“Failure is an opportunity. If you blame someone else, there is no end to the blame. Therefore the Master fulfills her own obligations and corrects her own mistakes. She does what she needs to do and demands nothing of others.”―Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching.

A Letter to the Woman Who Feels Like She's Failing

(But Is Secretly a Wise Warrior)

To the woman who is reading this right now—the one who just made coffee for her parents just the way they like it, checked on a client email, scheduled a doctor's appointment for her child, and realized she hasn't taken a deep breath all day—

I see you.

You are the one holding it all together. The bold, resourceful, heart-centered anchor for your kids, parents, friends and community. Called to manage everything while growing your self and career.

And you are the one who feels, in the quiet, secret moments of the day, like you are failing.

You feel the spike of resentment when you're asked for one more thing, and then you feel the immediate, crushing wave of guilt for feeling that resentment. In silence, you feel the painful tension and conflict between being fiercely loyal to the commitments you made to your loved ones and taking time for your own well-being.

After all you have dreams of your own, ambitions you want to pursue, but "family comes first," you always tell yourself. Like the "good" daughter, Mom and wife you were raised to be, you continue placing your own needs at the bottom of a list that never gets shorter.

And that quiet voice in your head, the one that says you're not doing enough, you're not good enough, is the loudest one of all.

I want to tell you something. That feeling of failure? It isn't you.

It’s a story.

It’s an old, uneven floor.

When I was a kid, I visited a house with a severely sloped floor. The walk across the room made my young legs and feet hurt as if I were climbing a hill. My eyes curiously scanned the room capturing the awkward connections between the walls and floor. One side of the room contained more furniture simply because the slope limited the options available. I noticed all the adults walking around the strange room talking to each other without skipping a beat. They seemed oblivious to the distortions that made me feel deeply uneasy, confused and eager to leave. I chose a spot to sit and remained their until it was time to go. After what seemed like days, my family was ready to leave. Stepping out of that weird space and into the normal world gave me the relief I longed for. While house hunting years later, I walked through a house that stirred the same "internal discomforts" I felt back then. Though the floor was not as sloped, it reconnected me to that old forgotten childhood memory. In that moment, I realized the experience had left a deep impression on my young mind-body-spirit. That old fear, deep discomfort and trepidation creeped into my psyche merging the past with the present. Reminding myself of the power I currently had, I paused to inhale and exhale deeply, then chose to walk away.

That feeling of "failure" you're carrying is just like that uneven floor. It’s an emotional imprint from your past, perhaps from early childhood traumas, that your mind now catalogs as "home". Like the adults living in that old house, you learned to navigate an unstable foundation so well you've become identified with the struggle completely.

But that's not the end of the story.

In Japan, there is a beautiful philosophy called Wabi Sabi, which is the art of finding deep beauty in imperfection. When a treasured piece of pottery breaks, they don't throw it away in shame. They practice Kintsugi—the craft of mending the broken pieces with lacquer mixed with pure gold.

The belief is that the bowl is now more precious and beautiful because it was broken. The golden seams tell its story of resilience and healing.

Your story is that Kintsugi bowl. That "uneven floor," that emotional imprint, is not a source of shame. It is not a sign of failure. It is a healing opportunity. It is the beginning of your golden seam.

The secret is this: Your exhaustion is not a sign of failure; it is a sign of your incredible, fierce loyalty. Your resentment is not a sign of being a "bad person"; it is a sign that your own "inner warrior" is suffocating and needs air.

You are not failing. You are depleted. And there is a world of difference between the two.

This isn't about hustling more or adding "self-care" as another stressful item on your to-do list.

This is about choosing to heal the foundational story.

It’s about giving yourself permission to restore your emotional, mental and physical wellbeing. It's about learning to build your emotional resilience so you can move forward without guilt or overwhelm. It’s about discovering that you can be a wise warrior for others and for yourself. You can remaster your foundation for life to align with your long-term desires and increase your personal fulfillment without sacrificing your commitments.

This is your safe, private, and judgment-free zone to start that journey.

So let’s start here, together. You don't have to do this alone.

Send me an email at [email protected], share one 'win' from this week, no matter how small. I am here to provide support and celebrate you.

With warmth and warrior spirit,

Mayra