self awareness

If You’re Strong Enough To Destroy Something, You’re Strong Enough To Repair It

There was a time when I believed strength meant walking away.
Ending things.
Burning it all down before anyone could get too close.

And I had a lot of strength.

But I didn’t always use it for good.

Especially toward the end of certain chapters in my life, I used my strength to destroy:
Relationships. Opportunities. Myself.

Sometimes intentionally.
Other times, impulsively.
But almost always out of fear.

Fear of being exposed.
Fear of being seen as damaged.
Fear of being me.

So I built walls. I pushed people out. I burned bridges and convinced myself I didn’t have the strength to fix any of it.

But that wasn’t true.

What I didn’t have was the humility to try.

I had the strength all along. I just didn’t yet understand what real strength looked like.

Because real strength doesn’t lie in the destruction.
It lives in the repair.

It’s easy to tear something down.
It’s much harder to own your part and build something better in its place.

But that’s where we grow.
That’s where healing happens.

When I began to get better, I slowly learned how to channel that strength in a new direction.
One that looked more like forgiveness.
Like compassion.
Like showing up for myself and the people I loved.

I stopped using my strength to protect the wound and started using it to heal.

Here’s what else I learned:

That voice in your head—the one that says you’re “stronger alone” or that you’re “cutting off what doesn’t serve you”—sometimes it’s not wisdom.

Sometimes it’s fear talking.
Sometimes it’s pain pretending to be power.

There’s a difference between walking away to honor yourself and walking away to avoid yourself.

I’ve done both.

I’ve ended relationships and convinced myself I was doing the strong thing… when really, I was just afraid to look at the part I played in their breakdown.

It’s easier to point the finger.
It’s harder to say, “I chose this dynamic.”
“I allowed this behavior.”
“I contributed to the pain.”

But that’s the work.

That’s the kind of strength that transforms everything.

And here’s the beautiful part:

The more we practice using our strength to build, the more of it we gain.
Just like self-esteem comes from estimable acts, our inner strength multiplies when we use it for repair, growth, and truth.

We become stronger when we’re brave enough to face ourselves.

To say the hard thing.
To make the amends.
To walk toward the mess instead of away from it.

Because if you’re strong enough to destroy something…

You’re strong enough to repair it.

SLAY Reflection

S – SHOW UP: Are you using your strength to avoid, escape, or destroy? Or to face, heal, and rebuild?

L – LEARN: What’s one moment where your strength showed up in a way that surprised you?

A – ACCEPT: Can you accept that real strength might look like softness, honesty, or vulnerability?

Y – YOU MATTER: What’s something broken that you still have the power to repair?

BONUS: What could change if you used your strength for good—starting today?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
Have you ever used your strength to heal something you once damaged?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s struggling with what it means to be strong, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

Say Thank You, Even If You Don’t Like It

I know what you’re thinking — why would I say thank you for something I didn’t want?

Why would I be grateful for disappointment?
For loss?
For situations that didn’t go my way?
For things that hurt, frustrated me, or felt unfair?

For a long time, I wouldn’t have.

I used to divide my life into simple categories:
good if it benefited me,
bad if it didn’t.

If I got what I wanted, it was positive.
If I didn’t, it was negative.

But life has a way of teaching you that those labels don’t actually hold much truth.

Learning to See Differently

Over time, I started noticing something about myself.

When something didn’t go my way, I could choose to sit in frustration…
or I could choose to look for the lesson.

And almost every single time, there was one.

Sometimes the lesson was about me —
that I needed to prepare better,
ask better questions,
set clearer expectations,
communicate more honestly,
or let go of control.

Sometimes the lesson was about other people —
their limits,
their patterns,
their boundaries,
their capacity.

Sometimes the lesson was simply learning humility.
Learning grace.
Learning patience.
Learning acceptance.

None of those situations felt good in the moment —
but every single one shaped me.

Gratitude Wasn’t Natural for Me — It Was Learned

This wasn’t something that came naturally.

I had to practice it.

I had to stop immediately labeling things as “bad”
and start asking myself:

What can I learn from this?
What is this teaching me?
What is this showing me about myself?
How can this help me grow next time?

When I started doing that, something shifted internally.

I stopped feeling like life was happening to me
and started feeling like life was working for me.

Even when it didn’t feel good.

The Shift From Resentment to Grace

I realized how easy it is to live in bitterness when things don’t go our way.

It’s easy to feel wronged.
To feel blocked.
To feel unlucky.
To feel like life is unfair.

I’ve lived there.

But when I started practicing gratitude — not just for what felt good, but for what taught me — I felt a shift from poor me to fortunate me.

Not because everything was perfect.
Not because everything worked out.
But because everything had meaning.

Everything had purpose.
Everything carried information.
Everything offered growth.

This Is What Living in Grace Looks Like for Me

Living in grace doesn’t mean pretending things don’t hurt.

It doesn’t mean bypassing emotion.
It doesn’t mean spiritualizing pain.
It doesn’t mean toxic positivity.

It means choosing perspective.

Choosing to look for learning instead of loss.
Choosing growth instead of bitterness.
Choosing awareness instead of blame.

For me, this is what living in a State Of Slay™ actually means.

Not controlling life —
but trusting it.

Not resisting experiences —
but extracting wisdom from them.

Why I Say Thank You Anyway

I say thank you because I grew.
Because I learned.
Because I became wiser.
Because I became more aware.
Because I became more grounded.

Not because I liked it.
Not because it felt good.
Not because it was easy.

But because it shaped me.

Every experience becomes a teacher when I let it.

Choosing Gratitude Changes Everything

When I look for the good, I find the good.
When I look for the lesson, I grow.
When I choose gratitude, I create peace.

This doesn’t mean I’m perfect at it.
This doesn’t mean I never get frustrated.
This doesn’t mean I don’t feel disappointed.

But I live here more often than not — and that’s enough to change everything.

Say Thank You, Even If You Don’t Like It

Say thank you for the lesson.
Say thank you for the clarity.
Say thank you for the redirection.
Say thank you for the growth.
Say thank you for the wisdom.

Even when you didn’t want it.
Even when it hurt.
Even when it felt unfair.

Be grateful.
Learn.
Grow.
Find the good.
Create the good.
Be the good.

SLAY Reflection

Let’s reflect, SLAYER:

S: What situations in your life do you still label as “bad”?
L: What might those experiences have taught you that you’ve overlooked?
A: How would your mindset shift if you practiced gratitude instead of resentment?
Y: What is one experience you can say thank you for today — even if you didn’t like it?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What’s something in your life you didn’t want — but ended up learning from?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone stuck in bitterness or disappointment, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

Ignoring The Facts Doesn’t Make Them Go Away

You can’t pretend the facts don’t exist.
You may ignore them, twist them, or bury them deep—but they don’t vanish.

When we avoid truth—because it’s too painful, too inconvenient, or too scary—we don’t protect ourselves. We injure ourselves.

Truth, no matter how sharp, is the foundation for growth. Without grounding in what is, we drift into fiction, stories, and confusion.

The Temptation to Deny

Feelings are persuasive. Our minds can convince us “this isn’t happening,” “that person didn’t mean it,” or “I’ll worry tomorrow.”

I used to be a master at it. I saw only what I wanted to see to preserve my story. Over time, I blurred the line between fact and fantasy until I couldn’t tell the difference.

But ignoring the truth doesn’t erase it—it delays the consequences. The costs only build: regret, confusion, broken relationships, self-betrayal.

Avoidance is a short-term refuge with long-term bankruptcy.

When Facts Feel Too Heavy to Hold

Sometimes the facts we need to face are terrifying.

  • “This relationship is toxic.”

  • “I’m not being honest with myself.”

  • “I’ve been settling.”

The pull to deny them is real. It’s easier to live in a comfortable lie than wrestle with the weight of truth.

But the irony is this: truth brings liberation. Even when it hurts, it frees you from the prison of your own illusions.

What the Facts Give You

When you embrace reality—even the parts you don’t like—you gain:

  • Clarity. You see what’s actually happening, not what you fear is happening.

  • Authority. You can act from truth, not fear.

  • Power. You no longer cede control to illusions or assumptions.

  • Growth. You move forward with integrity instead of spinning in confusion.

Facts aren’t magic. They don’t always heal instantly. But they give you the platform to heal intentionally.

How to Face the Facts

It takes courage—and consistency. But here’s how you begin:

  1. Ask yourself: What do I know to be true?
    In moments of chaos, pause. What fact can you anchor to—no matter how small?

  2. Stop arguing with evidence.
    When you catch yourself resisting what’s clear, name it: “I’m fighting the facts because I’m scared.”

  3. Document what you see.
    Journaling, voice notes, voice memos—let the truth come out in the light.

  4. Let the facts guide action.
    Knowing something is true isn’t passive. Use it to make decisions, to set boundaries, to course-correct.

  5. Practice radical acceptance.
    Acceptance doesn’t mean liking what is. It means not wasting your energy resisting it. Use your focus for forward motion.

Truth in the Toolbox

I now carry “facts” in my SLAY toolbox—tools I use daily.
They help me discern between inner drama and real problems.
They help me take responsibility where I need it, and release what isn’t mine.
They help me walk confidently in my life, not guided by fear.

Yes, sometimes facts will cut deep. But you’re meant to walk through the fire—not be burned by it.

SLAY Reflection

  1. What facts in your life are you avoiding or denying?

  2. How has ignoring them hurt you—emotionally, mentally, relationally?

  3. What’s one small truth you can own today (even if it feels scary)?

  4. How might your life shift if you stopped arguing with evidence?

  5. What action can you take now based on what is, not what you wish it were?

S – Stop ignoring what you already know
L – Let truth, not fear, be your guide
A – Act from what you see, not what you imagine
Y – Yield to integrity—let your life be shaped by real facts

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What’s one fact you’ve been avoiding—and how could facing it change your life?
Share your reflection in the comments. Let’s grow together in honesty.

And if you know someone who’s trapped by denial or stories, send this to them.
Sometimes, truth is the first arrow we need to slay illusions.

Falling Down Is Part Of The Process

When we step into a new chapter—filled with intention, purpose, and growth—we often expect things to go smoothly. We’re showing up, doing the work, making better choices… shouldn’t that mean we’re past the hard parts?

Not quite.

Falling down is part of the process. Always has been. Always will be.

I’ve learned more from my falls than I ever have from my wins. Those stumbles gave me new tools, revealed blind spots, and taught me that even when there isn’t a clear solution, I’m strong enough to get back up again.

Falling isn’t failure—it’s feedback.

Setbacks Aren’t Stop Signs

It’s easy to feel discouraged when things don’t go the way we hoped.

When you’re working so hard to be better, live authentically, and move forward, setbacks can feel personal. It’s frustrating. It’s deflating. But here’s the truth: setbacks don’t mean you’re off track—they mean you’re on it.

Every fall is an opportunity to pause, reflect, and ask:

  • What did this moment teach me?

  • What was my part in it?

  • What new tool or insight can I take forward from here?

If everything went perfectly all the time, we wouldn’t learn much. We wouldn’t build strength. And we definitely wouldn’t develop the resilience we need for long-term growth.

Every Fall Is Just Information

Let’s take the drama out of the fall.

Not every stumble is a crisis. Not every setback is a disaster. Sometimes it’s just a signpost that says: Not this way. Try another.

When we start to look at our missteps as information—not identity—we take back our power.

A fall doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means something needed your attention.

Maybe you weren’t doing what you needed to do.
Maybe you missed a red flag.
Maybe the lesson was simply about learning how to stand back up.

Whatever the reason, the fall isn’t the end. It’s just part of the path.

Falling Forward with Intention

Some of the most painful moments in my life were the result of my own choices—or lack of action. But with each one, I had a decision to make: let the fall define me, or let it refine me.

If we ignore what the fall is trying to teach us, it’s likely we’ll end up back in that same spot—only this time it’ll hurt more, because we’ll know better.

But if we take the time to reflect, gather what we need, and move forward differently, we turn what was once a painful experience into a stepping stone toward something better.

Keep Showing Up

The key isn’t avoiding every fall. That’s impossible. The key is learning how to rise, gather the lesson, and keep moving.

No matter how hard you fall, you can get back up.
No matter how lost you feel, you can find your way again.

Eventually, you’ll recognize the patterns. You’ll learn where the pitfalls are. And you’ll start to navigate the path with more confidence.

Falling doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re growing.
And growth is never a straight line—it’s a beautifully messy journey.

SLAY Reflection

Let’s reflect together, SLAYER:

  • S: What’s your usual reaction when you fall—do you give up or get curious?

  • L: Can you recall a setback that led to growth or a better decision later on?

  • A: How can you start viewing setbacks as information rather than personal failure?

  • Y: What’s one fall you can reframe today as a stepping stone instead of a stopping point?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
When was the last time you fell, and what did it teach you?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who feels defeated by a recent fall, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

Setting Them Free Frees You

There was a time in my life when I thought holding onto anger meant strength.
That if I stayed upset long enough, if I replayed what happened often enough, somehow justice would balance itself out.

But the truth I eventually had to face was much simpler and much harder:

Resentment does not bind the other person. It binds you.

And when I finally understood that, everything about forgiveness started to shift.

Because letting someone go was never about them.
It was always about me.

About my peace.
My energy.
My ability to move forward without dragging the past behind me like a heavy suitcase I never unpacked.

And maybe you have felt that too.

When Anger Becomes an Attachment

Holding resentment creates a strange connection.
Even if someone is no longer physically in your life, emotionally they still occupy space.

You think about them.
You replay conversations.
You imagine what you would say if given another chance.
You rehearse arguments in your head that may never happen.

I have done all of that.

And honestly, it was exhausting.

There is a saying that resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.
I resisted that idea at first because it felt too dramatic.

But over time I saw how accurate it was.

My sleep suffered.
My mood shifted.
My joy dimmed.
And none of it affected the other person at all.

That realization was sobering.

Because suddenly it was clear: I was not punishing them.
I was punishing myself.

Forgiveness Is Not About Letting Them Off the Hook

This part is important, and I wish someone had said it to me sooner.

Forgiveness does not mean:

  • What happened was acceptable

  • You have to reconnect with the person

  • You forget the experience

  • You stop having feelings about it

Forgiveness simply means you decide not to keep carrying the emotional weight anymore.

That is it.

You are not excusing behavior.
You are reclaiming your peace.

And honestly, that is one of the most self loving choices you can make.

My Turning Point

For me, the shift happened gradually, not all at once.

I realized that staying angry kept me anchored in moments I did not want to relive.
It kept my attention focused backward instead of forward.

And I had worked too hard on healing, growth, and self awareness to keep sacrificing my peace for someone else’s actions.

So I started asking myself a different question:

Does holding onto this help me become who I want to be?

The answer was always no.

Every single time.

That is when I began to understand that setting someone free emotionally was actually setting myself free.

What Letting Go Actually Looks Like

Forgiveness is rarely a dramatic moment.
It is often a quiet internal decision.

Sometimes it looks like:

Choosing not to revisit the story again
Deciding not to engage in conversations that reopen the wound
Redirecting your energy toward your own life
Allowing space for new experiences

And sometimes it is as simple as saying, internally:

“I release this. I deserve peace.”

You do not even have to tell the other person.

Often, forgiveness is an entirely private act.

Steps That Helped Me Move Forward

There was no single formula, but there were a few things that consistently helped.

Acceptance

I had to accept that the event happened exactly as it did.
Not how I wished it had happened.
Not how I thought it should have happened.

Just reality.

Acceptance removes the constant mental argument with the past.

And that alone can bring enormous relief.

Finding Growth

Even painful situations carry information.

Sometimes they teach us boundaries.
Sometimes they sharpen our intuition.
Sometimes they show us what we will never tolerate again.

Growth does not justify the hurt.
But it can transform it.

And transformation is powerful.

Perspective

Looking at situations from another angle does not excuse behavior.
It simply broadens understanding.

People act from their own wounds, fears, and limitations.

Recognizing that helped me detach emotionally without minimizing my experience.

Checking What Serves You

This was the biggest one for me.

Does holding onto anger improve your life?
Your health?
Your relationships?
Your happiness?

Usually, it does not.

Letting go often serves you far more than staying angry ever could.

Creating Closure Yourself

Sometimes, closure never comes externally.

No apology.
No explanation.
No final conversation.

Learning to create closure internally is a life skill.

Writing a letter you never send.
Talking it through with a trusted friend.
Praying, meditating, journaling.

Whatever works for you.

Closure is not always given.
Sometimes it is chosen.

Freedom Is the Real Goal

When I released resentments, I noticed something surprising:

I had more energy.
More creativity.
More patience.
More emotional bandwidth for the people who actually deserved it.

Forgiveness cleared space.

And that space allowed joy back in.

Not immediately.
But steadily.

Protecting Peace Going Forward

Forgiveness does not mean repeating patterns.

In fact, it often makes boundaries clearer.

You can forgive and still:

Limit contact
Change how you engage
Choose distance
Protect your emotional well-being

Forgiveness and boundaries are not opposites.
They often work together beautifully.

A Note From My Heart to Yours

If you are holding onto anger right now, I get it.

Truly.

There were times I thought I would never let certain things go.
Times I believed my anger was justified and permanent.

But I promise you this:

Peace feels better than being right.
Freedom feels better than holding a grudge.
Healing feels better than staying stuck.

You deserve that.

Not someday.
Now.

SLAY Reflection

Surrender
What resentment are you currently carrying?

Listen
How does holding onto it affect your emotional well-being?

Accept
Can you accept the reality of what happened without rewriting it?

Yield
What would letting go create space for in your life?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I would love to hear from you.
Have you ever experienced freedom after letting go of resentment or forgiving someone?

Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who might need this reminder, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

What Is Your Anger Telling You?

We’ve all felt it—that boiling surge of frustration, the kind that hits you like a tidal wave and demands to be noticed. But here’s a question we don’t ask often enough: What is your anger really trying to tell you?

It’s easy to blame the person or situation in front of us, but most of the time, the fury isn’t actually about the moment at hand. It’s about something deeper. A past hurt. A lingering wound. A time you weren’t heard, respected, protected. So before you explode, pause. Ask yourself: Where is this really coming from?

The Root Beneath the Rage

For many of us, anger is an old friend. It comes from childhood trauma, from being dismissed, silenced, bullied, or made to feel small. When those memories go unprocessed, they fester. And when something in the present taps on that old bruise?

We react.

And we react big.

I used to live in that space. I didn’t always know why I was so angry, but it was always simmering, ready to spill. I lashed out. I snapped. And more often than not, I had to circle back with an apology to someone who got hit with the shrapnel of my unresolved pain.

But here’s the thing: that anger was valuable. It wasn’t just chaos—it was a clue. A road map pointing me to the places inside that still needed healing.

So What Do You Do With It?

If you’re like me, you may need some help unpacking your anger. And that’s okay. Anger is loud. It covers things up. But underneath it?

There’s usually sadness. Hurt. Shame. Fear.

When you get curious instead of combative, you give yourself the power to shift from reactive to responsive.

Here are five practices that help me navigate my anger today:

  1. Pause. Don’t fire back. Stop and ask, What’s really going on here? Is this familiar? Is this even about now? You don’t get bonus points for quick comebacks. Take the time you need.
  2. Breathe. Deep breaths help regulate your nervous system and quiet the noise in your brain. One breath. Then another. You are safe.
  3. Seek solutions. If you can calm down enough, shift your focus to finding a way forward. It’s okay to say, “I’m upset, but I want to figure this out.” That’s powerful.
  4. Use “I” statements. Avoid blame. Lead with your experience. “I feel overwhelmed when…” lands better than “You never…”
  5. Release the grudge. Let go of the need to be right. If you’ve expressed yourself and nothing changes, honor your truth and move on. Not everything deserves a permanent place in your energy.

You Deserve Peace

Here’s what I know now: we are not built to live in a state of constant rage. That’s not power, that’s pain. And it will eat you from the inside if you don’t find a healthier way to understand it.

Be the detective. Find your triggers. Get curious about your reactions. Let your anger lead you to the parts of yourself that still need attention—then offer those parts compassion.

When you do the work, when you learn to listen, anger becomes less of a wrecking ball and more of a compass.

And that, my friend, is how you slay.

SLAY Reflection

  1. What tends to trigger your anger most often?
  2. Can you trace that trigger back to something deeper?
  3. How do you typically react when angry? Do you like how that feels afterward?
  4. What are some healthier ways you could express or explore your anger?
  5. What might your anger be trying to teach you about what still needs healing?

S-L-A-Y:

  • Stop and pause when anger hits
  • Look for the root beneath the reaction
  • Acknowledge your feelings without shame
  • You have the power to choose peace over chaos

Call to Action: Join the Conversation
I’d love to hear from you.
What is your anger really trying to tell you?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s struggling with anger, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a reminder.