Zenfull Heart | November 9, 2026
Something came up for me in the last week that I have been sitting with. How long do we want to live inside the stories of what happened to us?
I have had to look honestly at myself with this one. During the recent hurricane, so many old emotions and childhood wounds came bubbling to the surface. There were moments when I wanted reassurance, understanding, validation and love. I wanted people's time, and I wanted to be heard. I wanted them to understand what I was going through and why it was affecting me so deeply.
There is nothing wrong with wanting to be heard, and there is nothing wrong with telling our stories. Still, I keep asking myself: when does telling our story turn into continuing to live inside it?
I came into this world already facing extraordinary medical challenges. I was born with conditions that required multiple surgeries and medical interventions, experiences most children will never have to endure. That was only the beginning. Then came a childhood filled with instability, domestic violence, fear, stress, anxiety, alcoholism and unhealthy family dynamics.
My mother and father had their own struggles. Through conversations over the years, I have learned that my mother's ability to care for us may have been far more limited than I understood growing up. I don't know her story. I don't know what she experienced, why she made the decisions she made, or whether her life got any better after she left us behind. For years, I carried so many unanswered questions.
I also carried patterns into adulthood. When chaos, unpredictability and unhealthy relationships are what you have known since childhood, you often don't even recognize how familiar those patterns have become. Mine followed me into a 16 year relationship that brought its own emotional, mental and physical pain.
Here is what I am beginning to see more clearly. All of those things happened to me, and they are part of my story. The real question is how long I want to keep living there.
I cannot go back and change the medical conditions I was born with. I can't undo the surgeries, the childhood experiences, the domestic violence, or the years I spent in unhealthy relationships with myself and others. They happened. What I can do is acknowledge them, learn from them, and understand how they shaped my beliefs, behaviors, relationships and the way I saw myself.
Do I want to spend the rest of my life defining myself by those experiences? No. That doesn't mean pretending they never happened. There is a difference between acknowledging our pain and making it the center of our identity, and that is something I have been learning over these past two and a half years.
At the end of February 2024, something within me changed. I knew the relationship I had been in was over, even though I hadn't physically left yet. In early July, I finally moved out. I didn't have anything figured out, but I did want to live. I didn't know where life would take me or how I would navigate it all. I only knew I couldn't keep living the same life.
What an extraordinary journey it has been since then. There have been beautiful experiences, retreats, meditation, new friendships, travel, incredible connections with strangers, and opportunities I never could have imagined. There have also been tears, deep loneliness, uncertainty, financial challenges, and plenty of moments when old emotions resurfaced. Healing has not meant that life suddenly became perfect. It has meant learning how to experience life differently.
Today I found myself thinking about two cards I pulled, Hope & Happiness and the Five of Fire.
Hope & Happiness represents healing, renewal, progress, and noticing the joy that is already present rather than always searching for something that hasn't arrived yet. The Five of Fire represents creativity, new possibilities, fresh perspectives, and allowing unfamiliar ideas to grow into something meaningful.
When I put those two messages together, something clicked. What if I have spent so much of my life learning how to survive that I am still learning what it means to thrive?
Look at what is happening in my life right now. Tonight I did my fourth podcast interview. I have five more scheduled right now, more invitations coming in, and I keep reaching out to new podcast hosts. I am putting myself out there and sharing my experiences. I am building Zenfull Heart, creating Soul Messages, expanding my Hug Movement, working as a Bridge Practitioner and life coach, writing blogs, and finding new ways to connect with people. I am moving the needle forward, and I don't always give myself enough credit for that. I am doing things the woman I was a few years ago would not have believed were possible.
Am I financially where I want to be? Absolutely not. Do I still have difficult circumstances to navigate? Of course. Just today, I received a message from someone I shared many years of my life with, asking whether I needed money. For a moment, that brought up another layer of reflection. There are still practical matters, including IRS paperwork, that may require some communication between us.
Does unfinished paperwork mean I am still emotionally tied to that relationship? Does accepting occasional financial help mean I am incapable of supporting myself? Or have I been reinforcing an old story about what I am capable of, focusing on how little money is coming in rather than on what I am actively building?
I am grateful for help when it comes. Still, I don't want the financial contributions of someone to become the measure of my own potential. I don't want to keep telling myself that I am living on a few hundred dollars a month while my savings disappear, as though that is the only financial reality available to me. That isn't the future I am working toward. The uncertainty, the expenses and the responsibilities are all real, and so are the possibilities.
That is where the Five of Fire really speaks to me: creativity, brainstorming, exploring possibilities, and being willing to try new opportunities and different ways of doing things. Hope & Happiness reminds me that I don't have to wait until my business is flourishing, my bank account is overflowing, or every unresolved situation is behind me before I let myself see how far I have come.
I am already living parts of the life I used to wish for. I am free to make my own decisions and free to travel. I am free to enjoy life, meet people, experience new things and create something meaningful. I can now tell my story without having to remain inside the pain of it, and perhaps that is the distinction I have been trying to understand today.
When I share my experiences on a podcast, I don't want people to walk away thinking, "Oh my goodness, look at everything she's been through." I want them to see that no matter what they have experienced, their past doesn't have to determine their whole future. I want my story to create connection, not keep me attached to suffering. I want it to inspire possibilities, not just explain pain. I want to keep learning how to share what happened to me without needing everyone to validate that it was hard, because I already know it was hard. I lived it. I don't need to convince the world that my childhood was painful or that my relationship was unhealthy for those experiences to be real.
We all have stories. Some of us share them loudly and some share them quietly. Some are still searching for the words to describe what happened, and some may need to tell their stories many times before they begin to understand them differently. There isn't one correct way to heal, and I can't know where someone else is on their journey.
What I can do is notice what comes up in me. I can ask myself whether I am speaking from a place of wanting to be understood, wanting to connect, wanting to inspire, or still wanting someone else to acknowledge my pain. I can be compassionate with myself when the answer isn't always the same, because I have needed all of those things at different times. What I don't want is to become so attached to everything I have survived that I forget to experience everything I have created since.
The hurricane brought so many old memories and emotions to the surface. As uncomfortable as that was, it also revealed connections I hadn't fully recognized before. I described those realizations as bubbles bursting, though not in a catastrophic way. They burst into magnificent colors, beautiful ideas, new understanding, and possibilities I had never considered. When I looked at the artwork on my Hope & Happiness card today, with all those colors flowing across the sky and the birds taking flight, I thought about that description. How beautiful that something once tied to pain can become part of a much larger picture, not because the pain was beautiful, but because of what I can choose to create beyond it.
Perhaps that is where I am right now. I am no longer just trying to understand why my life unfolded the way it did. I am becoming more and more curious about what I want the rest of my life to look like.
What do I want to experience?
What do I want to create?
Who do I want to become?
What brings me joy?
How much of my energy am I willing to keep giving to a past I cannot change?
I don't have all of those answers yet, but I do know this. I have spent a tremendous amount of time learning to recognize my wounds. Maybe now it is time to give just as much attention to recognizing my joy. My story will always be part of me, but it doesn't have to be the place where I live. I survived my past. Now I want to fully experience my life, and perhaps that is the greatest freedom of all.
Sending out love and hugs daily,
Zenfull Heart by Sherry
#ZenfullHeartHugMovement
