What I Learned from a Toothbrush and a Memory
A small daily habit showed me the exact moment I stopped trusting myself—and how I took it back
It amazes me sometimes—how subtle power really is.
Not the kind of power that dominates or demands attention. I’m talking about the deeper kind. The power we were born with. The energy that lives in the body, in the soul, in the quiet knowing behind our eyes.
It’s perfect in its original form.
But as it moves through our lived experience—through memory, relationship, rejection, religion, trauma, or just a lifetime of being told we’re “too much” or “not enough”—that power starts to weaken. Not because it’s broken. But because it gets perforated.
Tiny holes.
Little tears.
Barely noticeable until one day, you try to rise… and something wobbles.
There’s a painting I created during that season of shame—before I consciously understood the emotional weight I was carrying. I didn’t set out to paint my pain, but that’s what emerged: dark, heavy, bleeding at the edges. A figure shrouded in silence. Red streaks cutting through like unspoken judgments. I didn’t realize it then, but I had painted the loop.
This is what that wound looked like before I named it. Before I stopped agreeing with it. Before I claimed my reflection as sacred.
Then, after doing the soul work—the quiet clearing, the reclaiming, the simple act of saying “no more” while brushing my teeth—I revisited the canvas. Not to erase it, but to answer it.
This is what it became. Not perfect. Not polished. But peaceful. Clear. Whole.
And that’s the power of emotional healing.
It doesn’t delete your story. It just stops it from bleeding into every moment.
For me, one of those perforations happens every morning when I brush my teeth.
It sounds small. Silly, even. But that’s exactly what makes it powerful.
Every time I pick up my toothbrush, a loop starts playing in my head. A memory. A criticism. Something someone I love once said about how my mouth should look. How I could spend the money. How I should make it prettier.
And just like that—poke—another hole in my power.
I stand there, brushing my teeth like it’s no big deal, but inside, something tender folds inward. Something doubts. Something diminishes.
And this is what I find fascinating:
It’s not the criticism itself that does the most damage.It’s the way we internalize it into ritual.We pair it with something we do every day. We loop it.
Until it becomes an invisible tether holding us back from fully rising.
This isn’t something I hear talked about very often.
Everyone wants to talk about stepping into your power—but few want to talk about the tiny wounds that drain it before we even get out the door.
The moments that feel too small to matter or the offhand comment that got coded as truth. The shame that lives in the mirror, or the memory, or the body part we’ve learned to critique before anyone else can.
But these holes matter.
Not because they make us powerless—but because they teach us how power is leaked.
And that means they can also show us how power is reclaimed.
I’ve started to do something different.
I wrote a toothbrush blessing.
A few lines I whisper in the mirror before brushing. Words that interrupt the old loop and replace it with something truer. Not to deny what was said or done—but to reroute the energy. To seal the hole.
It doesn’t take long. But it does something profound:
It makes me the authority again.
And I wonder how many other women are moving through their day with these little power leaks—wondering why they don’t feel whole, strong, or ready, when really, they’re just running their power through a colander.
What I want to say today is this:
Your power is not gone.
It’s not broken.
It’s just been moving through too many holes.
And the healing isn’t always big or loud.
Sometimes, it starts with brushing your teeth a little differently.
Sometimes, it starts with finally noticing the loop.
And sometimes, it starts with telling yourself—gently, clearly, out loud:
“This life belongs to me now. I patch the holes. I hold the power. I rise.”
You may be feeling a nudge, or an ache. Clarity can bring relief! If clarity is what you’re craving, this guide is a good place to begin. This is a mulitp page pdf that I assembled from my own experiences. You can download and print, or send it straight to your Kindle. Easy-peasy!
Click here to get your download of BREAKTHROUGH. Choose you.