Masters of Illusion
Narcissists are masters of illusion. They construct a carefully curated #persona designed “to be seen to be one thing” — often charming, capable, or altruistic — while their real intentions are rooted in #manipulation, control, or self-preservation.
The danger lies in the #incongruence: what they say and how they present may appear polished and positive, but your nervous system often tells you something else is true.
This internal signal is called #neuroception — your body’s ability to detect safety or threat without conscious awareness. You might notice a subtle sense of unease around someone who smiles warmly or praises you. That discomfort isn’t paranoia — it’s #perception. The energy beneath their words doesn’t match, and your body knows it.
Narcissists are often deeply threatened by traits they lack or can’t control — such as your compassion, honesty, decency, competence, or emotional insight. Instead of valuing those qualities, they may #covertly shame or #undermine you for them. It’s not that you’re doing anything wrong — it’s that you’re doing something right, and they can’t tolerate it.
Rather than offering support or constructive feedback, a narcissist may subtly erode your confidence while appearing helpful or concerned. Over time, this kind of emotional gaslighting can distort your self-perception and make you question your worth, your instincts, and even your sanity.
What they say to your face and what they say behind your back are rarely the same. Make sure the people in your life speak well of you in the rooms you’re not in, as well as the ones you are.
The harsh truth? Narcissists are often not just tolerated — they are rewarded and maintained in leadership roles within certain organisations, especially where image, loyalty, and hierarchy are prioritised over relational safety, truth, and psychological integrity.
These environments can be deeply #unsafe for empathic, emotionally intelligent people who care about doing good work. If you’ve ever felt like you had to shrink to survive, your nervous system was likely responding to that very #incongruence.
Before applying for any role, investigate the culture of the organisation. Talk to people who’ve worked there. Pay attention to how staff relate to one another — not just how leaders speak about values, but whether those values are lived. A healthy workplace won’t require you to betray your instincts in order to belong.
#STAND
#Grooming
#NarcissisticAbuse
#ToxicWorkplace
#Gaslighting
#Incongruence
#EmotionalManipulation
#Neuroception
#TraumaInformed
#YourBodyKnows
#TrustYourInstincts
#PsychologicalSafety
#ProtectYourPeace
#EmpathsInTheWorkplace
#EnergyNeverLies
#IntegrityMatters
#AuthenticLeadership
#SpeakUpStandStrong
#KnowTheSigns
#RealOverPerfect
#CompassionIsStrength
#HiddenAbuse
#StandUpToShame
#SurvivorWisdom
#APositiveStart
#STANDStrong
#ParentsAsProtectors
Toxic Duality
‘Toxic duality’ - the harmful contradiction between the persona someone presents to your face (warm, supportive, complimentary) and the truth of their behaviour behind your back (critical, undermining, deceitful or dismissive).
This isn’t just about being two-faced—it’s about the emotional harm caused by the inconsistency. The kindness becomes manipulative when it’s not genuine.
You might also hear it described as:
• Passive aggression – hostility masked by superficial niceness
• Incongruence – a mismatch between words and true feelings
• Gaslighting-adjacent – because it can leave you questioning your perception (“Did I misread that interaction?”)
• Manipulative duplicity – when it’s strategic, not just insecure
Toxic duality is the emotional dissonance created when someone presents a friendly or supportive face while behaving in ways behind the scenes that contradict or betray that image—leaving others confused, doubting themselves, and destabilised.
But this isn’t just personal — it’s cultural.
Society has long rewarded performance over authenticity.
We’ve been told:
“Don’t wash your dirty linen in public.”
“Keep your cards close to your chest.”
“Trust no one.”
These shame-based messages taught generations to hide their truth, suppress their pain, and live in fear of betrayal. In this environment, genuine connection becomes rare, and everyone is on high alert — guarded, suspicious, and emotionally armoured.
This is why our framework is rooted in #TRUST:
🧠 Trigger recognition
💗 Reassurance
🧩 Understanding
🛡 Safety
🔍 Truth
It’s time to break the cycle — starting with awareness, and supported by community.
In our free online program we learn how to stand strong in clarity, boundaries, and emotional safety — for yourself and those you protect.
In STAND: Parents as Protectors, we call this harmful behaviour ‘the invisible seduction’ — the subtle manipulation that leaves you second-guessing yourself.
Here’s the hard truth:
Sometimes we fall into this pattern too — smiling when we don’t mean it, avoiding honesty, or saying what’s expected while feeling something else entirely.
STAND invites us to notice it in others — and in ourselves.
Calling it out takes courage.
Calling it out in ourselves takes integrity.
Learn how to spot it, name it, and protect your family from it.
Join our free online program and reclaim your clarity.
https://apositivestart.org.uk/stand-parents-as-protectors/
#TraumaInformed #ProtectOurChildren #STANDParentsAsProtectors #InvisibleSeduction #ToxicDuality #EmotionalSafety #BoundariesMatter #APositiveStartCIC
The Measure of Me
From the moment we are born, the measuring begins.
How quickly we walk.
How early we talk.
How much we weigh.
How well we behave.
There’s always a chart, a milestone, a checklist — a standard someone else has set. We are prodded, praised, or pushed based on how we match up. “On track,” they say. “Meeting expectations.” And just like that, we learn the rules of the game.
In school, the measuring stick only gets longer.
Scores. Grades. Reports. Rankings.
Who’s above average? Who’s behind? Who’s “gifted”? Who needs “intervention”?
Soon, it’s not just the adults measuring us — we begin to measure ourselves. And worse, we measure each other.
We learn to compare.
Smarter. Prettier. Stronger. Funnier.
More popular. More athletic. More “successful.”
And for every winner in this invisible race, there are many who quietly decide they’re not enough.
We leave school — but the measuring doesn’t leave us.
College. University. Work.
Degrees, job titles, salaries, likes, followers, promotions.
Everywhere we turn, it’s a scoreboard. Everyone striving to be seen. To be heard. To prove their worth.
We hustle. Perform. Achieve.
All the while hoping we’re finally “making it.”
But making it where, exactly? And according to who?
Here’s what I’ve come to understand:
When you choose to step away from the measuring — to opt out of the scoreboard life — things change.
When you stop caring what others think,
When you see that their judgments are often more about them than you,
When you accept yourself as you are,
Not “better than”
Not “less than”
But equal to every other human walking this earth —
Then the pressure lifts.
You can breathe.
You no longer need to prove, perform, or pretend.
You get to be.
You get to live a life measured not by numbers or opinions, but by meaning.
You know your own worth, and you don’t need anyone to validate it.
And if we’re going to talk about measuring, then let’s talk about what truly matters.
Because the real measure of any society isn’t how productive it is or how many people it celebrates at the top.
It’s how it treats its most vulnerable.
Children.
Elders.
Those who are grieving, healing, struggling, or simply different.
Those who have been silenced, overlooked, or forgotten.
If a society fails to make space for its most tender voices, it’s not a success — no matter how loud it cheers for progress.
At A Positive Start CIC, this is the heart of our work.
We’re not here to push more measuring sticks into people’s lives.
We’re here to offer something different.
We believe that learning, development, and growth should never come at the cost of compassion.
We believe in creating safe, person-centred spaces where being human is enough — where your lived experience is not only valid but valuable.
That’s why we created REAL CPD:
- Regulated – rooted in care, not control
- Ethical – prioritising integrity, not image
- Accessible – open to all, not reserved for the privileged
- Lived Experience Led – because truth is often found in the story, not the system
This is not about climbing ladders or chasing validation.
It’s about reconnecting with what matters most.
How we show up for ourselves.
How we impact each other.
How we hold space for healing in a world that so often rushes past it.
It’s not about being “the best.”
It’s about being real. Whole. Present. Enough.
When I let go of the external measuring — and embraced a deeper, quieter truth within myself — I discovered something powerful:
This is the measure of me.
And just maybe,
It’s the measure of us, too.
The Cost of Care: Reflections on Holding a Community Space
There’s a kind of support that doesn’t always look like “help” — not at first glance.
It happens in a small room, a circle of chairs, a soft conversation. It’s a steady presence, a grounding exercise, a moment where someone breathes a little easier. No fanfare. No waiting lists. No clinical forms. Just human connection.
This is the heart of A Positive Start CIC.
Our work is trauma-informed, person-centred, and holistic. It brings together nervous system education, body awareness, gentle language, lived experience, and creativity. But because it doesn’t come in a medicalised package — it is often overlooked, misunderstood, or quietly dismissed.
Holistic support is too often framed as “soft,” “alternative,” or “nice-to-have.” For some, it seems “less than” — not because of the outcomes, but because of how unfamiliar it feels. It doesn’t follow the same protocols or wear the same badges. It’s not top-down. It’s not commissioned. And that seems to make people uncomfortable.
And instead of asking why it makes them uncomfortable, people often retreat behind familiar narratives:
- “It’s not real therapy”
- “It’s a bit woo-woo”
- “Where’s the clinical evidence?”
This reflexive discomfort says more about our societal conditioning than it does about the work itself.
There’s a quiet hierarchy in the world of care — a kind of unspoken snobbishness. If you’re not commissioned by government or embedded in an institution, you’re seen as fringe. Even within the third sector, where collaboration should thrive, independent projects like ours can feel left out of the circle — excluded from inclusion.
It’s an irony that cuts deep: the same systems that tell people “you matter” often exclude those doing the grassroots work to prove it.
And what’s the cost of that?
We see it in the core beliefs people carry into our sessions:
- “I’m not good enough”
- “I don’t belong”
- “I’m not worth investing in”
The systems mirror the very wounds we’re trying to heal.
In grassroots spaces like ours, people pour everything they are into their work. This isn’t a 9-to-5. It’s heart-led graft — long hours, unpaid evenings, and the quiet work of holding others in their most vulnerable moments.
And because it’s done with love, it can be easy to overlook the cost.
A recent joyful collaboration brought that into sharp focus for me. It’s been creative, uncomplicated, ego-free — just honest, easy communication with a shared mission. The kind of project where everyone brings what they can without hierarchy, without games. The work itself felt light, fun, and deeply connected.
As the project nears its end, I’ve felt an unexpected sense of sadness — a kind of loss. Because the truth is: this kind of working relationship shouldn’t feel novel. But it did.
That feeling — that ache — told me what had been missing.
At A Positive Start CIC, we still offer:
- A free initial assessment for all
- Eight fully funded sessions for those most in need ( when funding is available)
- “Pay what you can” counselling starting from £5 a session
- Free CBT, trauma support, and group workshops
We offer a safe haven — a moment to step outside the anxiety-stricken world that demands so much from us.
A place to exhale. To be met as you are. To feel what needs to be felt — safely, without judgement — and in a space where the care is real, present, and can be felt.
But we are not government-funded. We are not NHS-backed. We are not a tick-box service.
We are real people doing real work — and like many others in our position, we are sustained not by structure, but by passion, perseverance, and personal sacrifice.
Recently, I put out a quiet invitation — a request for small contributions to help sustain this work. The ask was modest, just £5 per session. Some responded with generosity. Others chose to step away. Those who did respond — their support helps keep the doors open for others who truly can’t afford it. I’m deeply grateful for them — not just for the donation, but for the trust, respect, and mutual care it represents.
And again, this isn’t about blame. I know times are hard. But the response revealed something else: a discomfort with the idea that emotional support has value. That healing should be worth something — even if it’s just appreciation, reciprocity, or the price of a coffee.
The expectation that healing be free — always and indefinitely — reveals how invisible this work has become. And how easy it is to take it for granted.
People often don’t know what they have until it’s gone. That’s not a threat — it’s just human nature.
But as someone who has poured my time, energy, and finances into creating something meaningful — I feel a responsibility to speak this truth, even gently: If we do not value community-rooted care, it will disappear.
And we will be left with longer waiting lists, clinical burnout, and people falling through the cracks that projects like ours once caught.
Lately, I’ve been reflecting not just on the work, but on myself — on who I am, and who I choose to be. I stand for compassion, justice, and kindness — but also for boundaries. The kind that protect us from being drained by those who only see benefit as a one-way exchange.
It’s true: survival can be selfish. But healing is a choice. Consciousness is a choice. Living in alignment with the principles we offer to others is a choice. And part of that is recognising what we’re willing to accept — and what we no longer will.
It’s easy to deflect discomfort. To frame gentle truth as blame. But growth asks more of us. It asks for reflection, for congruence, and for responsibility.
We all like to imagine we’re not the one acting from entitlement or dysregulation. But healing spaces — real ones — ask us to look closer, not look away.
After all, Community Interest — the clue is in the title. It’s about care. It’s about belonging. It’s about recognising our shared responsibility to nurture the spaces that hold us.
A Closing Thought
This post is not about blame. It’s about clarity.
I still believe in the power of community. I believe in people. And I believe in creating spaces that welcome the whole human — not just the diagnosis.
But I also believe this work deserves to be seen, supported, and sustained.
If you believe that too, you’re already part of the solution.
If spaces like ours have ever held you — or someone you love — please help hold them too.
Because without community support, these spaces quietly disappear.
And what they take with them can’t always be replaced.
The Power of Being Underestimated
The Power of Being Underestimated: Walking the Road Less Travelled
My dad would often joke - “If there are two options, you always choose the wrong one first.”
Maybe he was right. Or maybe it wasn’t wrong – just different.
From the early days, when I was considered “furthest from the labour market,” to now, as I work alongside a growing community of people around the world, creating lasting change through trauma-informed support, I have always been drawn to the road less travelled – the one with more questions than answers, more brambles than smooth pavement, but also more freedom to create, connect, and challenge the status quo.
There’s a moment in every changemaker’s journey – a fork in the road – where the path you’ve been walking suddenly splits. One side is wide and well-trodden, packed with people moving in steady, predictable lines. The other is quieter, a little overgrown, with no clear signs or guarantees.
Most people choose the crowded path. It’s familiar, accepted, safe. They move together, reassured by the numbers around them, confident that the road ahead has been mapped out by those who came before.
But some of us – the ones who see the world a little differently, who carry stories that can’t be neatly folded into the expected narrative – find ourselves drawn to the quieter trail.
It’s not an easy choice. The first few steps can feel like a free fall, untethered from the comforting weight of the familiar. Doubts cling like brambles, and the whisper of past voices can echo in the silence: “Who are you to choose this path?” “What makes you think you’re different?”
But then, something shifts. The trees part, and you see the light breaking through the branches. You start to notice the wild, beautiful things growing along this untamed trail – ideas, connections, and possibilities that couldn’t survive in the trampled soil of the mainstream.
Connecting with like minded people, reminds me that there is a growing tribe of unconventional thinkers who see the value in difference, who celebrate the outliers and the changemakers. They are the ones who light my path when the weight of dismissal becomes too heavy, reminding me that we are not alone.
So, if you’ve ever felt the quiet sting of being underestimated – if you’ve been told, subtly or otherwise, that your voice is too raw, your approach too unconventional – take heart. There is power in being misunderstood. There is strength in being dismissed. And there is profound impact in being the one who keeps creating, connecting, and believing when the world looks the other way.
Because in the end, it’s the underestimated, the trailblazers who change the world.
Take the Road Less Travelled – Join STAND
Choosing to STAND is not the easy path. It asks you to break cycles, confront uncomfortable truths, and reclaim your voice in a world that too often dismisses those who speak from lived experience.
But that’s exactly why it matters.
If you’re ready to walk the path less travelled, to stand for what you believe in, and to make a lasting impact, I invite you to join me for the STAND: Parents as Protectors program.
It’s not just a course. It’s a movement – a call to those who refuse to be silenced or side-lined, who believe that prevention is possible, and who are ready to make a difference.
Take the first step. Join us.
Register Your Interest -
STAND for Prevention.
STAND for Change.
STAND together.
https://apositivestart.org.uk/stand-parents-as-protectors/
Lost and Found – Memory, Love, and the Body’s Hidden Stories
May 14th holds a unique weight in my heart, a day stitched together with the threads of loss and love, echoes of the past that still ripple through my present.
In 1977, at just seven years old, I stepped into a new life in Zambia, eyes wide with wonder and a heart full of adventure. Our family’s belongings followed us, packed into the belly of a Dan-Air cargo flight. But on this day, that Boeing 707 never reached its destination. It crashed near Lusaka, just shy of its final approach, at 7:17, killing six crew members and a passenger – seven lives lost.
Among the scattered memories on that fateful flight was my cherished Katycopy doll. I never spoke of the loss, even as a child. It felt wrong to mourn a doll when families were mourning their loved ones. But years later, when my son, with a heart full of love and the intuition only a child can have, surprised me with a Katycopy doll he’d found on eBay, the emotional wave that hit me was staggering. I ached for days. The doll, just a thing to the world, held a weight my body had never quite let go of – the unspoken grief of a little girl who never got to say goodbye to a piece of her childhood.
The body truly keeps the score, storing these emotional imprints long after the conscious mind has moved on.
Oddly enough, this date would come to hold even more significance. It’s the day I chose to marry my husband – a choice made with an open heart and no awareness of the shadow that already clung to it. Years later, a stranger told me the number 7 held significance for me. I dismissed it at the time, insisting 4 was my lucky number. But when I looked back, I realised the uncanny web of 7s that had quietly threaded itself through my life.
I was 7 when we moved to Zambia. The plane that carried our possessions was a Boeing 707. It crashed in 1977, at 7:17, and I believe it claimed 7 lives. And on this very day, years later, I chose to marry the love of my life, beginning a partnership that has only deepened with time.
And then there’s my grandad, Dennis. He passed away on this date, too – a kind, steady presence in my early life, whose quiet strength still echoes in my heart. He taught me the power of quiet bravery that comes from standing firm in who you are. I carry that with me, a quiet pulse beneath the noise of life, a reminder that love, in all its forms, truly endures.
Through all the losses, love has remained my constant. My husband and I married with full hearts, and over the years, our bond has only strengthened, weathering the storms life inevitably brings. He remains my anchor, my safe harbour in a world of shifting tides.
So, on this day, I remember those who left too soon – the pieces of myself I have lost and found, and the love that continues to anchor me.
If you have something you cherish today, hold it a little closer. If there’s someone you love, tell them – again, and again, and again.
Trauma Informed Communication in Healthcare: Why It’s Not Optional
Why Trauma-Informed Communication in Healthcare Isn’t Optional
As a trauma-informed counsellor, I’ve seen firsthand the devastating impact of poorly delivered medical news. I once worked with a client who had a profound fear of dying. Every time they visited their oncologist, they would call me in floods of tears, barely able to breathe, let alone speak.
I remember arriving at their home one day to find them on the floor, struggling to catch their breath, their face streaked with fresh tears. A nosebleed had started from the sheer intensity of their distress. It took hours of grounding, breathing exercises, and gentle reassurance to calm their nervous system – to bring them back to a place where they felt safe enough to simply exist in their own body.
This wasn’t a one-off reaction. It happened every time they received difficult news, or even just a routine letter from the NHS. The stress of each appointment, each unopened envelope, felt like another small death – a repeated trauma that chipped away at their sense of hope and stability.
For the healthcare professional, it might be the hundredth time they’ve delivered a particular diagnosis, but for the patient, it’s often the first time they’re hearing life-altering news. That initial conversation sets the tone for their entire journey through treatment and recovery.
Poorly delivered news can:
• Trigger a fight, flight, freeze, or fawn response, making it difficult for patients to absorb critical information.
• Create a sense of hopelessness that can directly impact their immune system and overall health.
• Isolate them emotionally, making them less likely to reach out for support.
• Lead to physical symptoms of distress, like panic attacks, nosebleeds, or even heart palpitations.
Trauma-Informed Communication is Essential -
All professionals should be trauma-informed, regardless of how long they’ve been delivering difficult news. This isn’t just a ‘nice to have’ – it’s essential for the well-being of patients and their families. Words matter. Tone matters. The way we frame a conversation matters.
What Could This Look Like in Practice?
Imagine if, instead of a cold, clinical approach, the conversation began with:
“I have some challenging news to share, and I want you to know that we’re here to support you every step of the way. This might feel overwhelming, and that’s okay. We’ll work through this together.”
It’s not just face-to-face conversations that matter. I’ve had clients tell me they can’t even bear to open their NHS letters, knowing they might contain words like “cancer,” “terminal,” or “palliative care” – words that have the power to trigger a cascade of fear and despair.
Small Changes, Big Impact:
• Reframing “We regret to inform you…” as “We’d like to talk through some findings with you…”
• Choosing words that invite a sense of collaboration and hope, rather than delivering a blunt, one-way verdict.
• Including a simple, supportive line like “Please reach out if you’d like to discuss this further – we’re here to help.”
We can’t change the reality of a difficult diagnosis, but we can change how that reality is delivered. By choosing our words with care, we can reduce unnecessary suffering, empower patients, and support their capacity to cope and heal.
A Final Thought – The Human Side of Healing -
In the end, we are all more than our diagnoses. We are humans with rich histories, fears, hopes, and dreams. The way we talk to each other – especially in the hardest moments – should reflect that.
#RIPAlison
The Power of Words: How Language Shapes Safety and Connection
While working as a counsellor in a school, I came across a fire drill memo that left a lasting impression. It included strict, bolded instructions:
“You MUST remain SILENT at All TIMES”.
The forcefulness of this language struck me immediately. It felt more about control than safety, and I wondered how this might land for children, particularly those who had experienced trauma.
When we think about fire drills, the goal is clear – to ensure everyone can move quickly and safely to a secure area. But the way this memo was worded, with its emphasis on “MUST” and “SILENCE”, seemed more likely to provoke anxiety than calm.
This Language Can Be Triggering because:
• “MUST” feels rigid and controlling. For someone who has experienced coercion or a lack of autonomy, this word can trigger deep, instinctive resistance or fear.
• “SILENCE” under pressure can feel impossible, especially for children. In a moment of stress, they might whisper to a friend for reassurance, cry, or call out in fear – all perfectly human responses. Demanding silence in these moments can amplify feelings of shame or failure.
• It creates a power imbalance, focusing on compliance over cooperation, which can be particularly distressing for those who have felt powerless or unheard in the past.
A Trauma-Informed alternative chooses connection Over control
Instead of demanding silence, we might say:
“Please move quietly and calmly to the designated safe area. Your safety is our priority.”
Why This Approach Works:
• It encourages calm, rather than compliance through fear.
• It respects the natural, instinctive responses of children, reducing unnecessary pressure.
• It frames the drill as a shared effort toward safety, reinforcing trust and cooperation.
In the STAND: Parents as Protectors program, we talk about the power of language and its ability to shape how children perceive themselves and the world around them. Trauma-informed communication is about more than just choosing the right words – it’s about creating a culture of respect, safety, and connection.
Why it Matters:
• Safety and Belonging – Children who feel safe and respected are more likely to communicate openly and trust the adults around them.
• Empowerment, Not Compliance – When we choose language that respects autonomy, we teach children that their voices matter. This is a powerful protective factor against coercion and manipulation.
• Resilience and Self-Worth – Words that uplift and empower build resilience, helping children recover from adversity and grow into confident, self-assured adults.
This small but significant difference in tone is about more than just fire drills. It’s about how we choose to communicate in all aspects of life – as parents, teachers, and caregivers. Trauma-informed language builds trust, reduces anxiety, and fosters a sense of belonging. It respects autonomy, values choice, and prioritises connection over control.
If we want children to feel safe, valued, and heard, our words must reflect that intention.
When we use trauma-informed language, we empower children to respond with confidence, rather than fear. We invite them to act with intention, knowing they are respected and valued, even in moments of stress.
Join our STAND: Parents As Protectors program starting soon
Passion and Purpose
There’s a profound difference between simply doing a job and pouring yourself into something that truly speaks to your heart. When your work is driven by purpose, the hours pass unnoticed. You find yourself lost in the flow of creation – writing, thinking, building – crafting something you believe will make a difference.
For me, this is the heartbeat of A Positive Start CIC. It’s not just a project or a career – it’s a calling born from my own journey of survival and recovery. At one point, I was considered ‘furthest from the labour market’ – exhausted, overwhelmed, and unsure of my future. But from that place of darkness, I found my ‘why.’
I began to research trauma to make sense of my own experiences, to understand how deeply it shapes us, and to break the cycle for my own children. What started as a personal quest for understanding became a mission to help others – to reach the parents who, like me, wanted to do better for their children but didn’t know where to start.
Today, my work is deeply personal. It’s about helping parents protect their children, help adults heal from trauma, and find their voices. It’s about creating resources that empower others, driven by the belief that even one person finding safety or support makes all the effort worthwhile.
Purpose-driven work has its own energy. It pulls you forward, ignites your imagination, and fills you with a deep sense of accomplishment. It’s like breathing fresh air after feeling stifled for too long – a relief, a release, a return to what truly matters.
In contrast, the grind of a job that feels disconnected from your heart is a very different experience. Your body feels tense, your mind dulls, and every small task can feel like a mountain to climb. Motivation drains quickly, and you begin to distance yourself just to cope. You disconnect, not just from the work, but from yourself, until you feel like a shadow of who you once were.
The difference is in the connection – the feeling that what you’re doing matters, that it has purpose, that it aligns with who you truly are. One path leaves you enriched, inspired, and ready to keep going, even without immediate rewards. The other can leave you depleted, struggling to find meaning in the effort you expend.
As Viktor Frankl once said, “Those who have a ‘why’ to live can bear almost any ‘how’.” Finding your ‘why’ changes everything. It transforms work into something deeply fulfilling – a legacy you’re proud to leave behind.
So, if you ever find yourself struggling to find the energy to keep going, perhaps it’s not your work ethic that’s the problem, but the work itself. Real purpose breathes life into every hour you invest, reminding you that what you do matters.
#PassionAndPurpose
#HealingJourney
#HeartWork
#TraumaRecovery
#CommunityInterest
#protection #prevention
#breakingthecycle
Choosing Connection
Choosing Connection in a World of Criticism
“The true measure of leadership is not in how much authority we hold, but in how much safety we create.”
“The energy we bring to the world is a reflection of what we worship – possessions or people, appearances or authenticity, fear or love.”
“Cancel culture trades complexity for condemnation — but healing demands we hold space for the full, messy, beautiful reality of being human.”
In the way of our Reconnect & Regulate classes, a Reflection Invitation