Life Lessons I Wish I Learned Sooner
By Christina | Tranquil Balance Life Coaching | www.healingmyfeelings.com

There are lessons life teaches you gently—and then there are the ones that come like a freight train. Mine came through heartbreak, loss, betrayal, and the kind of pain that no one prepares you for.

I wish I could say I learned these things sitting cross-legged in peace, sipping tea with grace. But the truth? I learned them face-down in the dirt, clawing my way through grief, emotional abuse, and a cancer diagnosis that changed everything.

So here they are—the lessons I wish I’d known sooner… but now that I do, I live and lead by them:

---

1. Love doesn’t mean staying—especially when it’s breaking you.
I once believed that loving harder could fix what was broken. That if I just stayed, stayed loyal, stayed patient, it would all work out.
But no amount of love can heal someone who refuses to confront their own wounds. I lost parts of myself trying to save someone who was drowning and pulling me under with them.
Leaving wasn’t giving up. It was finally choosing me.

---

2. Grief has no timeline, and it doesn’t ask for permission.
When David died, it was like the world shifted off its axis. I didn’t just lose a person—I lost a future, a sense of normalcy, and a piece of my heart I’ll never get back.
Some days I laugh. Some days I cry while folding laundry. That’s grief—it’s not linear, and it doesn’t care how “strong” you think you are.
I wish someone had told me that healing isn’t about forgetting—it’s about making room for both love and loss to exist.

---

3. Strength isn’t about pretending you’re okay—it’s about surviving when you’re not.
Cancer stripped me down to the rawest version of myself. Suddenly, strength wasn’t about hustle—it was about surrender.
It was choosing to show up for one more doctor’s appointment. It was crying in the shower and still answering the next client call.
Strength isn’t loud—it’s quiet, steady, and often unseen.

---

4. You don’t have to keep proving your worth to people who refuse to see it.
For years, I tried to earn love by shrinking myself. I kept peace at the expense of my own peace.
But here’s the thing: no amount of explaining yourself will ever be enough for someone committed to misunderstanding you.
Your worth isn’t up for debate, and you don’t owe anyone a performance.

---

5. Your pain isn’t your identity—but it will shape your purpose.
Every scar I carry, every sleepless night, every moment I wanted to give up—it all became part of the mission.
Not because I asked for it, but because I refused to let it define me.
I turned it into fuel. Into compassion. Into coaching rooms where others finally feel seen.
My pain cracked me open, but purpose is what grew from those broken places.

---

If you’re reading this and feeling like life keeps kicking you while you’re already down—breathe.
You’re not broken. You’re being broken open.
There’s power on the other side of this pain. There’s purpose, too.

And if no one’s told you lately—
You’re allowed to leave what hurts.
You’re allowed to grieve out loud.
You’re allowed to start over.
And most of all—
You’re allowed to be proud of how far you’ve come… even if you’re still healing.

---

Need support? I’m here. This isn’t just my job—it’s my calling.
Book a free consultation or learn more about healing from narcissistic abuse, codependency, and trauma at www.healingmyfeelings.com.
You’re not alone anymore.

---

• Healing & Recovery