12/11/2024 - Anger or silence.

Hello readers,

It’s been a while since I’ve written, and when I say written, I mean truly spilled ink on the page. Life has been moving fast, and I needed time to process and reflect before coming back here to share. Five days ago, I returned from Peru—a journey that shifted so much inside me. Coming back to Verbier has been an exercise in grounding myself and reconnecting with the roots I left here. It's always challenging to go away, take some distance, change perspectives and then come back to a place where I left as a past version of myself. This, in a matter of weeks.

This trip taught me something fundamental: my life isn’t just a series of events, but a tapestry of stories. These stories, often running quietly in the background, shape my beliefs. And those beliefs? They influence my thoughts, my choices, and ultimately, my actions. It became clear that if I wanted to change how I was showing up in the world, I needed to go back to the roots—the origin stories driving it all.

In some areas of my life, I feel steady, even confident. But when it comes to love, the ground has always felt shaky. For years, I’ve wrestled with questions like: Why don’t men fight to be with me? Why do I struggle to receive the love I give so freely? Why have I spent so much time longing for something that seems so elusive?

I’ve worn the label of “hopeful romantic” with pride, yet too often, I’ve acted like a hopeless one. One day, I’m perfectly content on my own; the next, I’m desperate for connection. What I didn’t realize until now was how much of that push-and-pull came from unconscious beliefs—beliefs that weren’t even mine to begin with.

I realized that I would unconsciously tell myself things like:

• No man could ever understand my depth and choose to love it.

• To be loved, I need to hide the parts of me I judge as imperfect.

• My pain makes me a burden to others.

Even as I write those words now, I feel a pang of repulsion. How could I, someone who loves and values herself, still hold onto such immature beliefs? Isn’t self-love 101 about letting go of this nonsense? And yet, deep down in some untouched corner of my heart, those stories still lived.

Where did they come from? My childhood holds some answers. My father, though loving, often struggled with my emotions. His response to my pain—whether in anger or silence—left me feeling unsafe. My mother, always appearing strong on the surface, often cried quietly at night. They turned to work and material pursuits to fill the emotional voids they carried.

Looking back with compassion, I see how much they overcame. My father was born to a pimp and a suicidal woman. My mother, the daughter of uneducated immigrant parents, fought for a better life. They did the best they could with the tools they had, and I’m endlessly proud of them.

Knowing this brings peace, but it doesn’t undo the stories I crafted as a child to make sense of my world. I internalised the belief that the masculine couldn’t provide emotional safety and that the feminine valued appearances over authenticity. Those beliefs played out in my relationships, attracting men who reflected that emotional instability and leading me to hide my truth to appear "strong." I used work recognition and money as substitutes for the safety I craved.

But here’s the thing: stories, no matter how deeply ingrained, are not facts. They’re constructs. And as comforting as they might feel, they can also trap me. And I could describe to you my trip in Peru through the landscapes I've seen and sacred sites I've visited. But the truth is, this has been my trip, the internal one. I faced these stories head-on. I saw how they’d shaped my choices, my pain, and even my longing. And then, I decided it was time to let them go. I realized I no longer need these narratives to survive because I’ve built safety within myself.

Letting go is a journey that is liberating. I release my attachment to men who mirrored those beliefs. I stop being ashamed of my emotions or my vulnerability. I let go of the need to appear strong all the time or to fill voids with external validation. Now, I desire utmost freedom. Freedom to embody my truth, freedom to embrace my emotions, and freedom to bring comfort to my soul and my body in ways no one else can.

Of course, a man will fall in love with my depth, work with me to change my perceptions of imperfections, and see my scars as reflections of the battles I’ve won. But here’s the key: it’s only by allowing myself to be fully authentic—flawed, emotional, and unapologetically me—that I’ll attract such a man in the first place. I no longer feel the need to be "enough" for someone else; I simply need to be.

And if I’m completely honest, this story which had been running in the background for years, has revealed its essence to me now. Feeling emotionally unsafe taught me how to read others’ emotions with remarkable clarity. Masking my authentic self sharpened my ability to adapt to any situation. My drive to work harder and my hunger for more helped me cultivate unshakable grit. What once felt like a burden has become a gift—proof of my ability to transmute pain into strength.

So here I am sharing this transformation with you. My stories are unique but my journey through them isn't; we all carry stories that shape our lives, often without realizing it. But we also hold the power to rewrite them. What stories have been running in the background of your life? Are they still serving you, or is it time to let them go? I'd love to read you too.

With love, Loune.