Bravely Connected

Today’s blog is dedicated to everyone who hates Valentine’s Day.

Yes—everyone who hears Adam Sandler in The Wedding Singer‘s song, “Love Stinks” and thinks, “Finally, someone gets it.” Everyone who feels that ache during holidays like Christmas, Valentine’s Day, or Family Day—especially when they all seem to land in the same weekend, just to rub salt in relational wounds.

I want to offer you some solace.

Because here’s the truth:

Love is hard.

It’s hard to be single.
It’s hard to be married.
It’s hard to be a parent.
It’s hard to have aging parents.
It’s hard to maintain friendships.

No matter what your relationship status says, relationships are complicated. There are challenges in every season.

The Need for Inner Brave Belonging

So many of us have reached out for connection at some point in our lives—and didn’t receive it. And when that happens, something in us shuts down.

We build walls.

We protect.

We harden.

Lately, I’ve been examining my own walls.

In this blog, I try not to just talk theory. Yes, I love discussing attunement, interpersonal neurobiology, and the frameworks that help us understand connection. But when it comes down to it, relationships are not tidy textbook concepts. They are gritty, raw, and deeply human.

Anyone who claims to have all the answers? I don’t believe them.

Today, I want to share a bit of where I’m at in my own journey with love.

I’ve been married almost 27 years. I’ve been with my husband nearly 28. That’s a long time. And even now, I am still learning how to receive love.

Tenderness and Boundaries: The Ongoing Tension

Recently, I’ve been reflecting on the tension between tenderness and boundaries.

The reason I keep coming back to tenderness is simple: hurt has a way of stealing it.

There have been seasons in my life when relational wounds caused me to lose my tenderness. But I also don’t want to lose my boundaries. That’s the tension—how do we stay soft without becoming unprotected?

As I’ve been driving, I’ve been listening to Atlas of the Heart by Brené Brown. In it, she explores the differences between shame, embarrassment, and humiliation—and her explanation stopped me in my tracks.

Let’s break it down:

• Guilt says: I did something wrong.
• Shame says: I am wrong.

That distinction matters.

Embarrassment, she explains, is something universal—tripping on a curb, making a small mistake. It’s uncomfortable, but common. We all get it.

But humiliation? That’s different.

When Humiliation Enters the Story

Humiliation often comes when you believe you’re doing okay. You think you’re succeeding. You feel confident. And then someone crushes you—publicly or privately—with words that shatter your sense of self.

That hit me deeply.

I started wondering:

Where have I been humiliated?
And where did those moments shut down pieces of my heart?

Two moments immediately came to mind.

The Phone Call That Broke Something

In my 20s, I was thriving at work. I was leading well. We were building momentum. I felt successful.

Then one day, my boss called me and yelled at me for nearly an hour. Screamed. Chewed me out. Said things I still remember to this day.

“Connie, you lack wisdom and you seriously need some help.”

Was I young and inexperienced? Yes. I can admit that now. But in that moment, the humiliation entered deep. It wasn’t feedback. It wasn’t correction. It was shame.

After that experience, I went into what I would describe as a two-year wilderness. I felt lost. Ungrounded. Alone.

Something in me had been crushed.

Years later, in a similar industry, something similar happened. I was trying to protect a superior by not exposing their dishonesty. As I was preparing to leave the role, I was publicly chewed out—in front of my husband and children.

I was called dishonest. A soothsayer. Lacking integrity.

Again—humiliation.

And humiliation often ushers in shame.

Not just I did something wrong.
But I am wrong.

How Old Wounds Show Up in Marriage

Now let’s fast forward to marriage.

My husband and I are very different.

He is precise. Sequential. Realistic.
I am visionary. Maverick. Glass-overflowing.

There have been times when my personality triggers his stress response. In those moments, he once called me “chaotic.”

That word hit like shame.

It felt like: There is something wrong with you.

We’ve worked through that. He hasn’t called me chaotic in a long time. And I’ve put parameters in place to protect our marriage from unnecessary stress. We’ve grown.

But the truth is this:

Those workplace humiliations combined with relational moments created narratives inside of me. Stories about who I am. Stories that quietly built walls—not just toward my husband, but toward others.

And I’m noticing those walls now.

Which is why I’m moving toward tenderness again.

When Was the Last Time You Hugged With Your Whole Heart?

I’ve been thinking about little Connie. Five-year-old Connie. The girl who hugged with her whole heart.

When someone leaned in for a hug—she leaned all the way in.

When was the last time I hugged someone like that—other than my boys?

When was the last time you hugged someone with your whole heart?

Shame. Guilt. Embarrassment. Humiliation. These experiences complicate our ability to stay open. But humiliation—especially when we reach out and are rejected—can close us down deeply.

And I want to talk about that.

The Grade Seven Letter

I was in Grade 7. Buck teeth. Chubby (and yes, in the 80s that felt significant). I had a crush on a boy.

So I did something brave: I wrote him a letter and slipped it into his locker.

After school, I saw him in a field.

Burning it.

That moment was crushing.

I had reached out. I had dared to believe there was a chance. And the rejection wasn’t quiet—it was humiliating.

And again, something in me shut down.

Naming the Shut-Down Places

Here’s what I’ve learned:

When we acknowledge the places where humiliation entered our story, we can begin to see how rejection shaped us. We can identify the little pieces of ourselves that shut down in order to survive.

But here’s the hope:

Those pieces can come back.

We can acknowledge them.
We can invite worthiness back into them.
We can find what I call brave inner belonging.

For me, that sense of worth ultimately comes from God. You may find it elsewhere. But we all need somewhere to anchor our worth.

Because this is what I want to leave you with today:

You have worth.

The places where you were humiliated.
The moments when you reached out and were rejected.
The stories that caused you to shut down.

Worth can be restored in those very places.

For me, that restoration even shows up in a small heart tattoo on my wrist—a physical reminder of something I’m continually working through.

And one day, I was sitting on my couch, doing this heart work, looking at the little heart tattoo on my wrist, I realized something important: I don’t want to ignore these parts of me anymore.

There are always layers.

Just when you think you’ve worked through something, another layer surfaces. Right now, for me, that layer is tenderness. I’m noticing it. I’m paying attention to it. I’m choosing not to bury it or run from it.

And I don’t want you to run from yours either.

The work of belonging isn’t about fixing yourself. It’s about noticing. It’s about gently turning toward the places that feel shut down and saying, I see you.

The Brave Mantra That Carried Me

Years ago, when my own family felt like it was falling apart, I wrote a brave mantra. It carried me through one of the hardest seasons of my life. And I want to offer it to you today:

I am brave.
I show up when it’s hard.
I love without walls.
I forgive when it hurts.
And I rise through the storm.

That wasn’t written from a place of strength. It was written from a place of survival. From a place of wanting to keep my heart open when everything in me wanted to shut down.

And today, I want to remind you:

You are brave.

Keep showing up.
Keep loving without walls.
Keep forgiving—even when it hurts.

Forgiveness as Freedom

Forgiveness is a huge piece of this journey.

Maybe forgiveness looks like writing down the names of the people who humiliated you. The ones who shamed you. The ones whose words caused that little person inside of you to retreat.

What if you wrote them a letter—not to send, not necessarily for their sake—but to release them?

What if forgiving them was actually about setting yourself free?

What would it look like to do that?

This Valentine’s Day, what if the person you chose to love was you? What if choosing to forgive wasn’t about excusing behavior—but about reclaiming your tenderness?

What if it could be that simple—and that powerful?

Choosing a New Story

Right now, I’m leading a 45-day Belonging Challenge. We’re already in it, but if you want in, let me know. There are tools in there specifically designed to help you overcome rejection, shame, and humiliation—to help you rebuild brave belonging from the inside out.

Because here’s what I know:

Your story doesn’t end with humiliation.
It doesn’t end with rejection.
It doesn’t end with shame.

There is always a new story available to you.

There is a version of you who knows how to receive love.
A version of you who knows how to give love.
A version of you who knows how to live free.

That is what you were born for.

So friends—keep being brave. Keep acknowledging the story inside of you. Keep turning toward tenderness instead of away from it.

And above all—

Keep being brave.