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.