Embracing Your Inner Light: A Story for HSP's and Deep Feelers Healing from Intergenerational Trauma.

I have a deeply personal story that I’d like to tell you about today—a story about the past, healing of old wounds, and the transmutation of darkness into light.

A story about becoming the most authentic, fullest expression of self and leaving the past behind.

A story passed down to me by my ancestors, when they handed me a sunflower and told me that everything was going to be okay.

I started writing this story after receiving a text from my former college mentor, Vilmarie.

Vilmarie was my professor during my first year of college. She taught a class called Be the Change You Wish to See in the World which helped to initiate me as a first-generation college student into the rigorous world of higher education, and into the art of facilitated dialogue and deep inquiry.

Vilmarie taught me to think critically, to reflect deeply, and most of all to know myself. It was through her guidance that I began to understand how personal identity shapes belief and influences the way one shows up in the world.

Most teachers are with you for a semester, maybe two. But from the day I walked through the doors of her classroom, she never stopped walking with me. She became a catalyst in my life; seeing me for my authentic self, nurturing my gifts, writing me letters of reference to support my academic and professional goals, and reminding me along my path—to trust the process.

She is one of those rare individuals you realize, perhaps only with age and maturity, that you were destined to meet, and I love and respect her deeply for the influence she has had on my life.

Many years have passed since Vilmarie and I last spoke, so I was overjoyed when I sent her a text and she replied:

Her message read: ‘Good morning, Sunshine”.

I was floored. Even after all these years, and all the time has passed, she still saw in me qualities that, until recently, I wasn’t even fully aware of in myself.

It was synchronistic and confirming.

In recent years, I’ve started to notice a curious shift in the way others seem to perceive me. From old and new friends, to the designer and copywriter I hired for my business, colleagues at work, and now Vilmarie—people from all walks of life have taken to likening me to the Sun, a Sunflower, Sunshine.

Each time this has happened, I took it as a compliment, while never fully internalizing the meaning behind the words. Yet sitting there, reading what Vilmarie wrote, I felt like something finally clicked.

They see me.

I’m not invisible.

I am, a light.

This is where the story of my journey begins. The slow, gradual, long journey to becoming a person capable of shining their authentic light in the world.

Embracing Who I Truly Am Inside.

It’s taken me many years to heal and reclaim the most authentic, pure version of myself. So it was exciting to realize that these bright parts of myself I’ve worked so hard to reclaim—my happiness, my joy, my authenticity—are not only felt by me, but are also visible to those around me.

This realization was exciting, but also strange.

You see, for most of my life, people never compared me to sunshine. Instead, they called me by my given name, Leah—which in Hebrew means ‘weary’ or ‘tired’.

I’m not sure if my mom intended to impart these qualities on me by choosing the name Leah for me, but since I am told that I was originally to be named Sarah—which means princess, joy, and happiness—one has to wonder what happened.

But, we’ll get to that later.

My name is a biblical name and derives from the story of Leah, who was the first wife of Jacob. Leah’s story is one of enduring deep pain, rejection, and feelings of despair at being overlooked by her younger sister, Rachel, whom Jacob loved more deeply.

The first time I looked up the meaning of my name and read this story, I remember it gave me chills as I perceived a similarity between my life story and that of my biblical namesake. The despair and longing that Leah felt in response to rejection, and her longing for love and recognition, were feelings all too familiar to me.

As the deep feeling, highly-sensitive person growing up in my family, I often felt misunderstood, unseen, and rejected by those around me—as if they didn’t know what to make of or what to do with me.

I felt invisible and lonely for parts of my childhood—often playing alone in my room, reading books aloud to myself, crying over things others seemed unaffected by, taking care of people way older than me, and noticing things in my surroundings that others tried to shush.

As I grew up and went to school, the sense of not fitting in and being seen only grew. I was different in many ways—an early reader, inquisitive, non-conforming, creative. Though I got by alright with the friends I made in chorus and the arts, it took me many years to understand why deep down, I felt so out of place, heavy, and in many ways, divergent from most of my peers and even my friends.

I was holding something, that they were not.

From Seedling to Sunflower

Today, I want to share a story about the grief we sometimes carry as the deep feelers in our lineage; along with the burden of healing that can get passed down through the generations. This may be a sad story, but it has a happy ending.

This is a tale of a girl with a sunflower soul, who went from feeling like a tiny seedling, her roots barely visible in the darkness of the soil, to a blooming flower who’s petals turned to the light for all to see.

Photo by Serrah Galos on Unsplash

As an HSP, you may not relate to this story. Not all sensitive people experience trauma, or come from families who did—though as a group, sensitive people are more likely to experience and internalize trauma due to our empathic, perceptive natures.

That said, you may find this story interesting to read, perhaps even comforting, as it acknowledges the experience of the sensitive person who feels misunderstood, different, and burdened by others problems.

It’s also not just a story of the highly-sensitive person, but of the outcast, the caregiver, the artist, the sage, and the lover.

It tells a courageous tale of resilience and the transformation of a lost, weary soul who uncovered the inner strength to heal and turn pain into purpose—not just for her own sake, but for the whole line.

Once upon a time.

The Weight of My Roots: A Journey of Ancestral Healing

I come from an old family. The Tarleton lineage on my paternal side stretches back to 13th century medieval England, and my ancestors on that side played major roles in political and social life including during the American Revolution. On the maternal side my great grandparents, who were immigrants from Sicily, came to Boston and received their citizenship between 1939-1943.

In the photograph below is my mother’s family. My mother Christine is at center, my grandmother Jeanette is to her left, and my great grandmother Angelina is next to my grandmother. At the head of the table is her husband, my great grandfather Luigi.

Without giving you the history of my entire genealogy, suffice to say there is a long, storied history running through my veins; a story of people who experienced both great joy and immense heartbreak long before I ever existed.

These stories inextricably shaped my own.

An Old Soul in a New Generation

In addition to descending from a long historical lineage, both of my parents are of an older generation and had me, their second child, late in life. It’s interesting to think about my mother. If she had given birth to me at a time more typical for women of her generation—her mid-twenties instead of her mid-forties—my childhood would have happened in the 1970’s and I’d now be in my fifties.

But that’s not what happened.

Instead, here I am, a thirty one year old Millennial born in 1992 into a world shaped by rapid technological change, global shifts, and evolving societal norms that neither my ancestors, nor my parents would ever fully live through or understand.

My closest ancestors, including my parents, lived in a world not yet shaped by modern technology, shifting societal norms, and the rapid pace of contemporary life. Yet, their experiences—molded by war, immigration, and hardship—shaped me.

My aunty always called me an "old soul” and it’s a descriptor I’ve felt proud of while at the same time alienated by.

I appreciate that this “old” soul is part of what makes me unique, and at the same time, I was raised in ways that my peers could not relate to or understand. This fact often left me feeling misunderstood and a little out of place, as if I had entered the world in the wrong generation—the wrong place and time.

The unique generational gap between me and my parents adds layers of complexity and perspective to my identity and life experience, giving me a foothold in two very different worlds; the modern world into which I was born, and the past by which I was raised. I was a technologically oriented kid and fully embraced the modern age. Yet, looking back also feels natural to me because my dad imbued me with an interest in history as well as a love of reading and a natural curiosity from an early age.

Reflecting on all this, it was almost as if I was destined to an unconventional path; one where I would stay connected to my roots, to the past, to story, and to the language and lives of my people—while also embracing the modern context in which I lived.

Hiding My True Self to Honor the Past

In addition to being an old soul connected to the past through my innate and nurtured curiosity of history, I was also born a deep feeling, perceptive soul which gave me the ability to sense, feel, and relate to what my loved ones felt both now and in the past.

Together, these traits allowed me to access feelings my ancestors could not.

Because I inherited these feelings and nobody else in my family talked about them, I carried them alone. And like many deep feelers, I also felt somehow, responsible. I believed that just because I could sense the feelings of those around me, and knew what they were going through, that I somehow needed to honor and be loyal to it all.

So, I took it on, even though I was just a child, and agreed to carry what was passed down to me—from those who for whatever reason could not feel or carry it fully.

This choice was unconscious at first.

Thankfully, I grew up like most children—blissfully unaware, innocent, and joyful. I was not a sad or troubled child by any means. I played, and laughed, climbed trees, and did kid stuff. I had not clue that anything was wrong and my parents loved me.

My childhood

But as I grew older and innocence faded, as my feelings grew more intense, and as I witnessed my mother experience pain, the choice started to become more conscious.

As a teenager, I tended more toward depression and anxiety. I listened to deep, emotional music and loved eating. Food was my preferred way to soothe my often intense feelings as well as the shame I felt over being bigger bodied than my peers.

In retrospect, it’s easier to see that the weight I gained throughout my adolescence was actually a physical manifestation of the spiritual weight I was carrying deep down.

As an adolescent, I was very alone in understanding myself.

My parents didn’t seem to fully “get” my deep feeling, expressive nature. They didn’t really know how to nurture my intensity and profound gifts, and so it was hard to see or understand myself for who I really was. Because of this, I think on some deep level I internalized a belief that there was something wrong with me, and also that it wasn’t fully safe to express my unique qualities and still be part of who made me—my family.

This was heartbreaking and scary for me, and I had no one to talk to about it. Thankfully, I used my gifts and got creative in processing my grief.

I was gifted at singing, and music was one of the ways I creatively processed my enormous, overwhelming feelings. I don’t have a ton of memories from my early teenage years, but I do have a distinct memory of myself as a girl of about nine or ten—probably around the time that I started boxing up parts of my authentic self—as I watched myself cry in a mirror while singing the song Reflection from Mulan.

Coincidentally, this was also the first song I ever sang in a school talent show—I think I desperately needed to be heard a that time and the song was a natural choice.

The songs lyrics hinted at my inner world and the weight that I was unknowingly carrying as I began to simultaneously discover and also lose parts of myself:

Reflection:

Who is that girl I see, staring straight back at me?
Why is my reflection someone I don't know?
Must I pretend that I'm someone else, for all time?
When will my reflection show who I am inside?

There's a heart that must be free to fly.
That burns with a need to know the reason why.

Why must we all conceal what we think, how we feel?
Must there be a secret me I'm forced to hide?
I won't pretend that I'm someone else for all time.
When will my reflection show who I am inside?

Reflecting on this memory is fascinating to me. I remember the first time I heard the song as an adult and realized how freaking deep that was for a child in 5th grade.

It made me realize that on some subconscious level I knew, maybe even as early as conception, that living from my true sunny disposition beyond the innocence of childhood was akin to betrayal; of those who suffered before me, and those who suffered to create me. My ancestors.

I somehow knew that I needed to conceal who I really was, and how I really felt inside.

I needed to be loyal, so that I could feel safe.

I needed to hide, so that I could belong.

This was my death and wounding, but also my rebirth and healing.

Chosen to Heal: Embracing the Legacy of Ancestral Wounds

At the core of this experience I’m describing is something I have now come to understand as ancestral trauma—wounding and pain passed down through the generations, unspoken and unfelt by the ancestors, but deeply felt by the descendant—the one who was chosen, or perhaps who chose, to feel it.

As a child, I didn’t know that I was feeling the pain of my mother, my grandmother, and my grandmother’s grandmother on and on. To me, we were all one and the same.

I wasn’t a self in the psychological sense, but an extension.

I was born looking like my mother—with her deep piercing brown eyes, strong jawline, prominent collarbones, and dark brown hair—and also feeling like her as I witnessed her pain and grief in the form of severe health issues that couldn’t hide or suppress.

You can probably understand the depths of my confusion.

My mother, Christine Louise Maggio.

Some of what I’m sharing about inherited trauma might seem abstract, but it’s actually based in biology. Just as we inherit physical traits like bone structure and eye color, we can also inherit unprocessed emotional burdens of our ancestors—and especially of our mother—whom we were once physically connected to, and even before that, connected as an egg in her fetal ovary, within our grandmother’s womb.

This profound connection across generations lays the foundation for how inherited trauma can manifest in our lives.

Ancestral trauma can be passed down in several ways:

• Through Family Behavior and Beliefs: trauma can manifest in the way we were raised. If our parents or grandparents endured hardship, war, displacement, or emotional wounds they never healed from, they may have unknowingly passed on their pain down through fears, anxieties, and coping mechanisms. For instance, a parent who lived through loss and grief might instill a fear of lack or mistrust of love, which can shape their child’s relationship with happiness and joy.

• Through Unspoken Emotional Burdens: Even when trauma isn’t directly spoken about, it can still be present in a family’s emotional landscape. Individuals impacted by ancestral trauma might grow up with a deep sense of sadness or anxiety without knowing exactly where it comes from, as though it’s “in the air”. This is particularly true when older generations didn’t talk openly about their pain or process their grief, as was often the case in times or cultures where emotional vulnerability wasn’t encouraged.

• On a Biological Level: fascinatingly, science has also shown that trauma can alter our DNA. Studies in the field of epigenetics suggest that severe trauma, like famine, war, abuse, or severe loss can change the way genes are expressed, which can then be passed down to future generations. This means that even if we didn’t experience the original trauma, we may still carry its effects in our bodies and minds, such as heightened stress responses or emotional sensitivities.

Beyond the scientific explanations, there’s also a spiritual dimension to consider—the mysteries of how unseen energies and unhealed wounds are passed down through generations.

Every once in a while for reasons unknown, trauma occurs in a family and is not able to be processed in healthy ways. And every once in a while, also for reasons unknown, a child is born and chooses—or perhaps is chosen—to heal the entire line.

In my maternal lineage, for whatever reason, I believe that child was me.

One might wonder why a child would be burdened by such a task? And the truth is, I’m not sure. That’s the spiritual aspect of this whole thing. We don’t know why this happens. We don’t know why some heal and some don’t.

All we know is that certain children may naturally possess or express qualities that their ancestors did not, such as emotional insight, sensitivity, and an uncanny strength of spirit. We also know that history is not always fair. Sometimes, a child is simply born into a time where the conditions of the family, or society at large, are more ideal for feeling and healing.

Finding My Way Back.

Which brings me back to my name—Leah; the weary one, the tired one.

Did my mom intentionally name me that, dooming me to a life of fatigue, grief, despair, and weariness? I don’t believe she did on a conscious level, no. Through family constellations work, I have come to believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that my mother deeply loves me.

Yet, she also hurt her daughter, as her mother did, by passing down her burdens.

In the bible story that gave me my name, Leah was never chosen by her husband, and it caused her great pain, but she was chosen for other things; to feel deeply and to give birth to the promise of a better future—for those who came before her, for those who came after her, and most importantly, for herself.

Leah’s pain was not without purpose, and neither was mine.

After many years of therapy and personal healing, I have accepted and even come to celebrate my role as the wounded healer in my lineage. It is an honor to be the one to relieve my ancestors of our shared suffering as it speaks to the strength of my heart and soul. The purpose in my pain was all at once revealed to me in October 2023 when after I came across an offering at a retreat center in Rowe, Massachusetts.

I don’t even remember now how I found this offering, but what I do remember was reading the description for ‘Harmonizing with the Ancestors: Healing the Ancestral Line’, and the bio of the facilitator Jessica Alejandro, LMFT of 4WholeHeartHealing, and feeling a calling very deep in my bones.

This was my chance to connect to my roots, and heal the past. It was time.

Spiritual Problems Require Spiritual Solutions

Before I tell you this part of the story, I want you to understand that healing from the trauma we inherit is not just a physical process, it’s a deeply spiritual one.

And spiritual problems require spiritual solutions.

Thankfully, I found—or was guided—to the perfect person for the job.

Jessica Alejandro is both a mental health professional and healer with over 18 years of experience working as a licensed marriage and family therapist (LMFT) in various professional and clinical capacities. She runs a private practice— Whole Heart Healing, and supports individuals experiencing grief and loss, trauma, depression, anxiety and life transitions.

When I first met Jessica, she shared that her path to hosting ancestral healing retreats began as a long process of “coming out of the spiritual closet” followed by cultivating her spiritual gifts as a certified Shamanic Reiki Master Teacher, Sound Healer, and Crystal Dreaming Practitioner. 

Jessica is one of those rare individuals who embodies a bridge between the societal matrix and the realm of Spirit—and she does it with immense grace and dignity.

Unpacking the Past

Before arriving, Jessica asked us complete a genogram.

Unlike a traditional family tree, which simply lists names and dates, a genogram includes symbols and lines to convey various aspects of family relationships, emotional patterns, medical histories, and other significant events or traits within a family.

I found this difficult to complete given that my parents have never been forthcoming about their histories and because all of the people in these photographs, excluding my parents, have been deceased for decades, some long before I was born.

Though I don’t know much about the traumas of my distant ancestors, I do know that in 1959, when my mother was still just a child, she suffered a loss that profoundly impacted the course of her family and personal life when her father—my grandfather— Joseph Maggio, passed suddenly from a blood clot to the heart.

I’ve been told that my grandmother was deeply in love with my grandfather and his passing left her distraught. She carried not only the burden of her grief, but also two young children to care for—my mother, who was just 11, and my aunt, still an infant.

During that era, being without a husband carried immense social stigma, economic hardship, and emotional weight. Understandably it was too much to bear, and my grandmother’s battle with alcoholism cast a long, dark shadow over her family.

My mother does not speak in detail about what exactly she endured growing up in the shadow of her mother’s grief and addiction, but I believe that what she experienced was felt by me in utero and perceived by me as I observed her growing up.

I can remember being around age 11 or 12, lying awake in the darkness of my bedroom crying at the thought of my parents death. It was confusing, and I did not share this with them because these thoughts and feelings did not make sense to me at such a young age and I thought it would scare them.

On retreat, I began to understand why I experienced this—I was feeling more than my own feelings. I was feeling what my mother felt when she lost her father to death and her mother to addiction around the same age.

Releasing Ancestral Burdens, Receiving Ancestral Gifts.

Over the next two days, Jessica guided our circle through a process of deep ancestral healing work in the form of sound healings, meditation and guided visualization, group processing, nature walks, nourishing meals eaten together family style, written reflection, card pulls, Despacho ritual, and fire ceremony.

We met with our ancestors to slowly and with loving intention release old suffering, narratives, and weight that had been passed down through the line.

Harmonizing with The Ancestors Healing Retreat at the Rowe Center, October 2023

The soothing, otherworldly sound healing journeys took me deep into meditative trance, where I saw visions of my ancestors emerging from the base of an oak tree one-by-one to greet me. They cradled me in their arms like a baby, whispering messages of love while giving me permission to let go and be free.

They surrounded me with immense love and promised that they would be with me always, walking with me, guiding me, and keeping me safe.

They told me that I no longer had to carry their pain, and that from this point forward, they would carry mine

My ancestors did not just release me of my burdens, they also brought me gifts and encouragement:

A Pearl Necklace— for connection, grace, and preciousness.

A Bouquet of Flowers— for beauty, love, and celebration.

An Ancient Blade in a Leather Sheath— for protection.

A Butterfly in a Jar— for soul protection, and safety.

An Acorn— for wisdom, potential, and abundance.

I wrote their words of encouragement on butterfly seed paper and planted it on the grounds of the Rowe Center.

We are here to protect you. Do not fear spreading your beauty and light .

I remember the tears flowing from my eyes as I lay prone on my yoga mat, listening to the calming sounds of the singing bowls and various instruments; held in sacred circle not only by my ancestors, but by the people around me who were slowly beginning to feel like chosen family.

I felt so loved, so held, and so seen for really, the first time in my life; not just by the spirit of my ancestors, but by the people in the room experiencing this with me.

It was a deeply, profoundly healing experience that transcends words.

Despacho Ritual: An Offering of Gratitude

After meeting our ancestors and receiving their gifts and encouragement, we were led by Jessica through a Despacho Ritual.

A the heart of the Despacho ritual is the creation of a ceremonial offering or mandala, which is placed on a large piece of paper or cloth. This offering is a symbolic representation of prayers, intentions, and gratitude.

Common items offered are flowers, sugar, seeds, grains, coca leaves, candies, and other natural elements that represent different aspects of life and the natural world. Each item holds a symbolic meaning, such as abundance, health, love, and spiritual protection.

During the ritual, we infused our personal prayers, intentions, and gratitude into our mandala artwork and each item was placed with reverence and thoughtfulness to ensure it reflected the energy of the offering.

Creating our Offerings for the Despacho Ritual. My Offering: Top Center

My mandala offering (top center), was infused with the following symbolism:

The heart shape—to heal the heart and offer love to the ancestors, the Earth, and myself.

The orange petals—to honor the beauty of life and to bring lightness and joy to a situation that was once heavy.

A seed in each petal—to amplify the meaning of petals, which already represent beauty, love, and transformation—symbolizing nurturing love that grows.

The cross made from rice—to honor the Catholic faith of my Italian ancestors, and represent the intersection of the physical and spiritual worlds.

The triangle and rose at the center— to recognize love, beauty, and passion alongside challenges and resilience while symbolizing the foundation of my offering— the triangle being a structure that holds and guides those intentions.

111 in currency—to represent new beginnings, positive manifestations, and spiritual growth, reminding me to stay focused on my intentions and trust in the process, as I am now supported by both the universe and my ancestors.

The arrangement and symmetry—to create a harmonious flow of energy and symbolize the spreading of my intentions beyond the ritual itself into my life and the lives of others.

Once I had my offering, I wrapped it up and wrote my prayer on the outside.

From here, we placed our mandala offerings in the fire one-by-one.

Mandalas are often burned at the end of a ritual or ceremony to symbolize impermanence, transformation, and release and holds several layers of meaning:

1. Symbol of Impermanence:

• Impermanence—the idea that nothing in life is permanent and everything is constantly changing.

2. Release of Intentions or Prayers:

• The releasing or transformation of intentions, prayers, or symbolic representations. The rising smoke is said to carry the energy and intentions, symbolizing the release of these to the higher realms.

3. Transformation and Purification:

• Fire is often seen as a transformative element. By burning the mandala, the energy and purpose are transformed and purified, completing the process.

4. Completion of the Ritual:

• Burning the mandala can also signify the completion of a cycle—the end of one phase and the beginning of another. Destruction by fire marks the conclusion of a spiritual chapter, and creates space for new growth.

Closing Out the Circle, Saying Farewell.

Recently, I found out that my Tarleton lineage has a crest and on that crest is written the phrase Post Nubila Phoebus— after the clouds, the sun.

As we lay down on our mats for one final sound healing journey on the last morning of the retreat, it was grey and raining outside as it had been all weekend.

Falling deep into meditation as the sounds of the singing bowls echoed around and through me, I embarked on the most transformative journey of my life.

Laying there still and quiet, I began to feel a mothering presence. From the darkness behind the lids of my eyes, I saw a bright, almost blinding light that I thought might be heaven. Figures began to walk toward me, and I knew without words that these were the spirits of my grandmothers going back seven generations. They formed a circle around me, and from there I was enveloped in what I can only describe as complete maternal love and nurturing.

Given that I had not received enough nurturance from my own mother and grandmother growing up, it was truly one of the most healing and beautiful experiences I have ever had in my life.

As I lay there simply feeling it all, receiving it, tears began to flow freely from my eyes. It felt as if a fountain was erupting from my heart covering my entire body, mind, and spirit in warmth and peace.

They told me how grateful they were, and I could sense that the peace I was feeling was also their own. It was as if we had all made it to heaven together in that moment. It was all going to be okay—the past, the present, and the future.

We were together now, and nothing could ever change that.

They handed me a sunflower and as the music slowly faded, they departed and I opened my eyes to the most beautiful sunlit day.

Post Nubila Phoebus— after the clouds, the sun.

The Storyteller's Gift: Embracing Healing Through Sharing Your Story.

On the last day of the retreat, I pulled a card from the Ancestors Card deck to take home with me. This card was intended to signify the key message my ancestors wanted me to take away from this experience.

Do you recall the quote I shared with you at the beginning of this post?

This card was an invitation to embrace the power of storytelling as part of my own healing journey. Looking at it, and taking in the symbolic meaning of its word and imagery it was clear to me that my ancestors wanted me to know that the healing process I went through wasn’t just about releasing ancestral trauma or unburdening myself, but about reclaiming my story and sharing it with others.

I was to continue that healing process by sharing my story—through speaking, writing, and creative expression to integrate everything I’ve learned, and inspire others on their own journeys. I was to connect; seeking out stories from others and listening with an open heart.

This experience was not just about my own healing, but also about holding space for others. By sharing and listening to our stories, we can create a deeper sense of empathy and community, just like we did in that sacred space.

Ultimately, this card feels like an affirmation of being called to use my voice, my creativity, and my heart to share the lessons I’ve learned. It’s a reminder that storytelling can be a healing bridge between my personal experiences and the collective journey we’re all on.

That is why I chose to share this story with you today.

The Story of My Ancestors

Each time I sat down on my mat at the retreat, I pulled a card from my own deck. Here they are laid out alongside my Storyteller card along with the core message from my ancestors:

Affirmations—affirm yourself, know that you are worthy and whole just as you are.

Experience vs Risk—don’t be afraid to take risks and engage with new experiences.

Roots—stay connected with and grounded in the roots of those who came before you.

Patience—be patient with yourself, wherever you’re at in your process.

Express Your Truth Boldly (and from the heart)—have the courage to speak the truth that lives inside your heart.

Embracing the Light Within: A Closing Reflection

This retreat was more than just a step in my healing journey—it was a profound turning point, a moment when I began to truly embrace my light and understand the power of my own story.

Like a sunflower, I learned to turn toward the sun, to seek the light even in the darkest moments, and to grow from the experiences that once weighed me and my people down.

And so, I share this with you today: you too have the power to heal, to release the burdens that no longer belong to or serve you, and to shine brightly in your own unique way. No matter the challenges, the pain, or the shadows that may have followed you, there is always the possibility of turning toward hope, love, and light.

We all have stories to tell—stories of resilience, of transformation, of courage. By sharing them, we not only heal ourselves but also offer a path for others to find their way. Your voice matters, your journey is sacred, and your light is meant to be seen.

No matter where you are on your journey, trust that you have the strength within you to find joy, even in the most unlikely places. Healing takes time, but with patience, self-compassion, and connection, it is possible. When you are ready to share your own story, let it be a beacon of hope for those who need it most.

In the end, we are all like sunflowers—turning our faces toward the light, growing tall and strong, and radiating warmth and beauty for the world to see.

May you find your light, may you nurture it, and may you shine brightly, knowing that your story has the power to inspire and heal.

Thank you for allowing me to share mine with you.

Love,

Leah

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Do you feel inspired by this story and ready to embark on your own transformative journey of healing and self-discovery? 💖

Join me, Jessica, and an intimate group of adventurous women for a special retreat designed for 10 participants. This experience will guide you safely through the process of healing wounds from your relationships with your mother and father, while also connecting with the feminine and masculine energies within you.

We'll focus on embracing your nurturing, intuitive side (feminine energy) and finding harmony with your strong, protective side (masculine energy). It’s a chance to explore these aspects in a safe and supportive space, alongside other women on a similar path of self-discovery and healing.

All of this nestled in a safe and peaceful sanctuary in the jungles of Costa Rica.

Selvatica Eco Resort

Join us May 4-10, 2025 at the Selvatico Eco Retreat Center for Healing the Ancestral Lines: Union of the Divine Feminine and Sacred Masculine, a unique opportunity to heal on a profound level and cultivate a sacred balance within.

Surrounded by the natural beauty and tranquility of Costa Rica, you will emerge from this retreat rejuvenated, empowered, and deeply connected to your ancestral roots and divine essence.

Payment plans are available on a monthly or weekly basis. Contact Jessica Alejandro for more details. Early bird pricing ends December 31 2024.

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Hi, I’m Leah, the creative lover behind these letters. As a visual storyteller, I express myself through art, music playlists, and candid photography, all infused with my love for life’s little moments—like a warm cup of tea or a sunrise hike.

As the founder of The Nourished Sensitive, I provide a sanctuary where sensitive individuals can learn to harness their unique gifts, find their own path to nourishment, and embrace their authentic selves.

My purpose is to illuminate the value of sensitivity as a world-healing superpower and be part of creating a world where the trait of sensitivity is recognized for its incredible potential to foster deep understanding, creativity, beauty, connection, and peace.

I inspire humans like you to put yourselves first, harness your sensitivities as strengths, and find a creative expression that serves you and the world, enabling you to lead a richer, more authentic, and purposeful life.

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Ways to Support Our Mission at TNS

The Nourished Sensitive mission is to unique sensitive individuals to foster mutual growth, holistic wellness, and learning, helping us live authentically and contribute meaningfully to the world.

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If our content and mission resonates with you, here are a few meaningful ways to support the work we do.

🌐 Visit Our Website – Explore all that we offer, including our latest blog posts, membership options, and resources: nourishedsensitive.com.

✨ Join Our Community – Become part of the The Nourished Sensitive Collective for exclusive resources, workshops, and connection with fellow sensitive souls.

💌 Subscribe to Our Newsletter – Get heart-centered reflections, holistic wellness insights, and updates straight to your inbox. Sign up here to stay connected and receive our free Holistic Guide to Thriving as a Highly Sensitive Person as a thanks!

🎉 Follow Us – Stay inspired and connected by following us on Instagram: @the.nourished.sensitive

🫶🏼 Share Our Work – Forward this post to a friend or share on social media to help us reach others who may benefit from our message.

🌍 Donate – Consider supporting our work through Buying Leah a Coffee or a giving a gift subscription to keep our resources accessible to all.

Thank you for being here and for supporting a more inclusive, compassionate world. Together, we’re growing something beautiful. 🌿