Real people. Real questions. New ways of seeing.

I recall working with Sharon, a nurse who came to me overwhelmed, frustrated, and feeling scattered—convinced she had failed in life. Her focus felt lost, and what little clarity remained was blurred by perceived past mistakes—decisions in work and life she believed had taken her off course.

When asked about her purpose, Sharon said simply, “I try to help patients with their care needs and be as supportive as I can.”

As we explored her thoughts, a deeper truth began to surface. She wasn’t off course, nor had she truly failed. In fact, Sharon had been following her bliss all along. The life she thought she should be living was already unfolding—she just needed help seeing it more clearly, through a new lens.

Her Story

“I didn’t grow up with stability. Chaos was normal in my family, and I learned early on that if I wanted anything solid, I had to build it myself. Resilience wasn’t something I chose—it was how I survived.

School became my escape. I wasn’t always the best at it, but something inside kept pushing—maybe stubbornness, maybe hope. I just knew I didn’t want to end up like what I saw around me.

Life didn’t exactly ease up. Two marriages ended, I raised two kids mostly on my own, and health issues knocked me flat more than once. But every time I got back up, I understood people a little better—especially those who were hurting.

Nursing grew out of that. Not because I had it all together, but because I knew what it felt like to be broken. These days, I just try to show up real, do the work, and offer others the kind of care I never had.”

While Sharon saw her life through a half-empty frame, I saw it more than half full. Together, we began reframing her story—without changing a single fact. A new understanding emerged: a personal myth shaped by the archetypes already embedded in her life.

These were:

The Wounded Healer: She heals because she knows pain. Her struggles taught her compassion—making her care real, raw, and deeply human.

The Survivor: Life knocked her down, but she kept standing. Her strength isn’t loud—it’s in her steady refusal to give up.

The Caregiver: Caring isn’t a job—it’s who she is. Through nursing, she gives others what she never received: steady, unconditional support. The Everyperson: She speaks from the heart—with no pretense. Her story reflects what so many feel: just trying to hold it all together.

The Seeker: Even in the darkest moments, she searched for something better. Hope kept her going—and growth became her quiet rebellion.

So, how might she apply this knowledge to her life?

Calling: I walk the path of the Wounded Healer. I didn’t choose it—it chose me. Born from chaos, I was tempered by fire. My calling is to carry the torch through the dark, to remind others that they are not alone in their pain.

Purpose: My purpose is to alchemize suffering into compassion. Like the Phoenix, I’ve risen more than once from the ashes—not just to survive, but to bring warmth to others who are cold from life’s blows. I know what it’s like to feel invisible. I live to see and serve those who feel unseen.

Mission: My mission is to witness, to hold space, and to help others find the strength they forgot they had. Each day, I offer what I’ve earned the hard way: presence, not pretense. I stand not as a savior, but as a companion—part Nurse, part Sage, part Mother, part Warrior. I listen with the ears of the Lover and protect with the heart of the Guardian.

Meaning: The meaning of my life isn’t found in grand gestures, but in sacred moments—when eyes meet through tears, when silence speaks louder than words, when healing begins in the simple act of being seen. That’s where I find the Divine. That’s where I find myself. That’s when I feel fulfilled.

Profoundly, her newly defined personal mythology gave her a new way of looking at herself and her life. She now knew who she was, why she was here, and where she was going—a truth she knew deep inside all along but did not have a frame of reference within which to articulate it.