I used to believe that pain was proof of love. A sign of my devotion, and everything I was willing to give just to prove my love.

My favorite phrase was,

“Anything for you.”

And I meant it with all my heart. If I loved you, I would go to any length to show it. (No doormat needed, you could just use my face…)

All joking aside, the more I gave, the more I bled, the more I broke myself open for someone else’s comfort, the more I suffered, the more I felt worthy of belonging. Being adored. Being cherished. Being loved.

Bring owned. Ahhh, how I longed to be owned.

“My pain for your pleasure,”

I used to whisper like a vow.

I called it love.

I called it devotion.

I called it submission.

What I was really doing was sacrificing myself, abandoning myself, but ultimately…

I was reenacting.

Reenacting the worst kind of betrayal. Reenacting the first time I learned that I was only visible when my body was being used. Only appreciated when I was obedient. Only valuable when I was in pain. Valuable, but never loved, never cared for, never listened to. Never seen, never heard, never understood.

The trauma I endured was of the worst kind. The kind that teaches you no one and no place is safe. Especially not your own family. Definitely not your own home. So when I finally broke free, instead of seeing a therapist to help me process and heal, I buried all the pain and rage and grief as deep down inside of me as I could shove it.

I thought what I was doing was “getting over it.” I thought that if I didn’t acknowledge it, then it wouldn’t affect me, couldn’t affect me.

I lived for 2 decades like this. Two decades on autopilot, in survival mode. Two decades not understanding myself, who I was, and why I did a lot of the things that I “loved” to do. (Just check out my photo gallery if you haven’t a clue.)

It wasn’t until I met my match that the great wall of denial came crumbling down. My need for pain was finally met by someone who was willing and capable of meeting it. His unrelentingly use of my body and his need for control brought me to depths of dissociation I hadn’t felt since my childhood.

I was hooked. I was obsessed. I was his.

But I didn’t give myself away, my submission was not a gift. I was trading myself. I traded safety for closeness. I traded my boundaries for crumbs. Traded my dignity for a fantasy, a smile, a moment of being needed.

I wanted to be chosen, but the love I longed for I never felt. The adoration I needed and sacrificed everything for never came. I cried, I begged, I pleaded.

Then… I shattered.

I couldn’t understand “Why?”

Why wasn’t I good enough?

Why was I so unlovable?

Hadn’t I done for him things few women would ever do?

Wasn’t I a rare treasure worthy of being kept close, safe, and protected?

I lived everyday in agony. Some days I was able to swallow it all down again, way down below the surface where all my pain had lived for so many years. I was able to “keep the peace” and put on a smile.

Sure, I wasn’t getting anything I wanted or needed, but that wasn’t anything new for me. I was used to over giving and over performing. I was used to being neglected. It was a price I was willing to pay just to be at his feet.

But the cracks were already formed. Within me boiled a rage that had been brewing deep inside me for as long as I can remember. It was a rage I buried long ago beneath decades of “It’s okay,” “I understand,” “You didn’t mean it,” “I forgive you,” and “Anything for you.”

That rage came out of me like an eruption. It spilled out of me like lava. Scorching every moment of false peace I had clung to, and burning every fantasy I had escaped into to the ground.

It screamed,

“HOW DARE YOU!?”

How dare you not love me after all I’ve given?

How dare you not value the cost of my pain?

How dare you discard me as if I’m worthless?

But here’s the truth that finally shook me awake:

I was never supposed to be loved for my suffering. I didn’t need to suffer in order to prove my worth.

Love wasn’t something to be earned because I was useful, or obedient, or submissive.

I deserve love simply because I exist.

The little girl that was taught to sacrifice herself just to survive still aches sometimes. She still wonders if pain is her only currency. She still wonders if anyone will ever love her without taking from her, using her, beating her, and abusing her.

She still cries from the shadows, “I’ll do anything for you!”

And I know that it will take some time to convince her that she’s safe now. It’ll take time to soothe her, and get her to believe that she never again needs to sacrifice herself in order to feel affection. She doesn’t need to offer her pain just to feel connection.

I’m able to promise her this, because now, I choose her. I cherish her.

She’s under my protection.

I give her the love she once begged for. There’s no need for performance. She’s sacrificed more than enough.

Now, she’s become a source of truth. She’s the voice of wisdom that whispers, “I don’t like this,” and “Do we have to?” She creates the sacred boundaries that are needed, not only for us to rest, but so we can live and thrive.

My pain is not an offering anymore. It is my compass.

It is the alarm that screams for me to wake up. It is a wise teacher and trusted friend. And sometimes…

It is the blazing flames of my fury that turn night into day.

But most days, my pain is just an ember that promises to keep me warm. It is no longer the price I pay to be loved.

Now, I am learning to make peace with peace.

To feel safe in the softness. I’m learning to let love in without earning it through agony and sacrifice.

If this resonated with you…

If you’ve ever whispered “anything for you” while secretly begging to be chosen…

If you’ve sacrificed yourself just to be loved,  stayed silent to keep the peace, or chose obedience to stay safe…

If you’re waking up to new truths to find that what you called “chemistry” was actually the intensity of a reenacted trauma pattern, or that what felt like devotion was really self-abandonment…

And you’re finally ready to stop earning love that was never worthy of you…

Then this is your invitation.

Not for therapy (I’m not a therapist.)

Not for mentoring or life coaching either.

But for me to walk with you in sacred reclaimation.

To reclaim the girl who was taught trading pain for love was a fair exchange.

Sacred Reclamation 1-Day Intensive

A private 1:1 healing experience designed for women who are survivors of incest, betrayal, and emotional abandonment, especially those whose trauma has spilled into their relationships, sexuality, and self-worth.

This session is for you if you’re ready to stop reenacting the abuse and start reclaiming your voice, body, and boundaries.

Together we will discover the wisdom below the reenactments. We’ll spend 6 hours together in a private session where your truth can be witnessed (and finally understood by someone who gets it). Your truth will then become the sacred wisdom from which I’ll craft a personalized healing roadmap. One that honors your pain, is centered in your truth, and will be useful in your awakening. Then, I’ll check back in with you two weeks later for another 2 hour session, just so I can make sure you have all the tools you need.

This is not surface-level work. This is soul surgery. The kind that looks below the reenactments, the anxious attachment, the cravings for punishment, the silencing and sacrificing of self, and the hunger for love in unsafe places.

By the end of our time together, you’ll walk away with:

• Language for the pain you’ve been carrying silently
• A clear map of the trauma patterns running the show
• Somatic tools to soothe your nervous system
• A renewed connection to the girl you left behind
• Sacred boundaries that don’t cost you your softness

You don’t have to keep sacrificing yourself to feel worthy. You don’t have to keep chasing closeness through suffering. You deserve to be deeply loved without having to pay for it with pain.

Spots are limited. I can only hold space for a handful of survivors at a time, because I know this takes time. Time to hear your story and know your truth. Time to investigate the reenactment with you. Time to understand the wisdom within your ways. This is sacred witness work, and I offer it with reverence.

If your inner girl whispered, “Please… me next,”

If something in you knows it’s time…

Send me a message. Tell me what part of this spoke to you and moved you to reach out.

With holey love and holy heart,

Candice