Five Vulnerable Things: Vol. 10
on five life-changing lessons 2025 has taught me
I almost missed my self-promise to put out a newsletter today (Friday). The day got away from me. But there’s always time to re-devote yourself to keeping your own word. So here I am at 8:12pm, writing this newsletter.
Because like I’ve said in a past newsletter: it’s okay to suck, but it’s not okay to skip. And if I’m sharing these things, I have to walk the walk. It’s not always easy, perfect, or fun, but nothing, and I mean nothing, is sexier or more rewarding than keeping your word to yourself.
“If it’s not inside of you, then it’s nowhere.”
To be completely vulnerable (and isn’t that kind of my thing?) every December I’m overcome with this feeling of being lost. Sometimes the darkness creeps in and the dooms and glooms of the end of the year take over a bit. It’s wild how quickly my mind can spin stories that this year didn’t really amount to anything.
One particularly strange karmic seed ripened recently: the thought that I was a loser. That one surprised me.
For just a moment, the layoff this year and a series of micro-failures compounded into a loud sliver of negative self-talk. One night this week, as I was getting ready for bed, I turned to my husband and admitted that I actually wasn’t doing well mentally. He asked what was going on, and I hesitated. Partly because I know how much he values his bedtime, and partly because I had no damn clue how to articulate to a grown man that I felt like a loser, seemingly out of nowhere.
I told him I was scared I’d made a huge mistake leaving my coach. That I was afraid I’d lost a deeper sense of belonging and community. That I didn’t know, in my heart of hearts, if I could really do this on my own. Fully stepping into entrepreneurship and going all-in on my dreams without any tangible support containers.
And just like I predicted, he looked me dead in the eye and said, “I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way. That sucks.”
But what followed surprised me.
He said, “You’re looking in all the wrong places. If it’s not inside of you, then it’s nowhere.”
That hit me like a Mack truck.
What it unlocked was this knowing: belief and belonging are innate. They come from an original source that only I have access to. Yes, people come into our lives to guide, reflect, pivot, or illuminate the path. But what we’re seeking can only ever be harnessed from our own source matter.
My mind had built a narrative that I needed something more. Something outside myself. But it’s been in me the whole time. If I can experience it, it’s because it’s me. It cannot be manufactured or found elsewhere.
So even when you lose hope, which is inherently human and bound to happen, remember this: if it’s not inside of you, it’s nowhere. Whatever belief you’re grasping for, apply it here.
“Be still. Stillness reveals the secrets of eternity.” — Lao Tzu
When I tell people I teach meditation, I’m often met with confession.
“I should meditate, my mind is a mess.”
“I can’t even sit still for a minute, what does that say about me?”
“I have ADHD.”
“I’m scared to be alone with my thoughts.”
Underneath it all, there’s often shame. A belief that meditation is about being better, calmer, more controlled. And sure, some regulation happens. But meditation should never be approached as a way to fix or save yourself.
Meditation isn’t a solution. It’s a revelation.
It creates space to sift through the rumble. Our thoughts, behaviors, patterns, preferences, aversions. It slowly connects the dots. But it is not a place for judgment, guilt, or punishment masquerading as self-love.
When something feels wrong in our lives, and if you have a pulse, that’s often, our default programming is to do. Fix, act, figure it out, distract, yap, scroll, read another book, put on music. Stillness feels counterintuitive.
But it’s the only place where nothing needs to be fixed, and everything can finally be seen.
Freedom and momentum are often hidden in the thing you’re avoiding most.
This has been a huge lesson, for me and for my clients.
Take a moment and audit one area of your life you’re avoiding. Maybe it’s a pile of laundry turning into an avalanche. Painting and decorating your new (almost two year-old) office. Doing the dishes. Learning to drive. Writing and consistently posting a weekly newsletter.
Whatever it is, I promise, it’s an arrowhead.
We label these things as blocks or distractions, but they’re actually pointing us exactly where we need to go. When we finally turn toward what we’ve been avoiding like the plague, we override our nervous system and choose self-respect.
Avoidance is always laced with fear. Without fear, the mind wouldn’t flag it as something to avoid.
So take five minutes, honestly probably less, and write down everything and everyone you’re avoiding. Choose one thing from that list and touch it today (or tomorrow if you’re reading this late at night).
Watch what happens.
The only adult you’re responsible for regulating is yourself.
This one hit big.
It’s still crystallizing, but it’s been one of the most liberating lessons of the year, especially around people-pleasing and my relationships with friends and family.
I’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to phrase things just right so I could protect others from discomfort while sharing my truth. Sometimes it was as simple as wanting to say, “No, I don’t want to do that.”
What I’ve learned is this: my only job is to speak honestly and respectfully. Full stop. Other adults are responsible for how they respond, whether they regulate themselves or not.
This doesn’t mean I don’t care how people feel. It means accountability is returned to its rightful owner. I regulate me. You regulate you.
And if you already know someone might respond poorly, that’s the perfect place to practice. Because your work isn’t to control the outcome. It’s to anchor so deeply in yourself that no response can knock you off centre.
You can never be fully free if you’re using energy to hide your lies.
I’ll say this until I’m blue in the face.
If you’re hiding secrets, big or small, you’re leaking life force. Energy gets siphoned off to protect fractured parts of yourself, and that will always limit you in ways both subtle and obvious.
This year, I spoke everything. And I mean everything, to the people who needed to hear it. Not publicly. Not performatively. Privately.
I didn’t hide. I didn’t run. I faced the music. The shame, guilt, confusion, fear.
And what it gave me was unexpected. Power.
A power sourced from deeper than I knew existed. The ability to direct my energy toward what’s right in front of me, without leaks, without masks, without lies.
It’s a freedom I believe very few people experience, because it requires devotion to vulnerability and to truth.
But when you have nothing to hide?
You become a force that can’t be fucked with.
Damn Asa, you are truly a visionary. I want to print this newsletter out and put it in my fridge so I can see anytime I walk by. Powerful lessons!!!! Thank you!!!