You know those moments when you suddenly realize you've been living your life on autopilot? That's where I found myself 6 years ago, sitting in my office, coffee getting cold, when it hit me like a ton of bricks. I had spent decades trying to be what everyone else needed me to be, and somewhere along the way, I lost track of myself.
In the space where my childhood should have flourished, I never knew what I was missing. When shadows are all you've known, you don't recognize them as shadows - they're just the world as it is. I don't say this for sympathy, it's just my reality. Growing up in an environment where my needs came last taught me to dim my light and exist only for others' approval.
I became really good at it too, that shape-shifting thing where you can walk into a room and immediately sense what people want from you. It's like having an emotional weather vane constantly spinning on top of your head. Exhausting.
The interesting thing about patterns formed in childhood though… They don't just disappear when you grow up. They follow you, quietly dictating your choices until one day you're sitting with cold coffee wondering whose life you've been living all this time.
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Our deepest pain often becomes our greatest portal to healing. I'm learning to see it this way now. Those early wounds that taught me to make myself small? They're actually doorways if I'm brave enough to walk through them.
I've spent a lot of time with myself trying to "fix" these broken parts of myself. But lately, I'm taking a different approach. I'm honoring these wounds not as permanent scars but as openings to a more authentic life.
I've come to understand something special that feels like a miracle in my own life, those tender, wounded places in our hearts, the ones that have experienced the deepest pain? They mysteriously become the very soil where our most profound strength and intuitive wisdom take root and bloom.
With each step toward reclaiming my voice, I come back to myself. Sometimes this means saying "no" when I would usually say "yes." Sometimes it means sitting with uncomfortable emotions instead of rushing to fix everyone else's problems. Often, it means letting go of relationships that only worked when I was willing to be less than who I am.
This journey isn't always pretty. There are days when I catch myself slipping back into old patterns, when the pull to shrink myself for someone else's comfort feels as familiar as my favorite sweater. In those moments, I've learned to hold space for myself instead of judging. I breathe into the discomfort and offer reassurances like I would to my daughters.
This whole process of unlearning old habits and remembering who I really am happens on its own divine schedule, it unfolds naturally in perfect universal timing that can't be rushed or forced into some neat plan, no matter how impatient my ego gets. The universe knows exactly when I'm ready for each lesson and revelation. Sometimes I have to remind myself to trust the process and know that everything is aligning exactly as it should.
***
The child within still waits, patient and hopeful, ready to teach me how to play again. I'm learning to listen to her more. She didn't get much chance to show up back then, but now I'm curious about what she has to say.
You know... That kid in me remembers how to experience joy without conditions. She knows how to be present without worrying about being perfect. When I connect with her, I remember that spontaneous delight isn't something I lost, it's something I covered up.
So I'm doing things that might seem silly to others. I used my kid's crayons and drew without caring if it's "good." I sang out loud in my car when no one was listening. I said what I actually think instead of what I think others want to hear. Small rebellions, maybe, but they feel good.
This healing journey isn't about blame, it's about remembering who I was before I was taught to forget. My parents did the best they could with what they had. They carried their own wounds, their own forgotten selves. Understanding this doesn't excuse the hurt, but it helps me move beyond resentment into something more spacious.
Only just recently I learned that blame keeps me stuck in this victim mode. It might feel justified (and sometimes it absolutely is), but at the end of the day it keeps me tethered to the old stories. And I'm ready for a new story, one where I finally get to be the author.
***
In loving myself today, I finally give my inner child the nurturing presence she always deserved. Sometimes I literally talk to my younger self, I tell her the things she needed to hear back then. "Your feelings matter. Your voice matters. You don't have to earn your love."
For me, this isn't about getting stuck in what happened back then. It's more like I'm gathering all these scattered pieces of myself and gently bringing them home. When I started offering myself the kind of love and understanding I craved as a child, something deep within me began to heal. I noticed old patterns softening and releasing their hold, as if my body finally feels safe to let go of the armor that protected me.
I'm still very much a work in progress on this journey. Some days I still catch myself shrinking to fit into someone else's expectations. My body often acts on old survival patterns before my mind can catch up. What's different now isn't that these instincts have disappeared, it's that I can feel them happening in real time. That awareness creates a pause, a small but sacred space where I can take a breath and remember I'm not a kid and be afraid anymore. I am an adult and brave enough to choose myself instead.
I heard that the healing journey isn't linear. It's more like a spiral that we keep encountering the same lessons but at deeper levels. Each time around, we have more compassion, more wisdom, more willingness to stay present.
So here I am, learning to flourish despite my shadow side. Learning that joy isn't something to be earned but something to experience and cherish. Learning that in loving myself fully, I am capable of authentic love for others too.
And if you're on a similar journey of remembering who you are beneath the layers of who you were told to be, know that you're not alone. We're all just walking each other home to our truest selves.
Reading your words, as someone who is in the thick of unlearning old patterns, offered great and beautiful insight into my current season. Thank you for sharing what you’ve learned along in your journey 💛
So beautiful so hear from you again. This piece resonated deeply with me.