Healing is hard work. It takes tenacity, vulnerability, and courage.

Writer Amanda Fernandez beautifully captures the essence of her transformative journey, which will deeply resonate with many of us.

Healing is a Courageous Journey of Self-Discovery

“I resisted sharing my truth with others, and for as long as I can remember, hesitated on telling my story, especially the most painful parts of my past, the things that happened, the mistakes I’d made.

Sharing it meant I had to see it, and therefore touch it, and touching it made it all too real.

Although continuing to live in inauthenticity, hiding my truth from the world and myself wasn’t making me strong.

In fact, I was slowly dying inside. I was fading away with each fake smile and the dis-honest potrayal of this perfect life, in trying to create some kind of normalcy in my, ‘not normalness.’

Oh, and we hide it all so well, don’t we?
I remember my Mother apologizing for not being able to see it.
The thing is, I didn’t want her to.

One of the reasons why we don’t see the pain of others is because, oftentimes, we’re too engulfed in our own, this being a part of what it means to be human. Another reason why, as I mentioned above, is because we hide it so well.

Guilt, shame, and self-doubt all have pretty equal roles in being dream crushers, creators of dis-ease, killers of self-Love.

I know now that there’s strength in vulnerability, tears are truly brave, beautiful, and healing, and sharing my truth has put me on a path to internal peace, serenity, and continued spiritual growth.

So, tell your story. Share your truth. Believe in yourself. It’s time.

You see? I thought I had to be perfectly put together 100% of the time, or at least I was supposed to make it seem that way, right?

And I damn sure didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for me, so I buried it, all of it, put a smile on my face, tucked my true inner voice away, and became whomever I thought I needed to be at particular times and places, for whomever I thought I needed to be said person for, at any given point in time, and there were too many versions of me to even keep count.

I’d lost myself more and more with each new person I, ‘thought’ I had to be.

A lifetime of being who you are not is physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually exhausting.

I mean, no one really needed to know the truths of what led me here, to this exact moment, to this current me(she might change again in a minute). I mean, I like her more, I do.

Did they really need to know?

Did anyone really need to know I was molested twice as a young child?
Did they need to know about the discrimination we faced in that small town we grew up in?
Did they need to know that I hated my hair, my body, and I often wanted to crawl out of my own skin?
Did they need to know I was teased and bullied at school, and at times at home, and that I allowed those lies and untruths to become my inner voice, leading the way for me to be my own biggest bully?
Did they need to know that I simply did not fit in and had no clue at the time that that was actually a good thing?
Did they need to know that even as a young child, I felt everything and often woke up wishing I didn’t feel anything?
Did they need to know I questioned everything, most of all, myself?

Did they need to know that my being hushed so much is what led me to start writing in the first place?
Did they need to know how much I carried for those I Loved, because I simply wanted them to be happy, to not hurt anymore?
Did they need to know that in carrying what wasn’t mine, I was slowly disappearing underneath it, and had no idea what to do with it, or where to put it, so I kept it? Did they need to know that even with a 4.2 grade point average, I still felt as though it (I) wasn’t enough?
Did they need to know how hard I tried to be perfect?
Did they need to know how much I hated myself, how distorted my self-image was?
Did they need to know I was in an abusive marriage at 16, had my first child at 17, on my way to divorce at 18?
Did they need to know I was a Meth addict after that?
Did they need to know that a lot of my own choices became the undoing that led me to even more abusive relationships?
Did they need to know how many times I had to save myself from myself?
Did they need to know about all of the near death experiences?

There were many, and yet, I’m still here.

The sinner: the one with a pure heart and a messy room.
The saint: the one with a hate-filled heart and a clean room.

There’s so much more(I’m writing a book(s), and every once in a while I shrink back into that little girl who was made to feel as though she couldn’t do a damn thing right.

I still hate it when she yells at me.

Did they really need to know?

Maybe they didn’t need to know any of it.

Maybe they only needed to know about the good stuff because truly, there really was so much great, so much incredible along the way.

Whether they needed to know it or not, I made a choice to take a deeper look at it, to see it, to touch it, and to finally share it.

After all, this is my story, my truth, and these are the parts, pieces, and experiences that lead me here that helped to shape and create the woman I am now. I am healing

There’s something to be said about that simple yet profound phrase, “to thine own self, be true.” I needed to be honest, and that brutal honesty had to start with me being honest with me.

Truth be told, I could not heal what I wasn’t willing to see, acknowledge, look at, feel, or face. I could not let ‘it’ go until I let go.

What burying all of it meant is that over time, I was burying ‘me’ alive.

I was suffocating under the weight of my own pain, crushed by all the parts and pieces of me that I was conditioned to either hate or hide.

Pretending that it was not there wasn’t working, and it spilled over, onto and into every single one of my relationships, as well as all of the self-sabotaging decisions I was making.

Yes, there were times when I absolutely was the toxic one, pushing Love and light and all the goodness away because I believed that inner voice who kept shouting at me, telling me that I wasn’t worthy, deserving or enough

That’s when the opening of my own Soul Doors, the untangling and unraveling of it all, began.

That long, long, long look in the mirror, gazing into my own eyes, sitting within the depths of my own soul was painful, at times I looked away in disgust, because what the hell did I do to myself?

As painful of a process that it was, it was absolutely necessary.

Inner work is hard. Looking into your own eyes and holding yourself accountable isn’t easy. To get to the root, to the very core, is like ripping your own guts out and laying them out on the table in plain sight.

I often ask myself if the grueling process of healing, letting go, and growth is really worth it. And the truth is, it is. I am. You are. WE are.

So, I am opening every door, walking through each one of them. Some I’ve opened more cautiously than others, and I suppose that’s where Grace and being gentle with yourself comes in, because somewhere beyond the darkness, past the guilt and shame, underneath everything I’d piled on top, and once I fully allowed those clouds of depression to dissipate, there I was.


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When all else falls away, LOVE is all that remains. Here I am.

My God, she truly is beautiful.

I once wrote, “It is not in what I have found, but in what I have let go of that has made all the difference.” And yet, when I let go of everything, I found me. Quite the paradox, isn’t it?

So, I took it all, every bit of it, embraced the Gifts I was given, while holding the hand of Gratitude, with the understanding that every struggle has a purpose, and decided to turn it into something different, something hope-filled, something inspiring, and share it, all of it. And even though it wasn’t always pretty, it is my truth.

She needed a hero, so that’s what she became.

The thing about healing, recovery, and spiritual growth, about learning to forgive yourself and others, is through all of that you can finally reach that space and place of acceptance, of Loving yourself and others, completely and unconditionally, of embracing every bit of your humanness and that, in and of itself, is a Gift.

I am not who I once was, and that’s okay. I am who I’ve chosen to become.”

By: Amanda Fernandez,

She needed a hero, so that’s what she became

Exquisite writing.

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