For the last 20 years or so, I had a tradition.

Each year on my birthday, I would choose someone who had meant a lot to me in the previous year and I’d buy them a gift and write them a heartfelt letter—something that honored how deeply they had touched my life.

At some point, I stopped buying the gifts.

I was wrong. And it’s important I say this.

For years, l shared the common belief that you never fully “heal” your core wounds—especially those of abandonment, rejection, and unworthiness. That these traumas would always linger in some form, coloring how you relate, attach, grieve, or fear.

But I can’t say that anymore.

Have you ever noticed how two people can experience the exact same situation yet interpret it completely differently? One sees it as punishment; the other as a gift.

The difference? Sovereignty.

When you operate from sovereignty, you anchor yourself deeply into the belief that you are the Creator, rather than the victim, of your reality.

We've all been there—feeling judgment, anger, or resentment toward someone, convinced that they're the source of our discomfort. But what if these emotions are less about them and more about unacknowledged parts of ourselves?​

Consider this: every person we encounter acts as a mirror, reflecting our beliefs about ourselves and the world. This perspective suggests that our external interactions highlight internal truths we might overlook.​

There’s a strange kind of magic in achieving a dream. That moment of arrival—when you finally grasp the thing you once thought was out of reach—feels like the pinnacle, the peak, the mountaintop.

And for a while, it is.

You revel in it. You celebrate. You breathe it in, because it’s the best you’ve ever had in that particular category of life…

I don’t owe anyone an explanation for why I walk away.

And neither do you.

Not when a relationship turns sour.

Not when a job drains you dry.

Not when a friendship reveals itself as a one-sided performance.

There’s a lot of talk about “cutoff culture,” about how ruthless it is to sever ties and move on without looking back…

You’ve done the shadow work. You’ve journaled, processed, and unraveled your deepest patterns. You feel solid. But instead of breaking through, you feel… stuck.

That’s because at a certain point, growth can’t happen in isolation. The next level requires witnessing—not just self-reflection, but real-time expansion through relationships, mentorship, and being seen.

Growth happens in reflection.

Personal growth has long been obsessed with the idea of shadow work—digging into your wounds, uncovering subconscious blocks, and constantly seeking out what’s “wrong” so it can be healed. It’s been positioned as the key to transformation, the path to unlocking your full potential. But what if I told you that the way most people approach shadow work is actually keeping them stuck?

What you focus on EXPANDS.

You say you want change. You want the love, the wealth, the freedom. You want to feel whole, powerful, and deeply alive.

But the bridge between where you are and where you want to be isn’t built by waiting. It’s built by turning toward yourself—especially toward the parts of you that feel distant, hidden, or stretched by discomfort.

That doesn’t have to be terrifying.

Most of us have been taught to see love as a space where we are accepted—a place where, hopefully, someone will tolerate the parts of us we aren’t sure how to share.

But what if the deepest love—the kind that awakens us—doesn’t just accept?

What if it WORSHIPS those parts?

I have always embodied the archetype of The Lover. The one who sees beauty in others, who meets the world with an open heart, who offers presence, warmth, and devotion—not just in romance, but in life itself.

And yet, I’ve learned that not everyone knows how to receive The Lover.

Because love in its purest form—unhidden, uncalculated, freely given—can feel unsettling to those who have learned to guard themselves against it.

Most people don’t think of pleasure as a radical act. But in a world that profits off your struggle, your exhaustion, your disconnection—

Choosing joy is RESISTANCE.

Pleasure isn’t indulgence. It’s how you maintain your POWER.

Because a person deeply in their joy is hard to control. A person who prioritizes pleasure is harder to manipulate.