Readers of Thirty Years who have reached out so far, experience the book in a number of different ways. Some have gone through it very quickly in one sitting; some have read it in pieces getting to it when they can; some have been very intentional, taking their time slowly digesting it as they go; and others have struggled to finish it as the emotional depth it calls for feels too much to bear.

Regardless of where you land as a reader, the power of reflecting on what comes up in any scenario at any time, offers a unique and highly individualized kind of wisdom. There is no right or wrong way to process something that speaks to you and there’s nothing wrong with something not speaking to you at all.

For instance, there are those who reacted strongly to the bullies in the early memories I shared. I imagine those readers felt an intense connection to that kind of experience or personality types. Maybe they have their own stories of being bullied and remember wanting to stand up for themselves. Maybe they did stand up and it seemed to backfire on them as it did for me as a child. Maybe they witnessed something occur that bothered them so much it planted a seed of protection for their loved ones. Regardless of why they reacted to that part of my story, their response clearly came from an authentic place of love, compassion, and empathy, either for me, their past selves, or others generally in need.

Does that mean those who felt nothing during those parts of the book aren’t loving, compassionate, or empathetic? Absolutely not! Maybe they also had those experiences but have processed and healed them so their emotions aren’t stirred by those stories. Maybe there’s reflection, understanding, and even recognition but the body doesn’t have any stored or stuck emotions tied to those particular memories. Maybe the memories are there but they’re blocked beneath layers and layers of distractions so they aren’t easily accessible yet. And maybe there really are no legitimate connections to having bullies or being bullied so there is nothing beneath the surface to be stirred at all.

While details are what we humans find fascinating to ruminate on, the more we share and remember and allow ourselves to recall, the more we recognize that the power of reflection lies more in the sensations that come up for us rather than the stories themselves. Having a physical, visceral reaction to anything is our body’s way of showing us our truth. It is an invitation coming from authentic, inner wisdom because no one else can tell you what matters to you. The key is, do you have a practice of listening to this soft, subtle, nuanced voice that asks for your attention in small and big ways or do you consistently shut it down, bottle it up, cut it off, and disregard its wisdom when it’s inconvenient, uncomfortable, or feels “too hard?”

For those interested in shifting from survival mode and into a thriving life filled with meaning and purpose, reflection is going to be your guiding light on this new path. Once you make the decision to move beyond the habitual patterns that brought you to this present moment, reflecting on you, your stories, and your reactions to them without judgment or criticism allows you to access your truth without distractions.

Every choice you make to pause, consider, and reflect on what speaks to you and why, further builds that skill needed to repattern your responses for the next time it comes up. To go back to our original example, awareness for your truth that the idea of being bullied really bothers you may be about feeling small, weak, and insignificant. Maybe it triggered emotions tied to being invalidated, unimportant, or less than others. Maybe it reminds you that you put others first, consistently seeing the people around you as being more valuable and more worthy than you.

Maybe the first time you read the book none of that came up, but now that you’re reading me calling you out specifically, it’s speaking to you now. This is the power of reflection. We paused, we took the time to process and digest, and now we get to look back from a safer distance, cultivate love and compassion for whatever triggered all of that in the first place. This is how we build empathy. This is how we move through the world with kindness. This is how we stop the self-deprecating patterns of negative self-talk or self-harm, and shift into truth for ourselves and by default of proximity, eventually for others.

Some of us really feel called to care for and support those around us. Some of us are called to nurture, heal, and help loved ones and strangers near and far. If this feels true for you, I encourage you to see that the capacity to do so in the most meaningful way possible requires that you work to heal yourself first. That you take the time to pause and reflect on the things that move you. That you venture to look deeper into why and when and where that came from. That you allow yourself to be moved at all. When you do, you may discover a part of you ready to heal and the next time it comes up, maybe it won’t feel so overwhelming anymore. And when you see it in others, you’ll be able to see them clearly. Grounded in our own truth and understanding, ready and able to hold space with compassion and empathy. This is how we heal in community.

Whether this new perspective inspires you to read through this book again, finish it with intention and new meaning, finally pick it up and dive in, or start talking about it with others, I hope you are willing to see yourself more clearly through these stories of grief, depression, solitude, and pain. Your suffering is not so deep and so unique that you are alone in it. It is not so unrecognizable that you alone can understand it. On the contrary, our pain is what’s common among everyone, just to varying degrees.

It’s our own innate wisdom that is beautiful and unique to each of us. Discover yours and share it with the world because it’s time you knew, you’re worthy of being seen too.

With Love, V