The Courage to Rise Again: Turning Pain into Personal Power

By Barbara Wilde

I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”— Carl Jung

Barbara Wilde by Lucia Rea Photograpy

There are stories we never choose to live, yet they shape us all the same. Mine began in silence—not the peaceful kind, but the heavy silence of things unspoken, of love withheld, of spaces where comfort should have been. I grew up fast. Too fast. With a sense that I had to hold everything together while no one was really holding me.

My childhood taught me to survive. To smile even when my heart was breaking. To pretend I was fine when I was anything but. I learned to read people’s needs before they spoke, to make myself small so others could feel big, and to carry responsibility far beyond my years. Abuse—emotional, sometimes physical—was never named, but deeply known.

Then came motherhood, fierce and fragile. I became a mother with fire in my veins, determined to love differently, to protect what I hadn’t been given. But life is rarely linear. Separation, both emotional and physical, found its way into that sacred bond. Losing my daughter—through distance, circumstance, and pain—shattered what was left of me. It was the kind of heartbreak that doesn't announce itself, but seeps into every corner of your being.

I reached a point where I no longer recognised myself. I was still breathing, still moving, still “functioning”—but I wasn’t living. Something essential had gone quiet inside me.

And yet, even in that darkness, something whispered: This is not the end.

That whisper became my turning point. I began to seek—not outwardly at first, but inward. I started reading, listening, asking questions I had long buried: Why am I here? Is there more to life than pain? Can I choose something different?

That journey led me into unexpected spaces. I discovered the work of Igor Sibaldi, whose teachings on the symbolic and spiritual helped me make sense of my inner world. Alongside him, the wisdom of Louise Hay offered me practical tools to heal emotionally and nurture self-love. Their combined influence wasn’t just mystical theory—it became a language and a guide, helping me understand that the pain I carried wasn’t a punishment, but a portal.

Every insight, every spiritual study, every quiet moment of truth helped me peel back the layers I had built to survive. Underneath them, I found a woman who was still whole. Still capable. Still deeply alive.

And I made a decision: I chose to be happy. Not because life had suddenly become easy, but because I finally understood that happiness is an act of rebellion. It’s a sacred “yes” in a world that taught me to say “no” to myself.

Over time, that choice reshaped everything. I studied, trained, and deepened my understanding of the human psyche, of transformation, of feminine power. I became a coach—not because I had all the answers, but because I had lived the questions.

Now I work with women who, like me, have known what it means to carry invisible burdens. Women who are tired of performing strength, and ready to become truly powerful. Women who sense that something is missing—but don’t yet know it’s them. Their truth. Their voice. Their freedom.

Let me tell you this: You do not need to be fearless to begin again. You only need to be willing. That trembling, sacred willingness—that one quiet “yes”—can change your life.

Healing does not erase the past. It redeems it. It gives your pain a new shape—a shape that can hold light.

Coaching Insight:

When we carry pain for too long, it starts to define us. But pain is not identity—it is an invitation.

The turning point often comes with a simple but powerful question: “What if the worst thing that happened to me wasn’t the end of my story, but the beginning of my becoming?”

This is where the path to transformation begins—not in certainty, but in curiosity. Not in strength, but in truth. And not alone, but together.

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”— Rumi