Just as elite athletes like Michael Phelps, Usain Bolt, or Novak Djokovic train intensely for several hours a day, in my field, that of personal development and growth, I strive to be the best version of myself to guide others on their transformative journey.
But let me tell you, being an athlete of personal growth is no easy task. It requires introspection and constant deepening into oneself. Every situation, no matter how trivial it may seem, becomes an opportunity for self-improvement.
For my partner, this intensity is exhausting. He doesn't wish to dive deep into introspection on a Tuesday at 11 in the morning after any given argument. I get it, just as I can't approach life with the same light-hearted humor he does, being a comedian.
This path isn't for everyone. It demands a skill I refine daily: to delve into my emotions without it overshadowing my daily routine, as I never know which strings I might pull or which wound might reopen.
Lately, I felt particularly sensitive. I would cry at the drop of a hat, whether watching America's Got Talent or hearing the loving words of my daughter. Clearly, something wasn't right; I would argue about anything and felt very defensive. There was something to investigate.
Digging deep, I had a striking revelation: despite all the work I'd done healing my inner child, understanding, and forgiving my parents' choices, I never fully acknowledged that for a large part of my childhood, I didn't feel truly loved. Logically, I knew my parents loved me, but the child I was, with her fresh and new perception of the world, didn't feel that way.
All children have three basic needs: to feel loved, safe, and important. When parents didn't have those needs met, it's challenging for them to meet them in their children. It's hard to give something you never received. It could also be that parents genuinely believe and feel that their loving words and actions are reaching their children as intended, but the children might not receive them in the same manner, as was my case.
This led me to internalize limiting beliefs, such as feeling I had to earn love and that if I wasn't loved, it was because I didn't deserve it. The software installed in my young mind, built on these beliefs, influenced my decisions throughout my life, leading to countless mistakes. Each error reinforced the notion that I was the issue, deepening my pain. As the years passed, I grew, the hardware became bigger and stronger, but the software from when I was 7 or 8 remained the same.
Now, with more wisdom and self-awareness, I look back and embrace that little girl, giving her the love she longed for. I've managed to update my internal software, removing errors, viruses, and all the limiting beliefs that made me feel undeserving of love, that love had to be earned, and that I depended on others to feel happy and complete.
This journey reaffirms my vocation and purpose: to heal and help others do the same. I love the phrase "healed people heal people" because it gives a precious meaning to my story, to my pain. And although my growth process is ongoing and never-ending, I know it doesn't have to be painful or lonely. Every part of me that heals becomes a tool to help others, and the pain I felt transforms into hope and strength for those around me.
With love, until next time ā¤ļø.
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