When I read something that really resonates with me, I have a journal that I capture that sentence or paragraph in. These words help me to understand parts of myself or my life in ways I haven’t been able to, they capture the essence of what I have also experienced or believe to be true. Some books I can consume and write nothing, even although I enjoy them, but reading Belinda Alexandra’s memoirs have resulted in many more journal entries than I’ve written in quite a while.
Belinda is one of my favorite novelists, and her latest book delves into the aftermath of a traumatic event that deeply impacted her life. It is interwoven with the stories of her family and ancestors that have inspired and Emboldened her. Reading about Belinda's recovery process, I couldn't help but notice parallels with my own experiences. When I wrote Who Are You Protecting? Why Telling Your Story Is Powerful I explored the reluctance many of us feel to share our experiences, even though doing so can be profoundly liberating. We often fail to realise that those around us may be enduring similar struggles in silence. Yet, it's these very patterns of secrecy and shame that perpetuate societal issues, underscoring the importance of bringing our stories into the light. In that post, I shared how seemingly ordinary childhood experiences left me hyper-attuned to others, overly sensitive to criticism, and a perfectionist, especially in times of stress. While adaptive in some contexts, these traits proved detrimental to my relationships. Becoming a parent made it clear I needed to address certain aspects of myself, particularly my lack of healthy boundaries. However, it wasn't until I weathered an unexpected separation and the accompanying trauma a few years ago that I truly began to grasp the lessons I needed to learn. Dealing with the legal system to reach agreements was an experience I wouldn't wish upon anyone. While legal advice is essential, I highly recommend mediation with neutral third parties whenever possible. My sense of justice and fairness was severely tested during this time as I received correspondence upon correspondence that appeared completely lacking in acknowledging my rights far less my opinions. One of my favorite insights from Belinda's book is when she describes how, out of her traumatic situation, she became her own best and truest friend for life. "No one will stand up for me better than me," she writes. "The only person guaranteed to be in my life forever is me." This resonated deeply with me. Loved ones may come and go, and professionals may have their own agendas, but the only constant in my life is me. No one can represent me like I can, now that I know myself better. Getting to know myself took time, energy and the willingness to keep learning. It requires being an observer in my own head, heart and body. As Belinda astutely observes, few are willing to undertake this introspective journey, preferring instead to distract themselves from confronting who they truly are – “as if they are afraid of what they might find”. That is no wonder really, since we rejected parts of ourselves unconsciously as kids because they didn’t “fit in” to the family dynamic. Thus we have an unexplored but lurking fear that those parts of us are in some way dangerous to our survival. Yet, it's precisely in these moments of self-confrontation that we uncover our authenticity. As Belinda aptly puts it, "the more grounded I feel within myself, the less vulnerable I feel with others." Among the most common insidious subconscious thought patterns among us humans are "I'm not worthy" and "I'm not good enough." These thoughts hinder us when dealing with people who lack empathy and compassion, and have an attitude of grandiosity or self-entitlement. I had to learn to back myself, understanding that I can't always rely on others to approve of what I do. Somewhere in my mind I had thought that all people would be fair when confronted with rational and reasonable explanations, because that is how life was for me growing up. While I might not have been instantly seen or heard, if I really wanted something I presented an argument and was often acknowledged. Yet life has taught me since that many more people than I would have guessed are literally out for themselves regardless of the cost to others. Some feed on the explanations I was so used to needing to present. As Belinda shared insights gleaned from her research for one of her novels, she suggests that life’s setbacks often harbor the very lessons we need to fulfill our ultimate purpose. While I wouldn’t wish traumatic experiences upon anyone, I've found solace in the opportunities they open for self-discovery and growth, and developing resilience and confidence in the face of adversity. When Belinda talked about "people who – due to their own perverse and disordered psychology – delight in seeing us fail," I had my own experiences to draw upon. Learning to back myself, and recognising situations and people that are unhealthy, were important lessons to learn. I encourage you to share your story with someone you trust, embracing vulnerability and authenticity. Reflect on moments of adversity or trauma that have shaped your journey. Consider how these experiences have impacted your relationship with yourself and others. Are there aspects of yourself you've hesitated to confront? By embracing self-awareness and compassion, it not only fosters personal growth and resilience, but it also paves the way for future generations to be more authentic. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Overwhelm? Worry? Lack of Confidence? Parts Work and Its Importance to Your Growth, Presence Your True Needs, Talents and Desires to Step Into the State of Fullness, A Useful Hack to Gain Clarity From the Things That Capture Your Attention and It’s Time to Get Savvy With That Thing Called Love. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.
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I drew a picture of how I’d been experiencing life recently, this wasn’t something I pictured and then drew, I just let it evolve as I chose each of the coloured pencils I wanted to use one at a time. What emerged was this tiny constricted version of my mind self surrounded by a little dark vortex with lots of sharp instruments and lightning bolts aimed at penetrating the vortex. This was in the top left corner of the page.
In the top right corner there was a bright sun with light rays shining all across the page, though they were unable to penetrate the little vortex. In the foreground of the picture there was a larger than life lady emerging from the Earth, from the sea and land, surrounded with trees and life. She had her arms outstretched to embrace it. I knew immediately that what I was drawing depicted the limited and constricted life I lead when I’m in my head too much. It’s a very visual and visceral way for me to capture how much is “out there”, just under my nose, to be embraced and enjoyed when I can be more present to my life. It was when I was walking along the beach recently that I realised how much I was living in my head at that moment. I caught myself playing through a conversation I predicted having in the future, ruminating on the likely twists and turns and all my possible reactions and responses. If this were a scenario happening next week that would perhaps be more understandable, but this is something that may never take place – though I understand that by ruminating upon it I’m making it far more likely to occur. “Once you let your past decide how you experience the present, you have destroyed your future” - Sadhguru It is true that those various sharp weapons and lightning bolts depict real events and people who have perpetrated some insidious expectations and behaviours upon me in the past. It is completely understandable when I look at my past why I developed various coping mechanisms that perhaps don’t serve me well in the present. Nevertheless, the aspect that wanted to be seen when I drew my picture is the aspect of me that anticipates – and therefore perpetuates - boundary violations. Andie MacDowell’s performance in a recent movie I watched was of a woman holding her boundaries artfully, gracefully and assertively, it was wonderful to witness. In Tara Road, based on the Maeve Binchy novel of the same name, Andie MacDowell plays Marilyn Vine, a grieving American mother who does a house swap with Irish mother Ria Lynch. Ria’s husband of many years – a high flying property manager called Danny Lynch - betrayed her and left her for a younger woman who was pregnant with his baby. As the movie progresses a number of Ria’s so-called friends and neighbours try to encroach on Marilyn’s (Andie MacDowell’s) space by turning up at the house unannounced and trying to barge their way in. The epitome of Andie MacDowell’s graceful maneuvering was when Ria’s ex - who still had a key for the house and just let himself in while this American, who is a stranger to him, is house sitting – tries to take Ria’s car keys and paperwork for the house. As the movie had progressed, it had become evident what a self centered scum bag Danny Lynch really was. So my admiration for Andie’s character Marilyn was at its height when - despite Danny standing right in her personal space in the kitchen of the house – she gently holds her ground and skillfully asserts both her own boundaries and some on behalf of Ria also. Given my own history with those in my life who had no regard for my boundaries – not that I knew I even had any, or that there was such a thing until recent years – I found this performance exquisite role-modeling of how to assert them. This is something I’m learning to do, and could only aspire to the elegance with which they were demonstrated in Tara Road. Despite having moved on physically from the people and circumstances that put me in that position all the time, while I’m ruminating about future interactions my mind is still trapped in the past, anticipating future dangers, which is stopping me fully embracing the present. Yet, the truth is, there is no real danger here other than that which I create in my head. I have done a lot of inner work, learned and am applying new communication skills (though not as artfully or gracefully as Andie MacDowell’s character yet) and simply wouldn’t let such self-centered people into my life again. My future is down to me, and it relies on me fully embracing my present. As I navigate the tendency to anticipate and perpetuate boundary violations, I am reminded that true liberation lies in embracing the present moment fully. To do that, I have to keep applying the basic principles I learned and shared many years ago on a video on my website, and continue to apply in my life:
Drawing inspiration from the graceful boundary-setting portrayed in the film "Tara Road," I am also reminded of the importance of asserting myself with dignity and grace. It is a lesson I continue to learn and integrate into my own journey of self-discovery and growth. And as I reflect on the journey, depicted in my recent drawing and the insights gained from it, I am reminded of the intricate dance between past experiences, present challenges, and future aspirations. The imagery of the constricted mind surrounded by a vortex of past traumas, contrasted with the radiant sun and embracing figure of possibility, speaks volumes about the complexity of human existence. What about you? As we continue to walk this path of self-discovery and empowerment, I invite you to join me in embracing the richness of the present moment and the boundless possibilities it holds. Together, let us cultivate a future rooted in mindfulness, resilience, and unshakeable self-belief. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy What Resentment, Frustration and Pain Have to Do With Your Boundaries, Presence Your True Needs, Talents and Desires to Step Into the State of Fullness, Take the Quantum Leap: Nurture Your Creativity and Intuition to Craft a Life of Purpose, and Give Yourself the Gift of Presence to Relieve the Torture of Stress. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog. I was watching Pink: All I Know So Far, a documentary film following the American singer-songwriter on her Beautiful Trauma World Tour in 2018-2019. While playing 156 shows in eighteen countries, her husband and young kids traveled with her. I was deeply moved as it reminded me of the time when my own kids were little and the relentless impossibility of trying to be fully present in the various roles as a mother, partner, and career and whatever else was needed of me.
As I watched her grueling training schedule and dedication to making her shows worthy of the money and effort people had put in to be there, I also watched her try to be present for both her kids, one of whom demanded so much more attention being both the younger and more extrovert child. There was something about her manner that reminded me of the times in my life that I’ve spun the plates and been there in a way that looks like I’m there, but really I think my essence had taken off into the stratosphere somewhere. I particularly remember when my own kids were young, and life was really intense on a day-to-day basis. There was a time - when their undiagnosed dyslexic tendencies created so much strain on their little brains and levels of concentration at kindergarten and school - that every day I was dealing with at least one major meltdown from one of them. Right amid that time, my mum (who lived on the other side of the world) was diagnosed with cancer. A family member who lived locally agreed to look after the kids for five days while I flew 12,000 miles and back to be with my mum in her last days. There wasn’t much sleep to be had in that five days and, less than a month later, I was flying back with my family to attend her funeral and catch up with the family my children didn’t really know. It was beyond exhausting. As I watched Pink balance being a performer with her role as a mother, wife, and boss, it took me right back to that time when I felt like nothing more than a performing shell of a person who was running on empty. In the years since, I have dealt with - and overcome - chronic health issues, a gnarly separation and, like everyone else, the challenges and restrictions of the global pandemic. So when someone asked me recently how my plans were progressing for relaunching my career, I gently reminded them that I’m 52, still parenting adolescent kids, getting over a recent house move that came at me sidewards, and – honestly - I’m pretty knackered right now. Not the kind of tiredness that a good sleep will fix. Exhausted with the rigors of life. When I went to see my healthcare practitioner recently, I had been expecting – among oter things – to pick up a remedy for the kids. She said “Sorry I haven’t got to that. Every time I went to do it, something in me just said no”. Now there’s a voice I trust, the voice of intuition. That same voice says no to me every time I think about building my client base. I check in with myself that I’m not just scared or stuck in a rut, but that isn’t it at all. It could just be timing, it could be something else, I’m open to the possibilities. I’m a firm believer that when things are right they line up easily. Often it just takes saying yes to one thing and, from there, other things snowball. A friend of mine, who trained in trauma therapy a number of years ago now, has recently taken just a step. She said yes to a room in a clinic where one of her daughter’s was being treated, and from there lots of other opportunities have lined up with ease pretty quickly. She didn’t take years to say yes to something because she was scared. The fact is, she was busy parenting and surviving, other things needed tended to first, including some of her own inner work. I can relate to being at that point. And I think that is okay. At my age my parents had worked their career, raised their family and retired early. In my case I had my career, tried to have a family for years, finally had my kids later in life and still have a good few years of active parenting ahead. At 52, I'm not rushing to meet societal expectations of retirement. Instead, I see the years in front as an opportunity to step into a role that authentically serves others and brings me joy. It's about embracing the "years of me," where I can live life on my terms and make a meaningful impact in a way that feels right for me. I've come to realize that life isn't just about surviving; it's about finding what truly fills us with passion and joy. It's about honoring our intuition, trusting that when things align, they do so effortlessly. Just as my friend found unexpected opportunities by saying yes to one small step, I believe that by staying true to ourselves and our passions, we can pave the way for a fulfilling future. As I reflect on Pink's journey and my own experiences, I'm reminded of the importance of listening to our intuition amidst life's chaos. This inner voice, the same one that guided my healthcare practitioner's decision and speaks to me about my career, isn't born out of fear or complacency—it's an innate knowing that some things require patience, alignment, and inner work before fully stepping into them. So, to anyone else feeling the pull of intuition nudging them towards a path less traveled, I encourage you to trust it. Take a moment to pause, breathe, and listen to that inner voice guiding you towards a life filled with purpose and fulfillment. Because in the end, life isn't meant to be spent merely working and surviving—it's meant to be lived, fully and authentically. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Take the Quantum Leap: Nurture Your Creativity and Intuition to Craft a Life of Purpose, Where Talent Meets Passion: Cherish Your Life as a Career?, How to Use Your Intuition With Confidence in Business and in Life and Leverage the Astonishing Power of Intuition, Flow and Kindness. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog. "Strength does not come from the body. It comes from the will." - Mahatma Gandhi
All my life I wondered what I was here for. The question of “what is the purpose of life?” was on my mind from a young age and, at every turn, the answer eluded me. As a young teen training and competing in swimming events regularly, I thought the road to the Olympics was perhaps the path I was destined to pursue. But when I was told I had narrowly missed being chosen for the national squad one year, and if I could improve my time for the 100m breaststroke I’d be in with a chance, I seriously considered whether this was indeed my path. After a few months I decided it wasn’t. I'm definitely more motivated around others, there’s a kind of effervescence I feel when there is that synergy between like-minded and like-hearted people. Younger me loved swimming because I was part of a great team with a great coach. And when certain people left and the team dynamic changed, my heart was no longer in it. Then as I was approaching the end of my schooling and had to decide what to do next, I took the path of least resistance and went to university because – still unsure of my next move - it was the pragmatic choice. Some subjects I didn’t enjoy (advanced maths and statistics being good examples) and was really bad at, and others were a breeze and I liked them (like psychology and business studies). Still not really knowing what I wanted to do, I went for one last study option and pursued a postgraduate diploma in human resource management. From there I fell into jobs in recruitment and then finally customer services – well, customer complaints. There I found a niche championing improvements based on customer feedback, which was what led me to the field of customer service transformation, specializing in the intricacies of people and culture. Although the puzzle pieces of my professional journey were beginning to make more sense, I knew it wasn’t quite the right fit. Wherever my road was leading was still very unclear to me, it sat like a shadowy enigma in the background of my mind. And, as much as I couldn’t see my career path, I couldn’t see myself either. Decades spent attempting to meet others’ expectations and striving for perfection left me frustrated, I was yearning for more clarity about my true identity. But most importantly, at that point in my life there was one thing I was very clear on - and one purpose I had always known I wanted to fulfill – to be a mum. Younger me had envisaged that very clearly, I would meet someone, fall in love and we would have kids, happily ever after… well, not quite. To make a long story short, heartbreak, feelings of unworthiness, and a series of tumultuous relationships dulled that once vivid dreams. Multiple miscarriages became poignant chapters in my journey, leading to the birth of my children at the age of forty. Motherhood was a cracking open of the soul. My children are as different from each other as their parents are, yet a mix of us both; and both were demanding in their own ways. No longer was it possible to be superwoman and please everyone all of the time. Life put me under immense pressure at home and at work. As being a parent was the one thing I was clear about, it took center stage and the complexities of nurturing two individual beings in their growth became the focal point. While my commitment to allowing my children to be true to themselves was unwavering, the journey also drove me to some dark places. Coming face to face with those moments when you realise you sound or act just like your parents, in ways that you do not want to, reverberated in unexpected ways. It challenged me to confront unhelpful patterns and undergo a pretty intense motherhood boot camp Over the last decade I’ve learned extensively about trauma patterns, secure attachment and attunement, child development stages, toxic relationships, conflict management and wrangled with parts of myself until I came out of the wash clear enough to see. I emerged stronger, wiser and with something entirely new: boundaries. All that and I was still unclear about my purpose in terms of what service I might be to the wider world in this life. I started to take on some life coaching clients, which felt good but not entirely on point. Than one day, as if orchestrated by the universe, a moment of clarity dawned. Reading a description of a card depicting a compass, the words resonated deep within: "You are a Pathfinder guiding others on their journeys... Having followed your own path, you have evolved to embrace your gifts, establish your passions and desire to use them for the collective good..." Fifty-two years into my journey, the realisation struck – the struggle to see my path was, in fact, the path. The very challenges and uncertainties that seemed like detours were the transformative forces shaping me into a Pathfinder. Helping myself had became the cornerstone of being able to help others. As I embraced this idea of being a Pathfinder, I totally resonated with a commitment to leading others on a quest for their truth and authenticity, illuminating obscured aspects of their situations or relationships. It was a revelation that spoke to the very core of my being, a purpose that had been veiled until that moment of clarity. Yet, while I appreciate the independence of managing my workload and working one-on-one with clients, the synergy that arises from a great team is truly majestic. I find it puzzling when healthcare practitioners avoid discussing clients with each other for confidentiality reasons; I believe collaboration (with consent) could lead to a more holistic understanding and faster resolution of issues. Moving forward, I hold a vision of collaborating with like-minded and like-hearted individuals to achieve this kind of holistic approach through teamwork. As I reflect on the myriad struggles life presented, I am reminded of a recent experience at a group Family Constellations session I attended. I witnessed an older lady - who had been abused by her father from the time she was a baby – take back her power and see herself clearly for the first time. Despite the harrowing experiences, she recognised her survival and the strength that had blossomed in the aftermath of her struggles. While no one wishes such traumatic struggles upon anyone, it is a testament to human resilience. We have a remarkable capacity not only to endure but to transcend, rising above the challenges that life throws our way. This journey of self-discovery has illuminated for me the strength that arises from navigating life's struggles. Reflecting on our individual paths, let us recognize that our ability to transform challenges into strengths is a testament to our resilience. Together, we can navigate the intricate paths of life, supporting one another on our quests for truth, authenticity, and personal growth. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy From the Roots of Anger to the Blossoming of Healthy Boundaries, Embrace Your Real Self, Weave Words Like Wands - Confessions of a Sarcastic Perfectionist, An Open Letter to an Old Friend, Looking Back to See the Clues to Your Destiny and The Quiet Whisperings of Truth That Inspire Our Life. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog. I was listening to a class this week with Evette Rose about navigating anger on the path of life. She was talking about the physical processes that happen within our bodies when we become angry, and how our body has learned that feeling as a way of keeping us “safe” when it perceives danger.
Sometimes – maybe often, depending on the level of trauma in our past - the perceived danger is triggered not by our actual circumstances, but rather by an ingrained neurobiology from a time in our young lives when our best course of action was to get angry and lash out or to suppress the anger inwards on ourselves. In essence we get stuck in immature and unhealthy ways of dealing with things. Then, listening to a Teal Swan meditation on Healthy Boundaries, I was asked to look back over my life, to reflect on the times that I didn’t feel good about myself: the times I felt stupid or wrong, guilty or angry with myself, the times I judged myself harshly, criticised myself, felt unacceptable, unsuccessful, not good enough or otherwise beat myself up thinking there was something wrong with me. Reflecting back on the times I blamed myself for making mistakes, felt ashamed of myself, took too much responsibility for others, lost confidence in myself, sabotaged myself to placate others, put myself down in front of others, or allowed them to use, control or manipulate me or put me down, I recognised the truth in Lisa Romano’s words when she says “It takes courage to love the self others abandoned”. Because that is, in essence, what happens. Growing up, the parts of us that don’t “fit in” are the parts we deny, suppress and disown. I know I worked hard as a youngster to be physically fit and develop physical and mental resilience in the world, perhaps because that kind of strength was valued in the people and culture around me. Opening up emotionally wasn’t something anyone I knew really did, that kind of vulnerability was kept for within close and trusted relationships. As a result I didn’t necessarily see a lot of conscious, healthy role modeling around handling conflict, or – perhaps more crucially - repairing after a conflict. And yet, my intuitive and emotional self is highly adept at reading others’ emotional landscape. That part of me that is more intuitive and sensitive was definitely kept far more hidden, and in my blind faith about safety within certain types of relationships (for example, I believed a romantic partnership or marriage was the safe place to share my true feelings and let people see my true self, because that is what I had seen role modeled, and I believed that grownups in workplaces would act professionally) I have experienced many things coming from left field to teach me that life isn’t quite like that. Through strong imagery of sitting chest-high in the edge of the ocean, Teal’s meditation asks us to experience those feelings of having abandoned ourselves like waves coming in, crashing into our chest and washing over. Crucially, she asks that we practice sitting with those feelings until they pass. It’s a practice of not moving into the hard wired responses of lashing out, fleeing, freezing or acquiescing when feeling strong emotions. Whether it’s me abandoning myself in the ways I described above (like blaming myself for mistakes), or someone else attacking me or manipulating me, or in some other way reflecting back to me the anger I often perpetrate upon myself, it takes practice to achieve emotional regulation. I think perhaps the most shocking of experiences for me has always been those reflections of anger or subjugation from others, because as a kid I perpetrated that upon myself, taking it upon my shoulders to be perfect and avoid those kinds of responses. However, I find life has a way of needling us in just the right way in order to try and evoke a growth response to develop beyond the unhealthy patterns and unprocessed emotions of those earlier times. Evette asked the class to define what anger means to us, to consider what anger does (that we feel we can’t) in everyday life, and what does it allows us to feel – other than anger? These were thought provoking and provided valuable insights, as I could see that anger has been the way I’ve felt and expressed my boundaries in the past, and it gave me the outlet and bravery (with its surge of adrenaline) to express opinions I’d otherwise kept suppressed. Boundaries are those things we will and won’t accept, how we assert them is a whole other communication skill to learn. Briana MacWilliam covers this really well in her attachment courses, and some people quite like the Non Violent Communication courses, but there is plenty of ways out these days to learn the skills. What I’ve come to really appreciate is the ability to observe my feelings rather than be completely identified with them. This has taken time and practice, and was only possible after practicing meditation regularly. It gives me room to pause and the choice to react differently, in ways that are more healthy and productive. That said, dealing with my own emotional reactions to insults, aggression, manipulative statements or other attacks, then asserting myself in a calm, rational manner, continues to be a challenge. All I can say is that, over time, I’m getting better. Things that would have thrown me off kilter for days or weeks now disperse in hours or minutes. And part of that is also about owning who I am, completely. So what if I live in a world (by this I mean the people and places who surround me) that tends to devalue the role of a stay-at-home parent and, instead, constantly promotes and cajoles you back into a workplace? I used to play that game; it led to burn out, illness. I value my health and my role as a parent above what others think I should or shouldn’t be focused on. For me, the role is more than feeding, ferrying and clothing my kids. It’s a role that involved completely managing their lives when they are little, to gradually training them for more independence and then moving into a coaching role through their teens. It’s a role that involves making the best healthcare and educational choices that match my values, and navigating a terrain no other generation of parents has had to navigate – technology (and it’s deliberately designed dopamine driving addiction). It’s a role that involves helping my children to emotionally regulate themselves and to be able to apply critical thinking to situations and relationships. It’s big, and it’s the fostering of the next generation. So in the past where I would have defended my lack of engagement in the expected route back to the workplace, there is a subtle but healthy change, instead I advocate for my role. I value my role, and I’m immensely proud of the time, focus and energy I’ve put in and continue to put in. That said, it’s been far from perfect. My time as a parent has been a collection of the good, the bad and the ugly. It’s been a massive learning curve and growth journey, with much healing taking place. In short though, it is a step in the right direction. The direction I wanted to head was to cultivate kids who are closer than I was in knowing themselves at a younger age, and better able to identify things and people who are compatible with their beliefs and values. If they are able to distinguish toxic from healthy growth, and have confidence to navigate these scenarios even a little better than I was able to in my younger years, then we will have moved forward. Imagine nurturing a generation unafraid to know themselves, confident in their beliefs, and capable of navigating life's intricate dance? Whether we raise children directly, we are all raising them indirectly through our example. As you stand on the shore of your own emotional ocean, take a moment to reflect on the waves that have shaped your journey. Consider the insights gained from defining anger's role in your life. Challenge yourself to observe, not just react. Uncover the power to express boundaries with calm assertiveness, acknowledging the growth it brings, and choose the path of self-affirmation. Your journey, like the ebb and flow of the tides, has its own rhythm. In embracing your journey, you not only rewrite the narrative for yourself but contribute to a narrative of empowerment and authenticity for generations to come. If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Mastering the Art of Inner Harmony: A Journey from Turmoil to Tranquility, Empower Yourself - When a Difficult Reaction Sends You Into a Tailspin, Do You Need to Heal Your Boundaries?, Change Unhealthy Reactions, Your Mind Will Try to Protect You By Resisting Your Healthy Boundaries and Expand Your Emotional Vocabulary to Get Your Real Needs Met. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog. |
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