Over the years, I have worked with many women, and one of the most honest questions they ask is this: How do I know what’s the truth?
Because when we can’t differentiate between truth and trauma, truth and protection can feel like the same thing. You know what I mean, Reader?
That’s what this story is about.
Over the years, we have been well trained to not know and to mask our intuitive 'knowing' with stories. About ourselves, about the other person, about all the shoulds and what ifs. In other words, we have been trained to not know. To keep ourselves confused and uncertain or focused on the wrong thing as a strategy to avoid going there.
I can tell you that differentiation is an exceptionally simple process, but you likely won't believe me. Yet, it really is. And it is complex, often paradoxical, though not complicated. You still with me?
Let me illustrate with a personal example.
The line up at our favourite second-hand store was long. So my husband and I agreed that he would wait in line while I continue to shop try stuff on. After a series of broken telephone "communications" delivered through our five year old, I walk out and he has already paid.
The unfathomable rage that took over my body! The betrayal! Could I even trust this man anymore?!
I don't know if you can tell, but I freaked.
I decided to go wait in line and my whole body was screaming. I wanted so badly to cry but there were people around. "Ah, that's me denying the wave of information right now" was my thought. True. And, I knew I didn't want to in that moment, but I also didn't want to leave.
Anyway, off we go and two days pass without me saying a word to my husband. Well, that's a lie. He told me he loves me and I responded with "yeah". Yikes!
What happened here?!
Where was the I AM that I am?!
Where did I go?!
I thought what was happening is that I was right to be mad at him because he didn't communicate with me and he made me wait in line. What happened to our agreement?! Ugh.
Then, my dear husband brings this up -- uncertain of my response. I'm listening, but I'm defensive AF (because remember, I was right to be mad).
The moment of pause for me came when he said how hurt he was with my response.
Wait -- what?! That wasn't the intention. Or was it?!
The nanosecond I realized what was actually happening here, my whole body softened. Everything I'd been holding on to so tightly relaxed. The colours of the room changed. My jaw unclenched. The knots in my stomach released.
I could see the pain I'd caused, and I knew my shields-up approach was not what was needed. I immediately went on the floor to him and asked if I could hold him. Of course, he said yes.
You see, I've had many such experiences throughout my life. The difference now is that I am willing to pay attention to that which hurts and I would rather isn't what it is. I am willing to pay attention to my own internalized stories. Stories about 'being right' and 'fight to the death' because I wasn't going to bring it up! Yuck, makes me want to vomit.
And the truth of it is, this is not who I am. I knew that the next when when seemingly out of the blue I realize whose strategy was playing out. While I was the one engaging it out of my awareness because I wanted to be right, it is not who I am or who I choose to become.
Let's unpack this, shall we ... ?
This is my trauma response aka mindlessly adopted strategy talking in a seemingly endless run on sentence, you know the kind I'm talking about:
I decided I was right and was going to fight to the death without ever engaging him
because if he wants to talk to me then he should bring it up
or else I'll just stay mad and likely punish him
but that's good cuz I want him to hurt
because he hurt me because he betrayed me by not waiting and by not listening to me or communicating with me when I was in the change room and
why didn't he anyway he should have come out of the line and told me he's getting close and now we're here and
this sucks and that's just how it goes and
F-him ...
...phew. No breath. No pause. Just story story story. All in an effort to be right. Not loved. Not a good a life. But right. I wrote about that once, here. Perhaps you know this strategy too -- If I'm right, then I'm safe. If so, then you'll know the warrior well -- the fighter for justice.
The family hero.
My Truth, once I paused to notice the pattern I was playing out? Now that I know the pattern, viscerally, I can never unknow it. It is forever done. That's the power of engaging Quantum TLC -- it's not that I know it intellectually, it's that it is done viscerally.
And it all starts with Decloaking ...
This is why the process of Decloaking is essential to the creation of our meaningful life.
If I did not know how to pause and redirect my attention from how 'right' I am to what matters to me:
- I'd still be lost in the righteousness game.
- I'd be stuck retelling the story, on a loop, in my head.
- I would intellectually know my husband adores me and tried to communicate with me, but I'd continue to hold on to being pissed because I already was.
The decloaking process is not about one-and-done. It is decloaking, after all, not decloaked.
It's a layered process, not a magic pill. It isn't a tool or a strategy -- it's a threshold. It's a process to engage so you stop arguing yourself with your story and start listening for the intelligence that lives underneath it. It's a way of life.
🎥 Watch this video
This 3-minute clip, recorded during a live Decloaking experience, explores the subtle ways we brace — not just physically, but as a survival strategy.
Whether we pull inward, push down, or block outward, bracing reveals how we’ve learned to hold it all together, stay in control, and stay safe — especially in roles like the family hero #firstborndaughterseverywhere.
It’s not about fixing. It’s about noticing how your body speaks… and starting to listen.
🟡 Watch the video here →
🪶Reflections from the field
If you’re exploring these strategies in the context of parenting or legacy, here’s an intimate piece I wrote about that: You Cannot Have My Children.
My son’s mind (as a synonym of well-being) is THE single most important thing to me in my entire life. Undoubtedly, his state of being is determined by his state of mind. So when it comes to the quality of what I invite and allow to penetrate his mind, I am both definite and definitive. Unapologetically unwavering and unrelenting.
You cannot have my children.
Louise LeBrun’s voice often comes to mind,
you cannot have my children. That is a boundary that is
existential,
cellular, and
non-negotiable. After all, until my son is old enough, and
especially from 0-7, I am the
membrane between the world and my son’s mind. Who I choose to become in the face of what the world is seeking to penetrate him with
is the only thing that makes a difference.
👉Continue reading here
💭 This is how Decloaking begins...
It is not a breakthrough, it is a release of what you've been holding on to for so long.
It's an opportunity to discover how often you hold back your truth even from yourself for the sake of fill-in-the-infinite-blanks.
It's the platform to notice how quickly you spiral into stories, how much pressure you carry to get it “right”.
Before anything else, I want you to know — you are not alone.
And you don’t have to keep doing it that familiar way any longer.
There are three ways to step into this work more deeply. Start where your body says yes. And know that I'm here to support you in your self-discoveries.
- Self-Directed Decloaking audio files
These recordings offer a gentle way to begin listening inward and noticing what’s true — without pressure.
Once purchased, reach out and I’ll connect with you.
#awaken
- One on One: Personalized Decloaking Sessions For when you’re ready to be witnessed in real time. No performance, no fixing — just space to meet yourSelf, directly.
One spot open this month.
#explore
- Group Intensive – 5-Day Decloaking Experience
A return to yourSelf, through your body.
Five days to learn how to move from story to signal — and begin living from your truth. If it calls you, email me to join the waitlist.
#integrate
With deep RIG and reverence,
Stela