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 [https://www.indiglowsoul.com/] Instagram: @indiglowsoul [https://www.instagram.com/indiglowsoul/] Podcast: Healers with Humor [https://open.spotify.com/show/15SHFgpC7YpTGFm32scoB1?si=42209225ba7d4abe] Connect with Jessie Raye: Substack: Hello Beautiful Human [https://heyjessieraye.substack.com/] Instagram: @heyjessieraye [https://www.instagram.com/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! Get full access to Hello Beautiful Human at heyjessieraye.substack.com/subscribe [https://heyjessieraye.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

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.'  Get full access to Hello Beautiful Human at heyjessieraye.substack.com/subscribe [https://heyjessieraye.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

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. Get full access to Hello Beautiful Human at heyjessieraye.substack.com/subscribe [https://heyjessieraye.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

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. Get full access to Hello Beautiful Human at heyjessieraye.substack.com/subscribe [https://heyjessieraye.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

***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. Get full access to Hello Beautiful Human at heyjessieraye.substack.com/subscribe [https://heyjessieraye.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]