The Search

I used to think there was a be-all and end-all goal when it came to self-healing. I thought one day the Lady of the Lake would appear, hand me a sword, and enlightenment would be my new existence. I tried everything to outrun the demons of my past—and I mean everything. When it came to changing myself, I knew that if I didn’t actively seek change, I’d never step outside my comfort zone. It wasn’t until my late 20s that this journey really began. Before that, I was a mess of anger, small-minded thinking, narcissistic tendencies, and disassociation.

The first book that truly changed me was Codependent No More by Melody Beattie. It was recommended by a roommate, and since I had just started therapy, I thought it would be a great addition to my reading list. Little did I know that this book would spark an insatiable thirst to change who I was—or maybe more accurately, how I was. From there, I devoured self-help books like chocolate cake. I absorbed everything, but the processing was slow. I couldn't quite digest it all because I hadn’t come to terms with my childhood. I hadn’t taken accountability for myself yet. My mind was still closed off to me. So, as I read, the words filled me up, but they didn’t seem to do anything at all. At least, that’s how I felt.

Over the years, I read more, listened to podcasts, and explored alternative medicines—everything from energy work to acupuncture, gong healing to sensory deprivation. Healing became my purpose for a while. But despite all the effort, nothing seemed to budge. I struggled with depression, my social anxiety was suffocating, and my darkness became my ally.

Let’s fast forward to the pandemic, which became a fast track to everything. About a year before it hit, I was beginning to see some changes in myself, but the pandemic amplified everything. It exposed all my demons, my triggers, my hidden beliefs, and threw them in my face. It was like being in the eye of a hurricane—chaos swirling around me. Nothing made sense. I didn’t make sense. The chameleon character I played was starting to fade, and underneath it all was the monster under my bed, ready to fight.

Through the pandemic and into the return to normalcy, I faced intense obstacles that put all my past and triggers on display. I was being tested—forced to use all the self-help knowledge I had accumulated. And slowly, I began to soften. The dance with life became easier. The storm around me began to settle, and I started to see a way through. As obstacles arose, I found myself in a strange place, like I wanted to give up—throw it all away and start fresh. Career, personal life, everything. So, I did.

Last year, I let go of the idea that my business had to be this huge operation with tons of employees. I gave up on the idea that I needed to prove myself to everyone. I gave up the belief that no one liked me, and if they did, it was only for a reason. I shed these layers, and underneath was a raw, delicate skin—new and vulnerable. I sought less and became more. I sought a way out and found freedom. That’s when I understood a phrase I’d always loved from my favorite movie, Fight Club: “It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.”

I lost the chip on my shoulder. I lost the anger I’d held onto for years. I lost everything that kept me small, silent, and scared. And in doing so, I realized that nothing could ever hurt me again unless I allowed it. Nothing could chain me down unless I gave it power.

I’m not saying I’m bulletproof. That would be ridiculous. But through this self-healing journey—through reading, therapy, alternative medicine, micro-dosing, and more—I found a way to feel secure in who I am. Now, at my core, I know this: all the obstacles that come up, I pause. I take them in and recognize my triggers. I can see the blanket of dissociation creeping in. I understand my nervous system's urge to react. Am I perfect at stopping it? No. But I no longer allow it to control me.

I can’t promise your trauma will ever fully disappear. I can’t promise you’ll ever be “completely healed.” But I can promise you that if you put in the work to nourish yourself, you’ll be the one driving—no longer the wounded child.

There is no finality in life’s journey of self-discovery. The world may try to convince you that there’s some grand nirvana or awakening that awaits, but I see that as a fairy tale—a story sold to us by our deepest longing for purpose. Your healing journey never truly ends. Instead, it transforms into something you can look back on and accept. When you reach that point, anything becomes possible because what once limited you now becomes a stepping stone to the next chapter. It is through opening yourself up and surrendering that you can walk a path filled with joy in your heart, instead of fear.

This journey hasn’t been easy, but I wouldn’t change it for anything. Because out of the darkness, I was born. I’ve become a marvel to myself, shaped by everything I’ve been through. To change it would mean I’m not the beautiful soul I am today. It’s through acceptance that I began to forgive, and through acceptance that I learned to love. You can’t change what’s happened, but you get to decide how you heal and move forward. And that is how you take your power back.