Tag: life lessons

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heart and soul Journaling

Writing Goodbye Letters: The Unexpected Power of Saying Farewell.

writing goodbye letters

Letting Go of Falsehoods

To me, goodbye letters are a special kind of writing. They let us release the falsities, those delicate illusions we spin around our hearts to survive. They are the imagined versions of our lives that quietly steal from the real ones we’re living.

They’re the marriages that never materialised, the families that only exist in our fantasies, the career that feels better in our dreams than in our day calendars, or the fulfillment we thought we’d feel when we bought that long desired purchase. 

In writing goodbye, we gently loosen our grip on the stories we’ve told ourselves. Stories that made life seem more romantic, or heroic, or fair. Stories that were beautiful, but untrue. 

Farewell: A Word with Weight

The word farewell traces back to the old English phrase “fare thee well,” a blessing for when parting. It’s a sending off with warmth, a hope that the road ahead is kind, even as it leads away from us.

To farewell something well is to bless it as it leaves. It’s not about bitterness or regret. It’s about releasing what no longer serves us with clarity and compassion. 

When we say farewell with open hands, something softens in us. There’s no need to punish the parts of ourselves that hoped, that were too naive to see or understand, that believed things would be better. Farewell becomes a way of saying: It was what it was and now I see that I release it with clarity and gratitude.

The Village That Never Was

Recently, I wrote a goodbye letter of my own. It was addressed to something tender, something not quite tangible, a village I had carried in my heart for a long time.  A felt-sense of belonging, depth, and mutual care. A community I believed in, hoped for, and at times, glimpsed in fragments.

Over the years, I’d quietly built this village in my mind, a place where everyone showed up with presence and honesty, where loyalty was mutual, where I could root down and raise my children. It was comforting to imagine something wide, warm, and unwavering, a place where I could rest without question, where belonging wasn’t earned but simply offered.

But eventually, I had to admit something quietly painful: the village I longed for and the one I experienced didn’t fully match. That doesn’t mean there was no kindness, or that people failed me. It just means I had placed a deep yearning into a space that couldn’t hold it all.

This isn’t about blame. It’s about understanding. About noticing where I had layered imagination over reality, and gently peeling it back, not to expose something cold or cruel, but simply something different than I’d hoped.

The goodbye I wrote wasn’t bitter. It was full of affection and gratitude for what had been real. And also a soft release of what hadn’t. There’s something freeing in naming that, without shame, without judgment. Just truth, spoken with an open heart.

Letting go of the imagined village allowed me to see what actually was, both its beauty and its limits. 

Words That Worked

I ended the letter with these words:

“I release you, imaginary village. Thank you for all that you gave me. I let go of needing you to be real.”

Saying goodbye like this allowed me to honour both my imagination and my reality. Both are important. One helps me dream; the other helps me live.

The letter gave me closure I hadn’t known I needed. By naming what was real and what was imagined, I no longer had to carry the confusion. I could love what I had once believed in, even as I made peace with what it never became.

If you find yourself stuck in a loop of disappointment, consider this: maybe you don’t need to “fix” anything. Maybe you just need to say goodbye to a version of the story that never really happened.

What Fantasy Needs Farewelling?

So friends, what fantasy is still clinging to the edges of your life? What idealised version of a relationship, a dream, a place, or a version of yourself are you still waiting to show up?

What goodbye letter could you write that would usher you back into the present, into what is, rather than what isn’t?

Saying farewell doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It means you’re awake to what’s true. It means you’ve found the quiet courage to meet life as it is. 

Write the letter. Let the truth in. Break up with the fantasy, and make space for what is beautifully, quietly, enough.

books by lauren Lott
Categories
heart and soul

My Brave List: 3 Things I Found Hard to Admit (But Wrote Anyway)

brave list

There are alot of benefits of journaling, how it clears your mind, lowers stress, helps you make decisions, track patterns, and grow. 

But none of that can happen  unless we’re willing to be honest on the page.

I mean deep honesty, the kind that catches in your throat. The kind that makes your pen pause. The kind that makes you look over your shoulder even though no one else is reading.

That kind of honesty, the brave kind, is where the real breakthroughs happen.

And yet, many of us filter, even when we are alone. We edit ourselves, even in private. We write what sounds right. What feels palatable. What we think we should think. We stick to the version of ourselves we’ve grown used to presenting to the world, because it’s safer that way.

But here’s the truth: pretending doesn’t heal us, politeness won’t bring clarity, and self-censorship keeps us stuck.

The page is meant to be a place of freedom. A space where nothing has to be resolved. Nothing has to be polished. A space where the real story can exist.That’s where ‘The Brave List’ comes in.

It’s a journaling practice created to help unblock us and or uncover the things we may be avoiding.

The Brave List is exactly what it sounds like: A list of things we are scared to admit. Things we’ve never said out loud. Things that would’ve shocked a former version of us. Things we need to write down before we can move forward.

Although I rarely reveal what’s in my journal, I’m doing it today because sharing personal truth makes it easier for others to share theirs, and that’s the path to freedom. So here is my current ‘Brave List’.

As you read, I hope it stirs something honest in you too. Maybe even enough to start your own.

1. I was too good for my own good.

As a child, I was taught to be good. Programmed, really. To be helpful, polite, well-behaved, and agreeable as most of us are, as I have also taught my children to be. And I lived like that, believing that being good was the goal. 

But my goodness came from fear, not love. Fear of rejection. Fear of being misunderstood. Fear of being too much or not enough. 

Being “good” became a kind of cage. And while I still value morals, I no longer hold them up for morality’s sake. I believe in love. Here’s what I mean: real goodness is alive and generous, but there’s a counterfeit that only wants a show. It swaps presence for performance and honesty for whatever sounds pleasing. That isn’t love. It’s fear disguised as virtue.

2. I Used to Think I Was Free… But I Feel Freer Outside the System.

Having been taught that true freedom comes through faith. I thought that anyone who didn’t believe what I believed was bound in some way. 

But now, standing outside the religious system I once belonged to, I can see just how caged I really was. I used to sing about freedom, but the truth is, parts of me were never free at all.

Looking back, I see that I didn’t need to walk away from people or even unravel my faith, because that’s not really what happened. What I needed was to step away from a system that had started to feel more like a machine than a place of grace. More like a business than a true belonging. More like an obligation than an honour. More like control than calling.

Since stepping outside of it, I breathe easier. I feel closer to the Divine. I am less judgmental. I’m less certain now, which really just means I’m more open, embracing the mystery of life rather than rules. This helps me to be more empathetic towards others. 

There’s a lot I miss, and still grieve, about being ‘on the inside,’ part of the system, as it were. But what I had wasn’t really home. It was a belonging that came with conditions, an inclusion built more on what my family contributed than on connection. It was comfort disguised as freedom.

3. I Used to Think Obedience was devotion…Now I believe honesty is.

For a long time, I measured my faithfulness by how well I followed the rules. I believed that obedience, quiet, consistent, unquestioning, was the truest sign of love. But over time, that version of devotion began to feel hollow.

Honesty is sometimes disruptive. It doesn’t always look spiritual. It sometimes means saying things that are misunderstood. But when I started admitting what I really feel and think, that’s when I began to cultivate a deeper sense of  truth, love and faith, not further.

Honesty made room for healing. Obedience had me doing things out of habit, rather than from genuine relationships. I started to realise, if what I want is real connection, I can’t keep trying totick boxes just to keep people happy. And I definitely didn’t want to become the kind of person who expects others to do that for me. I didn’t want to be someone who measured closeness by compliance. 

Now it’s your turn.

What’s on your Brave List?

Maybe it’s something small. Maybe it’s something that would shake the ground beneath the version of you that others know. Write it anyway.

Try this journaling prompt to begin:
“I don’t want to write this, but…”

And follow that sentence wherever it takes you. No censoring. No apologising. Just you and the page and the truth that’s ready to be seen.

Because the real work, the healing work, doesn’t begin with answers. It begins with honesty.


books by lauren Lott
Categories
heart and soul Therapeutic Writing Prompts

You Already Know: 5 Questions to Reveal What You Know Deep Down

inner knowing

Being raised in the church shaped me in ways I’m still discovering.

In my early years, I felt cared for. I was encouraged to be polite, helpful, and gentle. I learned to listen, to respect authority, and to trust those who were seen as spiritually wiser. Somewhere along the way, though, I picked up the belief that other people, pastors, leaders, mentors, knew more about life and faith than I did.

So I learned to defer. To seek permission. To wait for a green light before taking a step. It made me cautious, hesitant, and out of tune with myself. I second-guessed everything, even the smallest decisions.

Now that I’m older, I can see how that pattern formed. How my resistance to taking full ownership of my choices wasn’t a flaw, it was a habit. A habit of passing off my responsibility to someone I believed knew better.

But the truth is: I have my own knowing. And it’s taken time, mistakes, and lived experience to recognise it.

When I say “knowing,” I’m not talking about facts or intellect. I’m talking about that quiet inner sense, a kind of recognition. The word itself comes from the Old English cnawan, meaning to perceive directly, to be familiar with.

Knowing doesn’t mean we think we’ve got all the answers. It’s not arrogance. It’s not stubbornness or certainty. In fact it doesn’t feel anything like certainty to me. Inner knowing is quieter than that. It’s not about being right, it’s about being honest. 

The best word I can think of to describe inner knowing is alignment. When I have it, there’s a sense of ease, even if things are hard. When I don’t, something feels off. I might not be able to name it, but I feel the disconnect. 

Inner knowing nudges us toward choices that feel true, even if they don’t make sense to anyone else. It’s not about being absolute, it’s about being integral. We might not be able to explain why we know something, but we still do. And learning to trust that voice, especially after years of outsourcing decisions to others, can be one of the most powerful shifts in a person’s life.

So how do we begin to reconnect with that quiet, inner wisdom?
Sometimes, the best place to start is with a few good questions…

1. What do you keep circling back to, despite distractions, doubts, or other people’s opinions?

Some truths don’t just knock once. They come back, again and again. They won’t leave us alone until we listen. What’s been repeating itself in your life, asking to be heard?

Maybe it’s a decision you keep avoiding. A dream that won’t stay quiet. A truth you’ve tried to bury. Whatever it is, it keeps returning, not to haunt you, but to help you come home to yourself.

2. What brings you peace when you imagine choosing it?

Not excitement. Not applause. Peace. The quiet kind. The kind that lets your shoulders drop and your breath come easier. It might not look impressive to anyone else, but something in you knows, it feels right. What choice brings that kind of calm? What direction feels like relief, even if it’s hard?

3. What decisions have you made in the past that turned out to be right, and what helped me make them?

Looking back, how did you arrive at the truths you’ve come to trust? What guided you? Intuition, stillness, reflection, prayer, experience? And what might those same guides be leading you toward today?

Maybe you didn’t even realise it at the time, but something was already leading. Those moments of clarity, however small, were proof that you do have a knowing. That you do know. And maybe, just maybe, those same quiet guides are still speaking, nudging you toward something true today.

4. What feels true in your body, even if your mind tries to argue with it?

This isn’t about following every impulse or craving. It’s not about indulging in what might harm you or others. It’s about paying attention to the deeper signals your body gives when something aligns, or doesn’t. The calm, the tightness, the heaviness, the lightness. What brings tension? What brings ease? What feels like a quiet, steady yes beneath the noise?

5. What are you pretending not to know?

Sometimes we bury what we know because it feels inconvenient, uncomfortable, or risky. Naming it might mean change. It might mean disappointing someone, setting a boundary, or stepping into unknown territory. So we push it down, cover it with distractions, or convince ourselves we’re unsure. But the truth doesn’t vanish. It waits under the surface, ready to rise the moment we’re willing to face it.

What I Knew

I knew I needed time and space for deep healing. I knew what felt fake, performative, and out of alignment, even if I couldn’t fully explain why.  I knew the narrative being told didn’t hold, I was living a totally different story. I knew my life had its own unique rhythm, one that made space for meaningful work, creativity, following curiosity, stillness, caring for my kids with intention, and nurturing deep, connected relationships.

That knowing didn’t always come with a plan or proof, it just came. And when I started listening to it, really listening, my life began to shift.

You don’t have all the answers, but you do have access to a deep, steady truth inside you. It may show up as a nudge, a pause, a pull. But it’s there, quiet, true, and waiting to be trusted.

books by lauren Lott
Categories
heart and soul life lessons

Starting Over at 40: What I’ve Learned About Changing Direction in Midlife

Starting again at 40

At forty, my husband and I walked away from a life we’d built over decades. We weren’t running toward a dream. We were walking out of the rubble of one.

For most of our adult lives, we were part of a ministry. To me, it was our community, our family, my identity. But after the fracture of a deeply trusted relationship, I began spiraling. I couldn’t seem to surface. And instead of being a place of healing, the church environment only perpetuated the loss.

I was unraveling. This became clear to me when my husband went away to a conference, and for the first time in our married life, I didn’t want him to come home. Not because I didn’t love him. Not because I didn’t want to be his wife. But because I knew where he had been.

I knew who he’d spoken to, the kind of language that would’ve been used, the narrative likely repeated, and all I could do was either stay quiet and pretend it didn’t matter, or open the conversation and risk being flooded by the pain it would unearth.

I didn’t want to navigate that impossible space again. In my heart, I just wanted distance from the version of life he was still able to walk in, which meant, painfully, wanting distance from him too. And so, after an honest conversation, we decided to leave.

Leaving meant walking away from what we thought was our calling. It meant saying goodbye to financial security, predictability, and the life we knew. We started again with three kids, little money, and no map. Midlife did not begin as a gentle pivot. It was a freefall.

The Identity Collapse No One Prepares You For

There’s something uniquely disorienting about starting again at forty. You’ve already lived a whole life, or at least it feels that way. You’ve made sacrifices. Spent time, money, energy building something.

And then, unwillingly, the story you’ve been telling no longer fits. And as I discovered, without that story, I didn’t know how to introduce myself, even to myself.

That was the moment I began, out of a need to be alright, to pull the pain out of my chest and set it beside me. I didn’t have the language for it then, but later I’d learn it was called externalisation.

Externalisation means the problem is not you. It’s something you’re experiencing. When you place it outside yourself, you create space to see it more clearly and respond with compassion. I hadn’t failed. I hadn’t fallen apart. The life I had known had ended, and I was standing in the in-between.

Listening is Imperative

People love to say, “Just start fresh,” but at forty, it doesn’t land the same way it might have at twenty. I didn’t have the energy or the luxury of starting from zero. We had bills, teenagers, tired hearts and bodies.

I didn’t want inspiration. I needed truth. And because of what we’d been through, truth felt slippery, impossible to hold.

The only way forward was to get quiet and listen for what was still alive beneath the grief. What still mattered. What still moved me.

This is called double listening. It means not only listening to the pain so it can be processed, but also noticing the values hiding beneath it.

What did my heartbreak reveal about what mattered most to me? Authenticity. Creativity. Freedom.

Those values had always been there, and with starting over, they were simply looking for a new way to live through me.

A Few Traps Best Avoided

Starting over at forty comes with its own set of pitfalls. Here are a few worth sidestepping:

* Don’t compare yourself to peers who’ve had a seemingly straight path. They absolutely didn’t, and you’re not behind.

* Don’t rush to reinvent yourself just to feel useful. Clarity takes time. It’s okay to do what you need to do to survive, to feed your kids, pay the bills, and keep things steady, even if it’s not your dream job for a while. My husband did exactly that. He tried different roles, took what he could, so our family could stay afloat and so I had the space to navigate the wreckage of what was going on inside me.

* Don’t cling to your old identity out of fear. I know how tempting it is to hold tight to the roles and routines that once gave you a sense of purpose, especially when everything feels uncertain. But starting over means making room for who you’re becoming. That often means life might feel a little empty for a while. Quiet. Ordinary. Uncertain.

The Truth About Starting Again

Here’s what I’d tell you if you were sitting across from me, coffee in hand, whispering that you don’t know where to begin.
1. You don’t need a five-year plan. You need a compass.

I stopped trying to plan my way forward and started using what narrative coaches call future authoring.

Future authoring is about shifting focus from what you think you should achieve to imagining a future that aligns with your core values. It’s less about ticking off goals and more about envisioning a life that feels meaningful, then letting those values guide your next steps, even if they’re small or uncertain.

Instead of asking, “What should I do next?” I began asking, “What kind of life feels true to who I am now?”

That question didn’t give me a five-year plan, but it gave me a place to begin.

2. You can’t heal in a story that’s too small for you.

Pain has a way of telling us we’re not good enough, not wanted, not worth understanding, or only worthy of contempt. That’s the old story.

Healing begins when you rewrite the narrative. When you stop seeing change as the fallout offailure or mistreatment, and start seeing it as a sign that the life you were living was no longer in alignment with who you truly are.

3. You’re not who you were, and that’s okay.

For a while after leaving my old life, I gripped tight to old versions of myself like they were proof I’d mattered. This was simply fear, and the need to be sure of something. Anything. When everything familiar had fallen away.

I clung to who I used to be because I didn’t yet trust who I was becoming. Letting go felt like erasing myself. But over time, I began to see it differently. The past wasn’t something to hold anymore. It was something to honour, and then release.

Changing direction in midlife requires us to honour the past, no matter how painful. Honouring the past looks like telling the truth about what happened without rewriting it to make others more comfortable.

It means acknowledging the joy and the damage, the growth and the cost. It means thanking the version of you who got through it, even if she was messy, even if she stumbled or wasmisunderstood, even if she hurt others along the way without meaning to.

4. It Is Both Beautiful and Necessary

Starting again in midlife breaks something open. It’s not gentle. It often comes with loss, disorientation, and the ache of having to let go of everything that once made you feel sure of who you were.

But alongside the unraveling is something strangely beautiful. The realisation that you are allowed to live more than one life in a lifetime. That there are versions of you still waiting to be known.You begin to see that the life you built before, even if it mattered deeply, was not the final word.

There is necessity in the shift, in the shedding, in the quiet becoming. You grieve what was.

It’s painful, yes. Challenging, absolutely. But it’s also a chance to become someone new. Someone you’ve never been before. Someone who may not have surfaced if everything had stayed the same. And that is quietly exhilarating.

books by lauren Lott

Categories
Creativity heart and soul life lessons

The Role of Creativity in Personal Transformation

Quote: Get the creativity flowing

To me, personal transformation is best described as a reshaping. It occurs when our identity, values, and perspective shift to align with our deepest beliefs and aspirations. It’s not merely about improving ourselves; it’s about redefining who we are and how we interact with the world. This reshaping is fueled by knowledge and experience and is essential for fulfilling our potential.

At the heart of change is creativity. It’s not just about making things; it’s about making things happen. Through creative practices, I’ve unlocked new ways of thinking and solving problems, fostering healing, growth, and self-expression.

So here, let me share with you how nurturing creativity can influence every aspect of our being and lead us toward  growth.

Embracing Creativity as a Catalyst for Change

Creativity isn’t just for artists, musicians, or writers; it’s a fundamental aspect of being human. When we allow ourselves to think creatively, we open doors to new possibilities and perspectives.  This mindset has changed not only how I tackle my to-do list but also how I handle life’s unexpected twists and turns.

By embracing my innate sense of creativity, I began to see pathways and solutions where there were previously only walls. This shift in perception wasn’t instant but gradual, enabling me to reimagine my life, from parenting to personal expression.

The Transformative Power of Small Creative Acts

Transformation doesn’t have to be monumental to be meaningful. Small, creative acts each day can have a cumulative effect that propels us forward. Whether it’s doodling in a notebook, rearranging your living space, or experimenting with new recipes, each act of creativity adds up, shaping us into more of who we are.

Integrating creativity into my daily routine has been essential in combating the stagnation that can creep into adult life. It keeps my thoughts positive and my spirit alive. Simple activities, like writing a daily haiku or journal entry enhance my sense of presence and help me process my inner experiences.

Nurturing Creativity to Foster Personal Growth

To truly transform, we must nurture our creativity. This means giving ourselves the space and time to explore, make mistakes, and wander. It’s crucial to create a personal environment that values and encourages creative expression. 

Regularly consuming art, literature, and music has also played a significant role in maintaining my creative flow. These mediums offer new lenses through which to view the world, challenging our preconceptions and pushing us toward growth.

Creativity: The Emotional Bridge to Transformation

On a deeper level, creativity acts as an emotional conduit that helps us process and express feelings that might be too complex or overwhelming to articulate otherwise. Through creative expression, we can explore our deepest fears, joys, and ambitions in a safe and constructive way. 

In my own life, writing fiction has served as this bridge. On the page, I can explore shades of emotion that I sometimes struggle to face in the real world. Each sentence is a step towardunderstanding and acceptance of my inner self. This process has been integral to my personal transformation, helping me to become not just a better writer, but a more whole person.

Who knows, one day, the stories I’ve written might see the light of day and be embraced by others.

Moving Forward with Creative Confidence

As we become more comfortable with our creativity, our confidence in other areas of life begins to blossom. We’re more likely to take risks, embrace new ideas, and leave behind what no longer serves us. With each creative endeavor, we build a stronger sense of self and a clearer vision of where we want to go.

The journey of personal transformation through creativity is ongoing and ever-evolving. It’s not about reaching a final destination but about continually growing, learning, and expanding. The creative process teaches us to be resilient, adaptable, and courageous, qualities that define not only great artists but great individuals.

I guess what I’m trying to say is this: if you’re feeling stuck, low, deflated, defeated, or simply want something to change, go with your creative instincts. Nurture them, and they’ll guide you to uncover new depths of your personality and reach new heights of your potential.

Remember, in you lies creativity that, once ignited, can light up the whole path of personal transformation. 

Categories
heart and soul life lessons

A Year of Receiving: You Don’t Have to Earn Peace, Joy, or Rest.

receiving peace, joy and rest

I’ve always thought how great it would be to just run down to the shops and pick up a bag of joy. On hard days, we could just grab a little peace off the shelf or a bottle of hope to keep us going.

Or if our kids were struggling with confidence, we could whip through the drive-through and order up whatever they needed to feel strong again.

And wouldn’t it be something if grief could be processed as easily as drinking a special shake. What if wisdom came in a box and resilience was something you could pay for at the counter?

Life would be better if we could just gain these things by buying them, wouldn’t it. But then I rethought it.

I realised that if these needs could be commodified, there would always be people left out. There would be those who couldn’t afford peace and those who couldn’t access joy. 

It’s a grace that these things aren’t transactional. Thank goodness they aren’t rewards for those who work the hardest or have the most resources. It’s freeing to realise that peace, joy, rest, and hope are available to everyone, no matter their socioeconomic status, age, gender, race, or religion. We just have to learn how to receive them.

What We Can Not Earn 

It’s a shared belief: peace comes when all our ducks are in a row, joy arrives once we get what we have been chasing, and rest is something we have to earn.

But that way of thinking is misguided and draining. 

The truth is you don’t have to earn any of it. Peace is already there, waiting for you. Joy can find you in the most ordinary of moments. Rest is something you don’t need permission to take, even if the world keeps telling you to keep going.

Why Receiving Feels So Hard

Receiving is a skill we’re rarely taught. We’re told that good things come to those who hustle. And in many areas of life, that’s true, hard work has its place. But when it comes to things like inner peace, joy, hope, and healing, striving is not the way to access them.

If this makes you feel uneasy, you’re not alone. It’s countercultural to believe you can simply receive these things. But it’s true. And once you embrace that truth, life feels a little lighter.

3 Steps to Learning How to Receive Without “Earning” It

1. Shift from earning to allowing.

It’s about practice. It’s about cultivating a mindset that shifts gradually and strengthens over time. Learning to receive without conditions is a process of rewiring old beliefs.

2. Notice where you block receiving

Pay attention to moments when you resist receiving, whether it’s a compliment, help, or an unexpected opportunity. Ask yourself: Why am I uncomfortable with this? Why am I resisting joy? Why do I keep working when I know I need to rest? Acknowledge those feelings without judgment and remind yourself it’s safe to receive.

3. Embrace gratitude, not guilt

When something comes to you freely, respond with gratitude rather than guilt. Receiving isn’t about taking from others, it’s about being open to life’s offerings. Accept that you’re here to experience good things simply because you exist.

Unexpected Goodness Can Still Find You

Some of the most beautiful, life-giving moments I’ve experienced have arrived when I wasn’t expecting them, and when I felt I least deserve them.

A stranger’s unexpected kindness. A moment of joy in the middle of a hard season. A quiet sense of peace, even though nothing about my situation had changed.

These moments remind me that goodness isn’t something we have to chase down. Sometimes, it finds us.

We don’t always recognise it when it happens. We’re often too focused on what’s missing or what’s next to notice the quiet gifts that show up in our lives.

But if we slow down, we’ll see that most of us, despite the presence of hardship, have the opportunity to experience goodness daily. 

This Year, Let’s Focus on Receiving

What if this year we focused a little more on receiving?

What if we practice receiving peace, joy, and rest, not because we’ve earned it. Not because we’ve worked hard enough. But because these things are available to you and me, just as we are.

Categories
heart and soul

Unlocking Your True Brightness: Steps to Overcome Self-Doubt.

self doubt

We all experience times of uncertainty—those moments when self-doubt shadows our confidence and leads us to question our capabilities, value, or decisions. I’ve experienced paralyzing self doubt, and understand the weight it can carry. 

However, I firmly believe that within each of us is an inherent brilliance, ready to emerge even during periods of self-doubt. Here are some strategies that have aided me in pushing past these doubts to fully embrace who I am. I hope you find them equally empowering.

Acknowledge Your Self-Doubt

First things first, let’s be real about our self-doubt. It’s okay to admit when you’re feeling insecure or unsure. I’ve learned that pushing these feelings away only makes them stronger. Instead, try to name your self-doubt when it shows up. Say to yourself, “I’m feeling unsure right now,” and acknowledge that it’s a normal part of being human. Just naming it can make it feel less powerful.

I also suggest writing those exact words down, as this is a way of spotlighting the emotion. Spotlighting is when we force ourselves to look directly at what we’re feeling, providing a clearer view and understanding of our emotions. This practice can demystify overwhelming feelings and aid in processing them more effectively.

Reframe Negative Thoughts

Self-doubt often comes from negative thoughts that loop in our minds—those “I’m not good enough” or “I’ll never be able to do this” thoughts. I’ve found it helpful to gently challenge these thoughts. 

Ask yourself: Is this really true? What evidence do I have that proves this thought wrong? Often, you’ll find that the doubt isn’t based on facts but on fear. Reframing these thoughts into more positive or neutral ones can make a huge difference in how you feel.

Celebrate Small Wins

When self-doubt is running high, it’s easy to overlook our achievements. Start by celebrating the small wins, no matter how tiny they might seem. Did you step out of your comfort zone today? Did you complete a task you’ve been dreading? Give yourself credit for these moments. I’ve found that acknowledging even the smallest successes builds confidence over time and slowly pushes self-doubt to the side. 

Just as one might compile a gratitude list to foster a sense of thankfulness, consider creating a list of small wins for five consecutive days, emphasising every achievement, no matter how small. This practice helps to build a positive mindset by recognising and celebrating each step forward.

Surround Yourself with Support

Self-doubt thrives in isolation. When I feel unsure of myself, reaching out to supportive friends, family, or mentors makes a world of difference. Find those people who believe in you and lift you up. Sometimes, just talking about what you’re feeling with someone who understands can make that self-doubt shrink to a manageable size.

If you don’t have anyone in your life who fits this description, consider seeking a mentor from afar. There are many individuals whose coaching and mentoring might be accessible to you through their books, online courses, or videos, even if you never meet them in person. When you engage with their content, tell yourself it was written just for you.

Practice Self-Compassion

This one has been a game-changer for me. Instead of beating myself up for feeling self-doubt, I’ve started practicing self-compassion. Journaling is a fantastic tool to do this. This act of self-expression allows you to process feelings of inadequacy or failure gently, acknowledging them without self-criticism. 

A journaling exercise to promote self-compassion involves the prompt, “What I need to hear right now is…” This simple start helps you articulate the supportive words and affirmations you need, allowing you to offer yourself kindness and reassurance directly. This practice strengthens self-compassion by letting you be both the giver and receiver of encouragement.

Take Action, Even When It Feels Scary

Self-doubt often wants to keep us stuck, but I’ve found that taking small, consistent actions can help break its grip. It might feel scary to take that first step, but action breeds confidence. Start with something manageable, and slowly build up from there. The more you act despite your doubts, the more you’ll prove to yourself that you are capable and strong.

My word for 2024 is “consistency.” I gave myself one task: to stay consistent in what I wanted to create. Whenever I feel self-doubt, remembering this task helps me to keep going. This focus on consistency has been key in making steady progress toward my goals.

Remember Your Brightness

Finally, always remember that your true brightness is already within you. It doesn’t disappear just because self-doubt shows up. When I remind myself of this, I feel a little lighter, a little braver. You have unique gifts, talents, and qualities that make you shine. Trust in that, and know that even on your toughest days, your light is still there.

My new book, “Looking for Brightness,” explores the theme of discovering the light within ourselves. If you’re experiencing self-doubt, the words in “Looking for Brightness” might be just what you need.

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heart and soul life lessons

Finding Light in Everyday Moments

Finding Light

I recognise that when we are in the depths of struggle, advice can sometimes feel dismissive or simplistic. So, I approach this thoughtfully: Could it be possible that within our toughest moments, there might be light that, when we’re ready, could help guide us toward healing or understanding? Could it be that every moment eventually shines in some way?

When Pain Becomes a Teacher

I know what you’re thinking: “How could my pain possibly be a gift? Imagine being hurt by someone you trusted deeply. Think about the confusion that followed, the way broken trust impacted your life. Consider how, for a period of time, the pain gripped you tightly. But now, as you look back, can you see how that pain might have shielded you from continuing in unhealthy or insincere relationships? Can you recognise how pain, in its harsh way, might have led you to a path of self-discovery and growth?

I believe at times, experiences that initially seem devastating can ultimately reveal themselves as profoundly beneficial. It might not be apparent immediately, but hidden within these challenging times often lies something significant. 

Stepping away from difficult environments enabled me to forge more genuine connections and gain a clearer understanding of my identity and true needs. Tough chapters, turned out, to be steering me towards a more authentic narrative. Some might call this grace, finding unlooked-for goodness in the trials we face.

Letting Go to Grow

Releasing what we hold onto—whether it’s people, places, dreams, or even our own expectations—can be one of the most challenging things to do. I’ve had to let go of more than I ever thought I would. But here’s what I’ve discovered: Each time I let go and face the deep sorrow of losing what I cherished, I find that I am gradually making space for new understandings and connections that reflect who I am becoming.

For example, When I was young, I had to say goodbye to someone I cared about deeply, which seemed unbearable at the time. But in hindsight, that goodbye saved me from a future filled with complications and hurt that would have been much worse. It opened the door for new opportunities, new relationships, and new growth. 

Through this experience, I began to realise that letting go of what I think I want might just help me find what I truly need. 

Finding Light in Everyday Life

Sometimes, the good things come in the most ordinary packages. I remember a time when I didn’t get the creative recognition I was hoping for. At first, it felt like a setback, but looking back, I see it was sparing me from exposure I wasn’t ready to handle.

Little exposure pushed me towards genuine creative connections.  It forced me to sharpen my skills and work on myself. Most importantly, it led me to true supporters, the people who deeply appreciated and resonated with my work. 

Sometimes, grace is found in what ‘doesn’t’ happen — like a seemingly failed venture. It might be hard to hear, but sometimes, what we miss can protect us.

Trust in the Unfolding of Things

Here’s a thought to consider; perhaps grace doesn’t align with unhealthy habits or attachments. It seems to partner with wisdom, taking a long view that prioritises our health over our desires.

Life offers wisdom, and wisdom doesn’t always give us what we want — it gives us what we need to grow healthier and stronger. Maybe sometimes, it saves us from ourselves — from our own ambitions, attachments, or dreams that are actually holding us back.

Wise Words About Suffering

I know what you’re thinking, “where is light in life’s darkest moments—like war, childhood deaths, or profound suffering?’ Well having never experienced war, or horrific circumstances I can only quote someone who has, Viktor Frankl, a Holocaust survivor, who wrote, “In some way, suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a meaning, such as the meaning of a sacrifice.” 

Frankl believed that even in the face of unimaginable horrors, there is the possibility of finding a sense of purpose or meaning that can transform suffering into something bearable, even redemptive.

Following Light, Finding the Way

Here’s a thought that might resonate: Perhaps life doesn’t always make sense, and it certainly doesn’t always feel good, but maybe there’s a way it nudges us toward light, even when we can’t see it ourselves. 

Maybe grace is real and is working in ways we don’t fully understand, slowly helping to reconcile our hearts and minds, tending to the parts of us that need healing, and quietly guiding us toward a purpose that fits who we are becoming.

Maybe we fair best when we believe that every moment, every situation, holds value and even in the hardest moments, there is light to be found. Sometimes, all it takes is a shift in perspective to see the good that are right in front of us.

Maybe looking for light in unexpected places, although challenging, isn’t engaging in toxic positivity, but rather embracing the complexity of life with honesty.

Maybe allowing ourselves to acknowledge the pain we feel while remaining open to the possibility that there could still be moments of grace, growth, or insight hidden within is a good way to live.

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heart and soul life lessons

The Slow Unfolding: Understanding Life’s Lessons Years Later

trust the proccess

The Puzzle Pieces We Don’t See

Most of us experience  something that leaves us puzzled? I’m talking about insurmountable challenges that at the time, felt frustrating and confusing.  It’s like being handed a piece of a puzzle without knowing what the full picture looks like. You wonder, “How could this happen? What am I supposed to learn from this?”

For years, I held onto pieces, unsure of how they fit into the bigger picture of my life. Moments of heartbreak, missed opportunities, and struggles that I couldn’t make sense of have become in hindsight, years later, experiences that shaped me into the person I am today.

When Time Becomes Your Teacher

I have learnt that  life’s lessons don’t often reveal themselves right away. Sometimes, we need the gift of time to gain the perspective necessary to understand them. I’ve found that as I grow older, I can look back on past experiences with new eyes. What once seemed like a random series of events now feels more like the unfolding of an inevitable story, with each chapter building upon the last.

Although I do not believe that time heals all pain, I do believe that time allows us to see the purpose behind it. The seeds of the heartbreak I experienced in my thirties were planted in my young years. It was then that I gave others the responsibility for my life and fell in line, it was then that I gave up my power. And it is now that I recognize the necessity of embracing my own autonomy, understanding that the choices I make today are not dictated by the past, but by the clarity and courage I have found within.

It’s comforting to know that even in the thick of it—when we’re feeling lost, confused, or hurt—something is still unfolding; we are headed somewhere, and every struggle calls us to become more of who we truly are. Time is the teacher that helps us put the pieces together.

Trusting the process

One of the hardest things to do is to trust that eventually you will take something valuable from difficult situations. I’ve learned that just because I don’t have all the answers now doesn’t mean I won’t find them eventually. It’s like climbing a mountain: halfway up, after some climbing, I can see more than I did at the base. At the top, the view is clearer and wider. It takes time, but each step offers a broader, richer insight.

This doesn’t mean you should ignore your feelings or pretend everything is okay when it’s not. It’s perfectly fine to acknowledge the confusion, the frustration, and the pain. But alongside those emotions, try to hold onto the belief that one day, you’ll look back and see how these experiences were guiding you toward something truer.

Celebrating the Unfolding

There’s something incredibly beautiful about the slow unfolding of life’s lessons. It’s like watching a flower bloom in slow motion, each petal revealing itself in its own time. When you finally get to that moment where some pieces fit together, it’s a cause for celebration. You realise all the questioning, and the uncertainty were necessary to forge a deeper understanding and appreciation of your experiences.

I’ve had moments where I suddenly understood why things happened the way they did, and why they couldn’t happen any other way.  The clarity that comes with these realisations is freeing. They helped me to understand my thoughts, feelings and actions and confront raw truths.

If you’re currently holding onto pieces of a puzzle that don’t seem to fit, know that time has a way of revealing deeper insights.  Trust in the slow unfolding, and remember that each experience, no matter how confusing or painful, can be rich in lessons that expand your understanding of both yourself and the world around you.

And to those who have been waiting for answers, for insight, for vindication or for justice for years I offer this: find peace in the unresolved. Peace is available even when answers are not.

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heart and soul life lessons

Narratives That Nurture: Stories That Heal Without Hiding Reality

Embracing the Full Story

For me, healing started when I accepted the whole story—all of it, the ups, when it comes to healing and growing, the stories we tell ourselves really do make a difference.

They comfort us, spark inspiration, and help us understand ourselves better. But if we want healing that goes deep and sticks around, we need stories that don’t shy away from everything we’ve been through, especially the tough stuff.

There’s often this pressure around us, or even from inside us, to just look at the bright side or find the “silver lining” in every situation. Sure, being optimistic is great, but it’s not so helpful when it makes us ignore or downplay the pain we feel.

The stories that really help us heal don’t just focus on the wins and the happy moments; they recognize the hurts and the tough times too. They let us see ourselves fully, without leaving anything out, and remind us that our pain doesn’t make us worth any less.

By facing the truth of our lives without covering up the tough parts, we build resilience and release ourselves from fantasies about what could, should or would be.

The Power of Keeping It Real

Think about the difference between a story that ends with “and they lived happily ever after” and one that goes, “they faced many challenges, but they grew with each one.”

The second story doesn’t hide the struggles or the pain; it includes them as part of the journey, showing that healing isn’t about making scars disappear but learning to see them as signs of our unique strength.

This approach doesn’t mean we focus on the pain for the sake of it but recognising it as a step towards understanding and peace.

A nurturing story doesn’t simplify the complicated emotions of trauma or grief; it opens a path through them. It makes room for reflection, anger, sadness, and eventually, acceptance, offering a complete approach to healing that respects every part of our human experience.

How to Build Stories That Heal

So, how do we start building these healing stories? I begin with journaling honestly. I don’t leave out the parts that seem too dark or too sad. I share these stories with friends I trust or in supportive groups where our stories are met with understanding and not judgment.

I also look for books, movies, and art that showcase this kind of honest storytelling. The story of Jonah from the Book of Jonah has been particularly helpful for me. 

Those familiar with it might recall how Jonah boards a ship, which then encounters a storm, causing the vessel to rock. This reminds me of a time when a relationship in my life became shaky.

As a result, Jonah was thrown overboard and swallowed by a whale. For me, the whale symbolises suffering, or you might say, the dark night of the soul. After I was asked to ‘leave the village’ because of this troubled relationship, I too found myself in the belly of suffering.

Eventually, Jonah is spat out onto a beach. Here, the story teaches me that my suffering was simply transportation—a way to move me from there to here, to a new place of freedom.

This narrative helps me to appreciate every aspect of my experience. I often ask myself, ‘Where would you rather be, on a rocky boat at sea with people willing to throw you overboard, or on a new beach?’

For those familiar with the original tale, you’ll see that I have made it my own. This means looking at the story as it speaks to my experience. I am aware that I am missing some plot points and as a result have made one story into two. However, I see no problem with remaining open and honoring both the context in which it was written and the myriad of interpretations it has accumulated over the centuries, as well as a new story that illustrates my experience and assists with healing.

This reimagining has led me to a narrative that fills me with gratitude—not only for the journey but also for the outcome, despite the pain, loss, and disappointment.

A Journey to True Healing

By choosing stories that nurture without hiding the tough realities, we empower ourselves to heal more fully and help others do the same. We learn how to use every part of our story as a source of strength.

Healing isn’t a straight path, and it’s different for everyone. It’s a personal process that does best with a realistic story—one that embraces all that life throws our way. By committing to heal without hiding anything, we commit to a life full of authenticity, resilience, and, ultimately, deeper joy.