The Pain of Yesterday Is the Strength of Today

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.

Life has a funny way of putting us to the test. And when it did, the inner strength that kept me moving forward wasn’t just confidence or certainty—it was self-trust.

There were times when I had no clue how things would turn out, when the road ahead felt strange and the ground beneath me seemed to shift. What kept me going wasn’t the absence of fear, but a quiet belief that I would find my way—and that God would always be by my side.

Even if I stumbled, I made a promise to myself: I wouldn’t abandon myself. I learned to tune in to my own feelings instead of looking outward for permission or reassurance.

That strength showed up as resilience, sure—but also as compassion. I allowed myself to take things slow. I let grief and hope exist side by side. I kept choosing the next right step instead of demanding to see the whole journey.

Self-trust meant believing I could adapt, learn, and grow—even when everything seemed to fall apart. It meant listening to my intuition when logic ran dry. It meant staying open, not hardening myself against what I’d been through.

Life tested me, and what I found was this:
I don’t need to be fearless to move forward.
I just need to trust that God will guide me through whatever comes next.

Do you ever catch yourself reflecting on the habits and behaviors you keep repeating, even though you know they’re not good for you? The foods we indulge in, the relationships we cling to, the patterns we cycle through again and again — all of them fall into this quiet, uncomfortable truth:

We often don’t let go of what harms us, not because we’re unaware, but because the familiar feels safer than the unknown.

Even when the familiar is slowly breaking us.

Sometimes the very things that wound us become woven into our sense of identity. We start to believe:

“This is just who I am.”
“This is how it’s always been.”
“This is the kind of love I know.”

Our bodies get tied to the chemistry of it.
Our hearts get attached to the potential of it.
And our minds bargain with the future, whispering, “Maybe this time will be different.”

Letting go isn’t just a choice — it’s a grieving.
It’s mourning the version of life we hoped would exist.
It’s releasing the comfort of old patterns, even when they no longer serve us.

That’s why real healing doesn’t come from force.
It doesn’t come from shaming yourself or pushing harder.

Healing comes from compassion.
From patience.
From choosing yourself — again and again — even when choosing yourself feels unfamiliar.

Because freedom isn’t always loud or dramatic.
Sometimes it begins quietly… with a single decision to stop abandoning yourself.

Life has a funny way of pulling us in a million different directions, filling our heads with doubts, expectations, and comparisons. In all that noise, it’s so easy to lose sight of who you really are—your values, your strengths, your purpose.

Remembering your true self means staying rooted in your own truth. It’s about honoring your journey, trusting your gut, and holding on tight to what makes you, well, you. Challenges might try to rattle you, but when you know your worth, no storm can knock you off your path.

In everything you do—big or small—carry your essence with you. Speak your truth, act with integrity, and move forward with confidence. When you keep your identity in mind, every decision becomes clearer, every path feels more aligned, and each day is a chance to live authentically.

Never lose sight of who you are. You are your own guiding star.

Woke up today with a new ache… and you know what? I couldn’t help but smile.

Yep, my knees are definitely having a conversation with me.
Yep, my back is asking for a moment of peace.
Yep, getting up sounds like a sound effects reel. 

But every little ache is a reminder that I’m still here. Still breathing. Still laughing. Still loving. Each twinge tells me my body has carried me through another day, another challenge, another moment worth cherishing.

Aging isn’t always a smooth ride — it creaks, it stretches, and it humbles you. But it’s also a privilege. Not everyone gets the chance to enjoy more time, more mornings, more opportunities to witness the sunrise, hear a friend’s laughter, or feel the warmth of a hug.

So, I’ll embrace the sore muscles. I’ll accept the slower pace. I’ll take that extra stretch before rolling out of bed. I’ll celebrate the strength that’s still there and the memories that keep me smiling. Because I’m truly grateful to still be on this side of the dirt. 

Here’s to growing older, gaining wisdom, and appreciating every single day — aches, pains, laughter, and love included. Every moment is a gift.

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.