Hello Friend, 

This week was heavy for me. It came in conflict with my values I have developed from my past. Years ago, I carried the weight of pain—some of it self-inflicted, born from my own inner battles, and some of it placed upon me by the hands of others. From that pain, something unexpected grew: a profound compassion, a deep-rooted belief that every person deserves to live in alignment with their truest, most authentic self. It’s a belief I hold tightly, woven into the fabric of who I am. And it comes with a calling: To embrace others fully, beyond judgment, with gratitude for the unique light they bring into the world.

Over the years, I’ve worked to act on this value, testing its edges and expanding my capacity for acceptance. I’ve found strength in holding space for others’ truths, sometimes even to the point of radical acceptance. But this week, I was met with a conflict that shook me. I met someone whose company I truly cherished, but despite her warmth and goodness, my heart struggled to connect. It wasn’t about her—it was about me. Shadows of past trauma surfaced, deep wounds I hadn’t yet allowed to heal, wounds left by the pain others once inflicted on me. And now, I stood in a position I dreaded, one where honoring my truth meant causing someone else pain.

Past Lessons from Pain

This is a deeply uncomfortable place to be. I have spent much of my life avoiding this kind of hurt, choosing instead to swallow my own discomfort to protect others. But I’ve learned through painful experience that burying my needs doesn’t make them disappear; it only makes them grow larger and more uncomfortable within. Over time, the unspoken fractures grow, threatening to undermine the very relationships I wish to protect.

Re-creating Cherished Past Pictures.

When I work with clients, I often use the metaphor of painting. We cling to cherished pictures from our past—relationships, ideals, moments of joy—and strive to recreate them exactly as they were. But no matter how carefully we try, we can’t replicate the original. I’ve felt this myself, trying to recreate friendships from simpler times only to find that the new versions always differ from the original. With my clients, I explore the idea that surrender might be necessary—that instead of trying to recreate the past, we can paint something new. A new picture that draws inspiration from the old but introduces new colors, new techniques, and new meaning. Different, yes, but equally capable of beauty, absolutely.

The Unsettling Color in my Palette

This week, I discovered a new and unsettling color in my palette: the necessity of hurt. For so long, I’ve held tightly to the belief that I should never hurt anyone. But I’m beginning to see that this value, while deeply compassionate, can also be a limitation. To live authentically, to honor myself and others with integrity, sometimes means allowing hurt to exist. Not all hurt is the same—some comes from malice, but some is born of love, respect, and the courage to live truthfully.

This realization is both freeing and daunting. It asks me to look at hurt not as a failure, but as a natural part of the human experience—a bridge that sometimes connects honesty and growth. To honor myself and others fully, I must acknowledge that hurt, when carried with care and intention, can be a profound teacher. It can challenge us to confront our deepest truths, to let go of what no longer serves us, and to move toward relationships and situations that align more authentically with who we are. This doesn’t erase the pain; it doesn’t make it easier. But it allows space for transformation, for something new to take form on the canvas where the old has fallen away.

Moving Bravely into the Unknown to Learn

It’s a complicated lesson to accept for me and I believe others, one that leaves me questioning what it means. I don’t yet know how this new color will shape the paintings of my life. Will it bring depth, contrast, or something I can’t yet imagine? Each day, we walk forward with uncertainty, testing strokes and shades to see what fits. Something that I know will require practice and discomfort. But perhaps that’s the point—not to have all the answers but to practice and step into the unknown with bravery and trust, knowing that every color, even the unsettling ones, has a place in the art we’re creating

And so, we must continue to learn, grow, and keep painting.