A Little Encouragement for Today

As you’ve been following along each day with these questions, you can also grab your copy of the book where I included all 365 days! Check the link in the comments below.

Today’s reflection is about HEALING:

How have your needs changed as you’ve healed?

I think the unhealed version of myself was very needy because of the many insecurities I carried. Some of those insecurities were valid, while others were simply stories I created in my own mind.

As I’ve healed, my needs have changed significantly. I’ve learned not to place unrealistic expectations on other people, and I’ve become much more self-sufficient emotionally. I no longer allow things to affect me as deeply as they once did.

Healing taught me that peace comes from within, not from constantly seeking reassurance from others.

And honestly, we take life way too seriously sometimes. Learning to let go, breathe, and trust the process has made all the difference.

Today’s reflection is about RESILIENCE:

What obstacles have shaped your character in meaningful ways?

For me, one of the biggest obstacles was living alone for the first time as an adult. It taught me self-reliance, independence, and how to be okay with the quiet.

At first, the silence felt uncomfortable. But over time, I realized that being alone doesn’t always mean being lonely. Sometimes, the quiet is where you discover your strength the most.

The challenges we go through often shape us into stronger, wiser versions of ourselves. They teach us lessons we wouldn’t have learned otherwise.

Looking back, I’m grateful for the obstacles that forced me to grow, even when they felt difficult in the moment.

What about you?

I transformed the moment I decided to stop hiding myself just to fit in.

At one time, not being my authentic self didn’t feel like a failure—it was more like a shield. I learned to read the atmosphere, smooth out my rough edges, and keep things calm. That version of me was doing her best with the tools she had.

But eventually, the weight of staying in the shadows became too much to bear compared to the fear of being seen.

The shift didn’t happen overnight. It unfolded through a series of small, courageous choices:

 ✨I began to speak my truth in spaces where I felt safe.

 ✨I started tuning into my body when something felt off, instead of convincing myself it was fine.

✨ I embraced discomfort as a teacher rather than a barrier.

 ✨I prioritized being true to myself over seeking approval, even when my voice trembled.

✨ I recognized my needs as completely valid.

 ✨I established boundaries where I used to stretch myself too thin.

✨ I allowed myself to grow without feeling the need to explain every change to those who only knew the old me.

Most importantly, I realized that being at peace with myself was far more important than being easy for others to digest.

That choice didn’t just change my actions—it reshaped who I am. That’s where I discovered my most authentic self. Once I chose to embrace who I really am, it stopped feeling like an act of rebellion and started to feel like coming home.

Some seasons ask us to slow down.
Not because we are failing, but because we are becoming overwhelmed by motion.

They invite us to sit with ourselves—to pause the constant performing, fixing, and striving. To stop measuring our worth by productivity or progress and simply be. These seasons are uncomfortable because they remove the noise we often hide behind. Yet they are necessary.

We are taught that growth should look loud and triumphant. That it should be visible, celebrated, and constantly moving forward. But real growth does not always announce itself. Sometimes it whispers.

Sometimes growth looks like stillness.
Like peace settling gently into spaces where chaos once lived.
Like choosing rest without guilt and realizing you do not have to earn it.

In these moments, nothing dramatic happens on the outside. There are no milestones to post, no victories to explain. And yet, something profound is taking place internally. Old patterns loosen. Nervous systems soften. The constant need to prove, improve, or become someone else begins to fade.

Stillness is not stagnation.
Rest is not regression.
Pausing is not quitting.

It is learning to trust that you are allowed to exist without constantly producing something of value. It is understanding that your worth is not tied to how much you do, but to who you are beneath all the doing.

This season may feel quiet, even uneventful. But it is meaningful. It is recalibrating you. Teaching you how to live without urgency, how to choose peace over pressure, how to let life meet you where you are instead of chasing what comes next.

If you find yourself here—tired but calmer, slower but clearer—know that this, too, is growth.

This is one of those moments.

I say it often—through my chapters, my book, and in my talks—because it matters that much to me. It’s not just a phrase I share with others; it’s a reminder I return to myself again and again.

And still, even I wander off my path from time to time.

There are moments when I find myself moving aimlessly, disconnected from the very passion I once spoke about with certainty and fire. When that happens, I try to return to those moments when I gave this advice so freely to someone else. I ask myself: What was I thinking then? What did I know in my heart at that time? And how can I take my own advice now?

Accepting and practicing our own advice is often one of the hardest things we’re asked to do.

When we speak from experience—whether from a journey we’ve already walked or one we’re still navigating—we know our words carry truth. That advice didn’t come from theory; it came from lived moments, lessons learned, and courage summoned in difficult seasons. So why is it so hard to apply it to ourselves?

Fear. Comfort. Doubt. Timing. Sometimes it’s simply exhaustion.

Somewhere along the way, we start negotiating with our dreams. We tell ourselves we’ll return to them later, when life is quieter, when we’re more certain, when the risks feel smaller. But the truth is, the things that set our souls on fire rarely arrive without discomfort.

So the real question becomes:
What is keeping us from taking our own advice?

And even more personally—what is keeping you from doing the things that set your soul on fire?

Sometimes the reminder we need isn’t new wisdom, but the courage to listen to what we already know.

Today’s reflection is about SPIRITUALITY:

What does your intuition sound like, and how do you know when it’s speaking?

For me, it’s that pit in your stomach when you know you’re in the wrong place, or that quiet voice in the back of your head telling you not to do something.

I’ve had intuition manifest in many different ways throughout my life, and I know firsthand what it’s like when you ignore it.

Sometimes intuition doesn’t make sense in the moment, but later you realize it was trying to protect or guide you all along. The more I’ve learned to trust it, the more aligned and aware I’ve become.

Intuition may speak softly, but it will always try to guide you.