reclaim your power

Laugh in the Places You Cried

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

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

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

Pain Leaves Marks—But So Does Joy

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

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

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

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

Your Scars Tell the Story of Your Strength

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

Your tears were real, but so is your laughter.

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

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

Turning Memory Into Medicine

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Healing Is Circular, Not Linear

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

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

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

Reclaim Your Spaces

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

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

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

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

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

SLAY Reflection

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

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

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

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

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

To Become Who You Truly Are, You Have to Let Go of Who They Told You to Be

For much of my life, I tried to be who they told me to be.

The “they” was everywhere—teachers, parents, partners, bosses, social media, society. Each one had a version of me they preferred. I wore those versions like outfits, hoping one of them would finally feel like me. But deep down, I always knew: I was playing a part written by someone else.

When You Live for Them, You Lose Yourself

Every time I molded myself to fit their expectations, I lost another piece of who I was. I became quieter when they said I was too much. I smiled when I wanted to cry. I said yes when everything inside me screamed no.

I wanted to be accepted so badly, I started rejecting myself.

Eventually, I reached a breaking point. I was exhausted. Not from being myself, but from not being myself. I had no idea who I was anymore—but I knew I couldn’t keep pretending. That was the first step.

Forget Who They Told You to Be

To find my true self, I had to unlearn the lies I’d been told:

  • That I was too sensitive.
  • That I needed to tone it down.
  • That my worth depended on being agreeable, pretty, polite, perfect.

None of that was me. It was who they needed me to be so they could be comfortable.

But I wasn’t born to make other people comfortable.

So I started letting go. I peeled back the layers of conditioning, people-pleasing, and perfectionism—and underneath, I found someone real. Someone strong. Someone worth knowing.

Becoming You Is a Brave Act

Choosing to be yourself—your real self—isn’t always easy. It might upset people. It might confuse them. It might even mean walking away from relationships or roles that no longer fit.

But becoming who you truly are is the most powerful act of self-love there is.

Every time you choose authenticity over approval, you build a life that actually feels like yours. And trust me, there is nothing more freeing than that.

You don’t have to be who they told you to be. You get to decide who you are.

SLAY Reflection

  1. Who told you who you “should” be?
  2. What roles or expectations are you still carrying that don’t feel like your own?
  3. When have you felt most like yourself?
  4. What’s one way you can show up more authentically today?
  5. What would your life look like if you stopped living for their approval?

S-L-A-Y:

  • Shed the stories that don’t belong to you.
  • Live your truth—loudly and unapologetically.
  • Acknowledge who you’ve always been beneath the noise.
  • You are allowed to become someone they don’t recognize.

Call to Action: Join the Conversation
I’d love to hear from you.
What part of yourself are you reclaiming today?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s stuck in a role they never chose, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

Living In Limbo

Before I began walking this path, I knew limbo well.

When I was living in my illness, I felt stuck. Paralyzed. Like life was moving forward around me while I stayed frozen in place. I wanted to believe I had no control, but the truth was—I was holding the key to my own cell.

I wasn’t taking action. I wasn’t doing the work. And when nothing changes, nothing changes.

Eventually, I reached a breaking point—and instead of breaking down, I reached out. I asked for help. I found support. I took one step, then another. Slowly, my life started to inch forward. Hope returned. Light returned. And I started to feel alive again.

Navigating the Now

I think of that time a lot lately.

Because while the world may feel paused again, I know I don’t have to be. I focus on what I can do each day to move things forward—mentally, emotionally, creatively, and spiritually. I pour energy into meaningful connections, creative projects, and quiet rituals that keep me grounded. I say yes to what feels good and nourishing, even if it’s just a cozy moment in pajamas with a good book.

Limbo doesn’t have to mean lifeless. We get to choose how we respond—and where we put our energy.

Yes, some days feel heavier than others. And yes, I still feel the ache of what’s been lost or put on hold. But I’ve learned that in this stillness, we also have an opportunity. To pause. To reflect. To renew. And to rise.

Limbo Isn’t the End

This chapter may feel uncertain, but it isn’t forever.

We can move forward—internally, emotionally, spiritually—even when the outside world feels stalled. Our gifts, our growth, our goals—they’re still here. They’re still possible.

And when the world begins to move again, we’ll be ready. Because we didn’t just wait—we used the pause to prepare.

SLAY on.

SLAY Reflection: What’s Your Relationship with Limbo?

  • Do you feel like your life is in limbo right now? How does that affect your daily mindset?
  • What small actions can help shift you out of a holding pattern?
  • Have you found new ways to connect, create, or rest during this time?
  • What unexpected lessons or strengths have emerged in this space between?
  • How can you show up for yourself today—even from a place of pause?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
How are you moving forward—even in the waiting?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s feeling stuck in the pause, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a reminder that we’re not standing still alone.

No One Can Drive You Crazy Unless You Give Them The Keys

We’ve all had those moments—when someone gets under our skin, disrupts our peace, and throws our entire day off course. Sometimes, it’s a conversation. Other times, it’s a repeated behavior. And before we know it, we’re consumed—playing it over and over in our minds, stewing in frustration, resentment, or defeat.

But here’s the truth:
They only have that power if we hand them the keys.

For a long time, I didn’t see that.
I thought I was just a victim of circumstance, or worse—other people.
But what I was really doing was giving away control.
Letting someone else take the wheel.
And then wondering why I kept crashing.

The Cost of Handing Over the Wheel

In my past, I gave away the keys to my peace all the time.

Sometimes it was people-pleasing—I didn’t want anyone to be upset with me, so I’d go along with something even when it didn’t feel right.
Other times, I hoped that if I just tolerated enough, something good would eventually come of it.
And then there were times I gave away control so I could keep telling the same story: that I was the victim.
That life happened to me.
That I had no power.

It kept me sick.
It kept me stuck.
And it kept me in relationships, situations, and patterns that were not good for me.

Recovery Handed Me Back the Keys

When I began my recovery journey, one of the first things I had to do was take radical responsibility for my own life.

That meant owning my choices.
Being honest with myself about my part.
And realizing that I could no longer blame other people for how I felt, what I did, or what direction my life was going in.

It was sobering at first.
But also liberating.
Because if I had the power to give the keys away…
I also had the power to take them back.

Who’s Driving?

Here’s what I’ve learned:
You can’t complain about where your life is going if you’ve let someone else steer.

Yes—people may have opinions.
Yes—they might try to sway you.
But at the end of the day, you are the one in the driver’s seat.

You decide what’s best for you.
You set the course.
And if someone keeps reaching for the wheel?
It might be time to rethink whether they belong in your vehicle at all.

Emotional Hijacking

Letting someone else “drive” doesn’t always look like direct control.
Sometimes, it’s letting a comment ruin your whole day.
Or replaying an argument in your mind on loop.
Or getting pulled into drama that has nothing to do with you.

These are all ways we give our power away.
All ways we hand over the keys—without even realizing it.

Today, I choose to drive.
Even when the road gets bumpy.
Even when I make a wrong turn.
Because it’s my journey, and I’d rather learn from my own mistakes than crash because someone else took the wheel.

SLAY Reflection: Who’s Driving Your Life?

  1. Do you let others emotionally hijack your peace?
    What triggers this—and how often does it happen?

  2. Have you given someone the power to influence your thoughts, decisions, or direction?
    How does that make you feel?

  3. Are you holding onto resentment or trying to control situations that no longer involve you?
    What would happen if you let that go?

  4. Is there someone in your life who repeatedly tries to take the wheel?
    Is that a healthy relationship—or something that needs to shift?

  5. What can you do today to take your power back and stay in the driver’s seat?
    What boundary needs to be drawn—or reinforced?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
Have you ever handed someone else the keys to your peace—and what did it take to take them back?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s giving away their power, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.