From Obligation to Love

In my life, love was never soft or effortless.
It was heavy with duty.
To be loved meant to be useful.
To find joy meant pleasing everyone else first.

It’s no wonder I grew up thinking happiness was something you earned, not something you felt.

The Skeptic in Me

For years, I rolled my eyes at things like breathwork and hypnosis.
They sounded “woo woo,” like the stuff you’d read in self-help books that didn’t apply to people like me—practical, grounded, always in control.

But the right moment has a way of finding you.
And in a small room, at just the right time in my life, I found myself lying down, eyes closed, breathing in and out under the calm voice of a facilitator.

What happened next wasn’t magic.
It wasn’t logic, either.
It was something in between.

Somewhere in the rhythm of my breath, my body let go of my own self, like I was floating in the air. My heart raced. My chest tightened. It felt like the edge of a panic attack—but instead of pulling back, I stayed.

And then I saw her.
The younger me. The one who had been waiting decades for someone to support her pain without judgment.I wrapped my arms around her in my mind, telling her everything I’d never heard myself:
You are safe. You are loved. You are enough.

A teacher once told me that breath work and hypnosis can unravel the things words can’t touch. The memories that live in muscle. The pain lodged deep in bone. It’s what The Body Keeps the Score talks about—that the body remembers what the mind avoids.

In that session, something loosened.

Aftermath of Release

The shift wasn’t a burst of fireworks—it was quieter, subtler. Like a seed being planted deep in the soil, slowly taking root. Over time, it began to grow into something steady and alive—a small, persistent reminder that I was safe.

I felt a release I’d been holding back for years.
The walls that kept me safe but lonely started to crumble.
And for the first time in my life, I felt something dangerously close to joy—not because I’d earned it, but because for the first time in my life. I feel like I truly deserve it.

It’s taken me decades to understand that loving yourself isn’t selfish.
That safety isn’t a reward—it’s a birthright.

This year, I felt joy without guilt.
Love without obligation.
And for the first time, I felt truly safe inside my own skin.