A Rebellious Act of Self-love

I choose myself as a rebellious act of self-love.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve pushed forward—relentlessly, tirelessly—through every obstacle life placed before me. Survival became second nature, and I lived in a perpetual state of fight or flight. Society tells us we must “heal” to break the chains of generational trauma, but rarely does anyone explain what healing truly entails. What does it mean to heal?

Over the last five years, I’ve been walking this path of healing, but only recently have I begun to understand what it truly means. Healing isn’t linear; for me, it required revisiting the past to move forward. My mindset has always been, What’s next?—a pattern rooted in childhood trauma that left me unable to feel safe in the present. I’ve realized that my constant drive to “keep going” was a way of running—from stillness, from myself. Now, I see the need to anchor into the present and truly feel life as it is.

A pivotal moment in my journey was uncovering just how deeply my childhood shaped me. Fear was my constant companion—fear for my mother’s health, fear of my father, fear of school, fear of friendships, fear of being different. The only thing I didn’t fear was change. Change became my escape, my source of fleeting comfort, but also my addiction. Over time, this chase for adrenaline and novelty took its toll, leaving my nervous system utterly depleted.

Yet even now, I refuse to give up. This realization isn’t the end—it’s a beginning.

This year has been the hardest of my life. After years of manifesting my dream home, envisioning a homestead, homeschooling, and a close-knit family life, we achieved that dream. But soon after, everything unraveled in ways I couldn’t foresee. Steve was promoted, giving us more time together—a blessing—but not long after, I woke up to pain so severe it defied explanation.

The diagnosis: Trigeminal Neuralgia, also known as “The Suicide Disease.” A name that barely scratches the surface of its darkness.

For months, I’ve been battling unimaginable pain. Outwardly, I appear fine, but internally, I’ve been on fire, screaming in silence. The hardest part was watching my children suffer alongside me. Life became unbearably unfair to them, so we made the heartbreaking decision to enroll them in public school—a decision rooted in love and necessity.

With the kids in school, I’ve been able to seek treatment and focus on healing. I’m not out of the woods yet, but I’ve made progress. This pain has taught me a profound lesson: life isn’t about becoming someone or constantly striving to do more for others. It’s about being—simple, kind, still, and present.

This year, I’ve undergone an ego death, shedding layers of who I thought I had to be. Spirit sent me signs—urgent, undeniable messages to “let go.” But I resisted. Deep down, I knew what I had to release, but admitting it felt impossible.

Today, I see it clearly. I must let go of the vision I clung to so tightly and the identity I’ve built over the past five years. My business, which I poured so much love and light into, was a reflection of who I was—but it’s time to let it go.

As I close this chapter with gratitude, I’m choosing to embrace simplicity. My rebellious act of self-love now means choosing stillness, integrating nature into my life, stepping away from social media (perhaps for a year), surrounding myself with people who align with my energy, and nurturing the art of just being.

I’ve always been drawn to rebellion, and this next chapter feels like the ultimate act of defiance: choosing to slow down, be kind, unhurried, curious, safe, warm, healthy, mindful, and content. Each of those words resonates deeply with my inner child, calling to a part of me that has long been yearning for peace.

So here I am, closing a significant chapter of my life, and moving forward with hope and simplicity. I hope that, in sharing my story, something resonates with you, sparks reflection, or ignites a sense of possibility.

As we approach the new year, I ask you: What does your inner child need? Who do you want to be when you grow up?

xo,

Kelly