No One Goes Untouched

I walk through the pain because it’s the only way I’ve found to stop it from hurting me, or others.

We all experience pain.

Not just physical pain, but emotional—

heartbreak, sadness, betrayal,

loneliness, worthlessness, and trauma.

Shame.

Some more than others, but no one goes through life untouched.

This past year, I’ve carried profound loss,

layered betrayals,

the collapse of inner safety,

and the weight of public scrutiny.

It has not been easy.

People ask how I do it.

How I’m still showing up.

Still leading.

Still standing.

Still soft.

Still kind.

Still sparkling.

The answer is:

I walk through the pain.

I don't avoid it.

I don't numb it.

I don't find a new person or project to distract myself from it.

I allow myself to feel it and let it move through me.

Not because I’m brave.

Not because I enjoy it.

And not because I’m trying to prove anything.

I walk through the pain because I know what happens when I don’t.

See, I’ve known loss, trauma, and heartbreak

for as long as I can remember.

It didn’t begin in adulthood.

It began in childhood,

When my mom left.

When I became the good daughter.

When I carried too much responsibility far too young.

When no one noticed I was scared, hurting, alone.

When no one wanted to spend time with me.

When I was disowned by my family.

When being strong wasn’t a choice—it was survival.

It was like being handed a backpack full of stones I never chose to carry,

and told to keep walking.

I was praised for being mature. Helpful. Okay.

But underneath, I was aching.

And that ache shaped everything.

I smiled and said I was fine,

That I was happy.

That I was healthy.

But, in reality, I was far from fine.

My pain leaked out in my behaviors:

In the beds of strangers.

    In two teenage pregnancies.

       In toxic relationships.

       In unhealthy friendships.

    In overworking to the point of collapse.

     In people-pleasing—even when my life was in danger.

  In choices that hurt people.

I’ve also lived what happens when pain doesn’t get processed in others:

Addiction, Abuse, Avoidance.

Hyperachievement, Perfectionism.

Manipulation, lies, and deceit.

Thrill seeking and low self-worth.

Shame turned outward—quietly, subtly, destructively.

Unprocessed pain doesn’t disappear.

It festers.

It corrodes.

It leaks out sideways—

sometimes violently, sometimes invisibly, but always at a cost.

So I walk through the pain.

Because it’s the only way I’ve found to stop it from hurting me—or others.

I sit with myself through it.

That’s the healing.

I don’t abandon the hurting parts of me.

I bring her in.

Hold her like a frightened child.

Let her cry.

And walk with her until the fear settles and the light comes through.

I did this when the landslide swallowed my family's century-old business,

when I watched generations of work and memory collapse in an instant.

I didn’t numb it. I let it wreck me.

And then I rebuilt. From the inside out.

And I don’t do this alone.

Support systems are essential—

friends, family, therapy, faith, community.

We are not meant to heal in isolation.

Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is let someone else sit with us in the dark until the light returns.

When I sit with my pain—

feel it, soothe it, love it, witness it—

It softens.

It teaches.

It releases its grip.

That’s how I reclaim my wholeness.

That’s how I metabolize my shame.

That’s how I break the cycles.

That’s how I make sure the pain ends with me.

And here’s the beautiful part: something else happens too.

My capacity for joy expands.

My ability to feel true happiness grows.

And most of all, my inner peace deepens.

Because I’m not hiding from anything.

Not even myself.

We all experience pain.

And when we walk through it—

That’s when we find freedom.

Like unclenching a fist to finally hold the sky.

Like feeling the sun on your face on a beautiful spring day.