self awareness

Fighting Your Own Battle

Most of us have heard the phrase: Be kind, for everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about. It’s a gentle reminder to extend grace to others. But here’s the truth that hits a little deeper: Sometimes we do know what battle someone is facing—and we’re still trying to fight our own.

It’s hard enough to stay present in our own struggle. Add in someone else’s chaos, triggers, or unresolved pain, and suddenly your progress feels shaky, your peace interrupted, your healing…unraveled.

I Had to Learn to Fight for Myself First

For years, I didn’t know how to fight my own battle. I carried old wounds, outdated beliefs, and habits that didn’t serve me—but they were familiar. They felt like truth.

Over time, I found my stride. I learned to live with my battle in a way that felt healthy, loving, and sustainable. But the journey wasn’t smooth. I assumed that because I was working so hard to grow, change, and heal…everyone else was too.

Spoiler alert: They weren’t.

That assumption pulled me down more than once. I had to stop seeing people for their potential and start meeting them exactly where they were. It wasn’t my job to rescue anyone or walk their path for them.

I had to protect my own peace—not because I was better, but because I was responsible for keeping myself well. And that meant accepting that not everyone is ready to do their work. Not everyone wants to. Not everyone knows how. And that’s not my battle to fight.

Other People’s Battles Are Not Yours to Lose

There will be people in your life who trigger things you thought you’d healed. It might not even make sense in the moment. But their words, tone, or behavior can hit a nerve connected to a wound from long ago.

Or maybe they remind you of yourself—an older version of you, or a part of you you’re still trying to change. And instead of compassion, you find yourself feeling judgmental or impatient.

When that happens, pause. Ask yourself:

Is this really about them—or is it about something unhealed in me?

We can’t control how others show up. But we can decide how much power we give them. If you’re agitated, it’s your responsibility to ask why.

That doesn’t mean blaming yourself. It means getting curious about your own reactions.

If someone’s behavior is affecting your peace and you can’t fix the issue—walk away. Let it go. Preserve your space. Protect your peace.

Focus on Your Fight

Your path is yours. So is your pace.

You’re allowed to heal slowly. You’re allowed to outgrow what you’ve outlived. You’re allowed to say, “I love you, but I’m focusing on me right now.”

And you’re also allowed to ask:

Why does this bother me? What is this trying to teach me?

You can’t fight someone else’s battle. They can’t fight yours. And trying to do so only distracts you from your own healing.

You’ve worked too hard to let someone else’s war pull you back into old patterns.

So stay the course. Fight clean. Protect your energy. Stay on your path.

You’re not just fighting—you’re winning. One healthy boundary at a time.

SLAY Reflection

Ask yourself:

  • Are you letting someone else’s energy throw you off track?
  • Do you take on other people’s battles to avoid your own?
  • What triggers you—and what does that trigger reveal about your healing?
  • Can you separate what’s yours from what’s not yours to carry?
  • What boundary can you set today to protect your peace?

S – L – A – Y

S: See what’s truly yours to carry.
L: Listen to what your agitation is telling you.
A: Act by protecting your peace, even if it means walking away.
Y: Yield to your own path—it’s where your healing lives.

Call to Action: Join the Conversation
I’d love to hear from you.
Have you ever found yourself fighting someone else’s battle instead of your own?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s struggling to stay in their own lane, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

Expressing Emotion Is A Strength Not A Character Flaw

Let’s get one thing straight: your emotions aren’t flaws—they’re signals. And when you express them, especially the hard ones, you’re not being dramatic—you’re being brave.

I used to think otherwise. I believed showing emotion made me weak, messy, or a burden. So I swallowed my sadness. I masked my fear. I let anger lead because it felt powerful—until it didn’t.

What I didn’t realize then is what I know now:

Pretending you’re fine when you’re not doesn’t make you strong—it keeps you stuck.

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

I Wasn’t Okay, and That’s Okay

Before I found this path, I believed the lie that being emotional meant I was broken. I wore “I’m fine” like armor. But underneath? I was drowning.

I thought if I kept it all inside, I’d stay in control. But all I did was isolate myself.

When I finally whispered, “I’m not okay,” I expected the world to crumble.

It didn’t.

Instead, it got quieter. Lighter. Kinder.

Speaking Truth Set Me Free

I started sharing more—first in small, scared ways. A tear I didn’t hide. A truth I told out loud. And I discovered something wild:

My emotions didn’t make me weak. They made me real.

And in being real, I connected.

People didn’t run. They leaned in.

They said, “Me too.”

Expression Became My Strength

Every time I gave my emotions a voice, I took my power back.

  • I wasn’t hiding.
  • I wasn’t shrinking.
  • I was healing.

I stopped believing the lie that vulnerability is a liability. I started believing this instead:

Telling the truth—even when your voice shakes—is the most powerful thing you can do.

Boundaries Matter. So Does Honesty.

Let me be clear: You don’t have to spill your soul to everyone. Not all feelings need a stage—but they do deserve space.

Even saying a simple, “I’m not okay right now” can be the start of something powerful.

Because emotional honesty doesn’t just free you—it invites others to show up too.

And that’s how we build the connection we crave.

SLAY Reflection

Ask yourself:

  • Are you hiding your feelings to appear “strong”?
  • What one emotion are you holding in right now?
  • What do you fear will happen if you express it?
  • What do you hope might happen if you do?
  • Who is one safe person you could open up to this week?

Your voice deserves to be heard—especially by you.

S – L – A – Y

S: Stop pretending you’re fine when you’re not.
L: Listen to your emotions without judgment.
A: Allow yourself to feel and share.
Y: Yield to the healing power of emotional honesty.

Call to Action: Join the Conversation
I’d love to hear from you.
What emotion have you been holding in—and what might change if you gave it a voice?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s been holding it all in, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

The Shame And Guilt Quilt

When I was deep in my illness, I walked around constantly wrapped in the shame and guilt quilt. I had draped it over myself so long it became familiar—almost “safe.” But it wasn’t protecting me. It was hiding me.

I carried guilt, shame, regret—and I let them keep me distant from the people I loved, from solutions that could have helped, and ultimately, from myself. I believed I didn’t deserve better. I believed the quilt was my identity.

When Shame Becomes an Identity

We’ve all done things we regret. We’ve made choices we’re not proud of, acted out of fear or desperation, or compromised who we were for what we thought we needed. That part is human.

What turns normal regret into something destructive is when we let shame and guilt become our identity.
We wear them like badges. We drag them into new relationships, new jobs, new eras. We whisper:

“I’m a shame-person.”
“I’m a guilty person.”

When you think that way, nothing positive can penetrate your armor. The quilt blocks the light. It keeps out healing, connection, authenticity.

—

Why We Keep the Quilt On

There are many reasons we cling to the shame and guilt quilt:

  • Comfort in the familiar. Even if the quilt stifles you, at least you know it.

  • Belief in punishment. “I deserve this.”

  • Fear of change. Letting go means vulnerability.

  • Protection from hope. If you believe you’re unworthy, hope can feel dangerous.

For me, the quilt felt safer than the unknown. Better the pain I knew than having to trust someone else—or myself—to be different.

The Price of Carrying the Quilt

Pulling the quilt around your shoulders is exhausting. It weighs you down in unseen ways.

  • You avoid connection because you think you’re “too much” or “not enough.”

  • You hide portions of your life and truth, self-isolating in the name of “keeping up appearances.”

  • You stop believing you deserve healing, comfort, or unconditional love.

And still—you keep it on. Because the cost of letting it go seems higher than the cost of carrying it.

But here’s what I discovered: the cost of carrying it was far greater than the cost of releasing it.

Choosing to Shed the Quilt

The turning point for me was nearly my last. When I realized I had to step out from under that quilt—or I would lose everything that mattered.

It took:

  • Courage to acknowledge: “I’ve been hiding.”

  • Humility to ask for help.

  • Willingness to unwrap the quilt piece by piece, admitting mistakes, offering amends, offering self‐forgiveness.

One of the biggest revelations was this:

Forgiveness isn’t about excusing what happened—it’s about releasing what happened.

Once I forgave myself, the quilt began to fall. And with each piece I left behind, more light found me. More connection. More freedom.

What Happens When the Quilt Comes Off

When you let go of that old wrapping, a few things start to shift:

  • Your identity changes. You stop seeing yourself as the sum of your mistakes.

  • Your relationships open up. Others don’t have to tiptoe around your walls. You don’t have to hide.

  • Your decisions become driven by growth, not by fear of being found out.

  • Your mental & emotional energy frees up. You’re no longer spending 80 % of your day hiding what you’re trying to heal.

The quilt may have kept you “safe” from being seen—but spending life unseen is a cost you never wanted to pay.

How to Begin Removing Your Quilt

  1. Acknowledge what you’ve carried. Sit with one piece of the quilt—guilt, shame, regret—and name it.

  2. Write it out. Get the shame on paper. Speak out loud what you’ve been hiding.

  3. Ask for help. You don’t have to do this alone. Connection replaces isolation.

  4. Offer yourself forgiveness. “I saw, I felt, I made choices—and now I choose something different.”

  5. Choose differently today. One small boundary, one honest conversation, one act of self-respect. The quilt loosens.

  6. Celebrate unwrapping moments. Each time you live without the weight of a secret, light finds you.

SLAY Reflection

  1. Do you feel like you’re still wrapped in a shame and guilt quilt?

  2. How does carrying it help you—and how does it hurt you?

  3. What would letting it go allow you to feel or do?

  4. How would your day change if you didn’t have to hide parts of yourself?

  5. What is one small step you can take today to un-wrap something you’ve been carrying?

S – See the quilt you’ve been wearing
L – Let the light of truth and forgiveness in
A – Align with your worth beyond your mistakes
Y – Yield to freedom—un-wrap, un-hide, unleash the real you

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What part of your shame and guilt quilt are you ready to set down—and what might you gain when you do?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s walk out of the shadows—together.

And if you know someone who’s still carrying that quilt, send this to them. Sometimes, someone else saying: “You don’t have to keep carrying it,” is enough to help the process begin.

#SlayOn

Name Them, Claim Them, Dump Them

For a long time, I treated my feelings like enemies. I did everything I could to ignore, numb, or bury them—hoping they’d disappear on their own. Spoiler alert: they didn’t.

Sure, I could silence them for a while. Sometimes for years. But those unspoken feelings came at a high cost. Eventually, they nearly cost me my life.

When We Bury Our Feelings, We Bury Ourselves

The longer I ignored my emotions, the louder they got. The more I tried to push them down, the more they pushed back. And when I finally stripped away the things I used to keep them at bay—addiction, distraction, denial—they all came rushing in.

It felt like I was drowning.

But that tidal wave of emotion was the beginning of something new. Something honest. Something healing. I had to learn to acknowledge my feelings—to name them, accept them, and then choose what to do with them.

Name It. Claim It. Dump It.

That became my process. Name it: What exactly am I feeling? Claim it: This is mine. I don’t have to like it, but I have to own it. Dump it: Let go of what no longer serves me.

Some emotions had roots in deep pain, old stories, or unhealthy patterns. Others were tied to my illness—trying to pull me back into the darkness I fought so hard to escape. But once I named them, I could choose whether they stayed.

Not every feeling deserves a seat at your table.

Feelings Don’t Want to Be Ignored

Even now, years into recovery, those old feelings still show up. Sometimes in disguise. Sometimes dressed in new circumstances. But I know better now.

If I ignore them, they grow. If I pretend they aren’t there, they get louder. But if I meet them with truth, honesty, and intention—they lose their power.

Feelings won’t kill you. But hiding from them just might.

I’ve learned that I don’t have to fear my feelings. I just have to deal with them before they deal with me. And when I stay honest, stay kind, and stay vigilant? That’s when I stay free.

SLAY Reflection

  1. Do you try to hide or stuff down your feelings?
  2. What feelings scare you the most—and why?
  3. What have your feelings been trying to tell you lately?
  4. Are you willing to name and claim your emotions?
  5. What outdated feelings are you ready to dump for good?

S-L-A-Y:

  • Slow down and tune in to what you’re feeling.
  • Label it honestly—no shame.
  • Acknowledge what’s useful and what’s not.
  • You get to choose what stays and what goes.

Call to Action: Join the Conversation
I’d love to hear from you.
What feeling are you finally ready to let go of?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s been holding back their feelings, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

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.

You Can’t Mend If You Bend The Truth

There was a moment in my life when the truth became a matter of survival. I had finally found the courage to ask for help, and the first thing I was told was this: “You’re going to have to get rigorously honest with yourself if you want to get well.”

That word—rigorous—felt terrifying. But I was so low, so broken, that I was willing to try anything. So I said yes.

What I didn’t realize at the time was that living in truth wasn’t just about not lying—it was about letting go of every version of myself I had created to survive. I was terrified of being judged. What if they knew the real me? Would they leave? Would they hate me? Even among people whose stories mirrored mine, I still feared I was the worst of us all.

But the truth was the key to my healing.

You’re Only as Sick as Your Secrets

I’d spent so many years twisting the truth that I didn’t even know what was real anymore. I had lied to others, yes—but more dangerously, I had lied to myself. Especially about the parts of me that hurt the most.

I started small. I shared only what I could in the moment. It wasn’t perfect. But it was honest. And with every truth I spoke, I felt lighter. Less alone. More connected.

I learned that almost anything can be forgiven—as long as we’re willing to be honest about it. People aren’t looking for perfection. They’re looking for sincerity. Most of the time, just saying, “I messed up, and I’m sorry,” is enough. But when we bend or dance around the truth, that connection is lost. The wound remains open.

Half-truths don’t set you free. They keep you locked in a pattern of shame.

The truth might be uncomfortable—but it’s nothing compared to the weight of carrying secrets. When we hide behind lies, we stay sick. We stay small. We stay stuck.

Truth Is the Path to Healing

Before I asked for help, my entire life was a tangled web of excuses and justifications. I bent the truth to protect myself, but it only made things worse. The more I lied, the sicker I became.

The day I began telling the truth—to myself, to others, and to the people I had hurt—was the day I started to get well. It was messy. It was raw. But it was real.

And real is where the healing lives.

It’s easy to tell ourselves that we lie to keep others safe. That we hide things to avoid hurting people. But those are just more lies dressed as protection. The truth is, we lie because we’re afraid.

But if we want to grow, we have to get honest—not just in part, but fully. Healing requires the whole truth. That’s how we clean the wound. That’s how we rebuild trust. That’s how we find peace.

You can’t mend what you won’t face.

Let your purpose lead. It knows the way.

SLAY Reflection

  1. Are there places in your life where you bend the truth? Why?
  2. What would change if you told the full truth—first to yourself, then to others?
  3. Have you experienced healing from being honest, even when it was hard?
  4. Are there secrets you’ve been carrying that are weighing you down?
  5. What’s one small truth you can speak today that might set you free?

S – Speak honestly, even when it’s hard
L – Let go of the stories that keep you stuck
A – Acknowledge the pain, then face it with courage
Y – Yield to truth—it’s the only path to healing

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What’s a truth you were once afraid to share, but feel proud for having told?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s been carrying a heavy secret, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

It’s Not The Pain That Helps Us Grow, It’s Our Response To It

Before I stepped onto this path, I walked through a lot of pain.

Not gracefully.
Not reflectively.
More like a storm spinning out of control—reactive, destructive, and exhausting.

I told myself, and was often told by others, that the pain was making me stronger. That suffering was proof of growth. That endurance alone was somehow building character.

But looking back, I can see the truth much more clearly now:

The pain wasn’t strengthening me.
My response to it was weakening me.

And in many cases, I was the source of my own pain.

That realization wasn’t comfortable—but it was freeing. Because it showed me that growth was never about how much pain I endured. It was about what I did after the pain showed up.

Pain Is Inevitable Suffering Is Optional

Pain is part of being human.

We get hurt.
We get disappointed.
We get blindsided—sometimes by others, sometimes by life itself.

But pain alone doesn’t create growth.

Pain without awareness creates repetition.
Pain without reflection creates cycles.
Pain without honesty keeps us stuck.

What determines growth isn’t the pain itself—it’s whether we react from old wounds or respond with clarity.

And there is always a choice.

Reaction Keeps Us Stuck Response Moves Us Forward

There’s a difference between reacting and responding.

Reaction is impulsive.
It’s emotional.
It’s driven by fear, old stories, and survival patterns.

Response is intentional.
It’s grounded.
It’s guided by truth instead of triggers.

When I reacted to pain, I made choices that caused more pain—burning bridges, sabotaging myself, repeating patterns I swore I wanted to escape.

When pain wasn’t self-inflicted, that was where growth became possible—if I was willing to respond instead of explode.

The Myth That Pain Builds Strength

One of the most damaging stories we tell ourselves is that pain itself makes us stronger.

That belief often keeps us tolerating what we shouldn’t.
It keeps us in harmful relationships.
It keeps us justifying self-destructive behavior.

Pain doesn’t build strength.

Choices build strength.

The strength comes from what you learn.
From what you release.
From what you decide not to repeat.

The old narrative—that suffering proves worth or resilience—often keeps us returning to the same sources of harm, believing it’s “part of the process.”

It isn’t.

Getting the Facts Is How We Grow Safely

One of the core truths I return to again and again is this:
When we have the facts, we are safe.

Not the feelings.
Not the assumptions.
Not the stories shaped by past wounds.

The facts.

Looking at pain honestly—without embellishment, blame, or denial—allows us to understand its source. And once we understand the source, we gain power.

Power to choose differently.
Power to set boundaries.
Power to walk away instead of reenacting.

Pain becomes useful only when it’s investigated.

We Always Have More Control Than We Think

Here’s the part that changes everything:

We don’t control whether pain shows up—but we do control how much we let it stay.

We can:

  • Let it fester

  • Turn it into resentment

  • Use it for sympathy

  • Or learn from it and release it

Sometimes simply letting pain go is growth.

Not every wound needs a deep dive. Some lessons are learned by choosing not to engage again.

And when you’re living from self-love and honesty, destructive reactions stop feeling good. Self-sabotage loses its appeal.

Because why tear down something you’re finally learning to build?

Pain Is a Teacher Not a Home

Pain is meant to inform you—not define you.

It shows you where boundaries are needed.
It highlights what isn’t aligned.
It reveals patterns asking to be broken.

But pain is not meant to be lived in.

When you respond with curiosity instead of chaos, pain becomes data. And data leads to discernment. And discernment leads to peace.

That’s growth.

Turning Pain Into a Gift

You may have never paused to ask yourself how you typically respond to pain.

So the next time it shows up, try this:

Strip away the story.
Remove the emotional overlay.
Look at the facts.

What actually happened?
What role did you play?
What part was within your control?
What can you learn?

When you do this, pain stops being something that happens to you—and becomes something that works for you.

The greatest gift pain can offer is information.

And information, used wisely, changes everything.

SLAY Reflection

Let’s reflect, SLAYER:

S: What do you believe is the main source of pain in your life right now?
L: How much of that pain are you creating, allowing, or repeatedly engaging with?
A: When pain shows up, do you tend to react or respond—and how is that serving you?
Y: What could change if you chose to learn from pain instead of letting it control you?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
How has your response to pain shaped your growth—or where do you feel called to respond differently now?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s stuck believing pain itself is the path, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

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.