From Running to Rooted: How I Learned to Hold It All and Build a Life I Love

There’s a subtle, yet powerful shift that happens when we stop trying to “fix” our pain and start allowing it to be seen, heard, and held.

This isn’t about glorifying pain, it’s about honouring it. The truth is, life will always include both hard and beautiful moments. But when we allow the hard ones to be fully felt, we stop being afraid of ourselves.

Most of us have been taught to move quickly through uncomfortable emotions. To “look on the bright side,” to be grateful, to stay positive. And while there’s nothing wrong with hope or perspective, if it skips over the real emotions we’re carrying, it can leave us feeling more alone than ever.

I learned this firsthand.

When I was going through my divorce in 2016, I had a friend who constantly tried to help me see the silver lining. She had a good heart — her intentions were loving. But the message I received was that my grief was too much and I had to hide it. That my heartbreak needed to be turned into happiness.

So I tried. I forced myself to be okay. I bypassed the pain and shoved it down so I could smile through the storm. Something I had been doing my whole life.

But I wasn’t okay.

In bypassing the grief, I skipped the healing too. A year and a half later, I rushed into another relationship. Right before our wedding, he told me he wasn’t sure he could marry me—my dad had just died, and he needed to see that I could get past my grief first. The message was the same: my grief was too much. I married him anyway and tried to pretend I was okay, and then seven months later, we divorced.

That was my rock bottom—the moment I knew I had to stop running from myself and finally face the grief I’d been avoiding. I was exhausted.

That was the beginning of my real healing. And in many ways, the beginning of the path that led me to coaching.

Here’s what I’ve learned since then: Yes, there often are blessings that emerge from our hardest experiences. But they can’t be forced into existence while you’re still in the thick of the pain. The blessings reveal themselves after the processing, after the grief has been honoured.

When we’ve walked our own painful path and eventually found meaning in it, we sometimes mistakenly think we can fast-forward others to that same place—urging them to just be happy, get over it, or to “win” by living well—when what they actually need is permission to fall apart. The blessing comes in its own time and only after the wound has been witnessed.

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Why We Fear the Darkness

We often label emotions like sadness, anger, grief, or shame as “negative.” But they aren’t bad, they’re just uncomfortable. And most of us never learned how to sit with discomfort without needing to change it.

We fear that if we let ourselves feel the pain, it will consume us. But what consumes us more is the resistance to feeling it.

Pain needs a witness, not a solution.

At the time, it felt like the darkness might swallow me. But looking back, it was making space. Space I didn’t know I needed, for something truer to emerge.

When you begin to meet your darker emotions — grief, rage, heartbreak, fear — with presence instead of judgment, something shifts.

You stop being afraid of what’s inside you. You stop believing you’re broken.

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The Gift of Holding It All

This isn’t just about healing ourselves, though that alone is life-changing.

The more we learn to be with our own “darkness” and build our lives around it, the more we become a safe space for others too. We stop trying to fix or change the people we love so we can feel okay, and instead meet them in their experience, because we’ve learned how to do that for ourselves.

We become more present, less reactive, and more compassionate; with others and ourselves.

It’s a subtle reminder that we can hold both dark and light — and that wholeness includes both.

What This Looked Like for Me:

I remember sitting on my bedroom floor weeks after that second divorce, making a choice that changed everything. I decided I was done running from myself. I would take full responsibility for my own healing — not by blaming, fixing or forcing, but by finally listening to what my heart had been crying out for all along: to be held, to be heard, to be allowed to feel everything without pretending I was fine.

So I let myself cry without trying to stop it. I didn’t journal about gratitude. I didn’t look for lessons. I just let myself be heartbroken. I let myself feel the tightness in my chest, the heaviness in my body, the grief that lived not just in my thoughts but in every cell. I stayed with the sensations instead of running from them.

And here’s what surprised me: I was also rebuilding at the same time. I took time off dating to focus on me and my kids. I found a new home. I went to therapy, worked with a coach and started educating myself. I found people who could hold me in my pain and see that my light was still there, even in the darkness. Embracing my grief didn’t slow me down, it actually cleared the path forward.

It felt like rebuilding from the rubble, but honestly. Authentically. The grief didn’t disappear, but I stopped drowning in it because I stopped fighting it.

That’s the kind of presence I bring to my coaching. I create space where all of who you are can show up — the grief, the anger, the confusion, the hope, all of it. You don’t have to perform healing or pretend you’re further along than you are.

But here’s what makes coaching different: I don’t just witness your pain and leave you there. Together, we learn how to honour where you are while also discovering what wants to move forward. We work with your nervous system, helping you build capacity to be with difficult emotions without being overwhelmed by them.

You learn to hold your truth and take aligned action at the same time.

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What Life Looks Like on the Other Side

Here’s what I want you to know: this work leads somewhere beautiful!!!

Today, I’ve transformed from someone who abandoned herself to someone who deeply trusts herself. That foundation has changed everything.

I have a beautiful and strong relationship with my kids, and a respectful, drama-free co-parenting relationship with my ex from my first marriage (which feels like a miracle in itself). I have friendships where we hold space for each other’s full humanity—the messy parts and the beautiful parts. I’m following my dreams—personally and in my career. I bought my own home and created a sanctuary that reflects peace. I believe in myself in ways I never did before. I’m dating with intention and enjoying it, learning so much about what I want and who I’m becoming.

And grief? It no longer scares me. I allow my heart to break open, knowing it increases my capacity to love. I’m so grateful for the events that led me to getting to know myself better.

This is what becomes possible when you stop running from yourself and start living from the inside out. Not just surviving, but thriving. Not just getting through, but building a life you genuinely love!

You’re not broken for feeling deeply. You’re human.

When we embrace the full spectrum of our emotions, we access a deeper form of love — one that holds, honours, and integrates everything we are.

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Who I Work With Best

The clients I work with best are those who are ready to take full responsibility for their own healing and growth. This means being willing to examine your patterns, take ownership of your choices, and show up even when it’s uncomfortable—not looking for someone to fix you or tell you it’s all someone else’s fault.

Whether you’re in the thick of grief right now and choosing to face it, or you’ve done the hard emotional work and are ready to move forward with intention and build the life you actually want—what matters is that you’re willing to show up honestly and do the work.

If you’re done running from yourself and ready to start truly living, I’d love to support you.

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Final Thoughts

Your grief, your anger, your disappointment; they aren’t detours. They’re part of your path. Learning to meet them with love is how you build emotional resilience and move forward with truth, not pressure.

Healing isn’t about avoiding the darkness. It’s about learning to carry the light inside it and discovering the joy, freedom, and self-trust that’s waiting on the other side.

You don’t have to do it all alone. But you do get to stop running.

And when you do, you’ll find that what you feared most wasn’t your emotion… it was your own tenderness, your own strength, your own capacity for a life beyond what you’ve settled for.

Ready to take the next step? Reach out and let’s talk about what coaching together could look like. You deserve to live fully, grounded and clear, not just survive carefully.