Returning to What’s True
My Story
I burned out at the end of 2021. The signs had been there for almost a year, but I refused to listen. At the time, I believed burnout was for the weak—and I was certain I wasn’t weak. I had a young daughter, a demanding job, and a life that required me to keep going. Stopping did not feel like an option.
What I experienced wasn’t just exhaustion. It was fear, anxiety, and a constant sense of inner pressure. My body had been trying to speak to me for a long time. I simply hadn’t learned how to listen.
During that period, something deeper began to unfold. What I first saw as failure turned out to be an awakening—one that forced me to slow down and look honestly at how I was living. I began to understand that not everything can be pushed through, and that ignoring yourself always comes at a cost.
My mother had been deeply spiritual for as long as I can remember. She was intuitive, wise, and far ahead of her time. As a teenager, we often stayed up late talking about life, meaning, and the unseen layers of existence. I loved those conversations. Yet her life also seemed chaotic to me—financial struggles, plans that didn’t work out, instability that made me feel unsafe.
Because of that, I distanced myself from spirituality. I associated it with being ungrounded, with losing grip on reality.
I wanted structure, certainty, and control. I chose a path that felt solid and safe.
Years later, through my own awakening, I came to see what I had missed. Spirituality, when lived consciously and with presence, is not an escape from life—it is a way of meeting it more fully. I learned how essential it is to stay rooted in the physical world while remaining connected to something deeper. We are here for a reason, and we are meant to live this life awake.
As I slowed down, I also realized that moving forward doesn’t mean ignoring the past. Many of us try to “get over” painful experiences by not thinking about them anymore, but what hasn’t been felt continues to shape us quietly. Until old wounds are acknowledged and released, they keep influencing how we move through the world.
Forgiveness—of others and of myself—became an essential part of this process. Not as an idea, but as a lived experience. Letting go of resentment, blame, and self-judgment allowed something in me to soften. It created space for peace.
I also had to look honestly at the patterns that had kept me stuck—some rooted in childhood and ancestry, others formed simply to survive. For years, I had learned not to show emotion. Vulnerability felt unsafe. I kept my posture straight, my face composed, my struggles hidden. I believed that showing how I felt would make me less than others.
At some point, I realized I wasn’t living as myself anymore. I was living roles: the lawyer, the woman, the mother, the wife.
I had shaped my life around expectations—my own and those of others—rather than around what felt true to me.
Learning to listen inwardly, to trust my intuition, and to honor what I felt beneath the surface slowly brought me back to myself. And with that came something new: my voice.
For a long time, I had been afraid to speak. Afraid of being seen. Afraid of being judged. Afraid that others knew better than
I did. Today, that has changed. I no longer feel the need to hide or to fit into roles that don’t reflect who I am.
This stage of my path is about expression, truth, and honest exploration. Through conversations, reflections, and shared inquiry, I explore what it means to live from your truth in a complex and changing world. By sharing lived experience and the wisdom that emerges in real dialogue, I hope to spark recognition — the kind that helps you uncover the answers that have been within you all along.
