I didn’t know what to expect when I walked into the Awaken event with Danny Morel. I came with an open mind, ready to breathe, ready to listen, ready to surrender. What happened in that room was not something I could have planned for. It wasn’t logical. It wasn’t linear. It was a journey into the deepest chambers of my own soul—a journey that broke me open and healed me all at once.

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The Journey Inward

At the beginning of the session, I breathed and waited. The room was alive with energy, with music, with the sound of lungs opening. People cried, released, and let go. But me? I saw nothing. Only blankness.

So I asked myself: What do I need to see?

The first words that surfaced were simple:

“I deserve love. I deserve happiness.”

But right behind them came a heavier question: Then why don’t I feel like I’m receiving them?

And that’s when everything shifted.

I saw myself standing over me, gently pulling open my chest. Together, we dove inside. What I found there wasn’t a free-flowing heart, but a massive steel wall. Cold. Rooted. Ancient. Covered in dust and tangled roots, as if it had been built long ago and left to harden.

I tried to find a way around it, but there was no door, no opening. So I began tearing away the roots with my hands, pounding the wall with my fists, kicking until I screamed. Blow after blow until it finally collapsed.

Behind it was a room. And in the center of that room, my heart sat on a pedestal under a glass dome, like something out of a Disney movie. When I lifted the dome, I finally saw it clearly.

Bruised. Broken. Stitched together with scars. Fragile, but still alive.

And then I looked up.

Surrounding me were the faces of every person who had ever hurt me. One by one, they appeared. And all I wanted was a hug. An apology. To be held.

I saw my brother, gone too soon. I wanted to hand him my heart. Instead, he shook his head and said, “You’ve got this.”

I turned to my father. The same. He shook his head softly and said, “You’ve got this.”

And so it went—down the line of every wound, every disappointment, every loss. Each one mirrored back the same truth: This is yours to carry. This is yours to heal.

At the end of the line, I met myself. My own reflection. And in that instant, I realized something profound: the deepest pain I carried was the pain I had caused myself. Through self-doubt, through chasing love outside of me, through believing I wasn’t enough.

Tears streaming, I handed her—myself—my heart. She took it. We embraced. We sat in silence together, breathing, healing. When I opened my eyes, she was gone.

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The Shift

When I turned back to the others, I thanked them. Every single one. And I told them:

“I forgive you. You no longer live here.”

They vanished.

When I looked back at my heart, it no longer appeared broken. It was glowing—radiant—beautiful. The scars were still there, but they no longer meant damage. They meant survival. Proof that I had lived, loved, endured, and still had the strength to love again.

I placed my heart back where it belonged. The glow filled the space.

And when I turned, the walls that had once stood tall and suffocating around it were gone. In their place were mountains, butterflies, blue skies, wildflowers. Wide-open freedom.

And this time, I didn’t whisper “I deserve love. I deserve happiness.”

I declared with my whole being:

“I am love. I am happiness.”

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Reflection

What this journey showed me is that healing doesn’t always come from others making amends. It comes from us returning to ourselves.

The wall around my heart wasn’t built by just one person—it was built over years, brick by brick, wound by wound. But I was the one keeping it in place. And I was the one with the power to tear it down.

When I met myself at the end of that line, I understood the truth: forgiveness is not just for others—it is for the self. I had been waiting for apologies, waiting for closure, waiting for people to give back what I felt I had lost. But the only person who could give me my heart again was me.

The scars are still there, and I wouldn’t erase them if I could. They remind me of the strength it takes to stand, to rise, to love again. They remind me that I am both the one who was hurt and the one who heals.

This memory became my mirror. And what I saw staring back at me was not brokenness, but resilience. Not lack, but abundance. Not a heart to be filled by others, but a heart that already is.

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For You

Maybe you, too, have built walls to protect yourself from pain. Maybe you’ve been waiting for someone else to make it right. Maybe you’ve been carrying a heart you believe is too bruised to ever shine again.

But here’s the truth my breath taught me: your scars are not proof of weakness—they are evidence of survival. And behind every wall you’ve built is a heart still waiting to glow.

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Journal Prompt 📝

Close your eyes and place a hand over your chest. Imagine stepping inside.

• What do you see protecting your heart?

• Who is standing in the room with you?

• What would it feel like to take your heart back into your own hands?

Write freely. Be honest. Let whatever surfaces come alive on the page.

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Closing Affirmation 🌿

“My scars are not my story—they are my strength. I am not waiting for love. I am love. I am happiness.”

Always,

Casandra