Hello Beautiful Human

In this episode, I sit with the amazing Candice from Indiglow Soul. Candice shares her journey of discovering happiness and healing through her ventures, including Emotion, Body, and Belief Code, Healers with Humor podcast, Empowered Empath program, one-on-one healing sessions, and more.

Candice dives deep into Emotion, Body, and Belief Code, an energy healing practice that helps release trapped emotions by connecting with the subconscious mind. She explains how this practice can help us understand and release emotions stored in our bodies, leading to profound healing. 

We discuss the importance of living a conscious life, the impact of unprocessed emotions, and the importance of trying not to always ‘fix ourselves.’

We can be healed enough, for now.

Healing is a journey, and it's so important to have compassionate and knowledgeable guides like Candice along the way. If you're interested in learning more about her work, be sure to check out Indiglow Soul and the Healers with Humor podcast.

Stay beautiful, stay curious, and keep exploring your own path to healing and joy.

Jessie Raye

Connect with Candice:

Website: Indiglow Soul

Instagram: @indiglowsoul

Podcast: Healers with Humor

Connect with Jessie Raye:

Substack: Hello Beautiful Human

Instagram: @heyjessieraye

Subscribe & Review: If you enjoyed this episode, please subscribe, rate, and leave a review on your favorite podcast platform. Your support helps us reach more beautiful humans like you!

By letting go of preconceived notions of success and happiness, we open ourselves to unexpected joys and growth, allowing room for magic and surprise in our lives.

'Trust in love. Trust in letting go. Trust that you will be delightfully surprised.' 

I’ve spent a lot of time with grief. It’s an absolute b***h sometimes, maybe all the time. A pain that feels like hot metal on your skin and stays with you. Coating every inch of your body and soul. Everything is a reminder of the pain, like a finger pressing into the deepest blue bruise.

The grief of being alone. The grief of missing out when you feel like other people are living the life you want. The grief of your body and brain not working like you want them to, feeling trapped in your own body with no escape. 

Losing pets that feel more like family than blood relatives. Losing ourselves trying to fit in. 

I’ve seen loved ones lose loved ones, some by accident and some by choice. Brothers, sisters, dads, moms, friends, grandparents, teachers, coworkers. 

Sometimes, even worse than death, we lose loved ones while they are still alive, whether through the distance created by mistreatment, misunderstanding, or the slow fading away of who they once were.

Heartbreak from a relationship ending when you really wanted it to work out. Heartbreak from staying in a relationship that will never work out. Heartbreak from not being in a relationship at all. 

Heartbreak from trusting people you shouldn’t have. Heartbreak from not trusting yourself.

The list goes on and on and on and on.

I have spent so much time with grief. For most of my life, the sorrow has swallowed me whole.

Not knowing how to hold it. How to witness it. How to cope with loss. The anger. The confusion. The ache. It isn’t taught. We run from it. We numb it out. We shove it onto other people. We distract and blame and wallow.

How do I deal with such pain and loss? Why do I love when it can be so painful to say goodbye? Why should I care when it will all go away eventually? Why love when it hurts so much to lose?

I shout into the void.

My answer is this.

Love is the most beautiful thing we can experience in this human life. To love is to be alive. It’s the only reason we are here.

Grief is so painful, but also filled to the brim with love. 

Grief holds hands with love. They are never separate, they are friends. One reminding the other of its existence. 

To really love is to open yourself up to the possibility of a great and enormous grief. Not even a possibility, but an inevitability. 

Everything changes and everyone dies. Everything ends, eventually.

To love, you must know grief. You must hold its hand.

Grief is a constant companion, showing up in the quiet moments when you least expect it. It's in the empty chair at the dinner table, the phone that doesn't ring anymore, the laugh that you’ll never hear again. Each instance of grief is a testament to the depth of love we are capable of. Every tear shed, every pang of longing, is a reflection of a bond that was once cherished.

In the darkest times, it's hard to remember that grief is borne out of love. But it's precisely this connection that makes us human. It's our ability to love deeply and grieve profoundly that sets us apart. The intensity of our grief mirrors the intensity of our love. They are intertwined, inseparable.

So why love, knowing it will bring pain? Because in the moments of love, we find our greatest joy. The shared laughter, the warm embraces, the whispered words of comfort and support. These moments make life rich and meaningful. They give us stories to tell, memories to cherish, and legacies to pass on.

To live fully, we must embrace both love and grief. We must allow ourselves to feel deeply, to open our hearts even when we know they might break.

Your heart will break. Your heart will also mend.

It's a courageous act, this choosing to love. It's an acknowledgment that life is fleeting and that the connections we make are what truly matter. 

Be brave and love. Be brave and grieve. Be brave and live. 

When we accept that grief is an integral part of love, we begin to see it differently. It goes from the uncomfortable unfamiliar to an old friend who will always be there to hold your hand. To remind you that you were brave enough to love. 

It becomes not just a source of pain but a reminder of the beauty of our experiences. It teaches us to value the present, to hold our loved ones close, and to appreciate the moments we have together.

Grief is the teacher and to love is your assignment. 

Love is the reason I am here. 

To witness love, to experience it in all its forms, is the essence of being alive. It is worth the pain, worth the sorrow, worth the heartbreak. 

In the end, love is what gives life meaning, what makes every moment, even the painful ones, worth sticking around for.

I hope everyone experiences deep grief because I know that they also know deep love. 

In the end, that’s all that matters.

I wrote this last week, on my birthday, and wanted to share it here. Something about reading these words out loud makes me feel so good.

____

35 years young today and man—to be alive is wild. 

It’s beautiful and it’s messy and it’s hard and it’s wondrous. 

It’s confusing and it’s worth it. 

I am feeling grateful for being able to use my legs another day. 

I have lungs to breathe sweet fresh air.

I have ears to hear my favorite songs over and over and over again.

I have eyes to see beautiful sunsets and even more beautiful people.

I have a mouth to taste. 

I have a mind to be curious. 

It’s all kind of magical. 

Despite all the pain, it’s magical. 

Maybe even sometimes because of all the pain, it’s extra magical. 

How do you know beauty unless you see something that’s not? 

To be alive is a miracle. I really believe this to be true. 

Out of all the endless possibilities of life—we are right here, right now, alive. 

My birthday wish, and my wish for every other day, is for us all to experience feeling soft and loved and warm and cherished and held. 

Good food, belly laughs, and deep, slow kisses. 

Weepy tears, moments of clarity, and phone calls from best friends. 

Hot showers, long stretches, and an empty notebook with a brand new pen. 

Wrapping your hands around your favorite mug of hot tea. 

Long drives to nowhere with someone.

The deep ache of a heart broken from trying.

May you feel it all—joy, pain, and sky. 

In a lot of ways I feel 305, and in some ways, I still feel like I’m 5. 

But it’s all happening at the same time and I’m aware that it is and WOW! You know?

I am aware that I am alive.

How wild.

How beautiful.

-Jessie Raye

Thanks for reading Hello Beautiful Human! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

***The voice note has a few extra thoughts that I added as I was recording this essay. Listen as your read for the full experience.***

How do I honor being in a place I don't want to be in anymore?

For the first time in my life, I am acutely aware that I am amidst a meltdown—a surreal experience that I can finally grasp. Unlike before, when life's ground would crumble beneath me, and I'd lose consciousness only to resurface after rebuilding the fragments, this time I am present, awake to the turmoil within. 

My journey has been a rollercoaster ride, marked by dizzying heights and harrowing lows. I burn bright and high for a short amount of time and then burn out completely, taking out bystanders on the way down. There's no eject button on this ride, no easy way out. It's not just the external ups and downs of jobs and relationships and life responsibilities; it's the internal tempest, a whirlwind of fighting, fleeing, freezing, and appeasing. 

I've felt like I've been swimming upstream, struggling against life's current, suffocating in the weight of expectations, anger, and responsibilities that have been haunting me for as long as I can remember. The world around me is relentlessly vivid—lights too bright, sounds too loud. I want to be a part of this world so badly, to feel connected—but it seems like every time I try, I short circuit. 

My earliest memories are tinged with embarrassment and shame, tracing back to kindergarten and even earlier. It's astonishing how I, at such a tender age, was already scrutinizing myself, feeling the pressure of taking up space in this world. How did I become so hard on myself so soon?

I've spent years trying to keep up with everyone else, striving to make the best out of whatever life tossed my way. But on reflection, I realize that many of my choices were mere survival tactics, short-term solutions rather than mindful steps toward lasting wellness and happiness. 

Each decision was a response to the pressing question of how to navigate the next day's challenges.

I have been perpetually overwhelmed with being myself and I am tired. What’s the point?

In fleeting moments of stability, I've revealed a side of myself I hold dear—someone fun, affectionate, daring, and creative. However, when the spiral into meltdown mode begins, and the world around me transforms into an overwhelming nightmare where even simple tasks feel agonizing, my focus narrows drastically. It becomes a matter of survival, and I unintentionally distance myself from those close to me. I am a black hole and I will swallow them up. I will be a burden and they will hate me because I am falling apart again. 

The intensity of my emotions engulfs me, and I'm paralyzed by shame, shutting down completely. In these moments, I retreat, disconnecting from everything and everyone, blind to the impact of my actions on those around me. I haven’t been able to see how I have hurt other people. 

Intensity courses through my veins—it's who I am. I feel life so deeply, all of it. Yet, I've spent a lifetime trying to subdue it, attempting to be less sensitive, less conspicuous. I've aimed to fit into a mold that demanded conformity, to minimize my presence. Every action, every move I make, requires immense effort. My sensory needs are so high maintenance, and the mere act of inhabiting my own skin is a challenge. It takes very little to push me over the edge, to ignite a cascade of emotions that spill onto every corner of my life. Fear of not surviving has driven me to impulsive actions and choices, harming not only myself but those in my orbit. I don’t want to move through the world like this anymore.

In addition, I've been reactive—ill-equipped to communicate effectively or manage my emotions. I have been an avid reader my entire life, I thought that I knew how to communicate because I could read good. And that’s just not true at all. I learned a lot of words and could string them together but none of it ever made sense because I had no foundation of communication or conflict resolution. Or anything. 

I was raised to internalize everything, to take every word and action personally. Everything was my fault all the time. I felt like such a f*****g burden to everyone around me. Speaking up wasn't a learned skill; instead, I learned to minimize my needs and shrink into the background, hoping to avoid being a burden. Consequently, I never learned how to resolve conflicts, take responsibility for my actions, or address the profound pain that I've harbored. 

But here's the pivotal realization—I no longer desire to remain in this place. The burnout and anxiety have taken their toll, and my former coping mechanisms, like seeking refuge in sugar and social media, no longer suffice. The anxiety, that prickly sensation akin to icy-hot needles, feels like suffocation, like a tightening grip on the core of my being. I was to get off the ride. I want more balance in my life. 

No wonder I've tried to numb myself; it's as though I'm perpetually speeding past a cop, that unsettling sensation persisting without reprieve. Video game boss music that never goes away. It chips away at my sanity, energy, and coherence, rendering even stringing together thoughts a formidable challenge.

Yet, something has shifted within me. I'm no longer in the same place I once was because now, I possess an awareness—a recognition that I'm standing at a familiar crossroads once again. This time, I'm determined to chart a different course. I'm actively coaxing my nervous system to a gentler rhythm, resisting the pull of hyperdrive. I'm embracing the belief that everything will ultimately be alright, even amid the confusion, messiness, and uncertainty.

It is not easy. I am exhausted. I don’t know what I want to do next. But I don’t want to run from this place of discomfort. God, it’s so uncomfortable. I can’t stand it. My nervous system feels like it’s hooked up to a car battery. I don’t want to repeat the patterns of my past and find the next quick high to get me out of my low. 

I want to be better, I want to do better. I don’t have any answers on how to get there yet. But I have never been so aware of myself. 

Maybe you honor not wanting to be in a place anymore by giving yourself grace for getting there in the first place. 

-JR

***The voice note has a few extra thoughts that I added as I was recording this essay. Listen as your read for the full experience.***

Thanks for reading Hello Beautiful Human! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Do you ever think about what you want? What you really really want? Like, if your wildest dreams come true—what would life look like for you?

As big as my imagination is, this is something that I truly seem to struggle with.

I’ve spent most of my life thinking about what other people want and doing everything I can to please them. Thinking about what I want actually kind of scares me.

It's a strange phenomenon, isn't it? To be so attuned to the desires and expectations of others that you inadvertently overlook your own. I find myself caught in a perpetual cycle of accommodating everyone else's needs while neglecting the voice inside me that's whispering about my own aspirations. It's almost as if I've subconsciously embraced the notion that my dreams are secondary, that my desires aren't as valid as those around me.

But lately, there's been a subtle shift in the air, a quiet rebellion of sorts. I've come to realize that this pattern of self-negation is not sustainable. It's as if I've been living in grayscale, a muted version of myself, and it's time to infuse some vibrant hues back into my life.

The question lingers: What do I want? What would life look like if I truly unshackled my imagination and allowed myself to dream without restraint?

At first, this exercise feels daunting, almost impossible. I've become so accustomed to molding my desires to fit within the contours of others' expectations that identifying my own wishes seems like navigating through deep, resistant uncharted waters.

Sometimes, I feel like I am drowning.

But as I sit down to reflect, pen in hand, the barriers between me and my innermost aspirations begin to crumble. I envision a life where my passions take center stage, where the pursuit of my dreams isn't just a whimsical thought but a purposeful endeavor.

Softness, maybe. Security? A healthy nervous system and body. Clarity. The freedom to be myself.

In the quiet corners of my mind, these whispered desires flutter like delicate butterflies, seeking to break free from the cocoon of my fears. They're the inklings of a longing that has remained hidden beneath layers of conformity and self-doubt for far too long. As I finally confront these yearnings, I realize that they're not just fleeting wishes; they're the embodiment of my authenticity.

The first threads of this tapestry of desires weave through the idea of softness. In a world that often values strength and resilience, the concept of softness can feel like an anomaly. Yet, there's an undeniable beauty in vulnerability, in embracing the gentler facets of our being. Softness signifies a willingness to feel deeply, to approach life with an open heart, unguarded and unafraid. It's a quest to embrace the tenderness within, to honor the emotions that color our experiences without judgment or reservation.

Security emerges as another thread, a yearning for stability in a world of constant change. The desire for a foundation that remains unwavering, a safe haven where the storms of life can't breach the walls. It's more than financial security; it's the assurance that even amidst uncertainty, I possess the inner strength to weather the tempests and emerge unscathed. This security is not rooted in material possessions, but in the unwavering belief that I am the architect of my own stability.

A healthy nervous system and body form a vital part of this constellation of desires. It's a plea to be in sync with the vessel that carries me through life. A desire for vitality that allows me to explore the world with boundless energy, to dance with exuberance, and to savor each moment without the constraints of physical limitations. It's an acknowledgment that the body and mind are intertwined, and nurturing one nurtures the other.

Clarity—a luminous beacon in the fog of uncertainty. To see the path ahead with unwavering vision, to unravel the mysteries that shroud the journey. Clarity is not merely about knowing where I'm headed; it's about understanding who I am and what truly matters. It's a departure from the haze of indecision and a commitment to live with intention, even when the road ahead is unclear.

And then there's the yearning for the freedom to be myself—a freedom that transcends the societal norms and expectations that have molded me. It's a plea to shed the masks I've worn to fit in, to unfurl my wings and soar without fear of judgment. This desire speaks of authenticity, of embracing the quirks and idiosyncrasies that make me unique. It's the audacious act of reclaiming my identity from the clutches of conformity.

As these desires intertwine and unfurl, they illuminate a path toward self-discovery and empowerment. They are the compass guiding me toward a life that's authentically mine, a life sculpted by my own hands rather than the dictates of others. It's a journey that requires courage, the courage to honor my own desires as valid and worthy.

The fears that once held me captive—the fear of disappointment, of rejection, of charting an unconventional path—are slowly dissipating. In their place, a sense of liberation blooms. As I peel back the layers of self-doubt and relinquish the need for external validation, I embrace the possibility of living a life that resonates with the rhythm of my heart.

In this world of boundless possibilities, I see myself standing at the intersection of passion and profession. A writer, perhaps—an architect of words, painting stories with eloquence and emotion. I picture a cozy little cottage nestled in nature's embrace, where the rustling leaves and the distant melody of birdsong provide the soundtrack to my creative explorations. I imagine pouring my heart into projects that resonate with my soul, free from the constraints of external judgments.

And then, there's the thrill of exploration. My heart flutters at the thought of traveling to far-flung corners of the globe, immersing myself in diverse cultures, and collecting stories like precious souvenirs. With each step taken on foreign soil, I'd be taking a step closer to understanding myself, my desires, and the beautiful tapestry of humanity.

But as vivid as these dreams are, they also bring forth a wave of uncertainty. Can I truly give myself permission to desire these things? Can I dismantle the fortress of self-doubt that I've erected over the years? The fear of disappointment and the weight of expectations still cast their shadows, reminding me that the journey to self-discovery is seldom without its challenges.

Yet, isn't that what life is all about? The interplay of light and shadow, triumphs and setbacks, dreams and doubts. Perhaps, in embracing my desires, I'm not just charting a course toward personal fulfillment, but also giving myself the chance to grow, to evolve, and to maybe even inspire others to embark on their own journeys of self-discovery.

So, as I stand at this crossroads between conformity and authenticity, I'm choosing the path less traveled—the path that leads to the heart of my aspirations. With each step, I'm unraveling the layers of self-negation, peeling back the façade I've donned for so long. It's a process, a labor of love, and I'm committed to nurturing the seeds of my desires until they bloom into a vibrant garden of purpose.

Do I still fear the unknown? Hell yes, but the fear is no longer paralyzing…most days. It's now a companion, a reminder that growth demands embracing discomfort. As I let go of the safety net of people-pleasing, I'm weaving a safety net of resilience and self-belief.

And so, I return to the question: Do you ever think about what you want? What you really really REALLY want?

The answer, now, is a resounding yes.

I give myself permission to dream.

With each passing day, my reflection reveals clearer contours of my aspirations. My heart races with excitement as I envision a life that's authentically mine—a life sculpted by my dreams, fueled by my passions, and adorned with the colors of my own desires.

-JR

P.S. I am recovering from strep throat, so forgive my voice if it’s weird. Something told me to voice record this and I am trying to to listen to that little voice these days.

Thanks for reading Hello Beautiful Human! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

"You are always posting stuff about being emotionally intelligent and just working on your self and your progress is amazing. I honestly just haven’t been in a good place for a long time now. And I do therapy and take meds and it only gets me so far. So I’m wondering if you have any extra advice or good “self-help” books or blogs or podcast or any source of information you wouldn’t mind sharing with me?"

I sent a voice memo response to this question from a friend of a friend a few days ago and I wanted to share with you a bit of what's in my mindfulness toolkit. It's hard to be human, don't do it alone.

Here are some ways to keep up with me: 

Patreon: Hard To Be Human 

Instagram: @heyjessieraye 

Twitter: @heyjessieraye

TikTok: @heyjessieraye

YouTube, Apple Podcasts, Spotify: Hard To Be Human 

Email: [email protected]

October 19, 2020

Be honest with who you are. 

In this episode of Hard To Be Human, I give myself a little grace during this very crazy and transitionary time in my life. Spend 12 minutes with me as I fill ya in on what's going on and take a deep breath with me. Or maybe two or three. We ALL need it.

(And give yourself a dang break, okay? It's 2020.)

Choose your character and support the podcast on Patreon - 'Hard To Be Human' - so I can keep creating for you.

How do we begin to defrost from the cold? When we lose ourselves completely, where do we start looking first? Where do we find warmth when everything feels like ice? How do we begin to heal? From heartbreak...illness...death...trauma from world events? People have told me to 'ride the wave' of life since my older brother passed away, with its ups and downs. No one talks about that climb from the deep bottom and how slippery it is and how many times you might sink back down.

The story is a direct follow up to last week's episode and how I began to heal from the coldest night I have ever experienced in my life with music therapy. You are permanently human, but your feelings are fleeting. That is beautiful. Your song is beautiful, don't be afraid to let people hear every single chord struck within you, even the sad ones. It is possible to heal from a heartbreak and move through grief, but it is not easy. Nothing good ever is ever easy, but it's possible. For all of us.

If you like the podcast and want to support, please consider joining 'Hard To Be Human' on Patreon. 

Music: https://www.purple-planet.com