Finding Out Why the Void Existed

The Busyness I Thought Was Ambition

For most of my life, I believed I was a go-getter.
I stayed busy. I pushed through. I stacked degrees and skills like stepping stones: AA, bachelor’s, master’s, then, years later, my doctorate. I became a notary, a realtor, a woman who always had something else to accomplish.

But I never stopped to ask why I couldn’t stop.

Back then, I told myself I was driven. Productive. Focused.
In reality, I was doing what many people who grow up with childhood trauma do: staying busy so I didn’t have to feel. Trauma researchers say that adults often “outrun” emotion through overworking because slowing down forces the brain to remember (van der Kolk, 2014).

But I didn’t know that. I thought I was just working hard.

The Quiet Emptiness That Kept Returning

Even with achievements, even with a marriage, children, multiple properties,  something inside me felt disconnected. The emptiness came quietly, in waves. It showed up right in the middle of a beautiful life, as if something was missing, but I couldn’t name it.

I called it sadness.
I called it stress.
I called it exhaustion.

But it wasn’t those things.
It was something deeper. A longing. A void.

Only after my divorce, when silence and stillness finally entered my life, did the truth rise to the surface.

And it hit me like a revelation:

“Cynthia… you don’t love yourself.”

Not fully.
Not yet.
Not in the way you deserve.

The Childhood Message That Followed Me Into Adulthood

It took reflection to understand where the void truly came from.

My aunt, the woman who adopted me, once said she wasn’t worried about me because at least I could “cook and clean” and be somebody’s maid. She didn’t have to tell me I wasn’t worthy; her tone and expectations did that for her.

I wasn’t the child bringing home A’s and B’s. My sister did that.
I was the child with C’s and D’s, not because I couldn’t learn, but because survival was louder than school.

Those childhood messages do not stay in childhood.
Science shows early experiences shape how we see ourselves years later (Harvard Center on the Developing Child, 2010). The brain remembers even when the adult tries to forget.

I grew up needing to prove I was smart.
Needing to prove I was capable.
Needing to prove I was worthy.

But prove it to whom?
The person who planted that seed wasn’t even alive anymore.

Yet I was still carrying her words.

Living for Celebration Instead of Self-Recognition

For years, I kept adding skills, hobbies, and accomplishments, hoping someone would finally celebrate me. I didn’t understand that I was craving external validation because deep inside, I didn’t believe I was enough.

Every time I achieved something new and didn’t feel fulfilled, the void grew stronger.

That was the truth I couldn’t see:
When you don’t celebrate yourself, no amount of applause can fill the emptiness.

The void wasn’t created by what I lacked on the outside.
It was created by what I wasn’t giving myself on the inside.

And the hardest truth of all was this:
I didn’t believe in my own worth.

Slowing Down Revealed the Truth

Stillness is powerful, but stillness is also scary when you’ve been running from yourself your whole life.

After the divorce,  when the noise stopped and responsibilities shifted, I finally had space to breathe. And in that breathing room, something sacred became clear:

The void existed because I was living from the voice of a wounded little girl, not the woman I had grown into.

I had been:

• waiting for others to celebrate me

• waiting for validation

• waiting for someone to tell me I was enough

But the healing came when I understood that I didn’t need any of that.

God had been blessing me all along, but I was too busy striving to notice.
I had taken my own resilience for granted.
I had overlooked the quiet ways in which I made a difference in people’s lives every single day.

The void wasn’t telling me I needed more.
It was telling me I needed me.

The Moment the Void Finally Had a Name

When I stopped running, I could finally see the truth:

The void existed because the little girl inside me didn’t feel worthy.
And the adult version of me never paused long enough to heal her.

But once I saw the truth… once I named it… once I connected the feeling to the wound…

Everything shifted.

Purity & Reflection taught me that worthiness is not earned through accomplishments, applause, or perfection.
It is God-given, internal, and untouched by anyone else’s expectations.

And when that truth settled into my spirit,
the void softened.
It quieted.
It finally made sense.

I wasn’t missing anything.
I was simply returning to myself.

KEY TAKEAWAY

The void wasn’t created by lack; it was created by silence.
By slowing down and facing the truths we once avoided, we reclaim our worth and step into deeper self-love. Healing begins when we courageously name what hurt us, honor what shaped us, and finally give ourselves the compassion we were missing.
Worthiness is not earned. It is remembered.

ORGANIZATION REFLECTION (SILWELL-C Leadership Lens)

Every organization has its own version of a “void”: the unspoken stories, the unaddressed wounds, the moments when staff feel unseen or undervalued. Just as individuals need reflection, systems do too.

When leaders slow down long enough to listen, patterns become visible:

• Where staff are carrying emotional weight

• Where recognition is missing

• Where assumptions have replaced connection

• Where old narratives are shaping current behaviors

Purity & Reflection invites programs to pause and ask:
Where in our organization have we filled the silence with busyness rather than with understanding?

When we make space for truth, healing, and honest communication, teams feel lighter, relationships deepen, and the culture shifts.

Reflective Note: When we pause long enough to listen, our truth always rises to the surface.
If you’ve ever felt a quiet emptiness you couldn’t explain, know that you’re not alone.
Sometimes the void isn’t a sign of lack; it’s an invitation to return to the parts of ourselves we’ve ignored. Give yourself permission to slow down, breathe, and let clarity meet you where you are.

References

• van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score.

• Felitti & Anda. (1997). ACE Study, CDC.

• Center on the Developing Child, Harvard University (2010). Early Experiences Shape Lifelong Health.

Understanding That Calm Is Not Conditional: It’s Cultivated

Words shape wellness. This is your space to speak calm into your day and anchor your mind in positive truth. Through simple affirmations and moments of still reflection, we practice reshaping our inner dialogue, one gentle statement at a time.

“Calm isn’t what happens around me; calm is what I practice within me.”

From Reaction to Regulation

Reflective Note: As you read, consider the conditions you’ve been waiting on to “finally feel calm.” What would change if calm became a daily practice, built, protected, and chosen regardless of what’s happening around you?

One of the most important lessons I’ve learned is that calm is not something you wait for; it’s something you build, practice, and protect. Many of us believe calm will arrive once things “settle down.” The reality is that life rarely stays settled, and even when it does, it’s brief. I had to learn that I can remain steady even when things are unsettled. That was my struggle. I used to tell myself, I’ll be calm when the chaos stops at work, at home, somewhere. But something is always happening, and I had to become the kind of leader who maintains peace in motion.

For me, cultivating calm began with clarity about control. There are things I influence and things I don’t. Peace grows when I act on what I can control and release what I cannot. It also required honest boundaries. For years, I played “Freedom Fighter,” stepping into everyone else’s conflicts to rescue, mediate, or fix. Some people will even seek out a strong personality because they know that person will carry the fight for them. I’ve learned that taking on problems that don’t belong to me steals my peace and disables the growth of others. As a supervisor, my role is not to “fix it,” but to collaborate: What outcomes do you want? What steps will you take? Where are you stuck? Coaching empowers. Rescuing exhausts.

Calm must also be chosen in the midst of stress. The environment may be loud; I don’t have to be. That looks practical: stepping back from arguments that don’t involve me; declining to absorb someone else’s urgency; saying “no” to what distorts my peace; pausing before I respond. It also required me to challenge a myth: calm is not a personality trait reserved for a lucky few. Calm is a skill that can be learned day by day, boundary by boundary, breath by breath. I realized, sometimes late, that I was my own biggest disruptor: not because of who I am, but because of the habits I allowed. The good news is that new habits create new outcomes.

Calm does not mean everything is okay; calm means I am OK, even when everything isn’t. It is how I manage my reactions, my interpretations, and my choices under pressure. That shift from reaction to regulation changed my leadership. I used to go from zero to one hundred when annoyed or overwhelmed. Now I separate signal from noise: step back, reflect, identify leverage points, and bring chaos to clarity. Not everything is urgent. Intentional leadership refuses to be driven by adrenaline. Calm is not a passive practice; it is an active practice.

Leadership Insight

Research shows that when leaders practice mindfulness, emotional regulation, and boundary-setting, their teams experience greater psychological safety and organizational stability. UTSA Pressbooks+1
Well-managed boundaries, knowing what you control and what you don’t, are shown to support well-being and reduce stress in professional environments. WebMD Health Services
Additionally, leaders who model calm in uncertain environments promote trust, engagement, and high performance by helping others feel safe to focus rather than react. CCL+1

Reflection for Readers

• Where are you waiting for conditions to change before you choose calm?
• Which boundaries (time, role, emotional, digital) would protect your peace this week?
• When someone brings you a problem, do you rescue or do you coach?

Key Takeaway

Calm is cultivated.
It grows where boundaries are honored, responsibility is shared, and leaders choose regulation over reaction.

Organizational Bridge to SILWELL-C

Authentic leadership isn’t just about handling the storm but about navigating it with poise. When organizations support leaders in building emotional regulation, clear boundaries, and a calm presence, they create cultures where clarity, trust, and high performance flourish. Through SILWELL-C, we guide leaders in operationalizing calm, not just surviving the headlines but leading from intention and peace.

Organizational Reflection

• Which norms in your workplace unintentionally reward urgency over clarity?
• How are leaders trained to coach rather than rescue?
• What systems (cadence, communication, boundary-setting) could better support calm across your team?

Where story meets science, strength grows through understanding.

• Doornich, J. B. (2024). The Mindful Leader: A Review of Leadership Qualities Derived from Mindfulness. PMC. PMC
• Zink, J. (2017). Chapter 12: Mindfulness and Leadership. UTSA Pressbooks. UTSA Pressbooks
• Smith, S. (2025). CALM amid Chaos: The Art of Being a Team Leader. PMC. PMC
• WebMD/Mental Health Services. (2023). How to Support Employees With Setting Boundaries in the Workplace. WebMD Health Services
• Center for Creative Leadership (2024). How Leaders Can Build Psychological Safety at Work. CCL

Reconnecting with Your Own Peace and Softness

In stillness, renewal takes root. This space invites you to pause, breathe deeply, and let nature remind you of your own capacity to heal. From mindful outdoor moments to small acts of restoration, this mood supports quiet recovery and gentle self-repair.

“Healing is not becoming someone new; it is remembering who you were before the world convinced you to harden.”

Returning to the Safest Version of Yourself

Reflective Note: As you read, consider the parts of yourself that stepped back to survive, and how those parts might be invited back to lead.

When trauma shows up early in life, it doesn’t just change what you experience; it changes who you believe you are allowed to become. There was a version of me that once existed: a softer, freer, calmer version. But experiencing sexual trauma at a young age reshaped how I viewed the world and myself. Fear replaced safety, hypervigilance replaced curiosity, and survival replaced softness. Astrology says that Cancers are warm, outgoing, and emotionally expressive, and while I remained deeply family-oriented, my openness and willingness to be seen disappeared. Trauma made me reserved and cautious. I learned that hiding felt safer than being visible.

As I grew into leadership, strength became my armor, and directness became my protection. My default was to question motives and anticipate harm before it could happen. My mind never rested; it was constantly scanning, planning, and analyzing everything. That’s what trauma does: it puts your mind in a cage, keeping you alert even when you’re no longer in danger. One day, I realized that I was letting my past steal my present. I didn’t want the first fifty years of my life to define the next fifty. I wanted to lead with compassion, not defensiveness. I tried to stop merely surviving and start living.

For a long time, I believed softness was weakness, that if I let people get too close, I would be vulnerable to harm again. But I learned that people do not take advantage of you because you are soft; if they do, it reflects on them, not on you. Softness becomes a strength when you choose it intentionally, not as a default, but as a leadership decision rooted in confidence. Yet the same toughness that protected me for years did not always serve me in leadership. What once kept me safe sometimes became a barrier, especially in the workplace, where people often misunderstood my intentions or misinterpreted my protective nature as a lack of empathy. Trauma does not remove empathy; it overwhelms it.

Even though I have accomplished a great deal, I now recognize that trauma slowed my rise. It made me cautious in environments where confidence is valued and misunderstood in spaces where vulnerability is required. I once led only from survival, because that was the only leadership style I knew, but I have learned that peace is power, and softness is strength refined. Reclaiming my calm allows me to lead from my true self, instead of who trauma taught me to be.

Leadership Insight

Traumatic stress can shift individuals into persistent survival-driven behavior, which affects emotional expression and interpersonal trust. However, reconnecting with inner peace through emotional regulation, reflection, and supportive relationships can restore well-being and authentic leadership presence.

Research further shows that emotionally regulated leaders create healthier work environments, foster psychological safety, and allow others to show up more authentically within their roles.

This demonstrates that softness is not the opposite of strength; it is the elevation of it.

Reflection for Readers

• What version of you has been waiting to return?
• Do you lead from fear, or from your authentic calm?
• Where can you practice gentleness that still honors your strength?

 Key Takeaway

The most powerful leadership transformation is when you stop protecting who you became
and start healing back into who you were.

Organizational Bridge to SILWELL-C

Every leader arrives with unseen wounds. Organizations that support emotional healing and self-regulation:

✅ Reduce stress-based decision-making
✅ Increase collaboration and trust
✅ Strengthen psychological safety
✅ Promote authentic connection and engagement

SILWELL-C helps leaders return to their calm center so that they can lead from peace, not self-protection.

Organizational Reflection

• How does your organization create space for leaders to decompress and heal?
• Are expectations rooted in productivity or well-being?
• What practices could support leaders in rediscovering their calm and confidence?

Where story meets science, strength grows through understanding.

• Kolacz, J. et al. (2021). Trauma and autonomic nervous system function: A review on psychological safety and emotional regulation. Frontiers in Psychology.
• Harvard Business Review (2023). Emotional regulation as a foundation for effective leadership.
• Cramer, H. et al. (2022). Long-term impact of trauma on personality and interpersonal behavior. Psychology Research.

Inspiring Others While Learning to Believe in Yourself

Leadership begins with calm roots. Here, we explore how grounded intention shapes purposeful growth. These reflections and tools nurture the confidence to lead with steadiness, clarity, and a sense of inner balance, so your leadership feels both inspired and sustainable.

“Sometimes we lift others higher because we know what it feels like not to be lifted at all.”

Empowering Others Through Self-Reflection

Reflective Note: As you read, consider how your own confidence, or lack of it, has shaped the way you lead and uplift others around you.

Confidence was not something I was taught growing up. Encouragement, emotional support, and affirmations of self-worth were not part of my early environment. My self-esteem developed through challenging experiences and assumptions about myself rather than guidance or positive reinforcement.

Because of this, I interpreted constructive criticism as judgment or as a sign of personal failure. Instead of seeing feedback as an opportunity to grow, I felt like I was being told I wasn’t enough. And that perception of inadequacy influenced how I showed up as a young adult.

But it also shaped how I chose to lead.

I never wanted others to feel the way I had felt defeated or unseen. So even while I was still learning to believe in myself, I consistently motivated and encouraged others. I became the voice of belief I needed when I was younger.

Leadership taught me this powerful truth:

People often give what they need most.

Supporting others helped me grow. Guiding others strengthened my purpose. When you genuinely believe something is possible, you become more capable of achieving it. Empowering others has not just been something I do; it has been part of who I am becoming.

Leadership Insight (with citations)

Research shows that leaders who provide affirmation and developmental support foster both individual and team growth. For instance, higher leadership self-efficacy predicts stronger leadership behaviours, such as inspiration and motivation. PMC+1
Similarly, self-esteem has been found to influence leadership orientation and effectiveness significantly. ERIC+2PubMed+2 When leaders empower others, they not only build capacity in those around them but also strengthen their own confidence and purpose. PMC+1

Reflection for Readers

• How has your personal experience with confidence shaped the way you lead or support others?
• Do you invest more belief in others than you offer yourself?
• What would change if you encouraged yourself the way you encourage your team?

Key Takeaway

Supporting others while building your own confidence is not a contradiction; it is leadership in motion.

Organizational Bridge to SILWELL-C

Everyone brings a story to the workplace, some rooted in self-assurance and others in uncertainty. Effective leadership acknowledges these differences and creates environments where confidence can grow. SILWELL-C supports organizations in shifting toward people-first cultures where encouragement is intentional, support is ongoing, and belief in staff potential is a leadership expectation.

Organizational Reflection

• How does your organization equip leaders to inspire confidence in others?
• What systems intentionally strengthen belief, growth, and professional empowerment?
• How might leaders model self-development while supporting staff success?

Where story meets science, strength grows through understanding.

Bergman, D., Gustafsson-Sendén, M., & Berntson, E. (2022). From Believing to Doing: The Association Between Leadership Self-Efficacy and the Developmental Leadership Model. PMC. PMC

Gunel, I. (2021). The Effect of Self-Esteem on Leadership Orientation. ERIC. ERIC

Mercadante, E. J. (2023). Leadership in the Eye of the Beholder: Follower Self-Esteem and Leadership Perception. Wiley. PubMed

Ishfaq, F. & Ali, M. (2023). The Influence of Empowering Leadership on Work Engagement: Mediating Role of Motivation and Moderating Role of Self-Efficacy. Research Journal for Societal Issues. ResearchGate

“The Relationship Between Empowering Leadership, Self-Efficacy and Organizational Resilience.” IOJES, 2021. EdSci Journal

Struggling with Mistrust After Betrayal: Leading Through Connection Even When Trust is Broken

Presence turns ordinary moments into meaningful connections. Here, we celebrate warmth, empathy, and authentic engagement, the art of being truly with others. Explore ways to build community, listen deeply, and let your energy create belonging.

Trust is easy to break and hard to build. I learned early that what people say and what they do often don’t match, which changed how I lead, engage, and show up.

Rebuilding Trust in Self and Systems

Reflective Note: As you read, reflect on the relationships you lead or serve within, the ones shaped by unspoken history, unfulfilled promises, and the ways your own trust has been tested. What does genuine connection look like when trust is fractured?

From a young age, I learned the hard lesson: trust can be betrayed.
I was molested. I carried the silence. I came to America and confided in my aunt, who had committed to protect me, yet allowed my pain to continue. At six years old, I heard promises (“No man will stay in the home”) and immediately noticed the lie when I saw one. This realization embedded deep mistrust.

As I moved into the workforce in early childhood education, in roles as director, education coordinator, and education manager, I observed how leaders claimed one thing and did another. Promises went unfulfilled, transparency was lacking, and hidden biases influenced decisions. One day, I was told I was fully qualified for a position, then passed over for reasons never fully disclosed, reinforcing what I already suspected: promises can be broken.

And it did more than erode trust. It made me second-guess everything.
I questioned every promise. I overthought every interaction. A sense of anxiety quietly took hold, wondering if I could trust the words spoken, whether help offered was genuine, or if I would once again be let down. That constant vigilance breeds fatigue.

Yet there was another voice in me: This cannot define how I lead.
I refused to be molded into a bitter leader. Instead, I chose a different path because the children, staff, and communities I served deserved authenticity. I believed my past was not only about what happened to me, but about what I’d do with it.

In my leadership journey, I pledged to be as honest and transparent as possible with my staff, because I know what it is to lead from a place of caution and uncertainty. I know what it’s like to wait for the other shoe to drop. And so, I offer consistency, presence, and integrity.

Not everyone welcomes that kind of authenticity. Some prefer comfort over challenge; they prefer being soothed rather than seeing truths. That’s okay. But I will not trade authenticity for approval.

Trust in an organization is harder when the past has taught you to question. But it can be restored, for you, for your team, and for those who will follow. My purpose remains: to return to the community where I grew up and say, "Your past does not disqualify you." Someone else’s broken promise does not define your potential. Your trust can be healed through your integrity, your consistency, and your willingness to lead in connection.

Wellness Insight

Organizational trust is more than a nice-to-have; it’s a cornerstone of engagement, well-being, and performance. Research shows that when leaders consistently demonstrate authenticity and follow-through, they build higher levels of psychological safety and staff resilience. (Harvard Business Review) Moreover, when individuals carry histories of betrayal or mistrust, they are more prone to anxiety, overthinking, and second-guessing decisions in the workplace, which affects presence, focus, and relational capacity. (Frontiers in Psychology, On Trust and Workplace Anxiety) Therefore, leaders who offer aligned action, where words and deeds match, nurture connection, rebuild engagement, and transform mistrust into meaningful collaboration.

Reflection for Readers

• What promises (spoken or unspoken) have you seen broken, by others or by yourself?

• How has mistrust influenced the way you lead or engage with your team?

• What concrete step can you take today to show consistency between your words and your actions?

Key Takeaway

Trust is a foundation.
When it’s fractured, how you rebuild matters.
Lead with transparency. Honor your commitments. Choose connection over protection.

Organizational Bridge to SILWELL-C

This story reminds organizations that each person carries a story of trust, betrayal, or guarded hope, and those stories influence how they show up. In organizational culture, it’s not enough to assign roles and leave them at that. Authentic leadership recognizes the human story behind the role and invites connection, consistency, and authenticity. With SILWELL-C, we help organizations move from performance-only metrics to people-first cultures where trust isn’t assumed, it’s earned and renewed.

Organizational Reflection

• Who on your team is operating with guarded trust rather than open engagement?

• Which organizational practices might inadvertently reinforce mistrust (e.g., broken promises, opaque decisions, inconsistent messaging)?

• What systems can you implement to ensure that words and actions align — building trust through visible behaviors?

Where story meets science, strength grows through understanding.

• Kampmann, A. (2022). Using Storytelling to Promote Organizational Resilience. Springer. [https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s41471-022-00143-x]

• “How Leaders Build Trust.” Harrietbrace Editor, Harvard Business Review. May 2023. [https://hbr.org/2023/05/what-makes-storytelling-so-effective-for-learning]

• “The Effect of Servant Leadership on Work Resilience.” (2022). Frontiers in Psychology. [https://www.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/fpsyg.2025.1441660/full]

• Sasse-Werhahn, N. et al. (2023). Narratives as a Tool for Practically Wise Leadership. Humanistic Management Journal. [https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s41463-023-00148-6]

Pushing Through Pain and Just Keep Going No Matter What

Soft hearts and steady spines carry us through. This mood honors your quiet strength, the power to stay flexible without losing your form. Here you’ll find reflections that help you bend when needed, breathe through challenge, and return stronger, not harder.

Strength & Resilience: Rising Beyond the Hurt

Content Note: As you read, consider the unseen battles your coworkers and staff may carry,  and what leadership looks like when we lead with understanding rather than judgment

From the earliest days of my childhood, I carried invisible wounds. I experienced sexual assault. I immigrated to a new country and faced further abuse. I lived under the expectations of adults whose approval I sought and under the bullying of peers who made me feel unseen. Something inside whispered: You’re not enough. And yet another voice replied: Watch me.

And that voice followed me into my professional life.

Throughout my career in early childhood education, in roles as director, education coordinator, and education manager, I have encountered leaders who struggled with the strength I demonstrated and the confidence I projected. They didn’t know the story behind that strength. They didn’t know what I had overcome to stand where I stood. Some worked to discredit, diminish, or overlook me. I continued to fight, not just to keep my title, but to keep uplifting the staff I led.

People saw a capable leader.
They did not see how hard I had to fight behind the scenes just to be one.

But I never gave up.
I knew God placed me in leadership for a purpose, to support those who remind me of the child I once was. To help others recognize their gifts before doubt steals their belief. I often think of the children growing up in places like where I was raised, places like Compton, where many are told they will never be anything. I know that voice all too well.

We all have potential.
Sometimes we are a little rough around the edges, but our hearts are pure.

What we need are mentors, not critics. Leaders who can see past the imperfections long enough to nurture the promise inside. If every leader could pause, step back, and choose to see potential instead of flaws, imagine what workplaces could become.

And so my resilience is more than persistence. It is my mission to ensure that no staff member, no child, no person has their potential minimized because someone else cannot recognize their worth.

Wellness Insight

Resilience is not simply enduring; it’s transforming pain into purpose. The narrative of survival, when shared, becomes a leadership asset. In fact, research confirms that authentic storytelling in leadership fosters resilience, enhances engagement, and builds psychological safety in teams. SpringerLink+1
Additionally, leadership style matters: servant-leadership practices,  which emphasize supporting others, recognizing their worth, and building community, are positively linked to employee resilience and engagement. PMC+1

Reflection for Readers

• What hidden pain have you carried that still drives you forward?

• In what ways are you proving something, to yourself or to others, instead of embracing who you already are?

• How can you transition from proving your worth to believing your worth and supporting others in believing theirs?

Key Takeaway

You are resilient because you keep going.
You are powerful because your pain became your purpose.
And the next step is not simply to persist,  it is to guide others with your persistence.

Organizational Bridge to SILWELL-C

This story reminds us that within every organization, there are staff members silently proving their worth rather than being seen for their inherent value. Leadership that only rewards performance misses the deeper human story at play. With SILWELL-C, organizations build cultures where hidden strength is acknowledged, not simply tolerated, where resilience becomes part of the fabric, not just the outcome.

Organizational Reflection

• Who among your team is silently proving rather than belonging?

• Which structures reward relentless output but ignore emotional well-being?

• What can you implement to shift from valuing what they do to valuing who they are?

Where story meets science, strength grows through understanding.

• Kampmann, A. (2022). Using Storytelling to Promote Organizational Resilience. Springer. SpringerLink

• Zigarmi, L. (2010). Storytelling at Work: A Leadership Offer for Well-being. University of Pennsylvania. repository.upenn.edu

• “The Effect of Servant Leadership on Work Resilience.” (2022) Frontiers in Psychology. PMC

• “How Servant Leadership Predicts Employee Resilience in Public Organizations.” (2022) Current Psychology. PubMed

Having a Void in Your Life and Not Knowing Why It Existed

Clarity begins when we pause long enough to see ourselves clearly. In this space, we turn inward, not for judgment, but for grace. Reflection brings alignment, and purity of thought brings peace. These moments guide you toward lightness and quiet understanding.

The Hidden Story Behind High Performance

Content Note

Every educator and leader carries a personal story beneath the surface.
As you read, consider the story you bring to the spaces where you lead and serve.

All my life, I was a worker and an achiever.
If there was a task in front of me, I completed it and then immediately chased another. From a little girl, people praised my ambition. They’d say, “You’re always aiming for the next goal,”. And I believed them. I thought ambition was what defined me.

As I got older, accomplishments became a way of life.
I opened a childcare center. I became a notary. I launched businesses. I earned a Bachelor’s, a Master’s, and a Doctorate, a résumé full of success, but a heart that still felt strangely… empty.

Everyone around me admired me. I smiled and thanked them, but inside, I wondered why none of it filled the silence I felt in my spirit.

I pushed harder. I worked more. I achieved the next big thing, and the next. Each time I thought:
This will be the moment I feel whole.
But the moment never came.

For decades, I could not explain what I was feeling. I would quietly ask others:
“Do you ever feel empty, like something is missing but you don’t know what it is?”
Most didn’t understand. Maybe I didn’t truly understand either.

It wasn’t until my fifties, through deep reflection and the birth of SILWELL-C, that the truth revealed itself:
The void I kept trying to fill was a lack of self-worth.

I kept believing that if I achieved more, became more, or earned more, then I would finally be worthy of myself.
But goals, titles, and applause can never define who we are. They are extensions of us, not the source of our value.

This self-recognition mirrors the psychological insight that the stories we tell about ourselves, our narrative identity, have a powerful impact on well-being; people who perceive agency in their lives (not just achievements), and find redeeming meaning in their struggles, tend to report greater life satisfaction. Psychology Today+1

I discovered that inner happiness isn’t earned,  it’s accepted. It’s nurtured. It’s claimed.

And once I understood that, everything changed.
I realized so many people are just like me, high-performing, admired, and yet silently aching, people who look successful on the outside but feel incomplete on the inside.

This is why I am passionate about SILWELL-C. Because every one of us deserves a life that feels whole,  even when the world is not watching. We deserve fulfillment that doesn’t fade when the applause stops.

In the language of storytelling frameworks, we each have a “story of self” (why I am on this path), a “story of us” (others who are feeling the same void), and a “story of now” (the urgent invitation to connect with our inner worth). The Commons+1

Inner happiness is not a goal; it’s a home we learn to return to.

Reflection for Readers

• Have you ever placed your worth in what you accomplish?

• Do you celebrate who you are even when you are not “achieving”?

• What small ways can you honor your happiness from the inside out?

Key Takeaway

You are worthy before the achievement.
You are enough without the title.
And peace begins the moment you choose yourself.

How This Story Connects to SILWELL-C

This story reminds us that every person,  every teacher, every leader, every staff member,  has an unseen emotional journey. SILWELL-C helps organizations honor those stories so people can find fulfillment not just in what they accomplish, but in who they are.

Organizational Reflection

• How might staff achievements be masking deeper needs?

• What systems are in place to support the person behind the role?

• Do leaders make space for staff to feel valued beyond performance?

Where story meets science, strength grows through understanding.

• Boardman, S. “Take Control of the Story You Tell About Yourself.” Psychology Today, April 3 2023. Psychology Today

• “The Power of Story: The Story of Self, Us and Now.” Commons Library / Leading Change Network. The Commons+2Playworks+2

• Grumet, J. M. “The Story You Tell Yourself: Why storytelling is the hidden bridge between meaning, purpose, and happiness.” Psychology Today, May 8 2025. Psychology Today

The Little Girl Who Carried Grown-Up Burdens

Soft hearts and steady spines carry us through. This mood honors your quiet strength, the power to stay flexible without losing your form. Here you’ll find reflections that help you bend when needed, breathe through challenge, and return stronger, not harder.

Growing up too soon, when survival becomes second nature before childhood even begins.

Content Note: This story includes reflections on childhood responsibility, discipline, and emotional neglect. It may stir personal memories or strong emotions. Please pause or take care of yourself as you read. Healing begins with gentleness, for yourself and your story.

When I first came from Belize to the United States, I was six years old and full of excitement. Everything was new, and I wanted to help. I’m not even sure where that came from, but I remember wanting to clean, to wash dishes, to be useful. I would drag a crate or anything I could find over to the sink so I could reach, and I’d stand there washing dishes, proud that I could do it by myself.

But that innocent excitement didn’t last long. What started as something I enjoyed quickly turned into something I had to do. My older cousin from Jamaica and I were responsible for keeping my aunt’s house spotless. It wasn’t just basic cleaning; it was deep cleaning. We emptied cabinets, re-washed dishes, polished her silver teapots, and wiped every piece of her crystal collection until it shone. She loved her antiques and those fancy chandeliers, and I had to clean them bead by bead with soap and ammonia so they would sparkle when the lights came on.

Cooking was another job. I liked cooking at first, but soon it became something I feared. If I didn’t make a dish exactly how she showed me, I was punished. And my aunt loved to entertain. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Fourth of July, and Labor Day, her house was the house for family gatherings. I was the one who prepared for it all. I washed, set up, cooked, and cleaned before and after. By the time guests arrived, I was too tired to enjoy anything. The laughter and music meant nothing to me because I was exhausted.

Her house was full of people but had no warmth. She had two dogs I was terrified of, yet I had to feed them and clean the yard where they messed. She loved plants, too; the porch was covered with them. They were my responsibility as well. Once, she even called me out of school and whipped me because I forgot to water them.

As I got older, resentment started building up inside me. Quietly, I made promises to myself:
I will never buy a chandelier.
I will never own silver teapots.
I will never have pets.
I will never live a life that feels like servitude.

And then came the words that I’ll never forget. She looked at me and said,

“I’m not worried about you when I die because I know you can cook and clean. You’ll be somebody’s maid.”

That sentence stayed with me for years. It cut deep. And in my mind, it became the thing I had to fight against. After she died, I worked like I had something to prove, not to her, but to myself. I made sure I went to school. I earned my bachelor’s degree, then my master’s, and finally my doctorate. Every degree was proof that I was not, and would never be, anyone’s maid.

What I didn’t realize was that the little girl inside me never stopped working. She never got to rest. She learned early that being “good” meant being responsible, even if it cost her peace. And that carried into my adulthood. Those years made me capable and strong, enabling me to lead, organize, and manage anything, but they also made me overly responsible. I became someone who always had to have things in order. I learned to control instead of relax, to do instead of be.

It took me a long time to learn how to let someone take care of me. I had spent my whole life taking care of everyone else. For so long, survival meant doing it all myself.

“I worked my whole life to prove to someone who was already gone that I was not a maid ,only to realize I never had to prove anything at all.”

Strength and resilience can look like confidence and success, but sometimes they’re just the armor we put on to protect ourselves. Being forced to grow up too soon teaches you responsibility, yes, but it also teaches fear. Fear of slowing down. Fear of resting. Fear of trusting someone else to hold what you’ve always had to carry alone.

Healing for me has meant honoring that little girl, the one who carried too much. It’s letting her know she can rest now. She did her part. She doesn’t have to prove anything anymore. True resilience isn’t about fighting to be strong; it’s about finding peace in being soft again.

Where story meets science, strength grows through understanding.

Hooper, L. M., Doehler, K., Wallace, S. A., & Hannah, N. J. (2023). Parentification Vulnerability, Reactivity, Resilience, and Thriving. Frontiers in Psychology.
Read full article on PubMed Central
→ Explores how children who take on adult roles develop resilience, the emotional costs of early responsibility, and what factors help them thrive later in life.

Racicka, E., Lisikiewicz, M., & Piotrowska, P. J. (2021). The Relations Among Types of Parentification, School Achievement, and Life Satisfaction: A Retrospective Study. Frontiers in Psychology.
Read full article on Frontiers in Psychology
→ Examines how early role reversal affects achievement, emotional well-being, and long-term life satisfaction — highlighting both harm and hidden strength.

Voice from the Wounds: Leading Through Healing

Leadership begins with calm roots. Here, we explore how grounded intention shapes purposeful growth. These reflections and tools nurture the confidence to lead with steadiness, clarity, and a sense of inner balance, so your leadership feels both inspired and sustainable.

Finding your voice as a leader is born from pain, purpose, and wisdom.

Reflective Note- This story is about leading from your scars, not your status. It’s for anyone who’s ever doubted their voice but kept showing up anyway. Sometimes the best leaders are born from the wounds they’ve learned to heal.

I became a leader long before I realized I was one. Yes, I held titles like supervisor, director, education manager/Coordinator, and Vice Principal, but I didn’t see myself as a leader. I saw myself as someone just trying to help.

People often came to me for advice or guidance. They said I offered good suggestions and strong direction. But at the time, I couldn’t see it. I was still struggling, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and because I was struggling, I was determined that no one around me would ever have to feel the kind of pain I felt.

That’s where my leadership really began, not from ambition, but from empathy. I wanted to help others find the strength I had to build the hard way.

When I became a supervisor, I led with honesty and authenticity. I was compassionate but firm, empathetic but transparent. I tried to teach my staff that even when life hurts, you still have to keep going. The world doesn’t stop because you’re wounded. It keeps spinning. You can cry, you can scream, you can feel every bit of it, but when you’re done, you’ve got to get up and move.

That’s the truth I’ve learned through experience. Pain doesn’t excuse you from purpose; it shapes it.

For a long time, though, I didn’t see myself as a “leader.” I just saw myself as someone doing what needed to be done. But looking back, I realize I was leading through my wounds, leading through pain, trying to protect others from the same hurts that shaped me.

I’ve worked in education for over 35 years, and in all that time, I’ve only had one supervisor who truly saw something in me: Ms. Mary Idella Coleman from the Los Angeles Urban League Head Start. I still remember being twenty-three, scared and overwhelmed, telling her I didn’t want to be promoted because her tone and presence reminded me of my aunt, strict, intimidating, and powerful. But she saw something I didn’t see in myself.

She pushed me, not gently, not softly, but purposefully, and that push changed my life. She was the first person who treated me like I was capable of more.

It’s sad, really, because in all my years working across programs and organizations, she’s the only person who ever did that. I’ve never had a mentor. I’ve had to mentor myself, promote myself, and teach myself along the way. That’s why I pour everything I’ve learned into my staff. I want to give them what I never had: someone who believes in them, someone who teaches from both mistakes and wisdom.

Now, I’ll be honest, it doesn’t always come across perfectly.
I have a strong presence. Some people might call it intimidating; I call it passionate. I care deeply about the work, and that energy fills the room, but not everyone knows how to receive that. For some, strength feels like pressure. I’ve learned that my presence can make some people nervous, even when I’m not doing anything wrong.

So as a leader, I’m still learning balance. I’m learning that some people carry their own wounds, and sometimes, my strength reminds them of someone from their past, just like Ms. Coleman reminded me of mine.

Leadership is never about perfection. It’s about growth, for you and for the people you lead. I teach my staff and my students the same thing:
Take the lesson, not the offense. Don’t let your emotions block your learning.

People won’t consistently deliver their message in the way you want, but that doesn’t mean the message isn’t valuable.

“The world may not always hand you gentle teachers but if you listen closely, every experience still teaches.”

Today, I lead from a place of awareness. I know my strength. I know my triggers. I know my heart, and most of all, I know that leadership isn’t about titles, it’s about healing enough to help others grow through theirs.

“My voice as a leader was born from the very wounds I once tried to hide.”

Authentic leadership grows out of empathy, not ego. It’s built through trial, pain, and perseverance. When you’ve walked through the fire and still show up to light the way for others, that’s leadership.

If your voice trembles when you speak the truth, let it. It means you’re leading from a place that’s real.

Where story meets science, strength grows through understanding.

Empathetic Leadership and Employees’ Innovative Behavior
This article explores how leaders who practice emotional support and empathy influence their teams’ creativity and performance.
Read full article on PMC → PMC

Vulnerable Leadership: The Power of the Courage to Descend
This is a thesis / open PDF that examines how vulnerability, courage, and authentic leadership intersect — a deep dive into what it means to lead through your wounds.
Read full PDF → Digital Commons

The Mirror That Didn’t See Me

Clarity begins when we pause long enough to see ourselves clearly. In this space, we turn inward, not for judgment, but for grace. Reflection brings alignment, and purity of thought brings peace. These moments guide you toward lightness and quiet understanding.

When love is given by shade, it teaches you to doubt your own light.

Content Note

This story explores early family experiences of favoritism, colorism, and emotional neglect.
It may resonate deeply with those who’ve struggled to feel seen or valued in their own families.

When I first came from Belize, I entered a home where love was handed out by shade and shaped by what she admired, not by who we were. My aunt, a proud and strict Jamaican woman, carried her own pain from being called ugly for her dark skin. I didn’t realize it then, but she passed that pain on.

Her great-grandchildren were fair-skinned, with loose curls, and she cherished them like treasure. One great-grandchild lived with us, and she seemed to live a life I could only watch from the sidelines. She went to acting school, shopped in Beverly Hills, and carried lunch money I could only dream of. I, on the other hand, was told I’d be fine because I knew how to cook and clean and that I could always be someone’s maid.

By six, I was cooking meals, washing dishes, watering dozens of plants, and keeping the house spotless. If I forgot a task, I was disciplined. My sister and cousin were spared those duties; they were the “smart” and “pretty” ones. My cousin had children while living with us, yet I was the one threatened with being sent back to Belize if I ever even had a boyfriend.

The rules were not about behavior; they were about who mattered, and in that home, I did not matter. My hair was too tight, and my voice too small. I grew up questioning my beauty, my worth, and even my right to be loved. I learned to earn affection through service, cooking, helping, and fixing, believing I had to work for belonging.

It wasn’t until my fifties that I began to unlearn that lie. Through reflection and healing, I’ve realized that no one gets to define my beauty or worth. The mirror that didn’t see me no longer holds power. I see myself now clear, whole, and deserving.

“The mirror didn’t see me, but I learned to see myself.”

When we grow up unseen, we spend years performing for validation. True reflection invites us to stop performing and be, to look inward with compassion rather than judgment. Every time I choose to see my own light, I restore a part of the little girl who thought she wasn’t enough.

Where story meets science, strength grows through understanding.

Experiences of favoritism and color bias are not just personal; they are backed by social science. In U.S. and U.S.-linked research, darker-skinned individuals report higher stress and psychological distress under discrimination, and adult children who perceive favoritism report lower well-being.
How Skin Tone Influences Psychological Distress (PMC)
Adult Children, Favoritism & Well-Being (Pillemer et al.)
The Persistent Problem of Colorism (Harvard DEIB)

Composure in Motion: Choosing Calm Over Chaos

Words shape wellness. This is your space to speak calm into your day and anchor your mind in positive truth. Through simple affirmations and moments of still reflection, we practice reshaping our inner dialogue, one gentle statement at a time.

Learning to regulate emotions, especially at work, by finding strength in restraint and clarity in calm.

Reflective Note

This story speaks to the quiet discipline of emotional control, the kind that doesn’t silence you, but steadies you.
If you’ve ever felt misunderstood, provoked, or tested at work, you’re not alone. Many of us carry old wounds into new spaces, unaware that our reactions are often echoes of earlier pain.

As you read, take a slow breath. Let this story remind you that calm isn’t weakness, it’s clarity. It’s the moment you decide that your peace is more important than anyone’s chaos.

When I look back at my professional life, I realize how long it took me to learn the true meaning of calm.

I started working young, really young. My first job was as an instructional aide with the Los Angeles Urban League, Head Start Program. I wanted to work with children to protect them. After one year, my supervisor promoted me to a supervisor/teacher.

I still remember that moment so clearly. Instead of feeling proud, I cried. I told her, “I don’t want the job.”

She was strict, severe, and easily angered when someone made a mistake. Her energy reminded me so much of my aunt, the woman who raised me. That same tone. That same coldness, and because of that, I was afraid. I didn’t want to be disciplined. I didn’t want to be made to feel small again.

But she pulled me aside and said, “You can do this. I see something in you.”
That was the start of my leadership journey. I was twenty-three years old, young, driven, and still carrying a lot of unhealed pain.

Because of my past, I came into leadership with a defensive mindset. My attitude was simple: no one is going to talk to me like I'm crazy.
I wasn’t just protective of myself; I was protective of everyone I worked with. If I thought someone was being mistreated, I’d jump right in. I had what I call a freedom fighter spirit. I wanted fairness and justice for everyone.

The problem was, I didn’t understand the difference between passion and reaction.
I didn’t realize that as a leader, you can’t always bring your personal emotions into professional spaces. You have to be the example, and I didn’t learn that lesson until much later, fifty-two years old to be exact.

For years, if something triggered me at work or if something reminded me of a past hurt, I would lose composure. I’d shut down, stop talking, pull back, or get an attitude. I thought I was protecting myself, but I was really reacting to old pain.

The truth is, you can’t lead effectively when your triggers lead you, and I learned that the hard way.

People often say, “Don’t be emotional at work,” but I’ve come to understand that what they really mean is to manage your emotions. Because once people see emotion, they stop hearing your message. You could be right, your point could be valid, but if your tone or reaction is off, that’s all they’ll remember.

It took years of mistakes, misunderstandings, and reflection for me to recognize that pattern. A significant situation at work forced me to slow down and look at myself. Then, I had surgery on my foot and had to take three months off. That time away changed everything.

I had space to think, pray, and reflect. And what I realized was this: my job is not my identity. It’s something I do, not who I am.

When I returned, I had a different mindset. I started to see how much of the workplace is political, the personalities, the games, the hidden rules, and for years, I fought against that. I told myself, I don’t play games, but the truth is, corporate environments have their own culture, and sometimes you have to navigate it strategically, not emotionally.

I also learned something small but mighty: don’t make your workspace your home. We decorate our offices with personal touches like plants, family pictures, and knick-knacks, and before we know it, we start treating work like it’s part of our personal world. That makes it harder to separate who you are from what you do.

Now, I keep my space simple. It reminds me that work is just a place where I come to provide a service. When I leave, I leave it there. It took me fifty years to learn that lesson, but I finally got it. Healing played a big part in that. You can’t be a grounded leader if you haven’t dealt with your past. If you don’t know what triggers you, your reactions will keep writing your story for you.

Today, I lead with calm. I pause before I respond. I try to listen more than I speak, and I’ve learned that real strength isn’t in defending yourself all the time, it’s in knowing when you don’t have to.

“When I learned to stop reacting, I discovered how powerful silence can be.”

Leadership isn’t about being fearless; it’s about being self-aware. When we take the time to understand our triggers and separate who we are from what we do, we lead from peace instead of pain.

Calm doesn’t mean weak. It means steady. It means you trust yourself enough to respond instead of react, and that’s where composure becomes your strength.

Where story meets science, strength grows through understanding.

Emotional Intelligence, Leadership, and Work Teams: Linking Emotional Intelligence and Performance at Work
National Library of Medicine (Open Access)
This full-text article explores how emotional intelligence connects to leadership success, teamwork, and workplace balance. It’s a helpful read for understanding why managing emotions is key to leading effectively and maintaining harmony in professional environments.

How to Prevent Stress in the Workplace by Emotional Regulation? The Relationship Between Emotional Intelligence and Stress Management
SAGE Open Journal, 2022 (Open Access)
This research piece dives into real strategies for emotional regulation and stress prevention at work. It offers evidence-based insights on how awareness and restraint can reduce burnout and improve relationships in professional spaces.

The Garden That Taught Me to Breathe Again

In stillness, renewal takes root. This space invites you to pause, breathe deeply, and let nature remind you of your own capacity to heal. From mindful outdoor moments to small acts of restoration, this mood supports quiet recovery and gentle self-repair.

When the earth became my sanctuary, I learned that healing doesn’t come from forgetting; it comes from tending what still grows.

Reflective Note

This story is about letting go of anger and bitterness. It took me years to understand that healing doesn’t come all at once. It comes slowly, in small ways, like new leaves after a long season of cold. As you read, take a moment to pause and breathe. Sometimes the release starts right there.

For most of my life, I carried anger and bitterness. I felt like life had handed me a complicated story to live through, and I couldn’t understand why. I held on to that pain so tightly that it started shaping everything about me, the way I looked, the way I spoke, the way I reacted. People would tell me, “You always look upset,” or “It can’t be that bad,” but they didn’t see the weight I was carrying. They didn’t know how long I’d been holding my breath.

I tried therapy more than once. Probably five or six times. Each time, I’d go for a few months, feel like nothing was changing, and stop. I didn’t realize that healing doesn’t work like a switch. Therapy can’t fix what we’re not ready to face. And at that time, I just wasn’t prepared. I thought I was, but I wasn’t.

My sister is a woman of faith and used to tell me, “Give it to God.” She meant it from her heart, but I didn’t know how. How do you let go of something that’s been part of you for fifty years? My anger had become my protection. It was like armor. I told myself, “This is just who I am,” and I lived that way for a long time.

Then I started gardening. I can’t even tell you what made me start. Maybe it was just wanting to be outside or have something to take care of that didn’t talk back. But when I was out there digging, watering, pulling weeds, something in me got quiet. The more I worked the soil, the less I thought about the past. I didn’t notice it right away, but the garden was softening me.

After my divorce, when everything felt like it was falling apart, I went back to that space again, not for healing, but to breathe. That’s when I finally felt the release. The garden didn’t ask questions or judge me. It just took me in. I could talk to God out there without words. The rhythm of watering, pruning, and planting it became my prayer.

Now I realize the garden had been saving me all along. It was the one place that never expected me to be strong. It just let me be.

Over time, I started to understand something about stories. We all have one. Some of them are messy, some are painful, and some still make us cry when we think about them, but our stories don’t have to control us. They can teach us, refine us, and remind us how far we’ve come. A story can make you bitter, or it can make you better.

I used to see my past as punishment. Now I see it as soil. It wasn’t easy soil; it was rocky and challenging, but it still grew something strong in me. All those tough seasons taught me resilience. They made me a go-getter. When I set my mind to something, I finish it. If Someone tells me I cannot do something, I make it happen. When life gets hard, I go back to the dirt. I plant again and I keep growing.

“My garden didn’t just grow flowers it grew my forgiveness.”

Letting go doesn’t mean pretending nothing happened. It means choosing to hold your story with grace instead of anger. The rough parts of your life are still part of your soil, but even there, something beautiful can grow.

When you make peace with your past, you give yourself room to breathe. Your garden might not have soil and seeds, it might be a quiet space, a walk, a prayer, or a deep breath, but wherever you find stillness, that’s where your healing begins.

Where story meets science, strength grows through understanding.

“Nature’s Role in Mental Health and Wellbeing,” Yale School of the Environment (2020).
Read article →
Explains how time in nature improves mood, reduces rumination, and helps the mind release emotional weight, offering real insight into how peace grows from connection to the natural world.

Love’s Unraveling: When Connection Breaks

Presence turns ordinary moments into meaningful connections. Here, we celebrate warmth, empathy, and authentic engagement, the art of being truly with others. Explore ways to build community, listen deeply, and let your energy create belonging.

When love is pursued before trust has roots, connection can feel like comfort, until the truth asks to be seen.

Reflective Note

This story explores betrayal and the unraveling of emotional trust within marriage. It may bring up feelings of hurt, anger, or sadness. Take your time as you read, breathe when you need to, and remember that healing begins when we face the truth with compassion, for ourselves first.

I married at twenty-seven, searching for love and connection, maybe for someone to finally love me. I had never really felt loved before, so when this man appeared with perfect words and constant attention, it felt like the answer. He sent flowers every week, listened to every detail, and made things happen easily.

Truthfully, I wasn’t ready to marry him. I had just come out of a painful engagement and wanted time to heal. But he was persistent, persuasive, and everyone around me urged me to give him a chance. Don’t let the past block your future, they said. So against my instincts, I did.

We got married, and a year later, we had our first child. He was in the military; I owned a home in Southern California, but we soon moved to Northern California, far from family and friends. I stayed home caring for our baby while he worked. When he returned from long days, he was tired and did not want to engage in much talking. I cooked, cleaned, managed bills, saved money, and tried to be a “good wife.”

He went away to war when it first started in 2002, and I took care of everything: the house, his debts, and the responsibilities. When he returned, things seemed okay for a while, but we still argued often. I carried childhood pain that he didn’t want to hear about. “Stop talking about the past,” he’d say. “You’re just having a pity party.” But silence never heals; it only buries pain alive.

Over time, I realized he had brought his own hidden wounds and addictions. He was a serial cheater. I discovered clues through cell-phone bills, data charges, and excuses. One day in Northern California, while searching for a charger, I found a prepaid phone tucked in a drawer. When I powered it on, there were messages from more than thirty women.

The shock hit hard. When I confronted him, he destroyed the phone overnight to protect himself, telling me, “I couldn’t let anyone get their hands on that evidence.” I felt humiliated, trapped between disbelief and fury. Still, I tried to make it work for the children. At my sister’s urging, I stayed. He agreed to therapy, but quit after two months: “I don’t have a problem; I can stop anytime.”

Nothing changed. The arguments, the insults, the betrayals continued. Part of me needed undeniable proof to see it with my own eyes before I could let go.

Then came the Southern part of Nevada. He had insisted I not visit during two specific weeks, which only deepened my suspicion. On my first day off work, I drove there unannounced and caught him with another woman in our home.

The scene was cruel. He was cold, dismissive, and treated me like I was nothing. That woman sat comfortably among our family photos. Everything the lies, the disrespect, the depth of deceit, was on full display. Years of hope collapsed in one moment.

I lost control. I yelled, cried, threw things, and screamed loud enough for the neighbors to gather outside. But when I drove away from that house, something inside me became still. I felt relief. The fog cleared. I knew the marriage was over. No more explanations. No more chances.

After twenty years of shared life, betrayal gave me clarity: love without honesty is not love.

“When I finally caught him, I thought I’d break, but instead, I breathed. The truth hurt, but it also set me free.”

Sometimes, connection is mistaken for rescue. We fall for the promise of being seen, not realizing that love built on loneliness cannot hold us. Betrayal shatters more than trust; it confronts the illusions we built to feel safe.

Healing after betrayal means learning to reconnect with yourself first. It means rebuilding faith not in another person’s promises, but in your own intuition, the voice that knew all along. Real connection begins when we no longer abandon ourselves for love.

Where story meets science, strength grows through understanding.

“Love and Infidelity: Causes and Consequences”
Available via PubMed Central (open access) PMC
This article discusses how infidelity can impact both partners emotionally, psychologically, and relationally, including how betrayal affects trust, mental health, and relational dynamics.

“Post-traumatic Stress and Psychological Health Following Infidelity in Unmarried Young Adults”
Full text available via ResearchGate / PMC sources ResearchGate+1
This study explores how infidelity may produce PTSD-like symptoms (intrusive thoughts, anxiety, stress) and how those symptoms relate to depressive and anxiety outcomes.

The Day I Stood Up

Soft hearts and steady spines carry us through. This mood honors your quiet strength, the power to stay flexible without losing your form. Here you’ll find reflections that help you bend when needed, breathe through challenge, and return stronger, not harder.

Soft heart, steady spine.

Sensitive Topic: This story contains references to childhood bullying and physical discipline.

When I moved from Belize to America at the age of six, everything about me made me stand out. My accent. My limp. My quiet nature. Kids didn’t understand my culture, and back in the late 1980s, differences weren’t celebrated. It was teased. Every day after school, I was pushed, called names, and mocked for how I spoke and walked.

I didn’t fight back. My aunt was strict and had warned me that if I ever caused trouble, she’d show up at school with a belt. So, I held it in, but the teasing didn’t stop. I remember one afternoon, she came to pick me up and saw a group of kids walking behind me, laughing. That day, she told me not to let anyone bully me again.

Her words confused me. How can I protect myself while still following her rules? But the next time it happened, something inside me changed. I was in sixth grade when a girl said something cruel about my mother, and I snapped. I fought back. That was the first fight I ever had, and though I dreaded the consequences, I felt something I hadn’t felt before: power.

The next day, I was called to the office. The principal gave me two options: take six swats with a paddle or have them call my aunt. I took the swats. I was sore, but for the first time, I wasn’t scared.

That day changed me. It didn’t make me violent; it made me aware. Aware that standing up for yourself isn’t about anger. It’s about reclaiming your dignity. It’s about no longer letting fear define your worth.

I learned how to code-switch between dialects, how to blend in when I needed to, but more importantly, I learned that strength doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it’s the quiet decision to stop running, turn around, and say, Enough.

“That day, I learned strength isn’t loud. It’s the quiet choice to no longer shrink.”

Bullies feed on silence. That day, I found my voice, not to harm, but to protect. Sometimes resilience begins the moment you stop shrinking to make others comfortable.

Where story meets science, strength grows through understanding.

Resilience is the ability to adapt well to adversity; many people also experience post-traumatic growth, develop new strengths, and find meaning after hardship.
Good sources: APA on resilience; Tedeschi & Calhoun’s post-traumatic growth research. American Psychological Association+1

When Calm Leads, Growth Follows

Leadership begins with calm roots. Here, we explore how grounded intention shapes purposeful growth. These reflections and tools nurture the confidence to lead with steadiness, clarity, and a sense of inner balance, so your leadership feels both inspired and sustainable.

Lead with calm, grow with purpose.

Leadership note: Calm is contagious; model it, and your team will mirror it.

When I began building SILWELL-C, I thought I was creating a program for others. I didn’t realize it would also become the mirror that healed me.

For years, I had carried the weight of perfectionism, trying to meet everyone’s needs while ignoring my own. I was always the strong one, the organizer, the one who “kept it together.” But beneath that calm surface, I was exhausted. Building SILWELL-C taught me something that no leadership book ever had: you can’t pour from a dry spirit.

Each template, toolkit, and workshop I created became a reminder to pause, breathe, and listen. As I designed wellness tools for others, I was actually developing a softer version of myself, one who could lead without losing her peace.

Authentic leadership, I’ve learned, isn’t about control or credentials. It’s about cultivating calm in the spaces you influence. When people feel safe, seen, and valued, they grow, and when they grow, the work grows too.

That’s what SILWELL-C became for me: not just a business, but a blueprint for healing, a living reminder that growth is gentler and far more powerful when it’s rooted in wellness.

“You can’t pour from a dry spirit.”

Calm leadership doesn’t demand attention; it earns trust. The more I learn to slow down, the more I see that growth isn’t something you chase; it’s something that unfolds when peace takes the lead.

Where story meets science, purpose takes root in calm clarity.

Teams grow when leadership is shared and people feel safe to speak up; educator-focused mindfulness PD improves classroom climate and reduces stress, evidence that your calm leader / staff-led model can reference.
Good sources: Shared Leadership and Team Effectiveness: An Investigation - Demonstrates that shared leadership (distributing leadership among team members) is positively associated with team performance and viability. PMC

The First Mirror

Clarity begins when we pause long enough to see ourselves clearly. In this space, we turn inward, not for judgment, but for grace. Reflection brings alignment, and purity of thought brings peace. These moments guide you toward lightness and quiet understanding.

Clarity begins with a quiet look within

Warning- Sensitive Topic: The following story contains references to childhood sexual abuse and trauma, which may be distressing for some readers. Please proceed with care and attention to your well-being.

I was only four when I first learned that pain could live in silence. My earliest memories are of Belize, a small wooden house, two bedrooms, six children, and a bunk bed that should have been a place of rest. Instead, it became the first place I lost my innocence.

At night, my half-brother would wait until the room was quiet, then climb to the top bunk where I slept. I didn’t understand what was happening, only that it always came with fear. No one ever told me what to do with fear that had no witness.

Years later, I was brought to the United States for medical treatment and adopted by my aunt. I thought distance would bring safety. However, another relative began to violate those exact boundaries, and once again, the adults around me failed to protect me. I told, and nothing changed. The house was full of people, yet I had nowhere private to sleep, nowhere truly safe to close a door.

By twelve, I had already learned that survival meant planning my escape. I told myself that when I turned eighteen, I would leave, and I did. My aunt passed away the same year, and I walked away carrying the anger of a child who had never been defended.

“When protection never came, I promised myself I would become my own protector.”

Looking back now, I see the little girl who carried more truth than any child should. Her silence became my first mirror, the one that showed me how clarity begins not in blame, but in finally saying what happened out loud. Purity isn’t about untouched innocence; it’s about learning to see yourself clearly, even when the world refuses to see you.

Where story meets science, gentle truths grounded in reflection.

Early adversity is shared and can shape adult health; healing grows with trauma-informed practices and self-compassion.
Good sources: CDC on ACEs; Kristin Neff’s self-compassion research review. CDC+1

Adverse Childhood Experiences Study – CDC (2023)
Self-Compassion and Professional Well-Being (PMC, 2025)

Speaking Peace into My Life

Words shape wellness. This is your space to speak calm into your day and anchor your mind in positive truth. Through simple affirmations and moments of still reflection, we practice reshaping our inner dialogue, one gentle statement at a time.

Finding purpose, clarity, and my calm through stillness and self-belief.

Personal note: This is the story of how I began speaking peace into my life, one calm word, one quiet breath at a time.

Peace didn’t arrive all at once. It came in a whisper, in moments when life forced me to sit still long enough to listen. For years, I appeared to have it all together: strong, organized, the one people turned to for balance. But behind that calm exterior was a woman fighting storms no one could see. I was exhausted, searching for peace while still living in a state of chaos. It wasn’t until life pressed pause that I finally found what I’d been chasing all along, myself.

After my divorce, I thought I had found peace, but really, I had only found space. I was still a work in progress, sometimes angry, and lost the next. I threw myself into work, showing up for others while quietly breaking down inside. I felt invisible, misplaced, like I didn’t belong anywhere. Even though people around me admired my calm, I didn’t feel it. Inside, I was a freedom fighter, always defending, always bracing for the next emotional hit.

Then came the shift I didn’t expect: surgery. Three months of being home, unable to rush, unable to fix or save anyone. At first, I hated it, the silence, the stillness. But somewhere in that stillness, I began to hear God.

I spent the first few weeks reflecting on my life, my purpose, and what truly brings me fulfillment. And then something unfolded: clarity. I realized that what I had created for my staff through a wellness program, helping others breathe, rest, and feel seen, was also what had healed me.

When I began creating SILWELL-C, it wasn’t a business; it was a form of therapy. Writing the framework, designing the toolkit, and developing the visuals all brought a sense of calm to my spirit. I was no longer fighting to prove my worth; I was living it. Each task became a declaration:
I am capable. I am calm. I am guided.

The more I poured into this new purpose, the less room there was for negativity. My words softened. My mornings became sacred. Gratitude replaced comparison. I found joy in simple things, such as breathing, creating, and resting.

And when I looked back at everything I had accomplished, I realized I had built a brand, written a children’s book, created an entire website, and filed my own trademark and copyright. I realized something divine:
God had given me peace in the form of purpose.

“When you begin speaking calm into your life, the noise around you starts to lose its power.”

Peace doesn’t always come wrapped in comfort; sometimes it’s hidden inside the pause we didn’t plan for. My calm began when I stopped trying to fix what was broken and started nurturing what was growing. I’ve learned that speaking peace isn’t just about words, it’s about alignment. When your heart, your habits, and your purpose speak the same language, calm becomes who you are.

Where story meets science,  peace deepens through awareness.

Self-affirmations and gratitude practices can buffer stress and boost problem-solving and mood.
Good sources: Creswell et al. (2013) on self-affirmation under stress; Emmons & McCullough (2003) on gratitude benefits. PMC+1

Greater Good Science Center: Power of Gratitude (2024)

The Garden Within: Healing Takes Root in Still Places

In stillness, renewal takes root. This space invites you to pause, breathe deeply, and let nature remind you of your own capacity to heal. From mindful outdoor moments to small acts of restoration, this mood supports quiet recovery and gentle self-repair.

“I planted peace in the space where love once withered.”

Sensitive Topic: The following story contains references to emotional recovery after divorce, which may be distressing for some readers. Please proceed with care and attention to your well-being.

When I filed for divorce, I was angry, disappointed, and scared. More than anything, I felt like everything I had poured into that marriage had been wasted. All the years of building a home, a plan, and a future were time I could have been investing in someone who truly wanted to create a life with me. I felt lost. Instead of feeling cherished, I felt used, as if my efforts had helped elevate someone else while leaving me feeling empty.

When I caught my ex-husband cheating, I remember the drive home. I was furious, but also… relieved. For years, I had been gaslit into believing I was imagining things, that my insecurities were the problem, that I was “crazy.” Seeing the truth was painful, but it ultimately set me free. That drive home was the moment the rock lifted from my back.

The early days after the divorce were filled with mixed emotions, freedom and fury, grief and grace. I realized that peace wasn’t going to come from being right or seeking revenge. It would only come from forgiveness. I had to forgive him for his flaws, just as I wanted others to forgive me for mine. I remembered something he once told me: “You have a hard time forgiving people.” And for the first time, I understood what he meant.

Forgiving him didn’t mean excusing what he did; it meant freeing myself from the burden of resentment. I had to accept that we are all imperfect humans, each carrying pain from our own pasts. People hurt people, not because they’re evil, but because they are broken. Once I accepted that truth, something inside me softened.

That’s when healing truly began. I spent hours in my garden, hands in the soil, lost in thought. My garden became my sanctuary, the place where I prayed, reflected, and listened. Every flower I planted felt like planting peace back into my life. The more I nurtured the earth, the more I was nurturing myself.

Forgiveness rooted me. Reflection steadied me. And nature, with all its stillness and renewal, healed me in ways words never could.

“My garden saved me long before I realized I was saving myself.”

Healing is not about forgetting what broke you; it’s about learning to grow through it. Sometimes the most potent healing happens in silence, in the steady rhythm of tending to something outside yourself. Nature teaches us that beauty takes time, that renewal comes after shedding, and that every ending holds the seed of a beginning.

Where story meets science, growth begins in still places.

Time spent in natural settings is linked to lower stress and better mental health; forgiveness practices also reduce anxiety and enhance overall well-being. Good sources: Greenspace health meta-analysis; Hopkins Medicine on health benefits of forgiveness; ART (Attention Restoration Theory) overview. ScienceDirect+2Johns Hopkins Medicine+2

Health Benefits of Viewing Nature Through Windows: A Meta-Analysis- Demonstrates that even passive nature exposure (like looking out a window) correlates with reduced symptoms of anxiety, depression, and stress. OUP Academic

The Effects of Nature Exposure Therapies on Stress, Depression (PMC article)-Nature immersion therapies (forest bathing, etc.) are linked to reductions in anxiety, stress, and depression. PMC

When Love Wasn’t Enough

Presence turns ordinary moments into meaningful connections. Here, we celebrate warmth, empathy, and authentic engagement, the art of being truly with others. Explore ways to build community, listen deeply, and let your energy create belonging.

Presence turns moments into connection.

Sensitive Topic: The following story contains references to infidelity, emotional healing, and self-discovery, which may be distressing for some readers. Please proceed with care and attention to your well-being.

I was twenty-seven when I got married, but the truth is, I was still trying to figure out who I was.
Before that, I had been engaged once, young and hopeful, convinced that love alone could fill the empty places inside me. When that engagement ended, I carried the heartbreak quietly, believing that maybe I just wasn’t enough.

When I met my ex-husband, I wanted love to work more than I wanted to understand it. He was charming, attentive, and said all the things I had longed to hear. At the time, he was in the military, far from his family, often stationed in unfamiliar places, searching for something that would make him feel grounded and less alone. I, on the other hand, wanted a family because I was searching for love, for a sense of belonging, for something steady that could fill the emptiness I felt inside.

We were both looking for connection, just in different ways. He sought companionship to ease the distance from his world, and I yearned for a bond that would heal the distance within my heart. But when two people are trying to fill different voids, even love can start to feel like reaching for something that isn’t there.

We were together for twenty years, married for twenty-two, moving from state to state, building homes, raising children. On the outside, it looked like a perfect life. But inside, I was exhausted. I was constantly trying to fix what was breaking, to make peace where trust had already been lost. The infidelity was relentless, and every betrayal reopened old wounds, the same wounds of not being protected and not being chosen.

When I finally filed for divorce, it wasn’t out of anger. It was out of survival. I realized that staying meant losing myself completely. After the divorce, I started reading, journaling, and confronting my own patterns, the way I gave too much, loved too hard, and expected someone else to complete me.

What I learned was that love doesn’t heal what you refuse to face, and authentic connection can’t exist when you’re disconnected from yourself.

“Healing doesn’t mean you never loved them. It means you finally started loving yourself.”

I once thought love was something I had to earn. Now I know connection begins when you stop chasing and start becoming. It’s not about finding someone who completes you; it’s about becoming whole enough to meet someone as you are.

Where story meets science, every insight builds a bridge.

Adult attachment patterns influence how we seek closeness, regulate emotions, and build safe bonds; EFT utilizes this science to enhance connection.
Good sources: Martino, J. et al. (2015). The Connection Prescription: Using the Power of Social Connection to Improve Health and Well-Being.

“There is significant evidence that social support and feeling connected can help people maintain physical health, manage stress, reduce depressive symptoms, and improve overall mental health.”
PMC – The Connection Prescription (2015) pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov

Mind the Workplace Report – Mental Health America (2024)