It’s been four days. Four days since the spotlight found me, since my name was called out as the recipient of my first coaching award for RISE. I remember the weight of the gaze of so many, the applause, the warmth of embraces from peers who felt like pillars of strength. Yet, amidst this cascade of celebration, an unexpected feeling washed over me—a sense of a cycle closing, the complex tapestry of accomplishment interwoven with the poignant touch of grief that accompanies such endings. And as if to underline this transition, my menstrual cycle commenced merely an hour after my speech, serving as nature’s playful reminder that with the close of one chapter, the promise of another begins.

Later, amidst the whirlwind of congratulations, a voice pierced through, “Has it landed yet?” The question lingered in the air, hinting at the depth of the moment’s impact on me. I knew what they meant, and yet, I found myself searching for that landing within me. It hadn’t fully arrived—not yet.

In this current, I am deeply emotional, riding waves that crash over me, threatening to pull me under. There have been moments so intense that my instinct was to cry out for help, fearing I might not resurface from this ocean of tears. But instead, I chose to anchor myself, if only for a moment, pondering who could be my lifeline—not to rescue, but to hold space for my experience, to ensure others know I’m navigating through this storm.

So, I reached out, articulating my state to a select few, those sacred beings who, in moments of clarity, I trust with my heart. They understand the depths from which I speak. I warned my partner of the aftermath of my emotional deluge—puffy eyes and a landscape of crumbs from my solitude with “The Notebook.” His offer to organize dinner was a beacon of support, a simple act of kindness that felt monumental.

Why “The Notebook,” you might wonder? It, alongside a handful of other films like "Twilight," serves as a valve for my emotions, a guaranteed way to let the floodgates open. Suppressing my feelings only leads to eruptions at inopportune moments, unfair to those I hold dear. Recognizing this, I have learned to allow myself to sit with these emotions, to let them flow freely, acknowledging them as part of my process.

In my quest for equilibrium, I’ve turned to various tools. Among them, the solace found in nourishing foods—cacao, beetroot, potato, kale, honey—a testament to the grounding power of the earth’s bounty. Communication has been my lifeline, ensuring I remain energetically held, while journaling has woven together the tapestry of my past, present, and future, revealing hidden truths and wisdom within its threads.

This blog is more than just a recounting of events; it's a confession of sorts. Winning an award, or any achievement for that matter, can be enveloped in a myriad of emotions, far from the unilateral joy society expects us to display. Here I am, choosing instead to sit with my tears, allowing them to carve their path, to signify whatever they are destined to.

I’ve poured my soul into RISE, into every submission, every presentation. And now, it’s time to ground, to find solace within myself. This acceptance, this surrender to my emotional journey, is not just okay—it’s necessary. It’s a declaration of self-love, an understanding that amidst the chaos of achievement, there’s profound beauty in returning to one's core, in honoring one’s process without the shadow of shame or guilt.

“Why am I not more excited?” This question no longer plagues me. Yes, I am thrilled, deeply so, but it’s intertwined with the myriad realities of life, this moment of introspection and transformation.

So, to you, dear reader, standing at the precipice of change, know this: your journey is uniquely yours. The path to accepting oneself, to radical surrender, is fraught with challenges, yet it is the most rewarding journey you will ever undertake. Embrace your emotions, your vulnerabilities, as they are the compass guiding you towards your true north.

As I navigate through this phase, I invite you to join me in embracing the ebb and flow of life, recognizing that every tear shed, every laugh shared, is a step towards understanding our authentic selves. Soon, I’ll emerge from this cocoon, transformed and ready to share the beauty of this journey with the world.

Until then, let’s promise to honor our processes, to allow ourselves the space to feel, to heal, and ultimately, to rise.