Burning Beneath

Am I a know-it-all?
Yes.
And for the first time, I’m not saying that with shame or defensiveness—but with honesty. Because for the longest time, I’ve needed to be seen as someone who knows. Someone who shines. Someone who earns the praise.

The truth is, I’ve always been a praise junkie.

I grew up in a household where things were… complicated. We coexisted, but we weren’t really together. Emotions were either muffled or misplaced. We spoke around things, not through them. So I learned to adapt. I learned that being unseen and unheard was the safest way to survive. Silence became my shield.

But then there was school.

School was my sanctuary. My escape. The one place where I was allowed to shine. I was smart, creative, eager to learn—and people noticed. Teachers praised me, classmates admired me, and for the first time, I felt something I hadn’t felt at home: that I mattered. That I was valued. That someone was proud of me.

So I kept going. I worked harder. Achieved more. Excelled. And with every accomplishment came that hit of validation I was so hungry for. It became the fuel I ran on.

And if I’m being honest… I never stopped chasing it.

In my career, in relationships, in everyday conversations—I found myself always reaching for that same gold star. Not out of spite or competition. Never to hurt anyone. But because somewhere deep inside me, that little girl was still standing there, hoping someone would say, “I’m proud of you.”

But here’s the thing about healing: it doesn’t let you hide.

A few honest words from a friend recently struck a nerve. They helped me see something I’d been avoiding. That my drive to be exceptional—while rooted in something real—has sometimes come at the expense of others. That my need to be the brightest in the room could dim the light in someone else’s. And that’s not who I want to be.

So I had to sit with that.

I had to ask myself: What’s the root of this behavior?
Because real growth doesn’t come from surface-level justifications. It comes from facing the truth—no matter how messy it is.

And after digging deep, I think I’ve found the core of it all.

It’s the child in me who missed the warmth of being acknowledged, who yearned for the approval of her father and mother, who longed to hear, “You’re doing great, I see you.” That part of me never fully let go. And instead of healing, she just learned to perform—to earn love through achievements.

But I’m not that little girl anymore.

I’ve grown. I’ve endured. I’ve succeeded. And I’ve proven, over and over again, that I am strong, resilient, and full of heart. I know my worth now—not because someone told me, but because I’ve lived it. And that means I no longer need to outshine anyone to feel valuable. I am valuable. Just as I am.

This won’t be an overnight transformation. I know I’ll slip into old patterns. Habits that once protected me won’t vanish without resistance. But now I know better—and that gives me power.

I’m committed to changing. To softening. To creating space for others to shine beside me, not beneath me.

And to those I may have hurt unintentionally along the way—I see you now. I understand. And I hope, truly, that you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

Because I’m not trying to be perfect anymore.
I’m just trying to be real.
And that starts with telling it like it is