new circumstances, we may find ourselves facing the same old patterns in a new setting.
Real change starts from the inside.
Change takes effort.
But that effort is an investment in you.
In your dreams.
In the life you want.
In the person you’re becoming.
Be willing.
Be curious.
Be brave enough to say yes to what’s new, even if it feels a little scary at first.
You’ve been running in circles long enough.
It’s time to stop the spin.
Jump off the wheel.
And walk forward—with purpose.
I’d love to hear from you.
What’s one change you’ve made—or know you need to make—to get off the wheel and create real momentum in your life?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.
And if you know someone who’s stuck in a cycle they’re ready to break, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.
I was listening to Andrea Bocelli’s moving performance of “Amazing Grace” recently at the Duomo cathedral in Milan. As I heard the words “I was blind but now I see,” it struck me deeply. I hadn’t really thought about that line before—just the song as a whole and what it meant—but it reminded me of the years I spent struggling.
There was a time when I didn’t believe I was worth saving, a time when I had lost hope. Back then, I was blind. I was blind to myself, my life, my behavior—thinking I was someone I wasn’t, living a life I wasn’t. I saw only what my mind told me to see, not the truth of what was really going on.
I was living in the darkness of my mind, while the real me—the person I truly was—slowly slipped away under the layers of garbage I kept piling on.
We tend to see what we want to see, don’t we? Whether it’s good or bad, we often paint ourselves a picture we choose to believe. Some of us hide behind a picture-perfect fantasy; others choose to cloak everything in doom and gloom.
But the truth is, life usually falls somewhere in the middle—often not as extreme as our minds want us to believe.
I used to use distractions and numbing behaviors to avoid the truth. Even during this time of isolation and home seclusion, those distractions are still available. Facing the truth is uncomfortable. It’s so much easier to stay behind the veil of the story we tell ourselves.
For me, the truth was standing right in front of me, and I could no longer hide. It took realizing that continuing to hide from my truth would ultimately destroy me. When I finally sought help, that veil was lifted. And while seeing the truth was painful at first, it was also freeing.
The truth was my chance to make changes. To see the mess my life had become. To recognize the lies my head had been feeding me.
At first, it was easier to hide and live in a world of my own choosing, but things were never going to get better in that place. I was lucky to have seen the truth when I did, and that I was still able to do something about it. Not everyone gets that chance.
When we are willing to face the truth, we give ourselves the opportunity to change what we don’t like. Or at least, to improve things. Truth gives us clarity to make better choices and to see how those choices affect not just us, but those around us.
It’s within truth that real change is possible. It’s where we find the opportunity to become someone we are proud of—someone who lives a life we want, not one we’re pretending to live.
So take off the glasses that may be clouding your vision. Look at your life for what it truly is, and use that vision to build a life you are proud to see.
SLAY on.
Do you typically see things as they are, or do you see them as you choose to see them?
What do you see? Do you like it?
How much of what you don’t like is a result of your own choices?
What can you change to improve what you see?
Write an example of something you chose not to see and how it became a bigger problem.
Do you tend to overlook the good in your life? Why?
What good can you see if you look for it? How can you find and create more good?
When we face our truth, we gain clarity. And clarity gives us the opportunity to make changes—big or small—that can lead us to a better life.
I’d love to hear from you.
What truth are you ready to face in your life?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s support each other in seeing things clearly.
And if you know someone who might need this reminder, send it to them. Sometimes, the first step is simply acknowledging we’re ready to see.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
S-L-A-Y:
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.
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.
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.
Today, I still check in with myself using H.O.W. I ask:
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.
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.
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.
