I grew up in a family where we all were raised to endure. Whatever life threw at us, we just endured.  

Generation after generation, we all were made to believe that enduring pain and hardship made us stronger. More resilient. The truth is, most of us just got stuck in the struggle and never dared to imagine a different life for ourselves. We never really thrived regardless of our inner stamina, and we simply got used to live small. 

One day, I said “No More!”

I made my excuses and left what I could no longer carry with me. Because it was heavy and most of all, because it wasn’t mine to keep. 

I wanted more than what I grew up to see and hear. More life than what I had learnt to accept for myself. 

But here is what often happens to those who dare to fly high: they stop and hide away. They suddenly become afraid to be seen because guilt and shame are never pretty to show around. 

For a long time after severing all contacts with my family, one question kept on coming back to me, repeatedly: 

“Who do I think I am?” 

Who was I to want more for myself? How dared I to even think that I could simply walk away from all the toxicity I was raised to accept?  How could I possibly wish more love than what I received?

After all, bad love is still love, right? Just a little tainted, but for most of us it’ll have to do. Because when we dare to ask for more, often we will stand on our own. We may have to leave behind a life we actually cherished, people we would never wanted to part from. Endurance creates a tight bond within a family. It makes you feel like you belong. If you stick all together, you are strong against the world. When you untangle yourself from it, you worry that others may question your strength. They may not share your longing for a more authentic and larger life, and they may not want to go and venture off the beaten path with you.

Wishing for heartfelt relations suddenly makes you feel weak, an alien among your own people.

So for a while you fly real low, tend to your wounded heart, and learn to offer yourself tons of compassion and kindness. Until you come to really accept your path and start voicing your needs and wishes. You start soaring a little higher when you no longer feel ashamed for daring bigger. You float a little lighter when you shed the guilt you felt for saying “no more.”

Most of all, you start nurturing your inner gifts with a renewed appreciation. As my book “The Day I Found God In A Pub,” will finally be released next week, I think of all the growing pains I have experienced while writing it. All the times my emotions felt just a tad too row and my wounds a bit too sore still. But if it is true that writers are the sum of all their experiences, than there is something only I can share with the world. And as I grow, the world grows too.

In Joy,

Antonia Lyons

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I am an author & an Intuitive Storyteller. I work with people who, like you, are ready to live more authentically & insightfully. Evoking Grace  is the “sacred space” where you become a Bigger You & tell a Bigger Story. Here you will hear your soul sing.
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