{"id":210,"date":"2025-03-10T11:28:01","date_gmt":"2025-03-10T11:28:01","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/?p=210"},"modified":"2025-03-10T18:07:46","modified_gmt":"2025-03-10T18:07:46","slug":"from-pain-to-purpose-reclaiming-my-frozen-self","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/?p=210","title":{"rendered":"Reclaiming My Frozen Self"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
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From Pain to Purpose: Reclaiming My Frozen Self<\/h2>\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
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I was five years old when I first learned I wasn’t enough to stop bad things from happening.<\/p>

Standing outside our house in the middle of nowhere, my small hand wrapped around the cold metal doorknob, turning it again and again, knowing it wouldn’t open.<\/p>

I had been locked out deliberately, but I could hear everything.
The shouting.
The thuds.
My mother\u2019s cries.
My father\u2019s rage.<\/p>

Each sound traveled through the walls and into my bones, where they would remain for decades.<\/p>

I walked over and stood on the sidewalk outside the bay window with my hands over my ears, unsure when it would end.<\/p>

The memory emblazoned like a slow-playing movie in my mind, one I played thousands of times deep into my forties.<\/p>

These traumatic events weren\u2019t isolated to just my mother. They continued to happen throughout my childhood.
Nine more years of feeling powerless, of watching, of promising myself that I could fix things if I tried harder or could be better.<\/p>

Suddenly I was fourteen, almost 15.<\/p>

That day, I heard my sister crying\u2014she was 12. I\u2019d listened to the same sounds for years, but something in me snapped this time.<\/p>

I wasn\u2019t that helpless five-year-old anymore.<\/p>

I rushed to defend her, finally taking the stand I couldn’t take before.<\/p>

But by then, those patterns of fear and unworthiness were deeply ingrained.<\/p>

That frightened five-year-old part of me remained frozen while the rest of me grew up, moved forward, and built a life.<\/p>

Fast forward thirty years. I’m standing on a stage in front of 350 successful entrepreneurs.
The lights are warm on my face, and the energy in the room is electric.<\/p>

Our event\u2014a vision brought to life\u2014is a resounding success.
Applause washes over me as I finish explaining a concept that has helped transform businesses around the globe.<\/p>

I should feel triumphant.
Instead, a familiar flutter of anxiety ripples through my chest. A voice whispers: This won\u2019t last.
You don\u2019t deserve this. Something\u2019s about to go wrong.
And historically, something always did.<\/p>

But it wasn\u2019t bad luck\u2014it was me.
Time and again, I ignored my intuition or gut instinct.<\/p>

Despite the knot in my stomach or the quiet voice warning me something wasn\u2019t right, I would convince myself that their impressive credentials and promising opportunities outweighed my concerns.<\/p>

It was a pattern I’d repeated throughout my entrepreneurial journey.<\/p>

Building something remarkable, then watching it struggle or crumble because I’d given my power away to someone who never had my best interests at heart.<\/p>

Each time, I’d call it bad luck.
I’d start over, rebuild, and somehow return to the same situation each time.
“Why do you keep choosing people who don\u2019t value you?”
My mentor asked me during one of our coaching sessions. He\u2019d been working with me for almost a year.
“I don\u2019t choose them,” I insisted, defensiveness rising in my throat. “I\u2019ve just had a couple of strings of bad luck.”<\/p>

He let the silence stretch between us, his eyes kind but unwavering.
“Once is bad luck,” he finally said.
\u201cMultiple times is a pattern. And patterns usually have roots.”<\/p>

“What kind of roots?” I asked\u2026 though something in me already knew the answer.
“Usually the kind that go all the way back to childhood,” he said gently.
And there it was\u2014that five-year-old boy at the locked door, believing that if he could just be better, try harder, he could earn enough love to keep everyone safe.<\/p>

“I think you\u2019re still trying to earn love or validation,” he said when I finished sharing.
The realization hit me like a physical blow.
My eyes stung with tears as years of “bad luck” suddenly resolved into a clear pattern of my own making.<\/p>

“The problem isn\u2019t that you’re unlucky in business, or life\u2026”
\u201cThere’s a part of you\u2014that five-year-old part\u2014that doesn\u2019t believe you deserve success.
And every time you start to achieve it, that part gets scared and finds a way to return you to what feels safe\u2014the familiar struggle to prove your worth.\u201d<\/p>

That suffering equals strength. And that\u2026
I am the only safe place for me\u2026 and I must place a barrier around connection to stay safe.<\/p>

That session changed everything almost four years ago.<\/p>

I began to understand that my business bumps and challenges weren\u2019t separate from my personal journey\u2014they were direct reflections of it.<\/p>

The five-year-old boy locked outside, helpless and afraid, had been making my business decisions from a place of unworthiness and fear.<\/p>

I started the painful, beautiful work of reclaiming those frozen parts of myself.<\/p>

I began a conversation with that young boy through therapy, meditation, and deep inner work.<\/p>

I listened to his fears. I honored his pain.<\/p>

I showed him that we were safe now, strong, and worthy of success. The process has been uncomfortable.
There were days I wanted to retreat to my old patterns\u2014they were painful, but at least they were familiar.
But I keep going, integrating, and thawing those frozen parts.<\/p>

As the adult now, I have become equipped with awareness to sit and support that little child who lacked the tools or understanding to process his experiences.<\/p>

Which brings me back to that stage, the applause, and the familiar flutter of anxiety.<\/p>

But this time, something is different. This time, I recognize it for what it is\u2014that five-year-old part of me getting scared, waiting for something to go wrong.<\/p>

Instead of ignoring or pushing through, I take a breath and internally acknowledge him: I hear you. I feel your fear. But we\u2019re safe now. We\u2019ve done the work.
We are building this right, with the right people who truly value us. We deserve this success.
The anxiety hasn\u2019t disappeared completely\u2014integration is a process, not an event\u2014but it softened.<\/p>

I am not afraid of it; it creates resilience and mental toughness for the inevitable challenges of continuous change.<\/p>

And for the first time, I am able to truly celebrate success without waiting for the other shoe to drop.<\/p>

I trusted my intuition and walked away from deals that didn\u2019t feel right, even when they looked perfect on paper.<\/p>

First, I chose to focus on becoming the person who could create something that will last.
Why put things back together to satisfy the ego but be miserable with what I preserved?<\/p>

The result I committed to wasn\u2019t just financial success, but sustainable, fulfilling success.
The kind that doesn\u2019t leave you drained or looking over your shoulder. The kind that comes from leading as a whole person.<\/p>

Here\u2019s what I\u2019ve learned on this journey from pain to purpose:<\/strong>
As entrepreneurs and leaders, we don\u2019t leave our childhood wounds at the door when we enter the boardroom.<\/p>

Those unintegrated parts of ourselves\u2014the ones frozen in time by trauma or pain\u2014don\u2019t just disappear because we\u2019ve grown up or achieved success.<\/p>

They continue to influence our decisions, our partnerships (business and personal), and our relationship with \u201csuccess\u201d itself.<\/p>

When we operate from these wounded places, we create businesses that reflect our wounds.<\/p>

We hire the wrong people, and often sabotage our success just as it\u2019s beginning to flourish.<\/p>

But when we do the work of reclaiming and integrating all parts of ourselves\u2014especially those frightened, frozen parts\u2014we create from wholeness.<\/p>

We make decisions from clarity rather than old patterns.<\/p>

We choose people who complement our vision rather than replay our traumas.<\/p>

The hero\u2019s journey isn\u2019t just about moving forward\u2014it\u2019s about going back to retrieve the parts of ourselves that got left behind.<\/p>

Only when we bring those parts along with us, when we thaw what\u2019s been frozen, can we achieve success that truly fulfills us.<\/p>

Because true success isn\u2019t just about what you build in the world.
It\u2019s about rebuilding yourself, completely and authentically, so that what you create comes from wholeness, not wound.<\/p>

That five-year-old boy still lives in me.<\/p>

But he\u2019s no longer locked outside in the cold.<\/p>

He\u2019s right here with me, integrated into the man I\u2019ve become. And together, we\u2019re building something that will last.<\/p>

No sorrow or pity is warranted nor wanted; I have created and co-created my entire journey and take 100% responsibility for all of it.<\/p>

Otherwise, I blame someone else?\u2026 Then they are the only ones with the power to change it.<\/p>

The darkness we face is often the doorway to our most incredible light.<\/p>

But we must be willing to enter it, to sit with it, and to bring back what we find there.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

From Pain to Purpose: Reclaiming My Frozen Self I was five years old when I first learned I wasn’t enough to stop bad things from happening. Standing outside our house in the middle of nowhere, my small hand wrapped around the cold metal doorknob, turning it again and again, knowing it wouldn’t open. I had … Continue reading “Reclaiming My Frozen Self”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":212,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"elementor_header_footer","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-210","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"rttpg_featured_image_url":{"full":["https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/03\/Blog2.png",1200,720,false],"landscape":["https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/03\/Blog2.png",1200,720,false],"portraits":["https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/03\/Blog2.png",1200,720,false],"thumbnail":["https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/03\/Blog2-150x150.png",150,150,true],"medium":["https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/03\/Blog2-300x180.png",300,180,true],"large":["https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/03\/Blog2-1024x614.png",840,504,true],"1536x1536":["https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/03\/Blog2.png",1200,720,false],"2048x2048":["https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/03\/Blog2.png",1200,720,false],"post-thumbnail":["https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/03\/Blog2.png",1200,720,false],"woocommerce_thumbnail":["https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/03\/Blog2-250x250.png",250,250,true],"woocommerce_single":["https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/03\/Blog2-400x240.png",400,240,true],"woocommerce_gallery_thumbnail":["https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/03\/Blog2-100x100.png",100,100,true]},"rttpg_author":{"display_name":"Matthew stafford","author_link":"https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/?author=1"},"rttpg_comment":0,"rttpg_category":"Uncategorized<\/a>","rttpg_excerpt":"From Pain to Purpose: Reclaiming My Frozen Self I was five years old when I first learned I wasn’t enough to stop bad things from happening. Standing outside our house in the middle of nowhere, my small hand wrapped around the cold metal doorknob, turning it again and again, knowing it wouldn’t open. I had…","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/210","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=210"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/210\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/212"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=210"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=210"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/matthewstafford.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=210"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}