personal transformation

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.

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

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.

Laughter: A Sign Of Good Health

When I first stepped onto my healing path, laughter felt impossible.

There was nothing funny about where I found myself. Emotionally, physically, spiritually I was exhausted. My life felt fragile. Every moment felt heavy. I was focused on survival, not joy.

So when I began seeking support from others who had walked similar roads, one thing surprised me.

They laughed.

Not in denial. Not in avoidance. Real laughter. Honest laughter. Healing laughter.

At first, I did not understand it. How could someone laugh about struggles, mistakes, pain, or dark seasons? But slowly I began to realize something powerful.

Laughter was not dismissing the pain.

It was proof they had moved through it.

And that realization gave me hope.

The Healing Power Of Humor

My mom has always said, “If I lose my sense of humor, I lose everything.”

She said it through illness, discomfort, uncertainty, and some very difficult seasons. Watching her hold onto humor even in pain showed me that laughter is not about circumstances. It is about resilience.

When I began my own recovery, I held onto that wisdom. The work ahead of me was serious. I had to face truths, take responsibility, and learn new ways of living. But I did not have to take myself so seriously all the time.

That distinction changed everything.

Humor did not erase the work. It helped me carry it.

And sometimes, laughter was the only light available in an otherwise heavy day.

When Laughter Becomes A Bridge

Something unexpected happened as my healing progressed.

I began laughing with others who had similar experiences.

We laughed about things that once felt devastating. Not because they were trivial, but because we had survived them. Laughter became a shared language of understanding. It created connection, compassion, and perspective.

There is something incredibly bonding about laughing with someone who truly understands your journey. It reminds you that you are not alone. It transforms isolation into community.

And that connection is powerful medicine.

Laughter does not isolate. It invites.

The Difference Between Healing Humor And Hiding Humor

I also had to learn an important distinction.

For years I had used humor as armor. I deflected serious conversations. I made jokes instead of admitting pain. I laughed things off rather than facing them.

That kind of humor keeps healing at a distance.

True healing laughter feels different. It comes from humility, acceptance, and growth. It does not belittle yourself or others. It does not minimize reality. It simply allows joy to exist alongside truth.

Once I understood that, laughter stopped being a shield and became a source of strength.

And that shift made all the difference.

Perspective Changes Everything

Looking back now, some of the choices I made during difficult periods honestly make me laugh.

At the time, I justified everything. I believed I was coping, surviving, protecting myself. But hindsight brings clarity. And sometimes, clarity brings humor.

Not mocking. Not shame.

Perspective.

Being able to laugh at past versions of myself means I have grown. It means I am no longer stuck there. It means healing happened.

And that is something worth smiling about.

Why Laughter Supports Mental And Emotional Health

There is actual science behind this too.

Laughter reduces stress hormones, increases endorphins, supports immune function, and improves emotional regulation. It relaxes the body, shifts perspective, and enhances connection with others.

But beyond biology, laughter signals something deeper.

Hope.

When you can laugh again, even gently, it often means healing has begun.

It means you are reconnecting with life.

And that is powerful.

Finding Light In Dark Seasons

There were days when finding humor felt impossible. Those days happen to everyone. Healing is not linear, and laughter does not mean everything is perfect.

Sometimes it just means you found one small moment of light.

One memory. One conversation. One silly observation. One unexpected smile.

And sometimes that small moment is enough to carry you forward.

Laughter does not deny hardship.

It coexists with it.

And often, it helps transform it.

SLAY Reflection

Let’s reflect, SLAYER:

S: When was the last time you laughed freely, and how did it make you feel afterward?

L: Do you ever use humor to hide how you really feel instead of expressing it honestly?

A: What difficult moment from your past can you now look at with compassion or even gentle humor?

Y: How could inviting more lightness into your life support your healing and emotional health right now?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
How has laughter helped you heal, cope, or find perspective during a difficult season?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who could use a reminder that joy can exist alongside struggle, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

Willingness: The Key To Change

Before there’s change, before there’s healing, before there’s transformation—there’s willingness.

Not certainty. Not a roadmap. Not a plan. Just the smallest shift that says: maybe there’s another way. That shift is the spark that lights the path forward.

The Power of Being Open

Willingness isn’t a commitment—it’s a crack in the door. A whisper of possibility. A softening where there once was resistance.

Change is hard. Growth can be uncomfortable. And yet, when we allow ourselves to be open—to just consider a new perspective—we invite in something powerful. We make space for clarity, connection, healing.

When I first stepped onto the path of recovery, I wasn’t ready to overhaul my life. I didn’t have all the answers. But I was willing. And that willingness brought people into my life I never expected. It helped me find tools I didn’t know I needed. And slowly, my world expanded. It got bigger, brighter, and full of light.

It wasn’t easy. In fact, it almost didn’t happen. I had reached a point so low, I could barely imagine a way forward. But in that moment, the tiniest willingness cracked through the darkness—and everything changed from there.

What Willingness Actually Looks Like

We often think willingness means taking big leaps. But really, it’s more like:

  • Saying, “Maybe I don’t have all the answers.”
  • Being open to new tools, even if they feel unfamiliar.
  • Letting someone help you—really help you.
  • Admitting something isn’t working the way you hoped.

Willingness makes life bigger. It breaks us out of the echo chambers in our heads and says, “What if there’s more?”

The Shift That Changes Everything

Willingness is not about setting an entire plan in motion. It’s about being open to the idea that something might be possible.

That maybe you don’t have to keep living under the weight of what’s not working. That maybe your life could feel lighter. That maybe there’s help—and healing—available to you.

When you’re willing, you become a magnet for the right people, places, and opportunities. You notice support instead of deflecting it. You welcome answers instead of defending limitations. You shift from surviving to slowly, gently, learning to thrive.

I Still Choose Willingness Every Day

Even now, years into this journey, willingness remains one of my most powerful tools. Every time I fall, every time I face something unfamiliar, I remind myself: I just have to be willing. Not perfect. Not fearless. Just willing.

Because willingness invites the Universe to show up. It creates space for grace. And that space? It’s often where the biggest breakthroughs begin.

So wherever you are today, ask yourself: Am I willing?

You don’t have to say yes to everything. You don’t have to commit to a massive shift. But if you can find even a flicker of willingness, that might just be enough to change everything.

SLAY Reflection

  1. What does willingness mean to you?
  2. Are there areas of your life where you’ve been closed off to change?
  3. What’s one thing you might be willing to consider today?
  4. How might your life shift if you simply stayed open?
  5. What scares you about being willing—and what excites you about it?

S-L-A-Y:

  • Start small—openness begins with a thought
  • Let go of the need to have all the answers
  • Allow yourself to explore, not commit
  • You are allowed to grow at your own pace

Call to Action: Join the Conversation
I’d love to hear from you.
What’s one area of your life you’re willing to shift?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

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