I fell in love at 15.

My boyfriend’s family moved from Belgium to Greece, while mine moved to the U.S. The heartbreak was palpable when my father told me I couldn’t cross the ocean to visit a boy 6,000 miles away.

At 22, a tumultuous breakup shattered me. I betrayed both myself and my partner, unconsciously punishing myself by degrading my self-worth. It felt like an addict getting clean—years of withdrawal and emotional pain. Even after that defining moment, I feared hurting others with my desires.

With years following I still experimented and explored relationships that didn’t always leave me feeling empowered.

Shame demanded a homecoming. I moved back to Seattle, into my parents’ basement at the height of COVID—a cave to feel my full humanity. My soul was tired—tired of numbing, tired of medicating.

I started healing and transitioned into a new company thinking ok wow now I’m safe to be me. Fun and adventure revealed themself: I’d travel to Mexico, Italy, France Los Angeles, Austin, Chicago, New York City, Burning Man. Then—boom—a corporate layoff 10 months later. All my resentment toward systems and society felt like a direct hit to my sense of worth and ability to stay in a healthy relationship.

I was 30 and post-layoff I thought to myself I need to move.

I went to Melbourne, Australia and trying on a long-distance relationship, I met the same mirror: seeking attention, overwhelmed and love bombed by the gaze of another. My partner back in the US called it: “Trying to have my cake and eat it too.”

Survival mode had me repeating the same patterns—fun first, repent later. I confessed cheating on him in the attempt to prove my worth.

I’d been in this cycle before.

I kept attracting situations that couldn’t meet my desired standards I clung to short-lived romances, mistaking the fleeting memory for love. It felt too risky to build a real home with another person, all because I didn’t know how to trust myself.

I didn’t have standards. I didn’t know how to communicate my needs.

I was unconscious of what I actually wanted, needed, or felt I deserved. I had fantasy pictures of perfection colliding with the past, keeping me stuck in time, enamored with what once was and what could be.

Some of this may hint to unresolved #DaddyIssues. The fact is that I love my father he provided a beautiful life for our family. There were complexities within that dynamic that led me on quest to explore different standards for myself.

My relationships with men mirrored my own internalized patriarchy—the pain they caused me, the pain in my lineage, and the pain I, too, caused. The joke? I’d become the very thing I resented.

I had to wake up.

The courage to face my wounds at the root, to bring my inner father into alignment.

It’s a homecoming that takes radical honesty—and the beginning of real healing. Have you shown up for yours? Take 3-minutes to celebrate your gain from the pain. Turn on your favorite tune, do a happy dance.

With heart, hugs, and more hugs,