SlayOn

Break The Chains

There are so many chains we build in our lives—chains that bind us to the past, to old ways of thinking, to hurts that never healed, and to expectations that were never really ours. We start building them early, learning from what we see, what we’re told, and what we internalize. Over time, we add link after link until we’re dragging around the weight of it all, wondering why we feel so stuck, so tired, and so heavy.

We cling to resentment, to unspoken anger, to the life we thought we should have, the love we thought we deserved, and the promises we believed would be kept. Those chains become part of our identity, and we don’t even realize how much they’re holding us back.

The Weight I Carried

Before I stepped into recovery, I was dragging an entire lifetime of chains. They weren’t just memories—they were burdens, binding me to people and situations I should have let go of a long time ago. I thought breaking them would be impossible. They were too heavy, too tangled, too deeply woven into my story.

But breaking the chains wasn’t impossible—it was just uncomfortable. It took honesty, a willingness to examine what was truly mine to carry and what I could release. It meant confronting the stories I told myself, the grudges I nurtured, and the fear that kept me tethered.

With help, I started cutting links, one by one. Some chains fell away easily; others took time, patience, and forgiveness. And there are still chains I’m working on—because some habits are stubborn, and some attachments are harder to break.

Learning to Let Go

As I broke free from those old chains, I realized something important: they hadn’t been protecting me like I thought. They were limiting me. They were keeping me small. Letting go wasn’t just about feeling lighter; it was about opening myself up to possibilities I’d never imagined.

It’s tempting to build new chains to replace the old ones, to reach for safety and control in the unfamiliar. But I remind myself that those chains never kept me safe—they kept me trapped.

Our lives can be as free as we allow them to be. The power is ours to break the chains that bind us and step into the light of a new way of living.

SLAY OF THE DAY

Do you recognize the chains you’re carrying?
Are they old resentments, limiting beliefs, or attachments that no longer serve you?
Why do you hold onto them?
How do they harm you?
What would it feel like to let them go?
Start today—cut one link. Your freedom is waiting.

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What chains are you breaking right now? What has helped you find your freedom?
Share your story in the comments and let’s encourage each other to keep cutting those chains.
And if you know someone who’s struggling to let go, send this their way. Sometimes, all we need is a reminder that we hold the key.

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.