I’ve always pushed myself out of my comfort zone, done the scary while also feeling the need to prove everyone wrong. It’s why “find comfort in the uncomfortable” is tattooed on my arm. I would build a successful business, have employees, and use my business as a platform to address injustice – the risk was worth the reward, and I’d show them. I kept pushing because I convinced myself I loved the work, the pressure, and the win. My comfort was the chaos; if it didn’t exist, I created it.
My trauma that built me, built this. It came from a childhood where I was told I was “too much,” my temper would be my undoing, and I was referred to as the devil or spawn of satan. I felt small, invisible, and alone…so alone.
I remember standing in the kitchen of our 100-year-old red brick farmhouse, they were pretending I didn’t exist (again)…there was no acknowledgement of my presence. They would do that, pretend I wasn’t talking or present – it was like a game for them. The memory isn’t fully clear; it comes back with flashes and smells, and there is this little ache under my ribs – it will hit me all of a sudden and I’m back there as this awkward, little bucktooth girl (photo for context), who doesn’t understand why she has such big emotions or why she is so angry or why no one will hug her and tell her it’s ok and loved.
When you grow up needing to be seen and you don’t get it, you hustle until the hustle becomes your only proof of worth. For me, the business, the really big goals, the late nights, they were all ways to stay moving so I wouldn’t have to sit with the feels, so I could prove I was worthy. It’s why I made “find comfort in the uncomfortable” my life motto; if I’m always reaching, I’ll never be stuck.
My drive is a blessing and a curse. I have the grit and ability to outwork and out-hustle most everyone (and it will kill me someday), it also keeps my trauma alive. The same edge that built 8THIRTYFOUR set me up to repeat the same patterns – hiring people who replay a childhood dynamic, choosing partners who reinforce the trauma, taking on projects just to prove I can do it – when you tell me it’s impossible, I say “hold my beer.”
A close family member did some serious damage. I hired them because they asked me for a job, needed it; told me a sob story about their current work environment. They took advantage of my empathy, my need to fix, solve, and make everyone feel loved, because I know what it is like to not be seen. I was excited that someone saw what I had built and wanted to be a part of it; I could show them my worth, and maybe my parents would notice.
My trauma longed to be loved, and that longing made me blind to a lot of things and bad people and plays out by ensuring everyone feels seen. It’s like the Sara McLachlan song is on repeat in my head. I will sacrifice my well-being and needs to help someone else, which almost cost me my company, marriage, and home. It resulted in wrecked finances, trust, and the loss of family – although many would argue it wasn’t a loss at all.
I went to mediations, legal meetings, and court alone because, as a woman, showing up with support (like with a husband) is perceived as weak. I knew I could navigate this independently; I’d been doing it my entire life. I don’t need anyone.
I’m telling you my trauma because it built me, but I will not let it define me. My addiction to work is rooted in pain, and I let it unconsciously drive every decision. It’s why I shifted the work 8THIRTYFOUR is doing, and mapped out my ten‑year vision. It is about being intentional and not allowing trauma-driven behavior to win.
I’m trying to set boundaries, be intentional about what I say yes to, and actually look at the impact my fucking trauma has on those around me – the ones who are my real family. Behaviors I thought were strengths, never stopping, always saying yes, are self-sabotage. Making change is hard, and it is a lot of baby steps – refusing to do free work, getting rid of the people or processes that don’t align with my ten-year shift…and refusing to let the past define what I’m willing to accept now.
If you’re reading this and something in you recognizes the pattern, the hypervigilance, the need to overperform, the repeated bad hires or relationships, start by acknowledging it. Write it down. Say it out loud. Take a day to be still and notice where your body tightens when you think about it. Then make one concrete boundary this week that protects you.
The hard part is not the first boundary. It’s the thousand times you remind yourself of it, or stay true to it, but each time you choose differently, you prove to yourself that you are not the sum of what happened to you. You are the author of what you will do with it.
P.S. Maybe there will be a book, but maybe not.
