Bailz Has a Blog

Tag: inner child work

  • Returning to Myself, One Pause at a Time

    Returning to Myself, One Pause at a Time

    ✨ Hey, hi, hello! Happy Wednesday!

    It’s been a few days since my last post, and I’ve really been trying to slow down and focus on being gentle with myself. Although, admittedly, I’ve been struggling with it. I’m feeling better today, but the in-between was rougher than I anticipated.

    After my post on Friday, I felt a huge amount of vulnerability. On one hand, I was incredibly proud of myself for sharing everything I did. But at the same time, I felt pretty depleted — it took a lot of energy to muster up the courage to say those things out loud.

    🎵 The Concert I Almost Skipped (But Absolutely Needed)

    Friday night we went to a concert, and every bit of me wanted to skip it. I was drained, I was tired, I was not feeling 100% by any means. But we were going to see one of Heath’s favorite bands, NEEDTOBREATHE, and we’d had these tickets for months. I couldn’t bring myself to deprive him of the experience, so I pushed through — and I am so glad I did. I know without a doubt that I was supposed to be there.

    The opener was a woman named Bre Kennedy. I had never heard of her before, but now? I absolutely love her. From the very first song, she grabbed my heart and didn’t let it go. Her voice was stunning, her lyrics beautiful, and I was literally moved to tears. And once they started, they didn’t stop.

    But of course — my inner critic immediately piped up:

    “Oh my god, stop crying! People are going to see you! What are they going to think?!”

    Still, for one of the first times in a long time, I chose not to listen.
    I let the tears flow.
    I stayed in the moment.
    I let myself feel.

    And yes, I ugly cried through most of her set. And I regret nothing.

    📚 The Alchemist, Omens, and the Nudge I Needed

    During her set, Bre talked about her upcoming album, The Alchemist, named after Paulo Coelho’s book. This hit me hard. I had bought that book on my last trip to Guthrie, started reading it, then put it on the shelf when I got home because I became wrapped up in all my Happiness Project reading.

    The moment she mentioned it, I knew I needed to pick it back up again.

    After the show, Heath noticed me eyeing her at the merch table and asked if I wanted to meet her. My instinct was no, because interacting with people I admire makes me panic — but I said yes.

    I told her how much her music moved me, how I cried through the whole thing, and how she inspired me to restart The Alchemist. She was so kind, so gracious, so warm. I almost cried again talking to her. I’m so glad I took the chance.

    The next day, I restarted The Alchemist from the beginning, and instantly felt immersed again — in the story, the Personal Legend, the Soul of the World, the omens. It reinforced everything I’ve been feeling lately:

    I am in the messy middle. I am doing the work. And I am on the right path.

    🌿 Therapy, Inner Critics, and Blooming Slowly

    I had therapy yesterday, and it went really well. Each session makes me more confident that I’ve finally found the right therapist. We talked a lot about childhood trauma and how those experiences still color the way I treat myself now — especially the way my inner critic talks to me.

    You would think that getting sober is a HUGE accomplishment that even my inner critic couldn’t argue with, right?
    Wrong.

    She said:

    “Obviously you should be sober! Why didn’t you do it sooner? You’re so late to the game!”

    She can be… a lot.

    I told my therapist how I’m struggling with wanting everything to happen faster — I want to be further along than I am. And she gave me an analogy that struck me deeply:

    When a flower blooms, it expands… and then it pauses.
    It contracts a little to gather energy.
    Without those pauses, it wouldn’t bloom at all — its petals would fall off.

    WOW. I loved that.

    It was exactly what I needed. I don’t want to lose my petals. I want to bloom slowly and stay intact. That means I have to pause. I have to rest. I have to let myself contract so I can grow again.

    The past few days have been my pause-and-contract phase. Today, I feel like I’m blooming again.

    📖 Books, Chiropractic Care, and Little Moments of Self-Care

    My therapist recommended a new book — Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times by Katherine May — and it arrived today. I’m excited to start it tonight.

    This morning I went to the chiropractor, then this afternoon I got a haircut. It felt so nice to pamper myself a little.

    Tomorrow morning I have my second progress scan with the chiropractor. The first scan showed enormous improvement and brought me to tears. I know this next one will too.

    I feel so much more centered, grounded, and connected to my body than I did even a month ago. These adjustments have helped regulate my nervous system in ways I didn’t even realize were possible.

    💜 Gratitude for Where I Am Now

    Instead of focusing on “what ifs,” I’m focusing on gratitude.

    I am grateful that I have the opportunity to do this work.
    Grateful that I can afford therapy and chiropractic care.
    Grateful that I have a husband who encourages me every step of the way.
    Grateful that I quit my job when I did.
    Grateful that I started my blog, found my chiropractor, found my therapist, quit drinking, quit smoking — when I did.

    I’m following the omens.
    I’m working toward my own Personal Legend.
    It’s messy.
    It’s beautiful.
    And I feel so lucky to be here.

    I am doing this for every younger version of me who couldn’t.
    For every future version of me who will benefit.
    And for the current version of me who keeps showing up — on the good days and the harder ones too.

    💬 A Question for You

    Before you go, I’d love to hear from you:

    Where are you in your own blooming process right now — expanding, contracting, or somewhere beautifully in between?

    Share in the comments if you feel comfortable. Your story might be exactly what someone else needs to hear today. 🌿

    ✨ Want to Follow Along?

    If you enjoyed this post and want to follow along on my healing journey, my messy middle, and all the magic I’m discovering along the way, please consider subscribing.

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    Love always,
    Bailz 💜

  • 🌙 Showing Up Scared (Again)

    🌙 Showing Up Scared (Again)

    I find myself in a weird space today. On one hand, I’m feeling better than I have all week—more like myself, less like someone who needs to make herself small for the comfort of others. On the other hand, I’m feeling emotionally conflicted.

    💬 Speaking My Truth

    Before I go any further, I have a confession: I’ve been keeping some of my emotional pain to myself. My inner critic has been whispering that sharing any of it would be “airing dirty laundry” or “slinging mud.” But I’m realizing that talking about what I’ve lived through isn’t gossip—it’s honesty. And this blog was never meant to be a highlight reel. It’s about authenticity. So, here we go.

    🌧 Two Years of Distance

    About two years ago, I made the incredibly difficult decision to create distance between myself and my mom and sister. The years leading up to that point were full of me begging to be seen, heard, and understood—and coming up empty. I was repeatedly told I was “too sensitive,” that I needed to toughen up, that my feelings were exaggerated. Eventually, I couldn’t keep doing it. I wrote a long message explaining how I felt, and then I stepped back.

    Since then, there have been opportunities for conversation, for accountability, for healing—but none have gone the way I’d hoped. The response has always been some version of, “You’re too sensitive,” or, “You owe us the apology.” That used to devastate me. Now, I see it for what it is: a reflection of where they are in their own process, not a measure of my worth.

    Creating that distance broke my heart. But it also saved me. It gave me room to start figuring out who I am outside of the family roles I used to play. I stopped living in constant self-doubt and started learning how to protect my peace instead of sacrificing it for harmony that wasn’t real.

    🔥 Choosing Growth Over Smallness

    The easy thing would have been to slide back into my old patterns—the people-pleasing, the self-silencing, the shrinking. And I won’t lie, it’s crossed my mind more times than I can count. But this time, I’m choosing differently. I’m choosing to do the hard thing: to build a life that’s mine. To uphold my boundaries. To protect my peace. To discover who I am, not who I needed to be to keep everyone else comfortable.

    The past two years have been heavy—grief mixed with anxiety, depression, and a lot of questioning myself. There are still moments where I think, “Maybe I am too sensitive.” But then I look back at what actually happened, and I remember: sensitivity isn’t a flaw. It’s my radar. It’s how I survived—and how I’m learning to thrive.

    🍽 Dinner and Discomfort

    When my dad reached out about having dinner last night, I said yes—hesitantly, but yes. All day yesterday I was a bundle of anxiety and anger. I nearly cancelled. I didn’t want to be triggered or spiral backwards. But I also wanted to see my dad. So I decided to prepare myself the best way I know how: through intentional self-care.

    I walked on the walk pad. I did yoga. I soaked in a Flewd anxiety-easing bath (this one, if you’re curious). I took a shower and put on an outfit that made me feel confident and grounded. I was still anxious, but underneath it, there was something new—trust in myself. Trust that no matter how dinner went, I could handle it differently this time.

    And you know what? It went… okay. It was even, dare I say, fun. But that’s where the emotional conflict comes in. I’m relieved we had a nice time, but that doesn’t mean everything is fixed. Most of the conversation was light, surface-level. And while it felt good to laugh, there’s still a part of me waiting for the other shoe to drop. One good evening doesn’t rebuild trust. It’s a start, not a solution.

    🕯 Where I Am Now

    So that’s where I am today: in between emotions. Hopeful but cautious. Tired but proud. Grateful but guarded. And that’s okay. I don’t have to have it all figured out. My only job right now is to keep listening to my intuition, being gentle with myself, and making choices that feel aligned with who I am in this exact moment—not past Bailz, not future Bailz, just right-now Bailz.

    Today, that looks like walking again. Eating a protein-heavy meal. Sitting down to write this even though it scares the absolute shit out of me. Because I know I’d regret staying silent more than I’ll ever regret being honest.

    I’m showing up scared—again—because I know in my gut that it’s the right thing to do.

    Love always,
    Bailz 💜

    PS – 🌿 If you’re walking through something similar — learning to set boundaries, navigating family pain, or just figuring out how to take up space again — I hope my story reminds you that you’re not alone. Healing isn’t linear, but it is possible. One honest moment at a time. 💜

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