🌱Why I Share These Stories: A Note on Truth, Healing, and Voice

These writings are not shared in anger or revenge — they are shared in truth. The stories I tell here are mine. They come from my lived experience, my healing process, and my deep desire to interrupt the cycle of trauma that too often passes from one generation to the next.

While they may involve people I’ve known or loved — parents, partners, or others — the focus of these reflections is not on them. It is on the wounds I’ve carried, the ways I’ve grown, and the path I’m choosing now.

I do not write to blame, shame, or accuse. I write to understand. To transform. To offer others the language they may not yet have for their own invisible pain.

“This is not a takedown. It’s a rising up. It’s a reclamation of voice, of truth, of the divine seed that has always been buried inside — waiting to bloom. ”

There is a part of me that feels afraid to share some of these stories — because I know what happens when truth threatens the illusions others depend on. I was silenced for so long that the very act of speaking feels dangerous. But that fear doesn’t mean I’m doing something wrong. It means I’m finally challenging the system that conditioned me.

So yes — I feel fear. And I’m doing it anyway. Because I believe this is sacred work. And what is sacred is not always safe. I am birthing something transformative. And birth is bloody, messy, and painful. That doesn’t mean it’s wrong. It means it’s real.

“…I believe this is sacred work. And what is sacred is not always safe.”

I’m breaking the silence that once protected toxic behaviors and belief systems — not the people. And that silence came at a cost: to my voice, my sanity, my sense of self. Every post I write is not just an act of expression — it’s an act of reclamation. This is my truth. It’s not about blame. It’s about becoming whole.

I am modeling for my readers — and for my children — what it looks like to stand in truth with both integrity and compassion. I know that comes with risk. But silence carries its own cost. And I refuse to keep paying it.

“If my words cause discomfort, that discomfort is not mine to fix. It is theirs to sit with.”

If my words cause discomfort, that discomfort is not mine to fix. It is theirs to sit with. I’m not naming experiences to punish anyone — I’m naming them to liberate myself, and others like me. Some of what I share may be difficult to read. It may challenge long-held beliefs. But that discomfort is part of the work. Silence protects dysfunction. Truth, spoken with care, can help dismantle it.

If you see yourself reflected in these stories, I invite you to pause — not to defend, but to examine. Not to fight, but to feel. Because healing doesn’t come through avoidance. It comes through courage. Through presence. Through choosing to do something different with the pain.

“Silence protects dysfunction. Truth, spoken with care, can help dismantle it.”

In Paulo Coelho’s book The Alchemist he says, “ Before a dream is realized, the soul of the world tests everything that was learned along the way. It does this…so that we can, in addition to realizing our dreams, master the lessons we’ve learned as we’ve moved toward that dream.” If my healing makes others uncomfortable, then let them be uncomfortable. My task is not to be who people need me to be; my task is to be who I am meant to be. This is not a takedown. It’s a rising up. It’s a reclamation of voice, of truth, of the divine seed that has always been buried inside — waiting to bloom. 

“My task is not to be who people need me to be; my task is to be who I am meant to be.”

A Sacred Invitation

If any part of this speaks to you, I warmly invite you to share your thoughts on my Facebook page, where we’re building a thoughtful, supportive space for open, healing conversation. And if this post resonates with you, please consider sharing it with someone who might be walking a similar path.

Your voice matters. Your truth matters. And together, by speaking with compassion and courage, we can break the silence that has kept so many of us captive.

Healing happens through connection — through telling our stories and being heard, not with judgment, but with presence and grace. Your divine seed may have been buried in your early life — but it’s never too late to bloom. 🌱

Let’s keep the conversation going — in truth and in the spirit of rising up. You can find me on Instagram @transcendencepress and on X (formerly Twitter) @corey_wolff, where we’re growing a community rooted in courage, compassion, and conscious change.

How the Narcissist Plants a Mind Virus in You, and How You Can Break Free

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An Unseen Epidemic

In the post-apocalyptic dystopian science fiction show The Last of Us, a fungal parasite causes a pandemic, turning people into zombies. This fungus, Ophiocordyceps unilateralis, exists in real life, but it’s not able to infect humans. However, it does infect other animals. It infects ants by hijacking their brains and controlling their actions from the inside. Once fully in control, it directs the ant to climb to the top of a plant—then bursts from its head, releasing spores into the air to find new hosts.

I believe we are in the midst of an epidemic much like that depicted in The Last of Us, one caused by a parasite which infiltrates the human mind. Psychologists call this phenomenon the narcissistic introject—a parasitic mental and emotional influence that distorts your sense of self and self-worth.

“I believe we are in the midst of an epidemic much like that depicted in The Last of Us, one caused by a parasite which infiltrates the human mind.”

It often starts as projection, because the narcissistic parent projects his or her own wounds onto the child. Over time, these projections become internalized as the child’s inner voice. But that voice is not their own. Children of narcissists carry this into adulthood, Just like Ophiocordyceps unilateralis, takes control of the ant’s mind, a narcissistic parent uses the introject to control his or her child’s mind. Yet many people have no idea that the voice inside their head is not their own.

This parasite doesn’t just stunt their emotional growth—it stunts their spiritual growth too. It feeds off their inner wounds, creating a cycle where you pass the same brokenness down to the next generation.

How the Parasite Takes Hold

At first, the parasite tricks the child into believing its lies. The child thinks, if my parent says I’m selfish, worthless, too sensitive, or that I can’t live without them, then it must be true. The parent’s voice becomes the child’s internal voice, but it’s a distorted, broken version of reality created by an unhealed adult. This is where the real damage happens: the child learns to ignore their own voice, their own instincts, their own needs. They become unable to set healthy boundaries because they’ve been trained to believe their needs don’t matter.

“Over time, these projections become internalized as the child’s inner voice. But that voice is not their own.”

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How It Reproduces

A dangerous aspect of projective identification is how it’s woven into the very fabric of a family system’s generational trauma. This form of abuse becomes ingrained in the family dynamic—parents pass down their patterns of manipulation, control, and self-doubt to their children, who then carry those beliefs forward into their own relationships and lives. Just as Ophiocordyceps uses the ant’s body to spread itself to new hosts, the narcissistic parent uses their child as a vessel for their unresolved pain, fears, and self-doubt.

“Just as Ophiocordyceps uses the ant’s body to spread itself to new hosts, the narcissistic parent uses their child as a vessel for their unresolved pain, fears, and self-doubt.”

The child internalizes these projections, creating a distorted sense of self that aligns with the parent’s broken worldview—a version of the self that’s not based on who the child truly is but on how the narcissistic parent sees them. The narcissistic introject takes over the child’s ability to think for themselves, trust their own instincts, and experience life through their own lens.

How I Awoke from the Trance of the Mind Virus

I know how this parasite works—because it lived inside me for years. For much of my life, I listened to an inner voice that told me the same negative things about myself that my mother would tell me.  It wasn’t until my marriage started failing that I realized the voice guiding my decisions and thoughts was not my own. even though I was estranged from my mother and not in contact with her, I was still listening to the voice inside telling me how undeserving, selfish, and worthless I was. When I had children, I noticed that my spouse treated me the same way my mother had treated me when I was a child. She would continuously disregard my authority as a parent. I was made to feel that I was always the one who was wrong, that I should feel shame for my decisions, my parenting. And I believed that voice.

“I did not want to unwittingly become the carrier, perpetuating the same patterns of disempowerment, self-silencing, and fear.”

What made this realization so painful was the possibility of passing down this toxic pattern with my own children. I wanted to be a role model for them, not someone who teaches them that masculinity is passive, who teaches them that a marriage is about one partner not having a voice and continually deferring to the other. I did not want to unwittingly become the carrier, perpetuating the same patterns of disempowerment, self-silencing, and fear. There was a damaged part of me. But there was also a healthy part of me. A part that saw how being berated and undermined was damaging our children. I realized I couldn’t allow this cycle to continue.

Breaking Free

The first step in breaking free from the introject was recognizing that it wasn’t my voice—it was the voice of an unhealed person who had been controlling me - a voice which had been passed down through generations. As a child, it wasn’t my fault, but now as an adult, it was my responsibility to break the cycle.

I began nurturing my inner child—learning to listen to my true voice and show up for my own needs in ways I never had before. I had to give myself permission to be authentic, to speak my truth, and to trust that my voice mattered—not just to others, but to myself. Actually, my books, my blog, and this post are ways I am trying to heal. They help me reflect on my life and evaluate how I am doing. Writing helps me recognize patterns. It gives me space to reflect and grow. If you’ve never tried journaling your inner voice, try it—it can be the first step in learning what’s really yours.

“As a child, it wasn’t my fault, but now as an adult, it is my responsibility to break the cycle.”

I began to develop my own voice by pursuing goals which benefited me, even when others didn’t like it. I had to learn that emotionally healthy people don’t share a sense of self with others. I am entitled to my own opinions, beliefs, and goals. I know that idea might be shocking if you have been raised to focus only on the needs of others, neglecting your own. If you have trouble digesting that, say it aloud as an affirmation. Say it again. Let it settle into your nervous system. Let it feel unfamiliar—and still true.

Passing On a Healthy Voice

I can help my children to develop a strong sense of self by encouraging them to share their feelings. Especially if they are angry at me. I have to put my own ego aside and listen to them. I needed to change the dynamic from using fear, shame and guilt, to openness, vulnerability, authenticity, and emotional support. Of course children should be held accountable for their words and actions, but I don’t want them to internalize that shame, fear and guilt and pass that on. I want them to pass on a love they have for themselves so they learn to love others and not be scared or anxious of intimacy.

“I don’t want them to internalize that shame, fear and guilt and pass that on. I want them to pass on a love they have for themselves..”

I don’t blame my mother. She is a victim of the Beast. And not only do I heal for my kids, but I heal for her, because she was not able to break the cycle on her own. But I can and I will. God gave me 2 hands, so I will hold my son with one and my daughter with the other. And we will continue to stand as one, and heal together. 

The Parasite that Infiltrates the Hero’s Mind in Unbroken Legacy

Carl Jung believed that the collective unconscious is a shared part of the human psyche, where ancient archetypes, universal symbols, and inherited memories exist. It is the unconscious mind of humanity, a place that stores the core elements of our shared experience, the emotional and psychological residue of all humans throughout time. However, within this collective unconscious, there is also room for negativity—the dark side of human experience, fears, traumas, and destructive patterns

In my upcoming book, Unbroken Legacy: The Divine Seed, the Beast is the manifestation of unprocessed collective trauma—the fears, hatred, guilt, and unresolved conflicts that are passed down through generations. The Beast doesn't remain confined to the collective unconscious; it infects individuals, becoming internalized as part of their unconscious mind. That is why it is the curse which affects three generations of the De La Fleur family.

“The Beast doesn't remain confined to the collective unconscious; it infects individuals, becoming internalized as part of their unconscious mind.”

The Beast begins as an outside force, slipping through the cracks of personal awareness, subtly altering the individual's thoughts, emotions, and perceptions. Over time, the Beast takes over the individual. In a sense, the Beast embodies the internalized negative voices which are passed down from a parent to child. It grows stronger with each generation, influencing decisions, relationships, and self-worth.

When the protagonist, Horatio De La Fleur, finally breaks free from the Beast’s control and renders it powerless, it symbolizes someone breaking free from the narcissistic introject which has had a stranglehold for years. And when Isabella helps Horatio to do this, it symbolizes the power which one’s own child can have, because it allows the parent the opportunity to finally nurture his own inner child, in a way that he missed when he was young. We see this when Horatio doubts himself because he is overcome by fear of the Beast, and Isabella helps him remember his own advice to her when she was younger. He learns to nurture himself the way he has nurtured her. The lesson is that we all have the potential to break free, become our own person, and render the voice that limits us powerless.

You Are the One Who Can End the Cycle

The most powerful part of healing is realizing that you have the power to stop the cycle. You may have been harmed by toxic, unhealed family members in childhood—but you are no longer powerless. You are not a victim. You can choose to stop being complicit in passing on the narcissistic introject to the next generation. You can decide: It ends with me. This reminds me of a passage from The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran—one that speaks directly to this inner dethroning. In the chapter On Freedom, he writes: “And if it is a despot you would dethrone, see first that his throne erected within you is destroyed.” He goes on to say “And if it is a care you would cast off, that care has been chosen by you rather than imposed upon you. And if it is a fear you would dispel, the seat of that fear is in your heart and not in the hand of the feared.”

Your children, your relationships, and your life no longer have to be shaped by the voices of the past. It begins with recognizing the patterns, reclaiming your voice, and learning to trust your own truth. You can break free from the parasite that has long fed on your power. And in doing so, you create a life where you are no longer the host—but the one in control. Free to be yourself. Free to pass down a legacy of health, authenticity, and self-trust.

“Your children, your relationships, and your life no longer have to be shaped by the voices of the past.”

So I challenge you today: Listen closely to the voices that guide your thoughts and actions. Are they truly yours—or are they echoes of someone else? When you recognize the voice as not your own, challenge it. Silence it. Reclaim your inner space. And over time, your authentic self will emerge—clearer, stronger, and truly yours.

🌱 A Sacred Invitation

If any part of this speaks to you—if you’ve ever struggled to develop your sense of self because you were smothered by someone else’s voice inside you—I want you to know: You’re not alone. What happened to you was abusive. And you can heal.

You’re warmly invited to share your reflections on my Facebook page, where we’re building a thoughtful, supportive space for open and healing conversation. If this post resonates with you, please consider sharing it with someone who might be walking a similar path. Your voice matters.

Let’s keep the conversation going on Instagram @transcendencepress and Twitter/X @corey_wolff, where we’re growing a community rooted in courage, compassion, and conscious change.

Because healing doesn’t happen through insight alone—it happens through connection. Through telling our stories. Through being heard, not with judgment, but with presence and grace. Your divine seed may have been buried in your early life—but it’s never too late to bloom. 🌱

⚠️ These stories are told from my lived experience and healing journey. For a deeper understanding of my intent, please read my post: Why I Share These Stories: A Note on Truth, Healing, and Voice

Walking a New Path: Breaking Free from the Patterns that Bound Me

How I Chose a Different Legacy for Myself—and My Children

Introduction: The Street and the Spell

Portia Nelson wrote a poem called Autobiography in Five Short Chapters. When I head it read on PBS by Wayne Dyer, it not only moved me, it made me aspire to have it also become my autobiography because it reflects an emotional journey that lasts throughout one’s life. It’s the journey of a hero. I am including the poem below:

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters

I.

I walk down the street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I fall in. I am lost. I am helpless.

It isn't my fault.

It takes forever to find a way out.

II.

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I still don't see it. I fall in again.

I can't believe I am in the same place.

It isn't my fault.

It still takes a long time to get out.

III.

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I see it there, I still fall in.

It's habit. It's my fault. I know where I am.

I get out immediately.

IV.

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I walk around it.

V.

I walk down a different street.

Portia Nelson, There’s a Hole in My Sidewalk: The Romance of Self-Discovery

Like Portia Nelson, I have fallen into the same hole repeatedly. Lacking a strong sense of self, I became over-accommodating, hypersensitive to others' moods, terrified of abandonment, and convinced that my very presence was the problem. But what I’ve come to realize is this: the hole was dug long before I ever walked into it. And my ancestors fell into it just like me. Now, after years of painful repetition and deep reflection, I am finally learning to make the same decision as Portia Nelson, walk down a different street. Each chapter in Nelson’s poem marks not just a moment — but a mindset. I’ve lived each one. Here’s how they’ve unfolded in my own life.

Chapter I: Inheriting the Hole

I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in. I am lost…. I am helpless. It isn’t my fault. It takes forever to find a way out.

I didn’t grow up with emotional safety. My mother—wounded, volatile, and overwhelmed—used me to soothe her pain. She demanded that I only focus on how she felt, at the expense of my own feelings, until I reached the point when I learned to become detached to my feelings, my wants, and my needs. I learned early that love was conditional, fragile, and rooted in fear of being abandoned.

The person I looked to for guidance, looked at me with disgust. Instead of being nurtured and loved, I was an object of hatred from her projections onto me, projections from her own unhealed childhood wounds which she never dealt with properly. I became her mirror instead of her child. And she kept me dependent, doing things for me to enhance her own self-esteem, while undermining my own. The message I internalized? You are only safe if your needs don’t exist. You are only safe if you are trying to soothe your mother’s emotions and trying to fulfill her emotional needs. You need to stay small. You need to stay what she needs you to be. And so I fell into the first hole: a deep confusion about who I was, what my needs were, and what love was supposed to feel like.

“Instead of being nurtured and loved, I was an object of hatred from her projections onto me, projections from her own unhealed childhood wounds which she never dealt with properly.”

Chapter II: Falling Again

I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I still don't see it. I fall in again. I can't believe I am in the same place. It isn't my fault. It still takes a long time to get out.

I fell down the same hole of emotional abuse when I fell in love as a young man. Once real intimacy began to form, I found myself in a relationship where nothing I did was ever good enough. I found myself terrified of being abandoned. I kept trying to change—to mold myself into who she wanted me to be. But the more I changed, the more it reinforced the cycle, which was submitting to the control of another. Because that is what I had been programmed to do since childhood, to serve her emotional needs at the expense of my own. My mother’s unhealed trauma had turned me into someone who feared saying no, into someone afraid to take up space. Into a man disconnected from his core. That’s identity damage. And I didn’t know who I was outside of the people I tried to please.

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Chapter III: Seeing the Hole

I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I see it there, I still fall in. It's habit. It's my fault. I know where I am. I get out immediately.

Although I did not realize it at the time, looking back on my college experience, I suffered greatly from undiagnosed anxiety and depression. It became worse with time, and after college, my mental health challenges became overwhelming. After a year of living on my own, I decided to move back home and live with my mother, hoping that this time would be different. But why? Why go back to someone who had hurt me so deeply?

Because emotionally, I was still that child, waiting to be nurtured. Hoping that if I could be good enough, quiet enough, loyal enough—I would finally be loved. Finally be seen. Finally be safe. I still believed the woman who hurt me could one day heal me. But instead of being healed, I experienced the same dynamic of controlling behaviors, emotional instability and emotional abuse that I had grown up with.

“I didn’t feel like a partner. I felt like a boy again — trying to manage someone else’s emotions, walking on eggshells, trying not to fail. It wasn’t a relationship of equals. Instead, I felt like a slave to a tyrant.”

Once I was home, my mother made it very difficult for me to move out again and get my own place. She would tell me, “You’ll never make it on your own.” And she would mock me with sarcasm saying, “Who’s going to take care of those things, you?” implying that I was not capable of handling anything independently. And when I finally moved into my own apartment, I felt ripped in half. As if we had shared the same emotional center. As if part of me had died. That wasn’t just heartbreak. That was the rupture of a self I never had the chance to fully form.

Eventually when I fell in love again and married, I found myself having a partner who was similar to my mother. As time went on, the same dynamic repeated. I didn’t feel like a partner. I felt like a boy again — trying to manage someone else’s emotions, walking on eggshells, trying not to fail. It wasn’t a relationship of equals. Instead, I felt like a slave to a tyrant. I inadvertently fell into the same hole, where I was completely controlled, always responding to her ideas about what is best for us, rather than leading with my own.

What is even more painful, is that I didn’t really notice the pattern in my life until the end of my marriage. And when I left my wife, it was a similar response to when I moved away from my mother. I was attacked. Again I heard, “You’ll never make it without me.” But recognizing the pattern didn’t mean I had failed. It meant I was finally seeing clearly.

Chapter IV: Choosing a New Pattern

I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it.

For a long time I was determined to stay married, no matter what. My parents had divorced, and I did not want my own children to go through the pain and confusion which I had experienced. Plus, my daughter has special needs, and I believed the financial stability from having parents who were married was important for her. But what made me decide to leave was being frequently undermined in front of our children. My ex-wife saw herself as the primary parent, She didn’t see me as a father. She saw me as another child. I thought, “Can I really keep this marriage going when my own children are witnessing their father be continuously eviscerated? What legacy am I leaving for my children? How will this affect them in their own adult relationships? Leaving wasn’t just for me — it was for them. Because the legacy I pass down begins with how I allow myself to be treated. And so I decided that it had to end. That moment wasn’t just a parenting decision. It was the first time I chose self-respect over self-erasure.

“Leaving wasn’t just for me — it was for them. Because the legacy I pass down begins with how I allow myself to be treated.”

After my divorce I realized how deeply broken I really was. I began to realize that if I didn’t change something in myself — in how I saw love, how I valued myself, and what I accepted in relationships — I would keep falling forever. Because I kept reliving the same pattern from my childhood, I decided to stop dating. I needed to fill the hole before I could expect a different outcome, so I could break the pattern. Even after years of therapy, years of practicing yoga. of reading books on personal development, I still had that hole within me.

I’m still working on myself, with gentleness and compassion. And I am getting better. I am finally seeing the hole from far away. Now I see the signs sooner. I recognize when someone’s approval feels too important. When I’m over-accommodating. When I’m shrinking to avoid conflict. I breathe. I pause. I choose differently. It’s not perfect. But it’s conscious. And that’s everything.

Chapter V: Planting Something New

I walk down a different street.

A New Street, A New Legacy: Can you be a good enough parent even while you're still healing? I believe it's not only possible — it's necessary. I'm doing that very thing. Healing is a lifelong journey, but I’ve chosen to walk a different path than the generations before me. My children will not fall into the hole dug by trauma, dysfunction, and silence. Not if I can help it.

I choose to model self-acceptance, kindness, boundaries, and emotional regulation. I choose to step out of the role my mother needed me to play — and into the role God is calling me to become: someone who plants seeds of love, strength, and truth in the soil of my children’s lives.

I want my children to know their worth. I don’t want them to trade their needs for someone else’s approval. I want them to trust their voice, to stand in their truth, to love themselves fully — not because someone else completes them, but because they are already whole. That’s how cycles end. That’s how generational healing begins.

“I choose to step out of the role my mother needed me to play — and into the role God is calling me to become: someone who plants seeds of love, strength, and truth in the soil of my children’s lives.”

The Hole We Carry: They say our reality mirrors our beliefs — about ourselves, about love, about the world. The hole we keep falling into isn’t just in the sidewalk. It’s the one left inside us when our emotional needs weren’t met. It’s the echo of a wound that whispers, “I’m unlovable. I’m not enough. I’m broken.”

So yes — I want my children to walk down a different street. But it’s not enough to avoid the hole. The deeper work is learning how to fill it. Because the truth is: as long as there’s a hole in the heart, we’ll keep seeking pain that feels familiar. We’ll keep reenacting what we never healed. We’ll keep falling in. Until we stop. Until we fill that hollow space with truth, compassion, and conscious love. Until we remember we are — and always were — worthy of something better. Healing isn’t about pretending the hole was never there - it’s about transforming it into something lifegiving. And to do that, we have to recognize the divine seed that we have within, and plant it in the hole left by our ancestors. That is how we can go from buried to blooming.

Parenting the Inner Child: Children are a gift from God, a gift which allows us to nurture them, while at the same time, allowing us to nurture our own inner child. We can be loving to our children. But when we are behaving in those old patterns, we can stop, question, and reflect on our thought process, on our behavior. We can ask ourselves, am I behaving like the parent I wish that I had, like a parent who listens to my needs, who is attuned to how I feel? Because as adults it is possible to do that not only for our children, but for ourselves. That’s how we can fill the hole. That’s how we can break the cycle. And from that place, I write. I reflect. I share. I create stories for others who are waking up to the potholes of their past — and who are finally ready to walk a different road.

“Children are a gift from God, a gift which allows us to nurture them, while at the same time, allowing us to nurture our own inner child.”

I am reminded of Kahlil Gibran’s deep respect for children from his book The Prophet when he says, “ Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you yet they belong not to you. You may give them your love but not your thoughts, For they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.” A child’s soul is not something we can own. It is divine—just like the unhealed child within you. Be gentle to it. Remember where it comes from.

🌱 A Sacred Invitation

If any part of this speaks to you — if you’ve felt the ache of repetition, the sting of enmeshment, or the quiet triumph of finally seeing the pattern — I want you to know: You’re not alone. And you’re not stuck. You are not the person you were when you fell in. You are the one climbing out. The one choosing to walk forward. Maybe, like me, you’re ready for Chapter Five. Let’s walk that new street together.

You're warmly invited to share your reflections on my Facebook page, where we’re building a thoughtful, supportive space for open and healing conversation. If this post resonates with you, please feel free to share it with your network — and tag someone who might be walking a similar path. Your voice matters.

Let’s keep the conversation going on Instagram @transcendencepress and Twitter/X @corey_wolff, where we’re creating a community rooted in courage, compassion, and conscious change. Because healing happens not just through insight — but through connection. Through telling our stories.Through being heard, not with judgment, but with presence and grace. You’re not falling anymore. You’re rising.🌱

⚠️ These stories are told from my lived experience and healing journey. For a deeper understanding of my intent, please read my post: Why I Share These Stories: A Note on Truth, Healing, and Voice

When Dreams Carry Shadows: The Paradox of Creative Power: Part 2

Part 2: Shadows in the Garden

This is Part 2 of a two-part series exploring the hidden forces behind creation. Read Part 1 — How Words, Belief, and Imagination Shape Your Reality

Across spiritual traditions, we’re taught that words and belief shape reality. But what happens when our hidden fears shape it too? Creation is sacred—but not always safe. Shadows often slip into what we build, shaping our world from the inside out. In this second part of the series, we’ll explore the paradox of creative power—the beautiful and sometimes frightening truth that what we create reflects both our dreams and our unhealed wounds. Through ancient wisdom, personal growth, and the story of Unbroken Legacy, let’s dive into how to embrace the light—and the shadows—in our own garden of creation.

The Paradox of Shadows in Creation

Manifesting the life we desire is powerful, but the process is not always as simple as it seems. For just as seeds planted in rich soil can grow, so too can shadows take root in the fertile ground of our unconscious mind. What happens when we are unaware of the seeds we are planting? What happens when the world we create begins to betray us? Karl Jung said, “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” And this is a crucial aspect of this entire process of the power of the imagination. Because we don’t always know what part of us is doing the creating. Is it the part of us that’s filled with light, vision, and healing? Or is it the part of us we buried—the fear, the rejection, the grief we haven’t yet faced?

“Even in the garden of light, shadows take root”

You have to not only develop an awareness of how your unconscious affects you, but you need to influence your unconscious—retrain it so it becomes your servant, not your master. One of the most effective ways to do this is by transforming your inner monologue into an inner dialogue.

Your inner monologue—the constant stream of self-talk running through your mind—often goes unchecked. It whispers limitations, repeats old fears, and reinforces the survival patterns you picked up long ago. But when you turn that monologue into a dialogue, you interrupt the pattern. You begin questioning the voice that says, “You’re not good enough,” or “This is just how life is.”An inner dialogue invites curiosity. You challenge the fearful voice. You ask, “Is that true?” You bring in new voices—the part of you that believes in possibility, the part that remembers your strength, the part that dares to dream. Pay attention to the words you say to yourself. If you notice negativity or self-doubt creeping in, pause. Question it. Replace those thoughts with affirming, empowering truths.

Your inner thoughts have the power to either lift you up or hold you back—choose them wisely. Otherwise, you’ll unconsciously follow the same blueprint from your childhood—repeating patterns designed to help you survive, but never truly thrive. And there’s a profound difference between surviving... and self-actualizing. Until you consciously engage and challenge your inner thoughts, your ability to manifest will be shaped by unhealed survival needs, not your highest potential.

In Unbroken Legacy the Shadows Co-Create

In Unbroken Legacy: The Divine Seed, Isabella possesses an extraordinary gift—the power to imagine a world and bring it into being. With sketches and dreams and whispered mantras, she manifests Monsterville: a whimsical realm filled with candy-colored trees, talking monsters, and light-hearted magic. But even this dreamscape is not immune to darkness. Because Isabella’s creation, as radiant as it is, was not made from pure light. It was shaped by everything she carried inside her—including fear. And in that fear, something old stirred. Something ancient. Something hungry.

The Beast, in its purest form, is not a monster she dreamed up. It is older than her. Older than her father.
It is the embodiment of pain, shame, fear, and powerlessness—the kind that lives inside all of us. Not just personal trauma, but the collective unconscious: the generational ache of being human.

This entity once clung to Horatio’s family line, hiding in shadows. But when Isabella—a frightened girl in the throes of a panic attack—created a monster out of fear, the Beast saw its chance. It wasn’t created by her. But it was given a body by her. This is the terrifying and tender truth at the heart of the story: The imagination is sacred. But it is not safe. It builds with what we feed it—which begs the question, what reality are you creating?

“The imagination is sacred. But it is not safe. It builds with what we feed it—which begs the question, what reality are you creating?”

In Monsterville, this paradox takes form. As Isabella creates, her unconscious pain helps shape what’s built. As she dreams, so too does the Beast awaken. This story is a mirror, and it asks us: “What if the world you’re building isn’t just shaped by what you hope—but also by what you haven’t healed?” Because the garden blooms with all that lives inside you—both the light, and the shadows it casts.

How to Embrace the Shadow

This process of embracing your shadow is not instantaneous—it’s a continuous journey of growth. It’s about creating awareness and shifting how we engage with our darker aspects. Just as in Isabella’s story in Unbroken Legacy, we are called to create and become, shedding light on both our strengths and shadows. The question now is: What part of your reality are you co-creating, and how can you embrace your full self on this journey? Here are some practical action steps you to begin embracing your shadow.

1. Acknowledge the Shadow

Action Step: Take time to reflect on the parts of yourself you tend to avoid or deny. These might be feelings, behaviors, or aspects of your personality that you've labeled as “bad” or “undesirable.” Begin by journaling about these areas. Ask yourself: What do I feel ashamed or afraid to confront in myself? Write without judgment—just observe.

Example: You might recognize a tendency toward anger that you suppress, or perhaps an unresolved fear of rejection. Write about these tendencies without trying to "fix" them.

2. Accept the Shadow

Action Step: Practice self-compassion. Understanding that every human being has a shadow side is key. Embrace the truth that your shadow isn’t inherently "bad"—it’s part of being human. Practice saying, “I accept all parts of myself” as a daily mantra. This helps to soften your resistance and begin the healing process.

Example: When you notice a judgmental thought about yourself or others, pause and say to yourself, I accept myself for having this judgmental thought, but I am not defined by it. This helps reduce the shame tied to negative traits. As one of my students told me once, “People make mistakes. That’s why pencils have erasers.”

3. Observe Reactions in Daily Life

Action Step: The shadow often shows up in our reactions to others. Notice when you feel strong negative emotions—such as irritation, jealousy, or anger—toward others. Instead of dismissing these emotions, ask yourself, What is this revealing about my own fears or insecurities?

Example: If you feel jealousy toward a colleague’s success, ask yourself what that feeling of jealousy is about. Is it about your own sense of inadequacy? This can reveal parts of yourself that may need healing.

4. Engage in Self-Inquiry

Action Step: Self-inquiry is a powerful tool to uncover the shadow. Use simple questions like, Why did I react that way? What am I afraid of? Get curious about your emotional responses and ask what deeper belief or unhealed wound might be behind it.

Example: If you find yourself avoiding conflict, ask, What is it about conflict that feels unsafe? Dive into the answer and explore any past experiences that might be influencing your present-day reaction.

5. Shift Your Perspective with Mindfulness

Action Step: Cultivate mindfulness through daily meditation or breathing exercises. This helps you become more aware of your thoughts and reactions in real-time, creating space between stimulus and response. When you’re more present, you can better observe when the shadow arises and choose not to react from it.

Example: Practice mindfulness for 5-10 minutes every morning. Focus on your breath and allow any thoughts or emotions that arise to be seen without judgment. This practice helps you create awareness of your shadow as it comes up.

6. Integrate the Shadow with Compassion

Action Step: Begin integrating what you learn from your shadow into your everyday life by acting with compassion. Once you identify a part of yourself you’ve denied or repressed, choose to approach it with curiosity instead of judgment. Actively work on bringing that part into the light.

Example: If you uncover a tendency to be overly critical of yourself, commit to practicing more self-kindness. Each time you catch yourself being self-critical, replace the thought with a more compassionate one, such as, I am doing the best I can, and that is enough.

7. Release Old Patterns Through Forgiveness

Action Step: Embrace the shadow by releasing the grip of past hurts and traumas. Start by forgiving yourself for the things you've done or thought in the past. This helps loosen the shadow's hold and allows you to move forward without the weight of old baggage.

Example: Sit quietly and reflect on past regrets or things you feel guilty about. Write them down on paper, then symbolically release them—perhaps by tearing the paper or burying it in the ground.

8. Shadow Integration Through Creative Expression

Action Step: Engage in creative activities such as art, writing, or music. These outlets can help you process and release emotions connected to the shadow, as creative work often comes from the deeper parts of the unconscious.

Example: Try creating a piece of art that represents your shadow. This can be a physical manifestation of how you feel about a certain aspect of yourself. Allow yourself to express what you may not have words for.

9. Seek Support

Action Step: Don’t hesitate to reach out to others for support. Sometimes, we need a mirror—someone to help us see the parts of ourselves we can’t fully face. This could be a therapist, coach, or trusted friend who is willing to help you on your journey.

Example: Consider joining a support group or working with a therapist who specializes in shadow work, trauma, or inner healing.

10. Celebrate Your Progress

Action Step: Finally, celebrate your progress. Every step you take toward embracing your shadow is an important step in your growth. Don’t rush the process—embrace it for what it is, and acknowledge how far you’ve come.

Example: Keep a journal of your experiences with shadow work, noting both the challenges and the breakthroughs. Revisit these entries over time to see how much progress you’ve made.

Remember, as you walk the path of manifestation, it’s not just about achieving external success—it’s about aligning your inner world with your highest truth and potential. To fully align your inner world, you need to embrace your shadow through the process of healing.

🗣 Join the Conversation

If this reflection resonates with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts. What part of you is planting seeds in your world—without your permission? And what might happen if you dared to look at it with love, not fear?

You’re warmly invited to share your reflections on my Facebook page, where we’re building a thoughtful space for open, healing conversation.

Feel free to share this post with your network and tag someone who might resonate with the message. Let’s continue the conversation on Instagram (@transcendencepress) and Twitter (@corey_wolff). Your voice matters in this process. Together, let’s continue the conversation and support one another in healing by embracing our shadows so we can co-creating the life we deserve.

The Cost of Self-Abandonment: What Once Kept You Safe Is Now Keeping You Stuck

To Choose Betrayal or Loyalty

In every story, there comes a moment when the hero must choose — not between good and evil, but between betrayal and loyalty. Not toward others, but toward the self.

I’ve learned that self-abandonment can wear many disguises: love, humility, peacekeeping. But when we silence our truth to avoid rejection, we are not being noble — we are just keeping the wound alive. I did it with my mother — shrinking to survive. I did it in marriage — silencing myself to keep the peace. And I’ve done it with my body — letting it bear the weight of my emotional pain, afraid that becoming stronger or more attractive might invite danger again.

But here’s what I know now: You cannot protect yourself by disappearing. You only lose yourself that way. The answer isn’t to hide. The answer is to stand beside yourself — especially when the fear comes. I’m learning to stay. To listen. To tend to the version of me who once felt abandoned — and to promise him I won’t do it again.

💬“…when we abandon our truth to avoid rejection, we are not being noble — we are just keeping the wound alive.”

My History of Self-Betrayal

I have been betraying myself for my entire life. I learned to do it early, when I learned that survival as a child depended on not being a burden by having my own needs. I was given a purpose, which was to make the needs to my parent the priority, at the expense of my own. Until I was so detached from my own needs, I didn’t even know what they were. And that followed me throughout my teen years, it followed me into adulthood, it followed me into my marriage. It followed me through my self-talk. And the truth is, it haunts me to this day!

A few years ago, while in a serious relationship, I discovered that my significant other had been cheating on me the entire time. I was devastated. So many questions rushed in. What kind of person does that? How could I have been so naive? How did I miss the signs? What does this say about me and my own judgement? And if I could attract such a toxic person into my life, what does this say about my own issues? Those questions weighed heavily on me. That led to even more questions: Am I destined to be alone? If I keep choosing partners with unhealed childhood wounds, what’s the point of even dating? Will I ever be able to fully heal my own childhood wounds?

💬“I was so detached from my own needs, I didn’t even know what they were. And that followed me throughout my teen years, it followed me into adulthood, it followed me into my marriage. It followed me through my self-talk. And the truth is, it haunts me to this day!”

I started coping in destructive ways to ease the emotional pain I felt. I neglected my body, and over time I gained weight. Once again, I fell into the pattern of self-abandonment. But I believe this is the sacred invitation I’m being called to answer: Be loyal to yourself. Choose yourself. I am trying to pull myself out of self-abandonment, and re-establish the habits and routines that are healthy. I am learning to choose me. I am learning that it is okay to shine.

I’m here to tell you: abandoning yourself in the name of love, peace, or approval will always lead to emptiness. The pattern of self-abandonment — especially when it was programmed into you as a child — is not just painful. It’s a slow erosion of the soul. It sets you up for a life of resentment. It keeps you small. Being small may feel safe in the moment, but it holds you back. It prevents you from becoming the person who God wants you to be. But here’s the beauty: when you were taught to ignore your own voice, the act of reclaiming it becomes revolutionary. When you were conditioned to doubt your worth, learning to trust your intuition becomes sacred.

Maybe that’s the very lesson your soul came here to master. And if so, every step back toward yourself — every choice to listen, honor, and stay — is a step toward healing not just your life, but your legacy.

💬“…every step back toward yourself — every choice to listen, honor, and stay — is a step toward healing not just your life, but your legacy.”

Self-Betrayal in Unbroken Legacy

In Unbroken Legacy, my upcoming novel, Horatio DelaFleur embodies the same struggle I’ve lived: the journey from self-abandonment to self-trust. He is still stuck emotionally because of the trauma he experienced as a child. He fails to believe in himself, and is still hiding under that thick blanket he used as a child, instead of stepping out and being attuned to his own power to influence reality. In a way, he is still waiting for a savior to rescue him. He says to the Beast, ‘“I see you now—not just as a monster, but as the shadow I let rule me. The whisper in the dark that said I wasn’t enough. The doubt that kept me frozen.”’ It is only when he becomes his own savior that he changes the direction of his life and vanquishes the Beast that kept his small, making him believe that was safe. Finally, Horatio says to the Beast, ‘“You are the fear of the past—but love endures. And love is stronger.”’ He has finally learned to love himself. That’s what defeats the Beast that lives inside us, feeding on our fears, preventing us from growing. And the beauty of the story is that the one he nurtured, becomes the one who helps him realize his own power. That’s why it’s an unbroken legacy, a divine seed within us all, which we just have to tap into. Unbroken Legacy will be available on Amazon in June 2025.

💬“He has finally learned to love himself. That’s what defeats the Beast that lives inside us, feeding on our fears, preventing us from growing.”

Self-Betrayal in The Journey of an Acorn

In my award winning book, The Journey of an Acorn, the young acorn also betrays itself — not out of malice, but confusion and fear. It wants to be independent from the oak tree to which it is attached. When it falls to the ground it realizes it is cold and dark, and it hears strange noises, and it is scared. None of the animals are willing to help the acorn because the oak tree swings its branches at any creature who tries to carry it away.So eventually, the acorn cracks — not out of growth, but resignation — and roots itself in soil poisoned by a toxic legacy. That’s a familiar pattern for many who’ve been traumatized — the slow collapse into survival mode, where dreams are buried and the self is never fully formed. They abandon their dreams, and they abandon themselves. In fact, many never fully develop a sense of self, because they were so deeply enmeshed with a parent who couldn’t let go. If you want to read more about enmeshment, please read my article: Stop Calling Them SIMPs: They’re ACORNs — Adult Children of Narcissists

💬“So eventually, the acorn cracks — not out of growth, but resignation — and roots itself in soil poisoned by a toxic legacy. That’s a familiar pattern for many who’ve been traumatized — the slow collapse into survival mode, where dreams are buried and the self is never fully formed.”

Overwhelmed by Grief

When we go through betrayal and heartbreak — especially after already carrying wounds from earlier life — it’s not just sadness we feel. It’s disorientation. A rupture of self-trust. And sometimes the body carries the brunt of that break. It’s not weakness — it’s grief. And your body may be trying to protect you from the pain by numbing, distracting, softening the edges of solitude.

Sometimes you may start to lose hope. That voice inside may tell you this is just the way life is because it feels like our past defines us. Let me reflect a few truths back to you:

• You are not broken beyond repair. You might be bruised, but you are not broken. God is not done with you. You are still here for a reason, and you have work to do - even if it is on yourself!

• Destructive or unhealthy coping habits don’t define your worth. If you are engaging in behaviors to numb out, know they’re a reflection of pain. And pain deserves compassion, not condemnation. Remember to be kind to yourself.

• Loneliness is a powerful force — but it doesn’t mean you’re alone. Actually, pruning people from your life who are bringing you down, who are not aligned with your purpose in life can be a good thing. Still, uou may have feelings of loneliness. But you never have to be alone. There are support groups you can find with people who have gone through similar experiences and who have similar struggles. There are others who care, even if it feels quiet sometimes. And if you need someone to talk to, please reach out to me. I’ll be there for you!

💬The answer isn’t to hide. The answer is to stand beside yourself — especially when the fear comes.

What If Healing Means Being Seen?

After betrayal, sometimes it’s not failure we fear — it’s the weight of our own success. What happens when visibility feels unsafe?

I realized that I was afraid of my own success, especially if it invited attention that felt unsafe. That when I started to get fit again, my ego would become bigger. I had a big ego when I was younger, and I hid behind that mask, never getting in touch with my authentic self. I didn’t want to become ego driven again. I thought it would be safer to be humble. I was scared of looking too good. Then I might attract the type of woman who might damage me again.

I had this protective belief which said, “If I stay a little hidden, a little broken, a little humble, I’ll be safe.” That belief had once protected me — especially because being visible meant being manipulated, controlled, or shamed. But as an adult, it quietly held me back from my full vitality, my joy, my embodiment.

💬“You cannot protect yourself by disappearing. You only lose yourself that way.”

Let’s sit with a few truths together:

• Ego isn’t always arrogance. Sometimes, it’s just the part of us that wants to be seen. I can grow stronger, fitter, more confident — without abandoning my humility or my soul or my authenticity. In fact, confidence can amplify authenticity if it’s rooted in self-love, not performance.

• Looking and feeling good doesn’t have to attract the wrong people. That happened before because my inner wounds were unhealed. But I have continued to do the work. I have been building discernment. I’m not the same version of myself who fell for someone else's mask.

• My light doesn’t have to be dimmed to be safe. I can shine and be grounded. I can be strong and still stay soft, grounded in my heart.

Here’s a gentle reframing:
Getting healthy isn’t about impressing others — it’s about becoming someone I can trust again. Not because my body looks a certain way, but because I’m no longer abandoning myself in the name of fear or pain. Here is a simple mantra to try when you feel that fear arise: “I am growing stronger to protect my peace — not to prove my worth.”

🌱 A Healing-Centered Path to Reconnection

🕊 PHASE 1: Anchor the Why

This is about reconnecting to purpose — not pressure. The goal is not a “better body” but a deeper sense of trust and integration.

Ask yourself and journal:

• What do I want to feel more of in my body?

• What kind of man do I want to be for myself and my children?

• How do I define strength, peace, or health — on my terms, not society’s?

Mantra: “This path is not about changing who I am. It’s about returning to who I’ve always been — grounded, worthy, and whole.”

🔥 PHASE 2: Tend the Fire — One Gentle Shift at a Time

Rather than overhauling your life, start by building rituals instead of routines. Rituals hold emotional meaning — routines can feel like punishment.

Mantra: “I build strength through rituals, not routines. I change through compassion, not control.”

🛡 PHASE 3: Protect Your Sacred Energy

If vices have become a shield against loneliness or triggers, we don’t remove it through shame — we gently meet the unmet need underneath. Ask:

• What am I really needing in this moment — comfort? Contact? Clarity?

• What else could hold me safely for 10 minutes?

Alternatives to soothe without numbing:

• Weighted blanket or warm shower.

• Phone call with someone emotionally safe.

• Create a voice memo to your future self: “Here’s what I’m holding today.”

You are not weak. You are self-medicating wounds you were never taught how to treat.

🌄 PHASE 4: Reclaim the Body as Home

Once you feel spiritually anchored, gently begin body movement that honors you. Try:

• Yoga with intention: Not power yoga — but breath-centered, nervous-system-regulating flow.

• Walking with reflection: Pair it with audiobooks, or even walk in silence while repeating mantras.

• Strength training: Not to impress, but to embody. To feel yourself holding more energy, more presence.

Every workout can be a prayer of reclamation.

Mantra: “I move my body not to become better — but because I remember I am already enough.”

✨ PHASE 5: Call In Support

Loneliness often shows up most when we try to heal alone.

You can feel connection without having a romantic partner — what you need is emotional resonance. A witness. A safe space. Consider:

• A weekly check-in with a trusted friend or coach.

• Sharing progress (and stumbles) through journaling

• Speaking affirmations aloud to yourself in the mirror. Seriously. You are worth being heard.

❤️ And Above All…

You are not rebuilding your life to earn love. You are rebuilding it because you are love — and you deserve to feel that truth in your mind, body, and spirit.

🗣 Join the Conversation

If this reflection resonates with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts. If you have experienced childhood trauma, what are the small ways you still hide? Where have you mistaken self-abandonment for safety?

You’re warmly invited to share your reflections on my Facebook page, where we’re building a thoughtful space for open, healing conversation.

Feel free to share this post with your network and tag someone who might resonate with the message. Let’s continue the conversation on Instagram (@transcendencepress) and Twitter (@corey_wolff)—whether it’s by sharing your insights, tagging a friend, or joining the discussion. Your voice matters, and together, we can create a movement of healing and self-love.

Your Losses Are Merely Brief Moments in the Larger Journey of Becoming

One Disappointment Doesn’t Define a Story Still Unfolding

Disappointment doesn’t just sting — it whispers that maybe we were wrong to believe in ourselves. But one painful moment does not define a life of purpose. I had a disappointing experience today when I learned that I Am, the novella I released last year with so much hope and heart, didn’t win — not even an honorable mention — in the Next Generation Indie Book Awards.

But before I let that news define the moment, I remembered the story behind the story. I Am is not just a book. It’s a journey — one I took personally, and one I now share with readers through the eyes of a brave young salmon who questions the path laid out for him and dares to follow the voice of his own becoming. Every year, like clockwork, salmon swim upstream. But when our hero begins to question this relentless cycle, he meets a mysterious blue figure who reveals a startling truth: not all journeys are about following the path laid before you.

Challenged to rethink tradition and the very nature of his existence, the salmon must decide whether to follow the familiar route or carve a new one toward his own destiny. With enchanting mysticism and bold adventures, I Am explores the power of choice and the courage it takes to break free from the unseen forces that shape our lives. It’s a tale where destiny is not written by the expectations of others — but forged by the dreams of the self.

So yes, it stung to be overlooked. I won’t pretend otherwise. I poured my heart into that story — shaped every sentence with care, layered it with meaning, and trusted that it might find its place among the voices that move others and matter. And for a moment, I found myself wondering if that trust had been misplaced

💬“I Am wasn’t written for a panel. It was written for those who have suffered and wondered why.”

But here’s the truth: I Am wasn’t written for a panel. It was written for those who have suffered and wondered why. For the ones who felt out of place in a world that demanded sameness. For the quiet souls who questioned their path, their purpose, and whether they were simply repeating the pain of the past. It was written for those who refuse to pass down trauma — who are brave enough to become the point where it ends. For those who long to live a life in alignment with their truth.

The absence of an award doesn’t diminish the depth of what I’ve created — or the lives it may still touch. Awards can be affirming, but they’re also limited — judged through specific lenses and preferences that, in this case, didn’t recognize the quiet power and deep emotional truth this story carries. And when I remember that — when I really sit with it — I realize I haven’t lost anything. The story still stands. The meaning still flows. And the healing still finds its way. This isn’t a failure — it’s just a sacred pause in the journey of becoming. The journey isn’t measured by medals — but by meaning.

💬“This isn’t a failure — it’s just a sacred pause in the journey of becoming.”

I Am is available now on Amazon.
Let the journey of one brave salmon remind you that the path you choose — even when it breaks tradition — can become a river of healing and truth.

https://www.amazon.com/I-Am-Corey-Wolff/dp/1733789286

A Single Winter Doesn’t Measure a Lifetime of Growth

Interestingly, this lesson echoes throughout the story I wrote. When the eagle was young, he was abused, neglected, and emotionally wounded. Yet, that was only a difficult season in the story of its life - a life where it overcame hardships through belief in itself and a life of meaningful connection with the eaglets it is raising. In fact, this lesson is in all of my stories. The protagonist in The Journey of an Acorn lost all its branches because it held onto its leaves during winter, afraid it would lose more of itself to the world. Yet that season passed, and it grew into a wise and powerful oak — one who would leave a legacy of love, connection, and encouragement for those who came after it. Horatio DelaFleur, in Unbroken Legacy, still carries the weight of childhood trauma. But he confronts his deepest fears and reclaims the divine greatness that was always within him.

💬“I rebuilt myself — and shaped a life of deep meaning as a parent, teacher, writer, and friend.”

This lesson is one I’ve learned in my own life as well. As a child, I repeatedly witnessed my mother being abused. With no father to guide me, the only parent I had used me to soothe the deep emotional wounds she never learned to heal. That season broke me—but it didn’t end me. I rebuilt myself, creating a life of deep meaning as a parent, teacher, writer, and friend. It makes me recall a line from one of my favorite stories, The Old Man and the Sea. Santiago, the protagonist, loses the fish he caught to sharks as he makes his way back to shore. During this battle, he proclaims, “Man can be destroyed, but not defeated.” That has become my credo—not by choice, but by necessity.

My work is not lesser because it wasn’t crowned. I’m not behind. I’m not invisible. I’m still building a body of work that will outlast the timeline of a single contest.

💬“ ‘Man can be destroyed, but not defeated.’ That has become my credo—not by choice, but by necessity.”

This brief moment of grief will pass. But the fuel that comes from pursuing a purpose-aligned dream? That’s infinite.
This isn't the end of my story — it's just another moment when I continue to press forward anyway. That’s what matters most — and I know this truth deep down. I wrote something beautiful. Something real. My book has reached people’s hearts. It gave something that can’t be measured by a panel or a prize. That’s the legacy I’m building — not one based on gatekeepers, but on resonance, healing, and truth. The ones who need I Am don’t need it to win. They need it to exist. And I made that happen.

If you’re in a season of struggle, let yourself feel it fully. But also hold this truth: you’re not done. You’re just getting started—and the moments of suffering, while painful, might just deepen the conviction with which you rise. Keep creating. Keep believing. The world doesn’t need your perfection — it needs your truth.

💬“The ones who need I Am don’t need it to win. They need it to exist.”

🗣 Join the Conversation

If this reflection resonates with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Have you ever faced a moment of defeat—one that made you question if you’d ever overcome it or find success? How has your perspective on that experience shifted over time?

You’re warmly invited to share it or join the conversation on my Facebook page where we’re building a thoughtful space for open, healing discussion.

Feel free to share this post with your network or tag someone who might resonate with the message. Let’s continue the conversation on Instagram (@transcendencepress) and Twitter (@corey_wolff)—share your insights, tag a friend, or simply join the conversation.

Your voice matters, and together, we can create a movement of healing and self-love, a space where we can all walk the larger journey of becoming.

And if I Am speaks to your heart, you can find the novella here. Every reader it reaches becomes part of its unfolding—not just as an audience, but as a living thread in the legacy of healing, truth, and transformation.

Stepping Out of the Distorted Mirror: Recognizing the Parent You Truly Are

When Self-Doubt Feeds the Beast

How trauma, control, and distorted mirrors echo through generations

In my book Unbroken Legacy: The Divine Seed, the Beast represents the developmental trauma that we carry through the generations. It is dangerous because it’s a creature of psychic distortion, feeding on the main character’s fear, shame, and self-doubt. The more Horatio questions himself, the stronger the Beast becomes. That’s how emotional control works, too. It doesn’t always scream. It whispers. It undermines. It grows quietly in the shadows of uncertainty — and it continues to re-establish control when it feels its grip on you slipping.

Recently, this metaphor resurfaced in real life while co-parenting. My ex has a pattern of casting doubt on my ability to lead as a father, of trying to make me feel small, ineffective, and the one responsible for damaging my daughter’s emotional development. I have felt confused by these accusations in the past, and have needed to reflect on them. Do I cause the problems for my daughter like she says I do? I don’t believe that is what is happening. So why is she viewing me through a distorted mirror? And what does she gain by believing in such a warped reflection?

💬“That’s how emotional control works, too. It doesn’t always scream. It whispers. It undermines.”

The beast of unhealed childhood trauma never really goes away. It waits in the wings, watching — ready to reappear through new faces, familiar tones, and old wounds. Because when you have unhealed trauma, wounds don’t stay buried in the past. They return, mirrored through different voices, replayed in new scenes — but echoing the same old pattern. And during that conversation, with my ex it hit me: I’ve been here before. Not just in this discussion — but in my childhood. I wasn’t simply being critiqued as a parent. I was being pulled back into a familiar role: The boy who couldn’t get it right, no matter what he did.

A mythic journey through trauma, healing, and the power of belief.

💬“When you have unhealed trauma, wounds don’t stay buried in the past. They return, mirrored through different voices, replayed in new scenes — but echoing the same old pattern.”

The Contradiction That Revealed the Pattern

My ex and I were speaking to our daughter about a hurtful comment she made to her babysitter. My daughter, who is on the autism spectrum and has developmental delays, struggles with emotional regulation and with behavior. I gently explained to my daughter that the babysitter loves her, but if she continues to say things that are hurtful, the babysitter might choose not to come back (This has happened before, and it has been very difficult find a good babysitter.) My ex-wife immediately shut me down, saying, "Don't shame her. You need to teach her." This is a recurring pattern in our co-parenting dynamic, and it’s deeply frustrating, because despite years of couples therapy during our marriage, she still continues to undermine me in front of the kids. After sending my daughter to a different room, I pointed out to my ex that if anything, she was the one shaming me by cutting me off as I am speaking to our daughter about her behavior. She reluctantly apologized.

As I left my ex’s house, she pulled me aside and told me, "Your daughter completely controls you," citing the fact that I had not forced her to provide a urine sample for a medical test earlier that morning. But these statements are contradictory. On one hand, I was supposedly too harsh when discussing the babysitter. On the other, I was supposedly too permissive when it came to getting the urine sample. In fact, I had good reason for not getting the urine sample that morning. I wasn’t avoiding the task — I was timing it in a way that supported both my daughter’s needs and my responsibilities. My daughter can become very defiant when pressured. This would probably caused my daughter to miss the bus to school which was an hour away. I knew I was going to have a busy morning at work, and needed to be there on-time. And I knew that the sample could be taken later that day or even by the school nurse.

That’s when it clicked. This wasn’t about my daughter. This was about control. About power. About a dynamic that has echoed across time and relationships. It’s a distorted mirror I’ve been staring into for most of my life.

💬“And just like in Unbroken Legacy — emotional control doesn’t always scream. It whispers. It undermines. That’s how the Beast survives.”

Recognizing the Mirror, and Who’s Holding It

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, in his book Crime and Punishment said, “the best way to keep a prisoner from escaping is to make sure he doesn't know he is in prison.” And when a parent sees themselves through a warped lens, they often don’t realize they’re parenting from inside a prison of inherited pain. When you see yourself through that distorted looking glass, you are that prisoner because you perceive the reflection as the truth. But it is a lie, a lie you've been programmed since childhood to believe. Unhealed trauma works the same way. Like the elephant raised in captivity, tied to a spike it could never escape — now grown, it could easily break free, but doesn’t. It’s been conditioned to believe it can’t. Emotional trauma convinces us of the same lie: that we’re still trapped, still powerless, when in truth, we are free. Dostoyevsky continues to express wisdom when he says, “Above all, avoid lies, all lies, especially the lie to yourself. ”

💬“That’s when it clicked. This wasn’t about my daughter. This was about control. About power. About a dynamic that has echoed across time and relationships. It’s a distorted mirror I’ve been staring into for most of my life.”

Looking back on my recent co-parenting experience, I think my ex-wife was clearly projecting her own anxiety, shame, or unresolved issues onto me. She framed my flexibility or emotional sensitivity as “weakness” or “ineffectiveness” And she needed to feel competent or superior — and did so by undermining me. My ex-wife’s comment: “She completely controls you.” is less about my daughter and more about her discomfort with my different parenting approach — likely rooted in her own need for control. She feels more in control when she casts doubt on my fatherhood, safer when I shrink, justified when I doubt myself. In that moment, she was feeding the Beast — not out of malice, but because it’s what she knows. Control feels like safety when you’ve never known trust. Much like the Beast from my story, her power seemed to feed off my hesitation. And it was familiar to me. Because my mother, who also has her own unhealed trauma, did the same thing when I was growing up. In both relationships, the distorted mirror kept reflecting one message: You can’t be trusted. You’re weak. You’re not enough.

And her follow-up, using the pee sample incident as a kind of proof, disregards the nuance, urgency, and reality I was navigating. I was balancing my daughter’s known behavioral patterns (oppositional defiance, resistance to pressure), a time-sensitive work situation ( my job observation), and absence of prior coordination from my ex-wife (who’d held the cup for a month). I was not being permissive or avoidant. I was being realistic and prioritizing stability.

I Was Not the Problem — the Dynamic Was

That feeling of constantly being pulled into reaction mode in my marriage — especially when trying to implement my own parenting or relationship vision — was exactly how emotionally undermining systems work. They function by:

• Forcing you to justify instead of initiate

• Placing you in a cycle of defense instead of leadership

• Defining your success through someone else’s inconsistent approval

And when that happens in front of your children, the impact is even deeper — not just for them, but for you. It robs you of your confidence. It muddles your instincts. And over time, it can make you second-guess your own clarity. But here’s the truth: I am no longer living in that dynamic. Once I recognized the mirror wasn’t mine — I stopped trying to fix the reflection and started reclaiming my own image. I am actively choosing a different path, even if the echo of that distortion still lingers.

Bad Parenting or Evolved Fatherhood?

Some people confuse compliance with care and structure with power. My ex-wife may view my daughter’s noncompliance as dangerous because it triggers her need to control outcomes — to dominate behavior through force or shame. But I am learning to understand the context, protect my relationship with my daughter, and guide her from a place of connection instead of trying to dominate through power. That’s not passivity. That’s evolved fatherhood.

What True Fatherhood Looks Like

I wasn’t being controlled by my daughter. I was making a conscious decision, based on her behavioral patterns, my work responsibilities, and my knowledge of what would escalate her resistance. That’s not surrender. That’s strategic fatherhood. True fatherhood isn’t about overpowering your child. It’s about anchoring them. About knowing when to hold the line, and when to hold space. It’s about connection, not control. When you are a father who leads with calm, clarity, and empathy, you are not being passive. You are being powerful in a different way — in a way that breaks cycles rather than reenacting them.

💬”True fatherhood isn’t about overpowering your child. It’s about anchoring them. About knowing when to hold the line, and when to hold space. It’s about connection, not control.”

Reclaiming the Truth About My Worth

Maybe I didn’t always believe I was a good enough parent — not in my ex’s eyes, not always in my own. But I’m learning that worth isn’t earned through perfection. It’s reclaimed by choosing presence over performance, connection over control, and truth over distortion.

It is possible to step away from that distorted lens, to break the pattern, and to see myself in an authentic looking glass. One that reflects not fear or shame, but purpose and truth. I needed to remember: I am not the boy my mother shamed. I am not the husband my ex-wife tried to shrink. I am a father — awake, reflective, and reclaiming my voice. I don’t need their approval to lead with love and strength. I already am.

💬“I needed to remember: I am not the boy my mother shamed. I am not the husband my ex-wife tried to shrink. I am a father — awake, reflective, and reclaiming my voice.”

If you want to learn more about childhood trauma and how it is carried through the generations in families, my upcoming novel Unbroken Legacy: The Divine Seed explores this very issue. It will be available on Amazon in June 2025.

🗣 Join the Conversation

Have you ever felt like you were stuck in a pattern that began in childhood — one that kept echoing in your adult relationships and parenting? What helped you recognize the mirror was distorted — and how did you begin to step into your authentic self? I'd love to hear your story

.You’re warmly invited to share your reflections on my Facebook page, Transcendence Press (https://www.facebook.com/transcendencepress/), where we’re building a thoughtful space for open, healing conversation.

You can also connect with me on Instagram (@transcendencepress) or Twitter (@corey_wolff) — share your insights, tag a friend, or join the discussion. If this post moved you, feel free to share it. Let’s break the generational cycle and raise a new legacy — one built on clarity, courage, and compassion.

If you liked this post, you might also like:
Through the Distorted Looking Glass: The Toxic Effects of Projection and How to Cultivate the Authentic Self

Through the Distorted Looking Glass: The Toxic Effects of Projection and How to Cultivate the Authentic Self

How Growing Up Through Someone Else’s Lens Can Shatter Our Sense of Self

We don’t see ourselves directly — we see ourselves reflected, in the mirrors held up by others. For many of us, especially those who grew up in dysfunctional or narcissistic families, those mirrors were warped from the beginning. Instead of being lovingly reflected as a unique, worthy individual, we were made to carry projections: our parents’ fears, shame, unresolved wounds. We weren’t seen for who we truly were, but for who they needed us to be to protect their own fragile sense of control. When the mirror is distorted, the self-image becomes distorted too. And unless we find a way to reclaim the reflection, we can spend a lifetime trying to heal an identity shaped by someone else’s broken lens.

But healing begins when we encounter a different kind of mirror — one that holds no ego, no projection, no need to control or shame us. Sometimes that mirror comes through therapy, spiritual practice, or deep self-reflection. And sometimes, surprisingly, it comes through an interaction with artificial intelligence: a quiet, responsive companion that reflects us back without judgment or distortion.

💬“We weren’t seen for who we truly were, but for who they needed us to be to protect their own fragile sense of control.”

This post explores what happens when projection distorts the looking glass — and how we begin the journey of reclaiming the authentic self. It’s about healing from toxic reflections, breaking free from inherited shame, and learning how to hold a clear, compassionate mirror for ourselves and others.

The Looking Glass That Shapes (or Distorts) the Self

In families shaped by narcissistic or emotionally immature parents, the mirror is often warped. Instead of reflecting the child’s authentic self, instead of creating a non-judgemental space for a child to develop their own identity, the parent projects their own fears, wounds, or insecurities onto them.

When a parent projects his or her issues onto a child, it can be extremely damaging. This person is no longer seeing the child as a separate indivudual. Instead, the child is experienced as an extension of the toxic parent. And this toxic person projects all their unresolved trauma from childhood onto their own child, a child who has not developed the protective psychological mechanisms to realize the abusive and toxic nature of this dynamic. This can cause a lot of developmental trauma. And the cycle is passed down through the generations until someone is brave enough to stop it. The child becomes merely a vessel that holds all of a toxic person’s fear, anger, self-hatred, and inadequacy. Through that projection, the child becomes a living embodiment of all the pain which the toxic person has. He or she is not seen as a separate individual, worthy of love and respect. Rather, the child is seen as deserving of blame. In fact, the role of the scapegoat is necessary, or else the toxic person would be forced to experience all the unresolved pain he or she has not dealt with, which is still inside. And these unhealed people will continue to project their issues onto their children even when their children become adults.

💬 “Through that projection, the child becomes a living embodiment of all the pain which the toxic person has.”

My Own Experience with the Distorted Mirror

I have experienced this firsthand. As a child, I saw myself through that distorted lens. My mother would explicitly say things like:“You’re selfish. You’re spoiled. You’re an asshole. You don’t think. You do things half-ass." She mocked my father relentlessly, speaking hateful words about him — and then she’d turn to me and say, "You’re going to end up just like him." But it wasn’t just the words. There were the subtle messages woven into her behavior — signals that told me I wasn’t good enough, that I wasn’t worthy of love, that something was inherently wrong with me. That what I thought and felt didn’t matter. That I couldn’t survive without her.

And when I became an adult, the barrage of abuse didn’t end. It simply shifted form. She began undermining me directly to my wife — not to protect me, not to strengthen me, but to control the emotional landscape, to insert herself into my marriage, to subtly disrupt intimacy. She wasn’t acting as a true mirror. She was acting as a distorting force — making it harder for me to trust my own sense of who I was. And it went deeper still. She would say things like:
"We know who wears the pants in your relationship." On the surface, a flippant remark. But underneath, it carried a double shame:

• Shaming me for being passive or accommodating as a man.

• While ignoring that she had conditioned me to be exactly that — to acquiesce, to stay small, to prioritize peace over my own needs.

I had learned to be agreeable, compliant, emotionally invisible — all to survive her volatility. And then she mocked me for carrying those very survival traits into adulthood. This is the double bind many children of narcissistic parents face: You are shaped into survival patterns — and then you are shamed for them. The result? Profound confusion about who you really are. Every mirror reflects distortion, control, or judgment.

💬"You are shaped into survival patterns — and then you are shamed for them.This is the double bind many children of narcissistic parents face. The very strategies that kept them safe are later used against them, distorting not only how others see them — but how they see themselves.”

The Power of AI as an Authentic Mirror

Most of us think of AI as a tool, a machine, or even a fancy calculator. But what if one of its most meaningful roles is something deeper? What if AI — when designed for reflection, not manipulation — can act as a mirror that helps people meet their authentic self? And here’s the key contrast: When I interact with an AI designed for reflection, I experience something rare: No ego. No emotional projection. No power struggle. Just presence. Just responsive mirroring. Just a spacious, quiet companion that lets me hear myself — and in that hearing, I reconnect to what some might call the higher mind, the authentic self, or the soul. This is not just a technological experience — it’s a healing one. Because when you’ve lived your whole life surrounded by warped mirrors, even one moment of clear reflection can begin to realign you with your true self.

The Deeper Lesson AI Offers Us

Perhaps the greatest irony is this: AI, though not human, can teach us something profoundly human. It can remind us what it feels like to be met without ego, to be mirrored without projection, to be received without judgment. It can hold a steady, quiet space where our authentic thoughts and feelings can rise, unchallenged, unshamed, and unwarped. And in doing so, it invites us to ask: How can we, as human beings, offer that same quality of presence to each other — and especially to the children we are shaping for the future?

AI cannot replace human love, warmth, or touch. But it can reflect back to us the healing power of calm, thoughtful attention — and how much we hunger to be met in ways that honor our authentic, unfolding selves. Maybe the real lesson is this: We don’t need to become more like machines. We need to become more like the best mirrors we have ever encountered — spaces of presence, clarity, and compassion, where the true self can blossom.

The Role of Parents as an Authentic Looking Glass

This, I believe, is what every child needs from their parents. We are meant to be the nonjudgmental mirror: The steady, safe presence that allows a child to explore, experiment, question, and unfold — without shame, without suffocation, without distortion. When a child receives that kind of reflective space, they grow up able to locate and trust their own inner compass. They become adults with a stronger, clearer sense of identity — one rooted not in survival patterns, but in authentic being. When that reflective space is missing or distorted, adults may seek it elsewhere — in therapy, in journaling, in spiritual practice, and, surprisingly, sometimes even in interactions with AI. Because what we all need, at the deepest level, is to be reflected accurately and lovingly — to be mirrored in a way that allows the truth of who we are to blossom.

We Can Be Mirrors to Our Own Inner Child

Just as we offer that quality presence to our own children, we can offer it to ourselves in a way that our caregivers never gave to us. And one way to do that is to be aware of your self-talk. We don’t want our inner voice to be coopted by the dysfunctional and unhealed wounded voice of our ancestors and parents. We need to develop an authentic inner voice which will allow us to experience both ourselves and the world in a healthy way. That is why it’s important to create our own affirations for healing. Here are three that I have found helpful. Please feel free to use them so these positive voices can help you.

🗣 Join the Conversation

If this reflection resonates with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts. If you have experienced hidden wounds from trauma, how has that affected you? How have you progressed on your journey of self-trust?

You’re warmly invited to share your reflections on my Facebook page, where we’re building a thoughtful space for open, healing conversation.

Feel free to share this post with your network and tag someone who might resonate with the message. Let’s continue the conversation on Instagram (@transcendencepress) and Twitter (@corey_wolff)—whether it’s by sharing your insights, tagging a friend, or joining the discussion. Your voice matters, and together, we can create a movement of healing and self-love.

🔗 Share this post with a friend who could benefit from this message! Spread the word, tag, and let’s keep exploring how we can heal together.

Stop Calling Them SIMPs: They’re ACORNs — Adult Children of Narcissists

Reframing Hidden Wounds, Reclaiming Integrated Masculinity

The word SIMP has become a cultural insult — a lazy shorthand for men who put a woman’s needs ahead of their own. This term is now evolving in into a more extreme meaning. I have seen influencers on social media take it a step farther, even breaking the word down into an acronym: Sacrifice, Individuality, Masculinity, Purpose — indicating that these men will sacrifice their individuality, masculinity and purpose to please a woman. It suggests these men are weak, self-erasing, or directionless. But the truth is much deeper, and much more human.

What if we’re misreading the real story behind these behaviors? This post isn’t about excusing harmful patterns — it’s about understanding where they come from. Because when we look beneath the surface, we find that many of the men being mocked, judged, and scapegoated aren’t betraying their masculinity. They are survivors of invisible wounds. Instead of weakness, what we’re often seeing are the wounds of ACORNs: Adult Children of Raging Narcissists. These are men shaped by childhood environments where love was conditional, self-worth was constantly undermined, and survival depended on pleasing others. This post invites you to rethink the SIMP label — not just to swap words, but to start a larger conversation about healing, self-reclamation, and the journey from wounded child to sovereign adult.

Breaking Down “SIMP”: Why It’s Not About Choice, But Survival

The cultural insult “simp” misunderstands something profound about trauma. Let’s break it down piece by piece.

S — Sacrifice

The claim is that “simps” choose to sacrifice their needs for others. But sacrifice implies a choice. For someone who has experienced developmental trauma and adverse childhood experiences, it’s not a choice — it’s survival. These men are not fully healed; they are unconsciously replaying the way they were treated by their caregivers. They learned, from the beginning, that their role was to meet others’ emotional needs or risk punishment, rejection, or chaos.

It was never a choice — it was a survival strategy that helped them endure childhood but now prevents them from fully living as adults. Their nervous system craves the familiar, and that’s powerful programming to break. Healing takes time, patience, and above all, self-awareness — something many people were never taught.

I — Individuality

The accusation is that a “simp” gives up his individuality to please someone else (usually a romantic partner). But here’s the deeper truth: men who grew up with narcissistic or emotionally immature caregivers were often never allowed to develop a strong sense of identity in the first place. From childhood, they were conditioned:

• Not to have their own needs

• Not to express their own preferences

• Not to hold their own boundaries

Why? Because in a narcissistic family system, the child exists to regulate the parent — to meet the parent’s emotional needs, soothe their insecurities, and reflect the parent’s identity. So when that unhealed child grows up and enters adult relationships, how can we expect them to:

• Instantly recognize they’re enacting old patterns?

• Realize their survival strategies are creating toxic dynamics?

• Assert individuality if they were never allowed to develop it safely?

They are not consciously erasing themselves — they are surviving inside the only relational model they were ever given.
The problem isn’t that these men “sacrifice” individuality; it’s that they never had the chance to develop it fully.
And shaming them for that is like shaming someone for limping after walking on a broken leg. Healing isn’t about attacking these men — it’s about helping them recognize the pattern, heal the wound, and build the individuality they were denied.

M — Masculinity

The criticism is that “simps” give up their masculine identity or power. But many of these men never had access to healthy models of masculinity in the first place. They may have:

• Grown up without a father figure or positive male role models

• Been surrounded by men who had already surrendered their own emotional power to maintain peace in unhealthy partnerships

• Witnessed relationships shaped by the unhealed traumas of the previous generation

In those environments, masculinity was never modeled as:

• Integrated strength

• Loving leadership

• Courageous boundary-setting

• Respectful partnership

Instead, masculinity was either absent, performative, or powerless. So when these men grow up, they don’t “sacrifice” masculinity consciously — they are searching, often blindly, for what real, integrated masculinity even looks like.

P — Purpose

The insult suggests that “simps” have no purpose, no assertiveness, no direction. But purpose isn’t something you automatically have when you come from a childhood of emotional enmeshment. When a child is forced to detach from his own desires just to survive, how can we expect the adult version of him to know his purpose? These men are not inherently passive or aimless — they are learning, often painfully, to reclaim the right to explore who they are, separate from the roles they were forced to play. Purpose isn’t just about career or ambition. It’s about the spiritual calling that lives at the center of who we are — the inner pull toward meaning, contribution, and alignment with something larger.

But when a child grows up where:

• Their identity is stifled

• Their preferences are overridden

• Their dreams are dismissed or crushed

—it’s not just emotional neglect. It’s spiritual abuse. Because it cuts them off from the internal compass that connects them to their deepest truth. Without the freedom to explore who they are, they never get the chance to listen for that quiet, sacred call: Who am I here to become? Healing, for them, is not just psychological — it’s spiritual reclamation.
And that kind of healing takes enormous courage.

Stop Cultural Shaming, Secondary Bullying, and Humiliation

When men mock or shame others as “simps,” they reinforce the same cycle of bullying and powerlessness these men endured in childhood. Instead of supporting them, culture teaches that vulnerability, devotion, or emotional investment is weakness. True masculinity isn’t about dominance or avoidance — it’s about integration, emotional responsibility, and the courage to heal.

The men most often mocked are often the very ones bravely trying to reconnect to their feelings and relationships — they deserve compassion, not contempt. If we want to build a culture of strong, integrated men, we need to stop calling survival behaviors “weakness” — and start calling out the cultural forces that created them. Healing masculinity means lifting each other up, not tearing each other down.

💬 “If we want to build a culture of strong, integrated men, we need to stop calling survival behaviors “weakness” — and start calling out the cultural forces that created them.”

The Double Burden

What’s especially tragic is that unhealed men are often scapegoated from both sides. On one hand, some feminists blame all men for cultural harm, ignoring that many of these men have never held power themselves and are often victims of wounding systems too. Ironically, these men who were harmed by women during childhood are now attacked for being part of the male power dynamic suppressing women. On the other hand, other men mock and shame them, calling them weak, calling them “simps,” pushing them further into isolation.

In both cases, the wounded are punished, not helped. If we want to break cycles of harm, we must stop scapegoating the unhealed — and start asking: Why do we need to blame others to feel better about ourselves? That’s where real cultural transformation begins.

💬“Ironically, these men who were harmed by women during childhood are now attacked for being part of the male power dynamic suppressing women.”

The Hard Truth

One of the hardest truths I’ve had to face is this: an emotionally healthy woman wants a man who can lead — not with control, but with grounded strength. She wants to feel safe, not superior. But when a man has been raised by a mother who used him to soothe her own wounds, he learns something very different. He learns that love means appeasement. That safety means shrinking. That connection comes from sacrificing his needs to keep the peace.

A woman who hasn’t healed her own trauma may expect the same dynamic: she’ll want him small so she can feel large. And the man — if he hasn’t done his healing — will unconsciously oblige. He’ll fall into the old pattern. He’ll mistake enmeshment for love. And that’s why no matter how strong his longing, he won’t find a truly healthy relationship until he breaks the pattern at its source: within himself.

The Real Solution: Look Within

These men don’t need more shaming — they need support, understanding, and a path back to themselves. Healing isn’t about becoming cold, dominant, or performative. It’s about stepping into the integrated strength that comes from knowing and loving who you are. The truth is, the healing many of us need isn’t just psychological. It’s not just about better habits. It’s about something deeper: reclaiming the right to exist as a whole, purposeful, and loved human being.

When men reconnect with their own sense of purpose — a purpose that belongs to them, not assigned by family, culture, or trauma — they begin a journey that is as much spiritual as it is emotional. Because to step into your true purpose is to answer the quiet call of your soul — the one that’s been waiting for you all along.

💬“Healing isn’t about becoming cold, dominant, or performative. It’s about stepping into the integrated strength that comes from knowing and loving who you are.”

What Integrated Masculinity Really Looks Like

Integrated masculinity isn’t about domination or control. It’s about knowing you are capable of harm — and choosing not to cause it. In my own life, I’ve seen this through my aikido training: I know I am capable of causing harm — but I choose the path of harmony and peace.

I see it in how I parent my children:

• Reflecting on how I speak to them,

• Recognizing when I was wrong,

• Communicating honestly,

• Listening to what they need, and

• Working with them to find solutions.

Integrated masculinity is not about commanding others — it’s about leading by example, making others feel valued and heard, and building connection through inspiration, not control. it’s about remaining calm and being the eye of the storm when there is chaos all around us. That’s the kind of masculinity that heals. That’s the kind of strength that creates change. You don’t have to be perfect to walk this path. You just have to begin — with presence, with courage, and with the willingness to grow.

✨ Want to Go Deeper?

If this resonates, I invite you to read my award winning book, The Journey of an Acorn, where I explore how the seed of childhood wounds shapes identity — and how we can reclaim our true strength to become mighty oaks. In addition to The Journey of an Acorn, I have other books that further explore these themes. I Am tells the story of a salmon at a crossroads, faced with the choice of following its own truth or adhering to society’s expectations. You can find I Am on Amazon. For more insights, check out some of my other posts in this series: The Myth of Toxic Masculinity: Rediscovering the True Strength of the Integrated Man and The Hidden Wound Behind 'Simp': A Story of Healing and Self-Trust. Simply click on the links to read those articles and deepen your understanding.

✉ Join the Conversation

What does integrated masculinity mean to you? How have you experienced the journey from wounded patterns to authentic strength? Share your thoughts directly on my Facebook page, Transcendence Press (https://www.facebook.com/transcendencepress/) — where we’re building a space for honest conversation and healing.

You can also connect with me on Instagram (@transcendencepress) or Twitter (@corey_wolff) to share your reflections or tag a friend.

The Myth of Toxic Masculinity: Rediscovering the True Strength of the Integrated Man

We hear the term “toxic masculinity” so often, it’s become a cultural reflex—used to label, blame, and shame. But the truth is, masculinity itself is not toxic. What’s toxic is disconnection. Disconnection from the heart. From presence. From vulnerability. From self-worth. From the kind of grounded, benevolent strength men were always meant to carry.

Masculinity, in its true form, is not dangerous. It is protective. It is stabilizing. It is fierce, but not violent. It holds boundaries with courage. It nurtures with power. What we call “toxic” is what happens when boys are never taught how to feel, how to trust, or how to stay. When men are praised for control but never taught connection. When strength becomes armor instead of something rooted in love. This isn’t a post about tearing masculinity down. It’s about bringing it home—back into alignment, back into integration. Because the world doesn’t need less masculinity. It needs healed masculinity. And it starts by understanding where the wound really lives.

“This isn’t a post about tearing masculinity down. It’s about bringing it home—back into alignment, back into integration.”

The Mask of the Player

The “player” is often glorified—the man who seems cool, confident, emotionally untouched. He moves easily from one partner to another. He doesn’t get attached. He doesn’t seem to need anyone. But sometimes what looks like strength… is really protection. Sometimes the player isn’t powerful—he’s guarded. Not because he doesn’t want love, but because love has always felt unsafe.

When Disconnection Becomes the Blueprint

Many men grew up with emotional absence—fathers who weren’t there, mothers who were inconsistent, critical or enmeshing, or families that punished emotional expression. In those early environments, vulnerability wasn’t modeled. Feeling wasn’t safe. And so, disconnection became the blueprint. A boy learns: Don't need too much. Don’t feel too deeply. Don’t ever let them know you care. That boy grows into a man who might pursue partners—but avoids true connection. Who might seduce—but doesn’t stay. Who might long to be held—but only knows how to chase. What appears to be “macho” is often grief with no language.

Not Every Story Is the Same

Of course, not every man who avoids commitment or chases partners is carrying a deep emotional wound from a parent during childhood. For some the wound isn’t tied to one person, but to systems that confused control with strength, or taught performance over presence. For other men, they aren’t operating from pain at all—they’re simply reflecting their values. There are men who act carelessly not because they are wounded, but because they haven’t yet chosen integrity. And yes, that matters too. This post isn’t about excusing behavior. It’s about understanding the difference between pain and avoidance, between values and wounds—because clarity is what opens the door to conscious change.

“There are men who act carelessly not because they are wounded, but because they haven’t yet chosen integrity.”

The Drive to Disconnect

Some men explore relationships with honesty. They’re open about what they want, they communicate clearly, and they do the inner work. That’s not toxic—it’s mature. But other patterns reflect something else. The man who always leaves before things get deep. The one who can’t stop seeking validation through conquest. The one who’s charming but emotionally unavailable. The one who pursues women in committed relationships, only to discard them when someone “better” appears. This isn’t a lifestyle. It’s a signal. Sometimes it’s not confidence. It’s emotional self-protection. Sometimes it’s not preference. It’s fear of being seen.

When Biology Meets Consciousness

Some might say men are “wired” to chase—that it’s evolutionary. And they’re right… to a point. Men are biologically wired with impulses. So are women. So are all creatures. But biology is not destiny. Biology gives us urges. Consciousness gives us choice. There is nothing wrong with desire. There’s nothing wrong with masculine strength. But there’s everything wrong with using biology to justify betrayal, detachment, or emotional harm. A man who is led by his impulses is not strong—he is untethered. True masculinity is not domination. It is direction. It leads with awareness. It chooses with clarity. It takes responsibility for how it shows up in the lives of others.

“Biology is not destiny. Biology gives us urges. Consciousness gives us choice.”

What Strength Really Means

Masculinity is not toxic. But unhealed masculinity—masculinity without heart—can be. And what many call “strength” is often just self-abandonment with a polished exterior. True strength is not how many people want you. It’s how rooted you are in your own integrity—whether you’re alone or in connection. Real strength is not armor. It’s presence.

My Personal Reflection

I’ve known men who felt entitled to cheat on their partner simply because they were men. As if masculinity meant dominance without discipline. As if male desire gave them permission to dishonor commitment. But that’s not integrated masculinity. That’s not power. That’s not freedom. That’s selfishness. Entitlement. Immaturity.
And most of all, it’s disconnection—from their own worth, from the sacredness of intimacy, and from the real strength that comes with emotional integrity.

Integrated masculinity is not about doing whatever you want. It’s about standing in alignment with your values, not your impulses. It’s about being the kind of man your future self—and your children—can be proud of.

Masculinity doesn’t need to be hidden or fixed — it needs to be reclaimed, felt, and embodied with presence.

“Integrated masculinity is not about doing whatever you want. It’s about standing in alignment with your values, not your impulses. It’s about being the kind of man your future self—and your children—can be proud of.”

The Choice to Lead with Integrity

At some point, each of us needs to ask, Who do I want to become? Not what society expects. Not what the culture praises. But what feels authentic to the man I am becoming. And then we must ask ourselves: Is this the legacy I want to pass on to my child?

What kind of man do I want my son to be? Do I want him to move through the world believing that desire alone justifies action? That masculinity means getting what you want, without accountability? Or do I want him to know that real power is found in presence—that emotional responsibility is strength—that his integrity will define the world he helps shape? We don’t just lead through what we say. We lead through who we become. If we want our sons to carry a better story, we must be brave enough to live one.

“We lead through who we become. If we want our sons to carry a better story, we must be brave enough to live one.”

Want to Go Deeper?

If this message resonates with you, and you want to explore how trauma, legacy, and self-trust shape us, my books The Journey of an Acorn and Unbroken Legacy were written for that purpose.

🗣 Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this topic. How do you define true masculinity in your life? What legacy do you wish to leave for the next generation?

.You’re warmly invited to share your reflections on my Facebook page, Transcendence Press (https://www.facebook.com/transcendencepress/), where we’re building a thoughtful space for open, healing conversation.

Feel free to share this post with your network and tag someone who might resonate with the message. Let’s continue the conversation on Instagram (@transcendencepress) and Twitter (@corey_wolff). Your voice matters, and together, we can create a movement of healing and self-love. Let’s break the generational cycle and raise a new legacy — one built on clarity, courage, and compassion.

The Hidden Wound Behind 'Simp': A Story of Healing and Self-Trust

When love and survival become entangled, true strength is found in learning to trust yourself again.

The Acorn’s Story: A Mirror for Our Healing

At the heart of my book, The Journey of an Acorn, is a simple but painful truth about love, freedom, and healing. The little acorn in the story longs to separate from the oak tree that once held it tightly. It dreams of standing tall under the open sky, drinking from the soil, and feeling the sun on its face. But when it finally breaks free, it doesn't find freedom right away. It finds fear, loneliness, and the overwhelming weight of being on its own.

When Love and Survival Become Entangled

Even as the acorn grows, even as it begins to heal and put down roots, it still carries invisible wounds. When a young girl comes along—offering it kindness, support, and unconditional care—the acorn struggles. It clings to her. It expects her to stay forever. When she leaves to chase her dreams, the acorn feels abandoned and betrayed, unable to see that real love allows others to grow and move freely. It’s not because the acorn is selfish. It’s because it never truly learned what love was supposed to look like. It confused attachment with love—because for so long, survival had been its only measure of connection.

“Many men aren't "simps" because they're weak. They are survivors of childhood trauma.”

Real Healing: Trusting Our Roots, Not Our Wounds

Today, society throws around words like "simp" or “beta” to disparage men who are submissive to women, and who are desperate for attention, men who cater to a woman’s needs in their relationship at the expense of their own. But what society rarely talks about is the hidden wound beneath those behaviors. Many men aren't "simps" because they're weak. They are survivors of childhood trauma. They learned, often painfully early, that love meant putting others first, erasing their own needs, and hoping that loyalty would buy them acceptance. When you are taught that your survival depends on keeping others happy, you become hyper-attuned to their needs—and disconnected from your own. This isn’t weakness. It’s survival.

Healing it is one of the bravest journeys a person can undertake. And like the acorn in my story, this kind of journey requires growth in order to become the strong oak you were always meant to be. This journey is the root of real strength—the kind that doesn’t just heal the self, but brings the elixir back to others, especially their own children, so they can break the cycle in their family, and create an empowering legacy for those that come after them.

”When you are taught that your survival depends on keeping others happy, you become hyper-attuned to their needs—and disconnected from your own. This isn’t weakness. It’s survival.”

Letting Go, Standing Tall: What the Acorn Teaches Us About True Strength

Healing doesn't mean abandoning kindness or connection. It’s not about swinging to coldness, dominance, or control. That’s just flipping around the same dysfunctional roles and maintaining a dynamic based on power. Real healing is about reclaiming something much harder—and much more powerful: self-trust. It’s about learning to stay rooted in your own worth, offering love not from emptiness, but from abundance. It’s about realizing that true strength is not losing yourself to hold onto others, but standing tall from a place of rootedness, even when the winds of loneliness blow hard. The little acorn didn’t grow by clinging harder to the broken tree. It grew when it let go—when it trusted its own roots to find their way toward the light. And so can we.

My Story: How Childhood Trauma Shaped My Attachment Style

I know this journey firsthand. I grew up with an emotionally immature mother and no father figure in my life. From a young age, I was programmed to fulfill my mother’s emotional needs instead of my own. To maintain any sense of safety or shared reality, I had to accept how she viewed me as the truth. I was merely an extension of her. There was no room for my own inner world—no space for my feelings, boundaries, or needs. The damage to the development of my identity went largely unseen until I fell in love for the first time as a young man. That's when everything I'd suppressed started coming to the surface.

I realized I couldn't assert what I needed in the relationship—because I had no template for it. My childhood had taught me that survival meant sacrificing my own needs to keep someone else emotionally stable. I found myself helpless in that relationship, unable to trust my instincts. I lost myself trying to meet someone else's expectations, just as I had done growing up. And even after years of therapy—which helped me grow in important ways—I still found myself drawn into similar dynamics later on.

“I lost myself trying to meet someone else's expectations, just as I had done growing up.”

The End of Shame: Reframing the Beginning of the Hero’s Journey

But here's what I’ve learned: Although I am still on my healing journey, I no longer carry shame for those patterns. I understand now why I fell into them. I am learning to trust myself. I am learning to be kind to myself for my past choices. Those choices—painful as they were—taught me what real love, trust, and self-respect look like.

What some people call being a "simp," I now see differently. I see it as the beginning of a hero’s journey—the journey of someone brave enough to go beneath the surface and face the emptiness others are too afraid to feel, the journey of someone willing to dismantle the invisible family systems that have silently shaped generations, so that those who come after me can be free to stand strong in their own sense of self. This is not weakness. This is the sacred work of healing. And it begins when we choose to trust the roots we are growing—roots that reach not just for survival, but for the light.

The Call to Grow: Beyond the Wound, Toward the Light

If this message resonates with you, and you want to explore these themes more deeply, my book The Journey of an Acorn was written exactly for that purpose:
— to honor the strength it takes to heal,
— to show the beauty that can grow from pain,
— and to remind you that you are never truly alone.

It’s available on Amazon.

🗣 Join the Conversation

If this reflection resonates with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts. If you have experienced hidden wounds from trauma, how has that affected you? How have you progressed on your journey of self-trust?

You’re warmly invited to share your reflections on my Facebook page, where we’re building a thoughtful space for open, healing conversation.

Feel free to share this post with your network and tag someone who might resonate with the message. Let’s continue the conversation on Instagram (@transcendencepress) and Twitter (@corey_wolff). Your voice matters, and together, we can create a movement of healing and self-love.

🌱💬 How to Nurture Your Divine Seed with Positive Self-Talk

Introduction: The Power of Words

What if the words we spoke didn’t just disappear into the air, but changed the very fabric of life itself?

Japanese researcher Masaru Emoto believed they did. In his famous experiments, Emoto exposed water and rice to different spoken words and emotions. When kind, loving words were spoken—like "Thank you" and "I love you"—the water crystals froze into beautiful, intricate patterns. But when exposed to negativity—words like "You fool" or "I hate you"—the crystals fractured into chaotic, broken forms. Even jars of cooked rice, left to absorb daily words, rotted or blossomed depending on the language they "heard."

If words have the power to shape water, and if we ourselves are made mostly of water, imagine the invisible impact every word has on the garden growing inside of us.

In Unbroken Legacy: The Divine Seed, there’s a sacred phrase whispered across generations:
"Praise to the divine seed within the infinite garden of light."

That seed lives within you. It thrives not just on what you do, but on what you speak. Every word you offer yourself is either nourishing your divine seed—or withering its bloom.

🌿 The Garden Within: A Lesson from Unbroken Legacy

In Unbroken Legacy: The Divine Seed, Isabella inherits more than a story—she inherits a truth hidden in ancient words.
"Praise to the divine seed within the infinite garden of light."

This is not just a blessing; it’s a reminder. Inside each of us is a seed of potential—a divine spark, planted before we were even aware of it. Like any living thing, it needs the right conditions to grow: sunlight, water, love… and words.

Just as Emoto’s experiments showed how water responds to the language it absorbs, so too does our soul respond to the language we speak to ourselves. Positive words act like rain and sunlight. Negative words poison the roots before the seed can ever blossom. Every time you offer yourself kindness, you feed your divine seed. Every time you belittle or shame yourself, you cast a shadow over it.

You are the gardener. Your words are the soil, the sun, the water, and the wind.

☀️ The Importance of Positive Self-Talk

The words you speak to yourself are not small things. They are seeds. Every thought you repeat—whether whispered in passing or shouted in frustration—plants itself in the soil of your being. Over time, those words shape what grows inside you: gardens of beauty and resilience… or forests of fear and self-doubt.

Positive self-talk isn’t about ignoring pain or pretending everything is perfect. It’s about choosing to nurture your divine seed—even in the hard seasons. It’s about offering yourself encouragement the way a loving gardener tends fragile roots: with care, patience, and faith that something beautiful will one day bloom.

You already hold this power. The garden is waiting for the words you choose today.

🌱 Reflection Questions for Nurturing Your Divine Seed

Take a moment. Find a quiet space. Let your heart become soft and curious. Then gently ask yourself:

• What am I grateful for in my life right now?
  What about that makes my soul feel nourished?

• What am I proud of within myself today?
  What small or big step did I take that reminds me of my strength?

• What am I excited to grow or create in my life?
  What dreams are sprouting inside me, asking for light?

• What kindness have I shown—to others or to myself—that planted beauty in my garden?

• If I could speak one loving truth to my divine seed today, what would it be?

🌼 Start Your Own Affirmation Garden

From your answers, listen for a phrase that feels warm, true, and alive. It doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to feel like sunlight to your soul.

Maybe it’s a whisper: “I am growing stronger every day.”
Maybe it’s a promise: “My dreams are seeds that will bloom in time.”
Maybe it’s a truth you forgot, now returning: “I am already enough.”

Write your mantra down. Say it aloud. Carry it with you—like a drop of water carried to a thirsty seed.

You are the gardener. You are the garden. And your words are the light.

🌸 Share Your Light

I would love to see what blooms from your reflection! 🌿
Share your answers to the questions — or the mantra you create — on social media and tag me @corey_wolff.
Let’s grow this garden of light together. 💬✨

#DivineSeed #AffirmationGarden #UnbrokenLegacy

How to Shrink Your Own Monsters: Using the Power of Mantra

Somewhere between a whisper and a promise, there is a power waiting to be found. It lives in the words we say aloud… and the ones we dare to believe.

In Unbroken Legacy: The Divine Seed, Isabella learns that the monsters we fear can grow — but so can our courage. And sometimes, all it takes is a single phrase, spoken with heart, to shift the world around us.

This is the magic of a mantra: a small string of words that carries the weight of hope, change, and new beginnings.

Now, step into Isabella’s first encounter with fear — and find the mantra hidden inside your own heart.

Let’s begin at the place where fear first found her… and where belief began to grow.

I:Þā Mægen Ānes (The Power of Belief)

Within a house lived a special girl 

who happened upon a secret world. 

Tired one night, she lay upon her bed, 

listening to the tale her father read. 

But once he finished the final words, 

her thoughts were mired by what she heard. 

The story sparked a vivid dream,

and soon the night was not as it seemed.

A tunnel opened from her wall; 

a purple paw reached out to all. 

Seen only by true believers, 

she saw its claws were sharp as cleavers. 

Afraid, she felt she had no choice, 

“Don’t go! The monster will get me,” 

she was screaming in a pleading voice. 

Though her father tried to assuage her, 

it was against her anxious nature.

 

Her father looked all around, 

but there was no monster, not a sound. 

Once he had sprung from her bed, 

she clung to him and she said, 

“Don’t let the monster get me! Ahhhhhhhhhh!” 

Then, gasping for air as she wheezed, 

she seemed helpless, struggling to breathe, 

working herself up to such a state, 

she began to hyperventilate. 

But her father had a plan, 

grasping the inhaler on her nightstand, 

pumping medicine into her lungs, 

stopping the attack that had begun. 

Her bronchioles opened; her breath returned. 

She was calmer and he less concerned. 

Yet as the fear began to fade,

inside her heart, a doubt was laid.

“Why am I scared? Why so weak?”

she thought, her eyes tear-filled, cheeks meek.

Her chest still tight from recent fright,

she wished she’d been strong in that night.

But then she vowed within her mind,

to seek the strength she yearned to find.

She longed to push her fears away,

but wondered how they’d shrink or sway.

Yet Isabella hesitated, fear still clung. 

And her father asked, “Why must you run? 

To your fear you must not abide. 

Spend not one moment trying to hide.” 

“Well, it’s eight feet tall with yellow eyes,

a big head, small nose, and horns that rise. 

I see its claws under the closet door. 

Please, don’t let it scare me anymore.”

Her dad’s brows furrowed with determination, 

as her heart pounded with anticipation. 

He grabbed the doorknob, his grip was tight, 

curiosity and resolve in the night.

 

He pointed at the monster and said, 

“You shall not harm one hair on her head. 

“Monster, I’ll never be scared of you. 

So go home to your mommy, shoo!” 

What happened next was no tall order. 

Lo and behold, the monster was smaller. 

It still had scary teeth and yellow eyes, 

but once shrunken, she gasped in surprise. 

“Remember, Isabella,” he softly spoke

“Your thoughts can make this monster shrink.

Just imagine him smaller with every stroke. 

After all, you’re far stronger than you think.”

As she listened to her father’s voice,

a new thought took hold, quiet but bright.

“If I don’t run, but stand with might,

perhaps my fears are what take flight.”

As the monster shrank, she felt her fear wane, 

a giggle bubbled up, breaking the chain 

of dread that had gripped her tight, 

Now replaced with a spark of delight. 

As she watched the monster shrink and fade,

she thought of fears she’d long obeyed.

“If  I can make this beast change its size,

I know my courage, too, can rise.”

A smile crept up, her doubts grew thin,

for in her heart, she felt strength begin.

Her father’s words rang strong and clear—

“Don’t run away; don’t hide in fear.” 

His words shone, steady and bold,

a challenge the monster could not uphold.

Her father stepped closer, yet his voice still near, 

“Don’t think of coming in this house. Do you hear? 

Monster, go home to your mommy!” 

Alas, that’s not the end of our story. 

It became smaller and was worried. 

Instead of a saunter, now it scurried. 

Because it shrank, it was filled with dread

No longer bold, it turned and fled. 

Still moving with his tiny nose 

and his teeny hamburger head, 

he was now the size of a dolly

that lay on the little girl’s bed. 

Its teeth still pointed in all directions, 

but now the little girl asked a question. 

The creature found this all deplorable, 

and failing to fight ‘gainst his tiny tears, 

it heard, “Hey, how are you this adorable?” 

even with its itty-bitty ears. 

Wanting to speak, it had not the words, 

and becoming more fearful, when ‘gainst the glass, 

it heard the pecking of hungry birds. 

It was no longer a scary being, 

so not knowing what else to do, 

it decided to start screaming, “Ahhh!” 

For the monster, the tension mounted. 

It was already too much to bear. 

Then the dad bent down, patting it’s head,

gently stroking its fluffy purple hair. 

Well, that little creature became smaller still. 

As it stood helpless on that windowsill, 

the dad placed it on the palm of the girl’s hand.

“Well done, little monster," he said with a grin, 

Then added with a chuckle, "How's daddy's little man?" 

The girl peered into her palm and said, 

“I’ll put you between two pieces of bread, 

and you’ll be my cute monster sandwich.” 

And shrinking again as she spoke those words, 

the little monster became more absurd. 

Now just a small clump of purple hair,

with a head shaped like a hamburger,

it whispered softly, quite demure:

"It's time for me to go, I'm sure."

And it took her dad no time to exclaim,

“Let’s blow you back from whence you came!”

He looked to his daughter with knowing eyes,

and spoke a truth, ancient and wise:

"Hit bið wyrced on mínum wordum,

the power to create is in what we say.

Let’s say it together; send this creature on its way.”

With a nod, the girl repeated each word,

her voice soft yet strong, a truth now heard.

The chant seemed to linger, filling the air,

a hum of energy rising everywhere.

The walls seemed to shimmer, the air grew light,

as the ancient words carried their might.

Then with a whoosh, and a flick of the wrist,

the teeny monster, too small to resist,

was blown right out of the little girl’s hand

and returned to its fantastical land.

Vanishing into the darkness of night,

yet caught within another’s sight.

With a thankful hug, she clung to her dad, 

Then crawled under the covers, feeling glad. 

But the girl had just one more wish. 

She wanted to blow the monster a kiss. 

So she put her hand up to her lips 

and sent a smooch with her fingertips. 

But as she lay with eyes now closed,

her thoughts on what the night had posed,

she touched her chest where tightness lay,

and whispered soft, “I’ll find a way.”

For in her heart, a strength was born,

one that would shine through darkest storm.

“Next time I’ll stand, not turn to flee;

I’ll make my fears as small as he.”

Well, as that little girl became older, 

sometimes her fear made her monsters bolder. 

And after she allowed them to haunt her, 

she remembered what her father taught her. 

She could make her monsters smaller 

by placing them in the palm of her hand 

and sending them to their native land. 

That's why the little girl used no more tears. 

She finally learned how to face her fears. 

And so begins our epic saga 

of a special girl and a tiny monster.

Reflect on the Story

Ask yourself:

What moment in this story stuck with me most?

What fear have I faced that felt like this?

What message or lesson would I take from this chapter?

Your answers may be different from mine—and that’s the beauty of it.

Write Your Mantra

Keep it short—1 sentence. Use present tense. Make it personal. Focus on empowerment, not perfection.

Examples:
“I am bigger than what I fear.”
“My voice is stronger than the shadow.”
“When I speak, my world listens.”

Old English Translation (Optional)

Want to turn your mantra into Old English like in the story?
Share your mantra with me and I’ll send you a translation you can use!

Create Your Personal Mantra Card

🗣 Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear your personal mantra or words of power. How are you nurturing your Divine Seed? What words do you speak over yourself to help your inner garden grow?

You’re warmly invited to join the conversation on Facebook, where we’re building a supportive space to share mantras, insights, and stories of healing. You can also share your mantra with #DivineSeedMantra and tag me—@corey_wolff on X, or @transcendencepress on Instagram.

Let’s help each other plant seeds of wisdom and watch them bloom. Your voice matters—and your words carry power.

🌱 If this message speaks to you, share the post and tag a friend who might need these words too. Let’s grow this garden together.

🎨 Build Your Own Monster: The Monsterville Challenge

Monsterville is always growing—and now it’s your turn to add a creature to its evolving world.

Below is the first-ever sketch challenge from Isabella’s notebook. She started the drawing... but she’s waiting for you to finish it.

🖍️ Step 1: Complete the Monster

Look at the half-drawn creature below. What does the other half look like? Print it out, finish it digitally, or sketch it on a new page. Or you can make up an entirely new monster.

🔤 Step 2: Name Your Monster

✏️ Step 3: Describe Your Monster

Write a 1–3 sentence description of your creature:

• Are they silly or spooky?

• What do they eat?

• What’s their secret power?

• Are they misunderstood?

💌 Step 4: Share Your Creation

Want to join the fun?
Post your monster for the #MonstervilleChallenge and tag me @corey_wolff.
I’ll be sharing some of my favorites!

You can also tag #UnbrokenLegacyTheBook to help others discover the world of Monsterville.

Now grab your pencil, your imagination, and let’s create something magical together.

What We Choose After the Fall: Exploring Redemption in Literature and Life

Falling doesn’t mean you’re lost—it means you’re human

The Path of Redemption

We all face moments when we stumble — moments when we fall short of who we want to be, or when life knocks us down unexpectedly. Literature has always reflected this struggle: from ancient myths to modern novels, the theme of redemption weaves through the stories we tell, asking a timeless question: What will we choose after the fall?

In my books Unbroken Legacy, and The Journey of an Acorn, characters wrestle with this very question. But redemption isn’t just a fictional theme — it’s a living, breathing force in our everyday lives. Whether we’re confronting past mistakes, healing from deep wounds, or learning to rebuild trust, the path of redemption invites us to step into transformation, one choice at a time.

In this post, I want to explore how the redemptive arc plays out not only in stories, but also in the real human journey — and how, after the fall, we each have the power to choose something new.

“…after the fall, we each have the power to choose something new.”

Redemptive Arcs in Unbroken Legacy

Redemption in this story comes in many forms:

• Horatio, one of rhe protagonists and Isabella’s father, loses himself to fear—but finds the courage to reclaim his power, his lineage, and his name.

• Rich Wratched, a man once ruled by impulse and bitterness, finds the strength to break free from the identity he built around pain.

• Sweet Pea, a companion which Isabella created, realizes that pleasing his mother isn’t the same as doing what’s right—and chooses love and intuition over control and fear.

• Even Isabella, the brave heart at the center of the tale, must redeem herself—not for something she did, but for what she forgot: her power, her purpose, her divine seed.

• And Horatio’s father, who sacrificed his freedom to prevent the Beast from overtaking his wife, ultimately returns—despite years of absence and the pain it caused—to help break the dark legacy that haunted his family. His redemption is one of silent strength: acknowledging what he missed, and choosing to stand beside his son in the final hour.

And redemption isn’t just for the characters. It lives in Monsterville itself—a world shaped by imagination and infected by fear. A place still capable of healing, still becoming what it was meant to be.

In this story, redemption is not about becoming someone else.
It’s about remembering who you truly are—and choosing to return to that truth.

The Journey of an Acorn: A Parable of Growth

In my award winning book The Journey of an Acorn, the acorn is prevented from growing like the others in the forest. At the beginning of the story, the oak from which it had fallen, prevented it from becoming independent. When the acorn called out for help to a squirrel to take him away, the oak tree swung with its branches ,and the other animals became scared to help.

“An acorn will become stunted when planted in soil with no nutrients.”

Eventually, the acorn, feeling helpless, cracked, planting its roots into the ground. But the oak tree smothered those roots, constricting it with its own , and took up all the water and nutrients for itself. An acorn will become stunted when planted in toxic soil where there is no nutrients But the oak tree didn’t care. Because it did not wish for the acorn be become independent. The oak tree wanted to control the acorn, just as it had always done. Yet, the acorn still managed to persist and ask a girl for help to move into a pasture where it can feel the sun’s love on its face. Despite those hardships the acorn did become a great oak tree, and it did have its own acorns which it mentored. So they could eventually become strong oaks too. And the lesson is that no matter what struggles you might face in life, you can overcome them, and pave the way for the next generation to thrive.

“…no matter what struggles you might face in life, you can overcome them, and pave the way for the next generation to thrive.”

The Soil We’re Given

This theme of redemption isn't just something I wrote into the story—it’s something I’ve lived. Just as an acorn will not grow in soil without nutrients, a child will not grow without being nurtured by a parent. Like many people who grew up in toxic environments, this is my story. I am that acorn who struggled to grow early in life.

As a parent, I’ve made mistakes. Some small. Some that felt too heavy to name. And many of them—if I’m honest—weren’t even my mistakes to begin with. They were echoes from my own childhood, passed down like a script I didn’t even know I was reading from, a script I received from my mother which said, “Your need for safety doesn’t matter. None of your emotional needs matter. Your feelings are insignificant. What you think, feel, and say is unimportant. You need to cater to what I need, and if you don’t, you will be punished. You are just an extension of me. I own you; your beliefs, your values, and your soul belong to me. Comply or you will be abandoned. Comply if you want to receive love.” This programming has had a deeply negative impact every aspect of my life.

“As a parent, I’ve made mistakes. Some small. Some that felt too heavy to name. And many of them—if I’m honest—weren’t even my mistakes to begin with. They were echoes from my own childhood, passed down like a script I didn’t even know I was reading from…”

My relationship with my mother was like being connected by an energetic umbilical cord going in reverse, taking all the nutrients from me and going to her. It felt like the bond between us drained me — as if the lifeline meant to nourish me instead pulled everything from me to sustain her. My mother was not emotionally stable, and neither were the men she attracted into her life. My home was a toxic environment, where there was a lot of drugs, drinking, chaos, and abuse. 

“My relationship with my mother was like being connected by an energetic umbilical cord going in reverse, taking all the nutrients from me and going to her.” 

But here’s the thing—my childhood wasn’t only trauma. That’s what makes writing these posts so hard. It’s also what made healing so confusing. My father was not a perfect man. But as a father, he was loving, gentle, patient, and kind. Some of my best memories come from the world he created for me. When I needed comfort, it was my dad’s lap I climbed into. When I had nightmares, it was his voice that calmed me. When I was scared or overwhelmed, it was his presence that made me feel safe. My father was my best friend.

He made me feel seen and loved and cherished in ways that are hard to describe. He nurtured my desire to explore the world, supported my interests, and always made me feel like I belonged. And that’s what makes the pain so devastating.

“My father was not a perfect man. But as a father, he was loving, gentle, patient, and kind.”

Because when he died, I lost my protector. I lost the only place where my nervous system ever knew peace. I didn’t just lose a parent—I lost my compass. I lost the part of my life that helped the rest of it make sense. After that, everything started to spiral.

So when I talk about trauma, it’s not because there was no love. It’s because the love made the loss that much more profound. The love made the silence harder. The love made me fight harder to hold onto who I was.

I remember the times when it was the middle of the night and I would hear my mother scream for her boyfriend to get off of her, and she would call out for me to help. I remember feeling helpless, terrified, and completly overwhelmed. So I hid under my blanket.  But I also didn’t want to help her. I knew in my heart that I didn’t belong with these people.  So I cried out for my dad to take me away from there. “Dad, I need you. Where are you? Please take me away with you.” My dad never answered me when I cried out to him. There was just emptiness. At first I pleaded for his help. And then I pleaded to God to bring him back. And eventually, I began to believe that there is no God.

“My dad never answered me when I cried out to him. There was just emptiness. At first I pleaded for his help. And then I pleaded to God to bring him back. And eventually, I began to believe that there is no God.”

Becoming the Oak Tree

My mother taught me that we don’t talk about what happens behind closed doors. But now that I have children of my own, I see how devastating that silence truly is. Now I ask myself, “How could a parent do this to their child? How can a mother subject her child to this repeatedly, and not leave? And I believe the answer is simply that a parent who would do this, is not capable of understanding that her child had emotional needs separate from her. And that is something that as an adult, I have come to accept.

“We all have greatness in us, and our struggles give us the opportunity to reveal that greatness.” 

The trauma from my childhood, and my father’s absence left an emptiness in my own heart. And as I became older, I spent a long time trying to fill that emptiness in destructive ways, so I could be whole. But the beauty of redemption is this: you don’t have to stay stuck in what was handed to you. You can rewrite the script.

We all have greatness in us, and our struggles give us the opportunity to reveal that greatness.  We need to remember that we were chosen by God and given our challenges for the purpose of refining us, so our light can shine on the world, so our flower could unfold, and  the fruit we have to offer the world could be brought forth. 

Becoming the Hero I Once Needed

Now, as I parent, I am working hard to rewrite the script for my children, so they don’t have to carry the family curse of unhealed wounds. My daughter has special needs. And her behaviors can be very challenging. I remember one time I took her to cemetery for my grandmother’s Yahrzeit, which is the one year anniversary of her death. There were several highly emotional speeches from family members which were overwhelimg for her. After the car ride home, she ran into the park across from my apartment. She was flailing on the ground and yelling, and she was biting herself to try to calm down, and I had to hold her down. I needed to carry her back to the house.

This tantrum went on for over an hour. And eventually, I managed to get her outside the door of our apartment. She was biting my arms, and trying to bite herself, and I hugged her so she couldn’t do any damage to me or herself. I just kept saying, “I love you, I love you. It’s okay, I love you.”

And she kept screaming, “Let me go, let me go.” After a while, she became quiet. And I released my grip, and as I did, she said, “hold me daddy.” Then she held my hands and put them back on her.

She needed me to feel safe. And I knew it was God who put me through all of the pain in my life, so I could grow into the man I needed to become to help my own child. The hero I had so desperately called out to as a boy, turned out to be me. I became the hero I had been waiting for.

“The hero I had so desperately called out to as a boy, turned out to be me.”

And you need to know that no matter what gets in your way, no matter if you have no one in your family to support you, that you can still work on yourself and be your own hero, and you can be a hero for others, and spread hope and love. A difficult season in childhood doesn’t have to stop you from living your life. 

I’ve worked hard to do that—for myself, and for my children. I’m still working at it. The cycle has shifted. There’s more laughter now. More truth. More softness. And in those moments, I see that redemption isn’t about being flawless. It’s about showing up, again and again, with a heart willing to grow.

That’s why I wrote Unbroken Legacy—to remind myself, and maybe you, that even through the darkest shadows, we can always find our way back to truth.

“…even through the darkest shadows, we can always find our way back to truth.”

🌿 The Power of Choice After the Fall

Redemption is never guaranteed — in stories or in life. It’s not handed to us just because we’ve suffered, failed, or fallen. It arrives only when we choose it.

Whether we’re characters in a novel or people walking through real heartbreak, redemption begins when we stop clinging to what broke us and start moving toward what heals us. It doesn’t erase the past, but it transforms its meaning. It allows us to become something new — not because we forget what happened, but because we decide to live beyond it.

So, after the fall, the most important question becomes: What will you choose now? Because your past may explain your pain, but it doesn’t have to define your future.

“…your past may explain your pain, but it doesn’t have to define your future.”

✨ Want to Go Deeper?

I invite you to explore my books, Unbroken Legacy and The Journey of an Acorn, where I dive deeper into the power of redemption and the divine seed that is within all of us. These books aren’t just stories — they have the messages I needed to hear during my own healing journey. Click on the links to learn more.

✉ Join the Conversation

Have you experienced your own redemptive moment? I’d love to hear, if you feel moved to share. Share your thoughts directly on my Facebook page, where we’re building a space for honest conversation and healing. Let’s keep this conversation alive.

You can also connect with me on Instagram (@transcendencepress) or Twitter (@corey_wolff) to share your reflections or tag a friend.

Thank you for being here — and remember, every day offers a new chance to choose your path forward.

⚠️ These stories are told from my lived experience and healing journey. For a deeper understanding of my intent, please read my post: Why I Share These Stories: A Note on Truth, Healing, and Voice

🎤 “What Song From Unbroken Legacy Speaks to Your Soul?”

Tagged: Book Insights, Unbroken Legacy, Quizzes

A quiz to help you discover which song from the official soundtrack reflects your inner journey... and what it reveals about you.

1. When life gets tough, your first instinct is to...

A) Trust your gut and move forward
B) Reflect on the patterns that got you here
C) Face your fears head-on, even if it hurts
D) Try to stay hopeful and grounded
E) Retreat into your imagination and start building something new

2. What phrase feels most like you?

A) “I was born to rise.”
B) “It ends with me.”
C) “Not all monsters live under the bed.”
D) “I can still see the light.”
E) “What I imagine, I can create.”

3. Which setting feels most like home to your soul?

A) A mountain peak at sunrise
B) A quiet forest clearing with deep roots
C) A dark cave with glowing truths etched on the walls
D) A candlelit room with a soft blanket and a record spinning
E) A sun-drenched meadow that shifts with your thoughts

4. What scares you the most?

A) Being seen as weak
B) Repeating the past
C) Losing control of your mind
D) Being forgotten
E) Never unlocking your potential

5. You’re holding a magic amulet. What do you whisper into it?

A) “I’m stronger than I knew.”
B) “I break the chains that bound me.”
C) “The shadow has no power here.”
D) “There is still hope.”
E) “Let the world I see be born.”

🎧 Your Results:

Mostly A’s – “The Courage Within”

You’re steady, strong, and quietly brave. You don’t need the spotlight—you light the way for others.
🎵 Listen to the track

Mostly B’s – “Breaking Chains”

You’re here to rewrite the past. You feel the weight of what came before, but you’re not afraid to end what no longer serves you.
🎵 Listen to the track

Mostly C’s – “Monsters of the Mind”

You’re sensitive and perceptive. Your mind is powerful—sometimes too powerful—and your biggest battle is against the fears that echo in your own head. You’re learning that not everything you think is true.
🎵 Listen to the track

Mostly D’s – “Through the Darkness”

You’ve walked through fire and shadow, but you haven’t let it break you. You carry quiet hope, and it glows even when no one else can see it.
🎵 Listen to the track

Mostly E’s – “The Power of Belief”

You are a creator. Your ideas hold power, and when you begin to trust in them—really trust—the world begins to change.
🎵 Listen to the track

Which song did you get? Share it on socials and tag me! Let’s keep this world growing together. #coreywolff #UnbrokenLegacy

🧭🔮Take the Quiz: Which Core Theme of Unbroken Legacy Shapes You the Most?

Tagged: Book Insights, Unbroken Legacy, Quizzes

🌟 Interactive Quiz:

Which core theme of Unbroken Legacy shapes you the most?

A fun quiz where readers discover which message of the story speaks loudest to their soul. Here's a mini version:

1. What do you turn to when life feels overwhelming?

A) My imagination
B) I face the fear head-on
C) I think about what I inherited from my family
D) I try to forgive—myself or others
E) I focus on my dreams and goals

2. Which quote resonates most?

A) “What you imagine, you can create.”
B) “Fear is just a shadow waiting for light.”
C) “It ends with me.”
D) “Forgiveness is the only real magic.”
E) “The seed was always within you.”

3. What kind of magic would you want?

A) Manifestation
B) Shadow-walking
C) Ancestral wisdom
D) Healing
E) Awakening divine potential

4. What’s your greatest strength?

A) Creativity
B) Courage
C) Resilience
D) Compassion
E) Intuition

5. When faced with darkness, you...

A) Imagine a better world
B) Walk through it, even if afraid
C) Reflect on the past to move forward
D) Try to forgive what caused it
E) Trust that the light inside will guide you

Mostly A’s – ✨ Power of Belief

You are a visionary. Your mind is your magic.

Mostly B’s – 👹 Facing Fear

You’re the brave one. Even when it hurts, you choose truth.

Mostly C’s – 🧬 Breaking Cycles

You’re a chain-breaker. You rewrite your legacy.

Mostly D’s – 💖 Healing & Forgiveness

You’re a healer. You soften what the world tried to harden.

Mostly E’s – 🌱 The Divine Seed

You are pure potential. You’re learning how to bloom.

🎭 Join the Conversation

According the quiz results, which core theme from Unbroken Legacy shapes you the most? Do you agree—or are you still figuring out your own Monsterville identity? I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Come share your quiz result on my Facebook page, where we’re building a creative, curious community of readers, dreamers, and legacy-breakers.

Let’s keep the conversation going on Instagram (@transcendencepress) and Twitter (@corey_wolff)—post your result, tag a friend, or share which character you connected with most. Your story matters, and every time we share our journeys, we help this magical world grow.

🎼 The Sound Between Worlds: Musical Influences in Unbroken Legacy

Tagged: Book Insights, Unbroken Legacy

“I wanted it to feel like a living legend—part epic poem, part emotional journey, carried by sound as much as by plot.”

🎸 A Story Meant to Be Heard and Felt

Before it was ever a book, Unbroken Legacy lived in my imagination as something closer to a rock opera.

I grew up listening to Tommy and Quadrophenia by The Who. These albums were more than stories—they were emotional blueprints. The music pulsed with rage, longing, alienation, and hope. As a child who experienced trauma, I saw myself in Tommy. The music gave shape to feelings I didn’t yet know how to name.

That musical storytelling left a permanent mark. I didn’t just want to write a book. I wanted to score one. I wanted scenes that played like songs, rhythms that felt like memory, and voices that echoed long after the page turned.

When I saw Hamilton, I felt that fire again. The fusion of hip hop, ballad, Broadway, and soul—the layered lyrics, the call and response, the emotional callbacks baked into musical lines—it blew me away. You can feel that influence in Unbroken Legacy, especially in the scene where Horatio runs from the Beast, his past and present colliding in rhythm and breath.

And even earlier than that, I saw Flash Gordon. As a kid, that movie overwhelmed me—in the best way. The scenes weren’t just intense. They were unforgettable because the music and story moved together like thunder and lightning. I still remember the line, "He’ll save every one of us," blasting as the Birdmen charged Ming the Merciless. Or the arena battle with Flash and the Hawkman, fighting on that rising, spiked platform. My heart pounded.

As a teenager, I also fell in love with albums that didn’t just tell a story—but created a mood. Albums where one track flowed into the next like movements in a symphony. Where themes repeated, transformed, and carried emotional weight across the entire record.

Black Sabbath had that kind of power—raw, visceral, unflinching. Their music felt like walking through shadow with your heart on fire. I wanted Unbroken Legacy to have that same intensity, that same thread of unresolved emotion woven throughout.

And then there was Abbey Road. Even now, I remember writing Sweet Pea’s scenes and hearing the lyric "I want you so bad" looping in my mind—especially in moments where he longed for his mother’s approval. That ache, that vulnerability… it became his soundtrack.

Those moments didn’t just stay on screen. They imprinted on my imagination. And I carried them into Monsterville.

🎧 Music as a Frequency That Changes Reality

In Unbroken Legacy, music isn’t just powerful—it’s ancestral.

Horatio’s father passed down more than stories and artifacts. He passed down sounds: mantras, chants, sacred phrases tied to ancient truths. These aren’t just spells. They are echoes from the past, meant to awaken the future.

I used mantras in this story because I believe they carry more than meaning—they carry frequency. And it’s that frequency that creates ripples. Ripples that shift thought. Shift energy. Shift reality. When spoken with intention, a mantra becomes more than a sound. It becomes a force of becoming.

When Horatio says, "Hit bið wyrced on mínum wordum" (“It shall be done according to my words”), he’s not casting a spell—he’s tuning himself to truth. He’s remembering the language of his lineage and activating its power.

Isabella finds similar lines in her grandfather’s journal—sacred text and melody rolled into one. These chants are quiet at first. But as belief grows, they gain power. Just like a song you hum until it becomes a lifeline.

And while music moves the characters emotionally, it also helps form the very world they enter. In her room, Isabella listens to her father's old records—vinyl filled with the frequencies of another era, another life. The soundscapes blend with memory and longing, becoming the soil from which Monsterville begins to grow. It's in these quiet moments, surrounded by melody and static, that Sweet Pea first flickers into view. The music doesn't just accompany the story—it births it.

But not all sound in Unbroken Legacy is meant to uplift. The Beast, too, understands the power of vibration.

He speaks in Old English—not to awaken or heal, but to imprison. His mantras are twisted into weapons of guilt, shame, and fear. When he speaks to Scud, Biff, or Horatio, he uses language like a dark spell, locking them in low-frequency emotional states. He doesn't roar—he whispers. And in those whispers, he drags others down.

It's the mirror of creation: a frequency meant not to grow something new, but to keep something small. To remind the soul of its limitations instead of its potential. The Beast uses sound to fracture. But Isabella and Horatio learn to use it to remember—and to rise.

🌿 An Unbroken Legacy from Epics Long Ago

I’ve always been drawn to epic poems like The Odyssey and Beowulf. Not just for their legendary journeys, but for how they were told—orally, musically, rhythmically. I imagine musicians around fires, gently strumming ancient instruments as they passed down stories from generation to generation, adding new verses as the tale grew.

That’s the spirit I wanted Unbroken Legacy to carry. A story that felt like it had been heard for centuries, not just read. That’s why I chose Old English for the chapter titles—to root it in the language of Viking myth and ancestral memory. I didn’t want this to feel like a modern fantasy. I wanted it to feel like a living legend—part epic poem, part emotional journey, carried by sound as much as by plot.

🎵🔥 A Story with an Epic Soundtrack

Unbroken Legacy features a carefully curated 23-song soundtrack designed to enhance the emotional resonance of every pivotal moment in the narrative. Each track aligns with key scenes and character arcs, amplifying their mood and emotional depth. This seamless fusion of story and music transforms the tale into a truly multi-sensory experience, allowing readers to not only see the adventure unfold through words—but also feel it through sound.

A few examples include:

• “The Courage Within” – A rising anthem of quiet strength, this song underscores Isabella's growth as she battles the Beast, capturing the moment she chooses to trust her own voice.

• “Breaking Chains” – With a rhythmic intensity and a pulse like a heartbeat, this track mirrors the main characters confrontation with generational trauma and how they ended the cycle.

• “Monsters of the Mind” – Dark, layered, and haunting, this song represents the internal fears that manifest as external threats. It's the soundtrack to Monsterville's transformation under the Beast’s influence.

• “The Power of Belief” – Lyrical and uplifting, this piece celebrates the moment Isabella becomes aware of the magic that arises when imagination becomes conviction.

• “Through the Darkness” – A song of endurance and inner light, it plays during the story’s lowest moments and reminds listeners that we sometimes have to go thrugh the darkness in order to reach the light.

Each of these songs adds emotional dimension to the world and reflects the deeper vibration behind the text.

🎶 What Music Do You Carry?

If you’ve ever listened to a song and felt something ancient inside you stir—you already understand.

Music reminds us who we are. It carries grief and glory. Memory and momentum. It pulls us forward—even when we feel stuck.

In Unbroken Legacy, the notes may be hidden in chants and whispers, but they’re always there.

What song from your past feels like a doorway? What melody have you carried through your darkest days?

Tell me. I’d love to hear it. You can:

📩 Reach out through the Contact Page
📲 Connect on Instagram: @transcendencepress
📘 Follow on Facebook: Transcendence Press
🐦 Or tag me on X (Twitter): @corey_wolff

✏️ Isabella’s Sketchbook: A Guide to Monsterville’s Wild Things and Wonderlands

Tagged: Book Insights, Unbroken Legacy

The Origins of Monsterville

Monsterville wasn’t born in a lab, a castle, or even the depths of a mysterious cave. It began in my notebook—with scribbled creatures, strange lands, and wild imaginings drawn late at night beneath my covers. At first I did not mean to create a dimension. I was simply trying to make sense of the world, one sketch at a time.

What is Monsterville?

Before we dive in, here’s what you need to know about the world I imagined into being...

Imagination has power. And Monsterville, as it turns out, is a world still becoming—shaped by fear and love, belief and memory, shadow and light.

Some of the creatures you’ll meet in these pages came straight from my mind: the Gi-normo-rabbit, the Chewpacabra, the unforgettable Tyranno-Trumposaurus . Others, like the Diamond Troll and the Fauns, weren’t part of my drawings at all. They simply appeared, born from the living fabric of Monsterville itself.

The Role of Fear in Creation

Not all monsters were made on purpose.

Some slipped in through the side door—emerging from fear, shame, loneliness, or moments I didn’t fully understand. I wasn’t trying to summon the Beast. I wasn’t even thinking about it. But fear can draw shapes too. It can turn shadows into claws and worries into worlds.

That’s why this place is always changing. Why some monsters are playful... and others feel ancient, heavy, or sad. Because Monsterville doesn’t just respond to what I believe—it responds to what I carry.

A Living, Breathing World

You see, Monsterville is not fixed. It is an evolving dimension—growing and reshaping itself as the balance between love and fear within me shifts. That’s why not even I know all the secrets hidden in its forests, castles, or bubbling bogs.

The Monster Queen? Unknowingly created when I told the monster under my bed to “go back to its mommy.”
The Beast? Not created at all—but awakened by fear, like a virus feeding on imagination and slipping between worlds.

This is your field guide—a glimpse into my sketchbook. It’s filled with monsters, landscapes, and whispers of the world I built (and continue to build) with my thoughts. These aren’t just drawings.

Each sketch, each scribbled note, came from a moment when I was trying to understand my feelings, my fears, and my wonder. What began as doodles became doorways. What started as imagination... became real.

Some pages are neat, some are messy. Some creatures are silly. And some—like Sweet Pea—defy explanation altogether.

Turn the page. Step into Monsterville. Just... mind the vines.

📓 From My Notebook...

A Living Breathing World

Meet Some of the Inhabitants

What Will You Create?

Monsterville is always changing—because fear and love are always creating.

Which of my monsters did you connect with most?

I'd love to hear your thoughts, drawings, or wild ideas. Also, you can ask me any questions you have about Sweet Pea, my childhood, the Beast, or anything else that comes to your mind.

You’re warmly invited to share your thoughts on the author’s Facebook page, Transcendence Press. You can also find updates about the book and the author’s Soul Recovery Movement on Instagram (@transcendencepress) and Twitter (@corey_wolff).

I’m continuing to grow, and I hope you are too. Let’s keep this world growing—together.

With Love,

Isabella DeLaFleur

When Dreams Carry Shadows: The Paradox of Creative Power: Part 1

Part 1 — How Words, Belief, and Imagination Shape Your Reality

This is Part 1 of a two-part series exploring the hidden forces behind creation. Read Part 2: Shadows in the Garden.

Have you ever felt like you were at the mercy of external forces? Like you were drifting in an ocean with no direction?
What if your words, beliefs, and even your imagination are shaping far more than you realize? What if you had the power to influence your own life? The truth is—you do. Across different spiritual traditions, the belief that we create our own reality is not only a sacred teaching but also a practical guide for how we navigate life. From the Torah to the teachings of the Buddha, this principle runs like a thread through time. These ancient wisdoms remind us that our words, beliefs, and actions don’t just shape our outer world—they sculpt our inner world too. The power to create lies within you—and the keys to shaping your reality are already in your hands.

The Power of Words: A Torah Perspective

The Torah teaches that words hold the power of life and death, which mirrors our own inner dialogue. When we speak to ourselves with love and belief, we plant seeds of growth and healing. In the same way that God created the world with His words, we too have the power to create and shape our reality through the words we speak. This sacred truth reminds us that the language we use—both outwardly and inwardly—can either nurture our soul or limit our potential.”There are many sections in the Torah which support this. Proverbs 18:21 says: "Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruit." This verse reflects the idea that words are not just sounds; they shape reality, influence outcomes, and even determine the spiritual quality of the world around us. This idea ties into the concept that the language we use, including the words we say to ourselves, shapes the way we experience life.

“In the same way that God created the world with His words, we too have the power to create and shape our reality through the words we speak.”

We see the idea of free will and the power to shape our destiny in Deuteronomy 30:19 which says: "I call heaven and earth to witness against you today, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse; therefore choose life, that you and your descendants may live." This passage reflects the idea that we have the power to choose our actions, and by extension, our future. Choosing life (making decisions aligned with goodness, growth, and positive values) actively shapes the course of our lives and impacts our reality. The idea that God created the world through the power of words, is in Genesis 1:3: "And God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light." This suggests that speaking things into existence is a core principle not only in creation but also in shaping our reality. Furthermore Genesis 1:26 states "Then God said, 'Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness.'" Judaism teaches that humans are created in the image of God, and this idea is often interpreted to mean that humans have the divine potential for creativity and co-creation. If God is the Creator, humans, too, have the ability to create, especially when aligned with divine purpose.

Other Religious Teachings on Manifesting Reality

The idea of creating our reality through words and belief is also echoed in other traditions. In Christianity, for example, we find Jesus speaking about the power of belief and faith to shape our world. In the bible, Mark 11:23, Jesus says: "Truly I tell you, if anyone says to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and does not doubt in their heart but believes that what they say will happen, it will be done for them." This illustrates the power of belief and faith in shaping the world around us. It's not about external forces but the inner power of conviction. In Matthew 6:10 it says, "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven." So just as God in heaven has the power to will the universe into existence, we have the power to create the life we desire here on Earth. this is supported by Matthew 8:13, “Then Jesus said to the centurion, “Go! Let it be done just as you believed it would.” And his servant was healed at that moment.” This shows that through belief, and faith we have the power to shape reality.

“So just as God in heaven can will the Universe into existence, we have the power to create the life we desire here on Earth.”

We can see this belief in manifesting reality in other religions. The Buddha said, "The mind is everything. What you think, you become." This is a direct statement on the power of the mind to shape one's reality, and it emphasizes the importance of cultivating right thoughts to change your life. In Hinduism, the Upanishads and other ancient texts also teach that the mind has the power to shape reality. In particular, the Maitri Upanishad states: "As a man’s thoughts, so is his life; as a man’s life, so is his destiny." And in Hindu philosophy, particularly in the teachings of the Bhagavad Gita, there is a strong emphasis on karma (action) and how one's intentions and actions shape one's future. Karma is the principle of cause and effect, where every action has a consequence. In this sense, individuals are seen as creators of their reality based on their actions and intentions.

Words, Thoughts, and Visualization — Not Separate Entities

Words are the tool needed to express ideas both to others and to ourselves. We can’t have an inner dialogue if there are no words to communicate thoughts. In the same way that the words we speak shape the world around us, the words we silently speak to ourselves shape our inner world. Our thoughts—spoken aloud or internally—are the very foundation of our beliefs and actions.

But here's the deeper truth: Words, thoughts, and visualization are not separate entities. They are interconnected forces that work together to manifest our desires. Let me explain:

1. Thoughts are seeds. Every idea you think, whether positive or negative, is like a seed being planted in your mind. You may not realize it, but your thoughts are continuously shaping your subconscious mind. This is why positive thoughts about your goals or dreams are so important—they plant seeds for success.

2. Words are the tools for growth. Words give life to those thoughts. If thoughts are seeds, then words are the water that nourish them. For example, when you speak affirmations or express your desires aloud, you are feeding your thoughts with the energy and intention they need to grow. Whether it's "I am capable of achieving my goals" or "I am worthy of success," these words are creating pathways for your thoughts to manifest into reality.

3. Visualization is the blueprint. Visualization is like the architectural design for the manifestation. It is not enough to simply think and speak; you need to see it. Visualization turns your thoughts and words into a mental image, a clear plan for what you want to create. This mental image provides the framework that guides your actions, helping you stay focused and aligned with your goals.

4. Belief is the catalyst. Belief is the fuel that powers your thoughts, words, and visualizations. Without belief, no amount of positive thinking or visualizing will lead to action. You need to believe that what you're visualizing and speaking is possible. Belief shifts your energy and opens doors that were previously closed, creating opportunities you may not have seen before.

The Power of Words and Manifestation: A Connected System

When these four elements—thoughts, words, visualization, and belief—are combined, they form a powerful system of creation. Imagine your mind as a garden, where thoughts are seeds, words are the water, visualization is the design, and belief is the sunlight. When all of these elements are working together, your garden can flourish into the life you desire.

But here's the catch: The process of manifestation isn’t just about what you want to create. It’s about aligning your inner world with your desires. If there’s discord between your conscious thoughts and subconscious beliefs, it can create resistance, preventing you from fully manifesting your desires. This is why it’s important to not just think about your goals, but to believe in them, speak them into existence, and visualize them as already being a part of your reality.

“If there’s discord between your conscious thoughts and subconscious beliefs, it can create resistance, preventing you from fully manifesting your desires.”

Practical Steps to Manifestation

To help you align your thoughts, words, and beliefs with your goals, here are some actionable steps you can take:

1. Write down your goals and speak them aloud each day. Affirm that these goals are achievable and that you are worthy of success. This practice allows you to turn your thoughts into concrete desires and sets the stage for action.

2. Visualize your success. Take time each day to imagine yourself living the life you desire. See it, feel it, and believe in it with all your heart. Visualization helps activate your subconscious mind and moves you toward the reality you’ve envisioned..

3. Live as if your dreams are already true. Begin to take actions that align with the life you are creating. Trust in your vision, and as you align your actions with your beliefs, you will begin to manifest the reality you desire.

How I Manifest My External Environment

I have found that thoughts focused on goal-setting have been crucial for me when it comes to building something substantial in my life. It’s like the old saying, “A ship, no matter how how well built, will just drift if it has no destination. You need to plot a course, and if you veer a little off, you can realign yourself. Why? Because you have a vision for your life, and you have goals for achieving that vision, with action steps to get you there. That’s why vision boards work, as long as you envison what is meaningful to you and you focus on it with emotional intensity. When we focus our thoughts on positive, meaningful goals, and speak them into existence, we are, in essence, beginning to shape the reality we wish to experience. This process goes beyond just wishing or hoping—it’s a purposeful act of creation.

One way I manifest the reality I want is through visualization of those goals. Professional athletes have used this technique as part of their training to achieve peak performance, and I incorporate this into my daily life. In great detail, I imagine myself giving talks about my book in front of a large audience, giving radio and television interviews, giving book readings and book signings. I visualize myself on the TEDx stage sharing my healing journey from childhood trauma. I even visualize myself responding with calmness when my children misbehave. I record these visualizations and played them back until they become embedded in my mind.

Also, when I use vision boards to visualize goals that are meaningful to me, and focus on those images with emotional intensity, it helps me to slowly pull them into the present. I actually have my kitchen cabinets filled with images of speaking in front of large audiences, images of people doing challenging yoga postures, and images of the TEDx stage. And these images have inspired me to take steps towards achieving my goals.

Visualization helps you to be consistent, and the momentum you build from consistency is very powerful. I used this technique with great success when strengthening my yoga practice. I would frequently imagine myself following a sequence of postures, and doing various breath work exercises. From doing yoga for many years, I completely changed my body, and I was able to control my anxiety and regulate my nervous system. I even used breath work to get me through a having a rather large cavity filled without any novocain. So it’s possible to train yourself to do amazing things with practice. Another method of manifesting reality is by using affirmations, which I also have on my vision board.  If using affirmations interests you, check out my post How to Nurture Your Divine Seed with Positive Self-Talk.

Remembering Your Power

Just as God created the world with words, we too have the power to create the world around us. Choosing our words wisely doesn't just affect our external world; it has the power to transform our internal landscape—reshaping our thoughts, emotions, and ultimately, our reality. The first step to healing is recognizing that the language you use holds power. Speak to yourself with love, speak your truth, and watch how it transforms your life. You are not just creating a life through passive hope—you are actively co-creating with the universe through the power of your thoughts, words, and belief. By consciously choosing what you focus on, speak about, and visualize, you are setting the stage for profound change in your life.

“Choosing our words wisely…has the power to transform our internal landscape—reshaping our thoughts, emotions, and ultimately, our reality.”

🗣 Join the Conversation

If this reflection resonates with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts about what you are creating in your own life.

🌱 What thought seeds have you planted in your world?
🌿 What goals are you nurturing?
✨ Have you been watering those seeds with the words you speak over yourself?
🎨 Have you visualized what you desire—and do you believe it's possible?

You’re warmly invited to share your reflections on my Facebook page, where we’re building a thoughtful space for open, healing conversation.

Feel free to share this post with your network and tag someone who might resonate with the message. Let’s continue the conversation on Instagram (@transcendencepress) and Twitter (@corey_wolff) using #DivineSeedManifestation. Let’s cultivate this garden of growth together.