The Why Behind the Work

A practice of returning to what has always been here beneath the noise.

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I was young when I started unraveling my relationship with the knowing. The knowing—that quiet voice of inner truth, the one that speaks from deep within. I was young when I learned it was safer to listen to other voices instead. Louder ones. Ones shaped by fear, survival, and a need to belong. This began as protection. A defense mechanism designed to help me stay safe and earn love from those around me. To make myself smaller, easier to manage. To fit neatly into the box of what others needed or expected me to be.

 

It continued into adulthood. “Stay small, remain hidden, feel shame,” those parts said. The same parts that once protected me became the ones that kept me stuck. The ones that made me very sick.

 

I was an adult when I started to believe the knowing was gone. That I couldn’t find it anymore. That maybe I never had it at all.

 

I didn’t know what I wanted out of life, or how to find the discipline to go after it. I felt lost in the noise of my own mind. It’s hard to hear your truth when you’re out of touch with your own power.

Hard to tell the difference between programming and intuition. Hard to move toward anything when the nervous system is flooded.

 

I read books. I went to therapy. And then breathwork taught me something simple, sacred, and essential: The knowing never leaves. The discipline is there. It’s just buried beneath the dysregulation.

 

I am an adult who knows now that the knowing isn’t gone, rather it’s interacting with other parts of me. I am an adult who is learning that it’s safe to take up space, to forgive yourself and others, and to be seen.

 

Sometimes the other parts still speak louder, saying: “You’re not good enough,” or “You’re too much.” But I know now I can speak back to them and say: “I am learning to trust that I am enough, even when my mind tells me otherwise.”

 

I am learning how to develop a relationship not only with the knowing, but with all the other parts of myself, the ones that once kept me safe. To put myself above anything, not in a selfish way, but from a place of deep alignment and love with who I am becoming, and to reclaim the care that I was denied as a child, and denied myself into adulthood after.