self-awareness

If Their Absence Brings You Peace You Did Not Lose Them

There was a time when I believed every ending was a loss.

If a relationship faded, if someone stepped away, if a friendship dissolved, I assumed I had failed somehow. I replayed conversations. I questioned my worth. I wondered what I could have done differently.

And sometimes there were lessons to learn. Accountability matters. Growth matters. Self-reflection matters.

But there came a moment when I noticed something I could not ignore.

Peace.

Not immediately. Not dramatically. But gradually, quietly, consistently. The absence of certain people or situations brought calm instead of chaos.

And that realization shifted everything.

Because sometimes what we call loss is actually relief.

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

Peace Is Powerful Information

Peace is data.

If someone’s absence lowers your anxiety, reduces tension, or allows you to feel more like yourself, that is worth paying attention to. It does not necessarily mean the other person is bad. It simply means the dynamic was not healthy for you.

Not every connection is meant to last forever.

Some people enter our lives to teach us boundaries. Some show us what we need. Some reveal what we deserve. And some simply outgrow alignment with who we are becoming.

That is not failure.

That is evolution.

Growth Changes Relationships

As we grow, our needs change. Our values sharpen. Our tolerance for certain behaviors shifts. What once felt normal may start to feel draining.

I experienced this firsthand.

As I committed more deeply to healing, honesty, and self-respect, some relationships no longer fit. Conversations felt forced. Energy felt mismatched. Peace felt compromised.

Letting go was uncomfortable at first.

But staying would have been more uncomfortable in the long run.

Growth often requires recalibration.

And that includes relationships.

Letting Go Is Not Always Rejection

It is easy to interpret distance as rejection. I certainly did.

But many times, distance is simply alignment adjusting.

Sometimes two people are both growing, just in different directions. Sometimes, timing changes compatibility. Sometimes healing requires space.

And sometimes peace requires distance.

Recognizing that helped me release resentment and guilt.

Because letting go can be an act of self-respect, not hostility.

You Are Allowed To Choose Peace

This was one of the hardest lessons for me.

I used to believe choosing peace was selfish. That maintaining relationships at any cost was the kinder choice. That discomfort was just part of connection.

But chronic tension is not connection.

Consistent anxiety is not intimacy.

Emotional exhaustion is not loyalty.

Peace is not something you earn by enduring discomfort. It is something you protect by making aligned choices.

And you are allowed to protect it.

Absence Can Clarify Value

When someone leaves your daily orbit, clarity often follows.

You see patterns more clearly. You notice emotional shifts. You understand what you were tolerating versus what you truly needed.

Sometimes that clarity leads to reconnection later in a healthier way. Sometimes it confirms the separation was necessary.

Both outcomes can be valid.

The goal is not permanence.

The goal is well-being.

Loss And Relief Can Coexist

It is important to acknowledge this nuance.

You can miss someone and still feel more peaceful without them. You can appreciate what was while accepting what is. You can hold gratitude and boundaries simultaneously.

Human emotions are layered.

Allowing that complexity creates emotional maturity.

And emotional maturity supports healthier future connections.

Choosing Peace Supports Growth

Peace creates space.

Space for clarity. Space for healing. Space for creativity. Space for joy.

When your nervous system is not constantly bracing for stress, your energy becomes available for growth instead of survival.

That shift changes everything.

And often, it begins by acknowledging that peace is not accidental.

It is intentional.

SLAY Reflection

Let’s reflect, SLAYER:

S: Have you ever felt more peaceful after a relationship or situation ended?

L: What did that peace reveal about your needs or boundaries?

A: Are there dynamics currently in your life that feel more draining than supportive?

Y: What step could you take to protect your peace while remaining compassionate?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
Have you experienced a situation where someone’s absence created unexpected peace, and what did you learn from it?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone navigating change in relationships, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

The Only Out Is Through

There was a time when I believed avoidance was survival.

If something hurt, I distracted myself. If something scared me, I delayed it. If something overwhelmed me, I convinced myself it would pass on its own.

Sometimes it did.

But most of the time, it waited.

And eventually, whatever I was avoiding showed up again. Usually louder. Usually heavier. Usually, at a time when I felt even less prepared to handle it.

That was when I finally understood something that has become a guiding truth in my life.

The only out is through.

Not around it. Not over it. Not pretending it is not there. Through it.

And while that realization was intimidating at first, it ultimately became freeing.

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

Avoidance Feels Safer Until It Isn’t

Avoidance gives temporary relief. It lowers anxiety in the moment. It allows us to breathe for a second.

But unresolved emotions, difficult conversations, grief, fear, and truth do not disappear simply because we delay them.

They accumulate.

They surface in stress, burnout, irritability, anxiety, and even physical symptoms. And often, the longer we avoid something, the bigger it feels.

Facing something directly is rarely comfortable. But avoiding it usually costs more in the long run.

That was a hard lesson for me.

But a necessary one.

Growth Lives On The Other Side Of Discomfort

Every meaningful shift in my life required walking through discomfort.

Healing. Honest conversations. Setting boundaries. Admitting mistakes. Asking for help. Letting go of relationships that no longer served me. Even allowing joy again after loss.

None of that happened by bypassing difficult emotions.

It happened by moving through them.

And while the process was not always graceful, it was transformative.

Because growth rarely happens in comfort zones.

It happens when we face what we would rather avoid.

Emotional Courage Builds Emotional Strength

Courage is often misunderstood.

People assume it means fearlessness. But most of the courageous choices I have made happened while I was afraid.

Speaking honestly when silence felt easier. Showing vulnerability when hiding felt safer. Choosing healing when numbness felt familiar.

Courage is not the absence of fear.

It is movement despite fear.

And each time you move through something difficult, your emotional resilience grows.

That confidence compounds.

My Own Turning Point

There was a moment when I realized I could not keep outrunning myself.

Old patterns. Old pain. Old coping strategies. They were not working anymore. They were exhausting me.

So I made a choice.

Not to rush healing. Not to force perfection. Just to start walking through what I had been avoiding.

Therapy. Honest conversations. Self-reflection. Accountability. Forgiveness.

It was uncomfortable. Sometimes painful. Occasionally messy.

But it was also liberating.

Because each step forward reduced the weight I had been carrying.

Through Does Not Mean Alone

One important clarification.

Moving through something does not mean you have to do it alone.

Support matters. Friends. Family. Therapists. Mentors. Community. Shared experiences.

Connection often makes difficult processes more manageable. It provides perspective, encouragement, and accountability.

Strength is not isolation.

Strength is allowing support while doing the work.

And that combination is powerful.

Progress Is Not Linear

There were days I felt strong. Days I felt exhausted. Days I felt hopeful. Days I felt overwhelmed.

That fluctuation is normal.

Healing is rarely a straight line. It is often a spiral. You revisit themes at deeper levels. You grow gradually. You build resilience incrementally.

The key is movement.

Even slow movement counts.

Even uncertain movement counts.

Forward is forward.

Peace Comes From Processing, Not Avoiding

When you move through something instead of around it, something shifts internally.

Clarity replaces confusion. Acceptance replaces resistance. Peace replaces tension.

Not instantly.

But steadily.

And that peace becomes a foundation you carry forward into future challenges.

Which makes future obstacles feel less intimidating.

Because you already know you can move through them.

SLAY Reflection

Let’s reflect, SLAYER:

S: What situation or emotion have you been avoiding lately?

L: What feels most uncomfortable about facing it directly?

A: Who could support you as you move through this experience?

Y: What small step today would represent forward movement rather than avoidance?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What challenge taught you that the only way forward was through, and what did you learn on the other side?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone navigating a difficult season, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

You Do Not Need To Fix Yourself You Need To Retrain The Pattern

For years, I believed something was wrong with me.

Every setback, every difficult emotion, every repeated mistake became evidence in my mind that I was flawed. That I needed fixing. That I was somehow broken.

That belief kept me stuck longer than anything else ever did.

Because when you think you are the problem, change feels impossible. But when you realize a pattern is the problem, suddenly there is room for growth.

And that shift changes everything.

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

The Difference Between Identity And Behavior

There is a profound psychological difference between saying “I am broken” and saying “I have a pattern that is not serving me.”

One attacks identity. The other addresses behavior.

Identity feels permanent. Behavior feels adjustable.

When I began to separate who I was from what I did, I experienced relief. I was not defective. I was human. I had learned coping strategies, habits, and reactions that made sense at one point but no longer supported my well-being.

And habits can be retrained.

That realization gave me hope.

Why The Brain Responds Better To Patterns

Our brains are incredibly adaptive. Neuroscience tells us they reorganize based on repeated thoughts and actions. What we practice becomes familiar. What is familiar becomes automatic.

So when we say “I need to fix myself,” the brain often interprets that as shame. And shame tends to shut down growth. It triggers defense, avoidance, and self-criticism.

But when we say “I need to retrain this pattern,” the brain shifts into problem-solving mode. It looks for solutions instead of assigning blame.

That subtle language shift can influence emotional resilience, motivation, and actual behavioral change.

Words matter.

Especially the ones we use with ourselves.

My Own Experience With This Shift

There was a time when I blamed myself for everything. If something went wrong, I assumed it confirmed my inadequacy. That mindset fueled anxiety, perfectionism, and exhaustion.

Eventually, I started noticing recurring patterns. Over-committing. Avoiding difficult conversations. Seeking validation. Ignoring my own needs.

Instead of labeling myself as flawed, I began asking different questions.

What triggered this reaction?
What need was I trying to meet?
What would a healthier response look like?

That curiosity replaced criticism. And progress became possible.

Not instant. Not perfect. But real.

Patterns Are Learned, And They Can Be Relearned

Most of our emotional patterns formed early. Family dynamics, cultural expectations, past relationships, trauma, success, failure, all of it shapes how we respond to life.

But learned does not mean permanent.

Awareness is the first step. Compassion is the second. Consistent action is the third.

Change rarely happens overnight. It happens through repetition. Through gentle correction. Through patience with ourselves.

And every time we choose a healthier response, we strengthen a new pathway in the brain.

That is growth in action.

Self-Compassion Accelerates Change

Criticism rarely produces lasting transformation.

Compassion does.

When we treat ourselves with kindness, we reduce fear. When fear decreases, openness increases. And openness allows learning.

It may sound counterintuitive, but being gentler with yourself often leads to stronger accountability. Because you are not operating from shame. You are operating from intention.

That makes change sustainable.

And sustainable change is what we want.

You Are Not A Project, You Are A Person

One of the biggest lessons on my journey has been this:

I am not something to fix.

I am someone to understand.

There is a big difference.

When we stop treating ourselves like broken projects and start treating ourselves like evolving humans, growth becomes less stressful. It becomes more natural.

You are allowed to grow without condemning where you started.

You are allowed to improve without rejecting who you were.

That perspective creates emotional freedom.

Language Shapes Healing

Try this simple experiment.

Instead of saying:
“I am the problem.”

Say:
“This is a pattern I am learning to change.”

Feel the difference.

One closes the door. The other opens it.

One creates shame. The other creates possibility.

And possibility is where healing begins.

SLAY Reflection

Let’s reflect, SLAYER:

S: What recurring emotional or behavioral pattern have you labeled as a personal flaw?

L: How might your mindset shift if you saw that pattern as learned instead of permanent?

A: What is one small adjustment you can practice today to retrain that pattern?

Y: How could self-compassion help you sustain growth instead of pushing yourself through criticism?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What pattern have you started to see differently, and how has that perspective changed your growth?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who needs the reminder that they do not need fixing, just understanding, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

Life Is Full of Joy and Pain, Sometimes at the Same Time

We often think of life in opposites.

Good or bad.
Joy or pain.
Light or dark.

We tell ourselves that if something hurts, it must cancel out what’s good. That if we’re grieving, we’re not allowed to feel grateful. That if we’re struggling, joy must be on pause.

But life doesn’t work that way.

Life is full of joy and pain — sometimes at the very same time.

And learning to hold both is one of the most honest forms of growth there is.

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

The Myth That We Have to Choose One Feeling

Somewhere along the way, we learned that emotions should be tidy.

That we should “focus on the positive.”
That pain means something is wrong.
That joy must wait until everything is resolved.

So when joy shows up during a painful season, we question it.
When pain appears during a happy moment, we feel guilty.

But emotions don’t operate in single lanes.
They overlap.
They coexist.
They tell a more complete truth together than they ever could apart.

You don’t have to edit your experience to make it acceptable.

Joy Doesn’t Disappear Because Pain Exists

Pain does not erase joy.

It doesn’t invalidate it.
It doesn’t cheapen it.
It doesn’t mean you’re “not healed enough.”

Joy can live in the same breath as heartbreak.
In the same season as loss.
In the same moment as uncertainty.

Sometimes joy is quieter in those moments. More tender. More fleeting.

But it’s still real.

And allowing yourself to feel joy while hurting isn’t betrayal — it’s resilience.

Pain Doesn’t Mean You’re Failing at Life

When pain shows up, many of us immediately ask, What did I do wrong?

We assume pain is proof that we missed something. That we made the wrong choice. That we’re behind.

But pain is not a moral failing.

Pain is part of loving deeply.
Of caring fully.
Of being awake to your life.

A heart that feels pain is a heart that has been open.

And openness is not weakness — it’s courage.

Holding Both Is a Skill We Learn Over Time

Learning to hold joy and pain at the same time doesn’t happen overnight.

At first, we swing between extremes. We either numb ourselves to survive or cling to positivity to avoid the weight of what hurts.

But eventually, with self-trust and honesty, we learn balance.

We learn that it’s okay to laugh and cry in the same day.
That gratitude doesn’t cancel grief.
That healing isn’t the absence of pain — it’s the ability to live alongside it without losing yourself.

That’s emotional maturity.

Presence Is Where Both Can Exist

Joy and pain coexist most clearly when we are present.

Not rushing to fix.
Not trying to escape.
Not demanding clarity before it arrives.

Just being here.

Presence allows us to notice the warmth of a moment even when our heart is heavy. It lets us experience connection, beauty, and meaning without needing life to be perfect first.

You don’t have to resolve everything to feel something good.

This Is What a Full Life Looks Like

A full life isn’t one that avoids pain.

It’s one that allows all of it.

It’s joy with depth.
Pain with purpose.
Love with risk.
Hope with honesty.

Trying to live without pain often shrinks our lives. But allowing both joy and pain expands them.

It makes us more compassionate.
More grounded.
More human.

You Don’t Have to Rush Through What You’re Feeling

If you’re in a season where joy and pain are showing up together, let yourself experience both without judgment.

You don’t need to explain it.
You don’t need to justify it.
You don’t need to choose.

You are allowed to hold complexity.

And in that complexity, you are not broken — you are alive.

SLAY Reflection

Let’s reflect, SLAYER:

S: Where in your life are joy and pain showing up at the same time right now?
L: Which emotion do you tend to judge or suppress?
A: How can you allow both feelings without trying to fix or rush them?
Y: What might change if you trusted that holding both is part of living fully?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
Have you ever experienced joy and pain at the same time — and what did that season teach you?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone struggling to make sense of mixed emotions, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

Slay Say

The Echo of Fear

Not every fear belongs to this moment.

Some are inherited through old pain—
the kind that lingers long after the wound has healed.
They whisper familiar stories,
convincing you you’re in danger when you’re simply remembering.

Growth asks for discernment.
To pause before reacting.
To recognize when your heart is protecting you from ghosts instead of threats.

This is your reminder to breathe before you run—
to listen long enough to know if what you’re hearing
is truth… or just an echo.

Slay On!

Slay Say

Own Your Part Without Passing the Pain

True growth isn’t about being perfect—it’s about being accountable. It’s recognizing when you’ve hurt someone and taking ownership of it without turning the spotlight or the blame back on them.

Maturity is the ability to sit with discomfort long enough to say, “I was wrong,” without needing to defend, deflect, or explain it away.

This is your reminder that healing doesn’t come from shifting the blame—it comes from standing in your truth with grace.

Slay On!

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.

Put Your Own Mask On First

We hear it every time we board a plane: “In the event of a loss in cabin pressure, secure your own mask before assisting others.” It’s one of those instructions that seems counterintuitive—especially for the givers, the fixers, the caretakers among us. But when you stop to really think about it, it’s not just an airline safety rule—it’s a life lesson.

For a long time, I didn’t put on my own mask first. I’d jump in to help anyone else—whether they asked or not—believing it made me strong, loving, dependable. I was the one people could count on. But quietly, I was falling apart. I was suffocating. And I didn’t even realize it until I was gasping for air.

You Can’t Pour From an Empty Cup

We’ve all heard that saying, but how many of us actually live it?

If you’ve been conditioned to believe your worth is tied to your usefulness, rest might feel selfish. Saying no might feel wrong. Asking for space might trigger guilt. But here’s the truth: constantly abandoning yourself to show up for others isn’t noble—it’s a fast track to burnout, resentment, and disconnection.

When you give from depletion, your help comes with a cost. You’re exhausted. You’re short-fused. You’re giving, but secretly hoping for a thank you, some recognition, a return on your emotional investment. And when that doesn’t come? It hurts. Because beneath all that self-sacrifice, you’re still human.

Putting your own mask on first isn’t selfish—it’s survival. It’s sustainability. It’s strength. When you’re nourished, rested, grounded—you give from overflow, not from emptiness. And everyone benefits from that version of you.

Self-Care Isn’t a Luxury—It’s a Responsibility

Somewhere along the way, we started seeing self-care as optional—as a bubble bath or a bonus. But self-care is how you keep yourself whole. It’s how you stay aligned. It’s the system check that makes sure you’re not running on fumes.

It’s not always glamorous. Sometimes, self-care is a boundary. Sometimes it’s canceling plans. Sometimes it’s letting someone else figure it out, even when you could fix it. It’s trusting that people can handle their own discomfort—and that it’s not your job to keep everything calm.

The truth is, constantly putting others first is often rooted in fear: What if they get mad? What if they leave? What if they think I’m selfish?

But ask yourself this: If you keep abandoning yourself to meet everyone else’s needs, what are you teaching them? That your needs don’t matter. That you’ll always sacrifice yourself. That love looks like martyrdom.

It doesn’t.

Show Up for You—First

Putting your own mask on first means taking inventory of your energy. It means asking: Am I okay? What do I need right now? Am I being honest about my limits?

When you start showing up for yourself, everything shifts. Your relationships become more balanced. Your boundaries become clearer. You stop saying yes when you mean no. You stop fixing what isn’t yours. And you start building a life that includes you.

This doesn’t mean you stop helping others. It just means you stop bleeding out for them. You choose to care without collapsing. You choose to support without suffocating. You choose to love from wholeness—not from empty lungs.

You’re not here to save everyone. You’re here to be you. And that’s more than enough.

So the next time you feel that urge to abandon yourself to keep the peace, to overextend just to be liked, or to put everyone ahead of you—pause. Breathe. Reach for your own mask first.

That’s not weakness. That’s wisdom.

SLAY Reflection

  1. Do you feel guilty putting your needs before others? Why?
  2. What areas of your life have suffered because you’ve neglected yourself?
  3. When was the last time you truly paused and checked in with you?
  4. How would your life change if you consistently put your needs first?
  5. What’s one small act of self-care you can commit to today?

S – Stop and assess what you really need
L – Let go of guilt tied to prioritizing yourself
A – Allow yourself to rest, recharge, and reset
Y – Yield to your own healing so you can truly thrive

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What does putting your own mask on first look like for you—and how has it changed your life?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who always puts themselves last, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

Confirmation Bias

We all want to believe we’re right. That the thoughts we have are the truth. That what we fear is valid. That what we suspect about others is accurate. And so, often without realizing it, we go looking for proof. Not for the truth—but for what we already believe.

That’s confirmation bias.

And it can quietly wreck everything from our relationships to our self-worth.

What Are You Trying to Prove?

Here’s the thing about the human brain: it’s not always looking for truth. It’s looking for evidence that confirms what it already believes.

If your brain believes you’re not good enough, it will dismiss compliments and zero in on criticism.

If your brain thinks no one can be trusted, it will interpret a delayed text or a short tone as betrayal.

If you believe someone doesn’t like you, you’ll search their face and their actions for the tiniest piece of proof—and you’ll find it, even if it isn’t real.

We all do it. It’s human.

But when we act on that bias instead of reality, we reinforce the story we already believe—and miss the opportunity for connection, growth, and healing.

When I Believed the Worst

For a long time, I believed I was unworthy. That no matter how hard I tried, it was never enough. That I would always be the one left behind.

So I looked for proof.

I clung to any sign of rejection. I dismissed care or kindness because I assumed it wouldn’t last. I assumed I was being judged, even when no one was paying attention to me.

I thought I was being self-aware. I thought I was protecting myself.

But what I was really doing was building a case against myself, collecting data that wasn’t even true. And every time I gave weight to a moment of perceived rejection, I was closing a door. I was missing a chance to see that maybe the story I was telling myself wasn’t the whole truth.

And if it wasn’t the truth? Maybe I wasn’t broken after all.

How to Break the Bias

Awareness is everything.

Next time you find yourself thinking, “See? I knew it,” pause.

Ask yourself:

What am I trying to prove right now? And is this actually true—or just familiar?

Confirmation bias feels like safety. It feels like control. But really, it’s just an old loop. One you can break.

Try asking someone you trust for a reality check. Or write down your belief and then list the evidence for and against it.

Better yet, ask yourself: Would I talk to someone I love the way I’m talking to myself right now?

SLAY Reflection

Ask yourself:

  • What beliefs do I keep trying to prove?
  • Where did those beliefs come from?
  • How is confirmation bias limiting my relationships?
  • Do I trust my thoughts more than I trust what’s real?
  • What would it feel like to look for evidence of the opposite being true?

S – L – A – Y

S: Spot the belief that keeps repeating.
L: Listen for the moment you start searching for proof.
A: Ask yourself what else could be true.
Y: Yield to possibility. It’s where healing begins.

Call to Action: Join the Conversation
I’d love to hear from you.
What’s a belief you’ve spent a long time trying to prove—and what happened when you questioned it?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

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

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.