I’m not my trauma, you aren’t yours, either.

I had the chance to spend some time with my sister recently on a weekend trip to Ireland, and we’ve had a lot of time to catch up about our lives today as two strong, independent, adult women. We’ve also had the opportunity to have some great, deep talks about our experiences during our childhoods. My trauma is not exactly the same as her trauma or your trauma, but I’ll say again what I said over and over in my book: pain is pain. And we both felt that, in our own ways.

Personally, I felt like such a lonely person who’s family made fun of all the time, and tore down. It turns out, my sister felt the same way—and likely others in the family, too. Our pain shared the same edges, but we felt isolated within it anyway.

This cycle of negative self-talk and low self-worth that I formed as result of that (and more) childhood trauma didn’t magically disappear as I got older. Instead, as I grew up, that trauma festered within, subconsciously informing my attitudes and decisions. It gained power. Before my son was born, I struggled with identity issues and depression.

Having my son and placing him for adoption didn’t start a spiral for me; instead, it made the one I was already at the edge of or part of the way in—the one that was being fed by my experiences of childhood and feelings of not being enough—worse. It was gasoline on the fire.

I struggled with many questions, personally and professionally, before and after my son was born. In relationships and in my career, I’d wonder if I was worthy of any type of success. If I started to get close to it, I’d self-destruct. Something good would start to happen for me, and I’d undo it before it had time to take hold. I always thought there was something wrong with me—that something bad would happen, that someone would make fun of me, that someone would see me somewhere in that successful place for what I felt I was: a fraud. An imposter. A woman who deep down didn’t deserve any of it.

Do you know how I feel today?

Fuck all that. (no other word could be used here)

The attitude I formed about myself when I was young—that something was wrong with me, that it was okay to have negativity projected on me because that’s what I deserved—was wrong.

Today, I can celebrate success. I have gotten to this place through a lot of hard work—therapy, saying my affirmations (“I AM” statements) every day until they started to sink in, believing in the law of attraction, and working through the hard moments.

The truth is that I am worthy of ALL THE GOOD THINGS in this world. I was MEANT to be in a positive relationship. I was MEANT to share my story. I was MEANT to excel in my career. I was MEANT to show other people that this is all possible. Now, when something good shows up in my life, I don’t nervously look around, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I square my shoulders, look forward, and smile like the strong woman I am because I know I deserve every last bit of it. I didn’t get here by luck; I work hard every day. My success is no coincidence.

I’ve learned a lot in my life, but recently, coming to terms with this has been profoundly freeing: I am not my childhood trauma. I am not what happened to me. I am what I choose to be, and what I choose to be today is positive, full of life, and worthy of every good thing that comes my way.

The same goes for you. Just like I’m not my trauma, you aren’t yours, either. Ask yourself: What could you do if you could squash your feelings of inadequacy? What could you possibly accomplish? What if, the next time you start to self-destruct or talk yourself out of something—whatever it is—you stop, square your shoulders, and instead say, “I deserve this.”

Try it and see what happens. You are worth it.