Month: July 2025

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Creative Journaling Emotional Wellbeing Healing & Personal Growth Identity & Inner Work Identity work Inner Healing Personal Growth Reclaiming the Self Reconnecting with Self Self-Reflection The Stories We Carry Therapeutic Writing Therapeutic Writing & Creativity Uncategorized

Reconnecting with the Story Beneath the Surface

Image by Jenny McClymont

We are all shaped by stories — the ones we were told, the ones we absorbed in silence, and the ones we constructed to make sense of the world around us. These narratives can offer comfort and protection, mainly when they help us survive what once felt unbearable.

But sometimes, the stories that helped us cope begin to obscure the truth of who we are.

You may find yourself functioning well on the outside, yet quietly carrying beliefs like “I have to hold it all together,” or “If I shine too brightly, it won’t be safe.” These hidden scripts can echo through your relationships, your work, and your inner world — until they no longer feel like reflections, but restrictions.

Reconnecting with the story beneath the surface means asking: What am I believing about myself that no longer serves me? What part of me longs to be seen, heard, or reclaimed?

Through gentle reflection, journaling, movement, stillness, or expressive art, we can begin to reconnect with the self that existed before the coping — the intuitive, creative, and grounded self still quietly present beneath the noise.

This is not about erasing the past. It’s about listening with kindness to what lies beneath, softening the old patterns, and allowing something truer to emerge.

You are not your coping mechanisms.

You are not the story others wrote for you.

There is a deeper truth within you — and it’s time to let it speak.

Categories
Personal Growth Reclaiming Self-Reflection Surface Uncategorized

Reclaiming the Story Beneath the Surface

Image by Jenny McClymont

Reconnecting with the Story Beneath the Surface

Many of us carry stories shaped by our survival, the environments in which we were raised and what was expected of us, or what we came to believe about ourselves when life felt too heavy, too fast, or too lonely.

But these stories, especially the ones we don’t speak aloud, are not always accurate reflections of who we are at our core.

We encourage you to notice gently: Are you living from your original self, or a collection of habits, responses, and learned beliefs? Many of us have wired our inner world to keep ourselves safe, but in doing so, we’ve also disconnected from parts of ourselves that hold creativity, courage, and joy.

Sometimes the well-functioning outer self hides a part that feels exhausted, unheard, or unsure if it’s safe to show up fully. There may be a voice that says, “Don’t shine too brightly, it’s not safe,” or “Don’t rest, you’ll fall behind.” These voices, though quiet, can shape how we work, love, relate to others, and dream.

Healing is not about erasing these parts; it’s about noticing them, listening kindly, and offering a new story where safety and strength can co-exist.

Like rebuilding a home, we begin by examining what lies beneath the surface: the beliefs, emotional habits, and internal structures that no longer serve us. Through creative reflection and expressive work — whether writing, journaling, movement, or even stillness — we give voice to the silent parts. We begin to unlearn shame, soften the inner critic, and integrate what we once hid away.

The work is deep, but the reward is clarity. Wholeness. A more honest relationship with yourself.

So I leave you with the question:

Are you living your true story, or one that was handed to you?

And if not, what story longs to be told now?

Categories
Creativity and Healing Emotional Wellbeing Reflection Self Discovery Therapeutic Writing Uncategorized

Reclaiming the Self Beneath the Story

We all carry stories, constructed meanings we’ve absorbed over time to help us understand who we are. These stories often begin early, shaped by what we were told, what we experienced, and what we learnt to believe in order to feel accepted or safe.

But these are not the only stories.

Sometimes the stories we carry begin to feel heavy, defined by anxiety, perfectionism, overdoing, or by exhaustion, silence, and withdrawal. These aren’t just habits; they’re survival responses. We might feel pulled to do too much, to always be ‘on,’ or to find ourselves shutting down and stepping back from the world. Either way, the result is the same: we lose touch with the part of us that simply is, before the fear, before the coping.

That part of you hasn’t disappeared. It is still there. The original self, creative, steady, and intuitive, sits beneath the surface, waiting patiently for space to emerge. It’s not the self that performs or seeks approval, but the one who understands the essence of reality.

As you begin to reflect, create, move, or write, something shifts. You’re not just analysing yourself; you’re meeting yourself. The quiet rhythm of truth begins to return.

Some gentle invitations for reflection:

  • What parts of me have I hidden to be accepted?
  • Where did I learn that I needed to be more, or less, than I am?
  • What am I ready to release to reconnect with what’s true?

These reflections are not about fixing who you are. They are about remembering. These reflections aim to soften the grip of mistaken identity and re-enter the quietness of your own knowing.

When we live from that place, not from reaction but from presence, something profound begins to happen: we feel more whole, more honest, and more alive.

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Uncategorized

When Praise Becomes a Poison

Image by Jenny McClymont

Sometimes we admire people not because of who they are, but because of what we think they represent, success, power, access. But when admiration turns into silence, and truth is swallowed in the name of favour, something deeper begins to unravel.

There are times we find ourselves drawn to certain people, not because they lead with kindness or wisdom, but because others seem to orbit around them. Their presence carries weight, not necessarily earned through action, but maintained by status, stories, or old influence.

Around them, truth becomes softened. People say ‘yes’ when they mean ‘maybe,’ nod when they long to question. Not out of loyalty, but out of quiet hope, that by staying agreeable, something might be gained.

In these spaces, praise becomes a currency. And flattery, a performance. Some learn to keep close by using sharp tongues dressed in sweet tones, silencing others to stay in favour.

However, when praise is no longer grounded in truth, something begins to erode. The self-respect of those who give it. The integrity of those who receive it.

And over time, the web that was woven to hold others down begins to tangle its maker.

Even the most charming mask can’t hide what’s eventually revealed, that the snake was always there, just waiting in the tall grass.

Reflective Question

What’s the difference between genuine respect and silent self-protection, and how do we know when we’ve crossed that line?