Be the Love

Sarah Prout sat on the bathroom floor, her body wracked with contractions as another miscarriage unfolded. This was the fourth time her hopes had been shattered, the fourth time she'd felt her heart break into smaller pieces. In that moment of devastating loss, she made a choice that would transform not only her own life but touch millions of others. She decided to stop seeking love and validation from external sources and instead embark on a journey to become the love she desperately wished to feel.

This raw and vulnerable exploration takes us through the depths of human pain and the heights of emotional transformation. Sarah's story reveals how our deepest wounds can become our greatest sources of wisdom, and how the journey from seeking love to being love requires courage, compassion, and an unwavering commitment to healing. Through intimate stories of domestic violence, miscarriage, financial hardship, and the slow rebuilding of self-worth, we discover that true healing begins when we stop waiting for someone else to save us and start rescuing ourselves. The path forward isn't about perfection, but about embracing our wholeness, trusting our intuition, and learning to love ourselves so deeply that we become a beacon of that love for others.

Sarah remembers the exact moment she knew her marriage had to end, but it wasn't when her husband's fist connected with her arm, leaving bruises that would last for weeks. It wasn't even when he destroyed all her belongings in a drunken rage while their children cowered in fear. The breaking point came years later, in her second marriage, when she found herself pushing her beloved husband Sean repeatedly, screaming at him to leave while simultaneously begging him to stay. The realization hit her like lightning: she had become the very thing she had once fled from.

The pattern had been there all along, hidden beneath her victim story. Sarah had learned early that love came with conditions, that approval had to be earned through perfection, and that her voice didn't matter. At seven years old, she desperately hoped to be chosen for Emily's birthday party, equating inclusion with worthiness. At twenty, she said yes to a marriage proposal not out of love, but out of relief at being chosen. For decades, she carried shame about her post-pregnancy body, allowing a thoughtless comment from a physical therapist to dictate how she saw herself for nearly eighteen years.

The journey from victim to survivor required Sarah to confront an uncomfortable truth: healing isn't about changing others or waiting for external validation. It's about taking radical responsibility for our emotional responses and breaking generational patterns of seeking love outside ourselves. When we stop handing our power over to others' opinions and start believing in our own magic, we discover that the love we've been desperately seeking has been within us all along. This realization becomes the foundation for every other transformation that follows.

At sixteen, Sarah dreamed of a cherubic boy with golden curls sitting in a barn, telling her he'd see her when he was ready to be born. Five years later, she held that exact child in her arms, his father bearing the British accent from her vision. This prophetic dream was Sarah's first glimpse into her intuitive powers, though it would take decades for her to fully trust the oracle within.

Modern life has dulled our intuitive gifts through constant noise and fear-based messaging. Sarah learned this firsthand when she ignored her gut feelings about relationships, business decisions, and life changes. The cost of not listening to her inner voice was steep: toxic relationships, financial struggles, and years of feeling lost and disconnected from her purpose. But intuition, she discovered, isn't just about predicting the future. It's about recognizing the difference between fear and love in each moment.

The most powerful example came when a voice in her head screamed "NO!" just as she was about to step out of a car. A school bus sped by moments later, missing her by inches. This near-death experience taught her that intuitive messages aren't suggestions, they're lifelines. Whether it came through dreams, synchronicities, or that unmistakable knowing in her gut, her inner oracle had been guiding her all along.

Learning to trust intuition requires quieting the external noise and creating space for inner wisdom to emerge. When we stop seeking answers outside ourselves and start honoring the guidance that flows from within, we realize we've always had access to infinite wisdom. The key is learning to distinguish between the voice of fear, which seeks to keep us small and safe, and the voice of love, which calls us toward our highest potential and truest self.

The doctor's words cut through Sarah like a blade: "If you carried her to full term, she probably would have died within the week. Sometimes Mother Nature is kind." Sarah was receiving test results from her fourth miscarriage, learning that the baby she'd carried for ten weeks had a fatal chromosomal condition. As she sat in that sterile office, already pregnant again only to discover this pregnancy was also failing, she felt completely shattered.

But being shattered isn't the same as being broken. Sarah's story reveals how generational trauma passes down through families like an invisible inheritance. Her mother had given up two sons for adoption before Sarah was born, carrying that secret pain for decades. Sarah's grandmother raised five children in the same house where she was born, painting portraits to process her own unspoken grief. Each woman had learned to carry pain silently, believing they were protecting their children from their wounds.

Sarah's recurrent miscarriages forced her to confront not just her own trauma, but the accumulated pain of the women who came before her. She realized that her body was rejecting new life because she hadn't learned to truly inhabit her own. Her shame about her appearance, her people-pleasing tendencies, and her inability to set boundaries were all symptoms of generational patterns that needed healing.

The path to wholeness required Sarah to see her pain as sacred rather than shameful. Like the Japanese art of Kintsukuroi, where broken pottery is repaired with gold, our wounds become more valuable once we honor them as part of our story. Healing generational trauma isn't about perfection; it's about breaking cycles and choosing love over fear, again and again, until that choice becomes our new legacy.

Sarah's chest pains struck on Thanksgiving morning 2020, sharp enough to convince her she was having a heart attack. Hours later in the emergency room, a compassionate doctor delivered an unexpected diagnosis: "I don't think you need to be admitted for more testing. I think you are having a stress response and your heart hurts. Cry, and let it out. Let it go." The physical symptoms were her body's way of processing the emotional pain of letting her nineteen-year-old son choose to stay in Las Vegas while the family moved to New York.

The hardest lesson Sarah had to learn was that love sometimes means letting go. For nearly two decades, she had defined herself through her role as Thomas's mother, never imagining how difficult it would be when he was ready to leave the nest. Her panic attacks and physical symptoms weren't just about missing her son; they were about releasing an identity she'd clung to for survival.

Letting go became Sarah's pathway to manifesting her dreams. When she and Sean decided to move from Australia to America, they took leap after leap of faith: selling their belongings before getting visa approval, trusting that their business income would continue growing, and moving across the world with three children and seven boxes. Each act of surrender created space for something better to emerge.

The law of letting go operates on the principle that what we resist persists, while what we release with love returns to us transformed. Whether it's decluttering physical possessions to make space for abundance, forgiving past hurts to open our hearts to new love, or releasing the need to control outcomes to allow miracles to unfold, surrender becomes the ultimate act of faith. When we stop gripping so tightly to what we think we need, we create room for what we're truly meant to receive.

Sarah's stomach wound opened like something from a horror movie just weeks before her biggest speaking engagement. Three gaping holes appeared on her surgical scar, one as large as a tablespoon, leaking orange fluid that her doctor cheerfully compared to Tropicana punch. With her keynote at an event featuring Tony Robbins just days away, Sarah faced a choice: let fear silence her voice or use her words as instruments of healing.

She turned to affirmations with desperate intensity: "I am healed. I will be okay. I feel stronger every day." For hours each day, she meditated with crystals, listened to healing frequencies, and spoke her recovery into existence. When she finally took the stage, wearing a thick pad over her still-leaking wound, she delivered one of the most powerful presentations of her career. The audience had no idea she was literally holding herself together with words and willpower.

This experience taught Sarah that our words aren't just communication tools; they're creative forces that shape our reality. She had spent years wielding words as weapons in her abusive relationships, using them to wound and defend rather than heal and connect. Learning to be impeccable with her word, as Don Miguel Ruiz teaches, became fundamental to her transformation.

The shift from destructive to creative language patterns required constant vigilance. Instead of "I am debt-free" (which focuses on debt), Sarah learned to say "I am living in abundance." Rather than complaining about what was wrong, she practiced speaking only of what she wanted to create. She discovered that words have the power to magnetize experiences, drawing us toward whatever we consistently speak about.

Your word becomes your wand when you understand that every statement is a declaration to the universe about what you're ready to receive. When we choose our words consciously, speak with integrity, and align our communication with our deepest values, we transform from passive victims of circumstance into active creators of our reality. The magic happens when we realize that the stories we tell about ourselves and our lives literally become the lives we live.

Sarah Prout's journey from a woman trapped in cycles of abuse and self-doubt to a beacon of love and empowerment reveals a profound truth: our greatest wounds often become our most powerful gifts. Her story demonstrates that transformation isn't a destination but a daily practice of choosing love over fear, wholeness over brokenness, and trust over control. Through her darkest moments, from miscarriages to domestic violence to financial struggle, she discovered that the love she had been desperately seeking from others had always resided within her own heart.

The path to becoming the love we wish to feel requires three essential practices: feel your emotions fully without judgment, heal the patterns and wounds that keep you stuck, and reveal your authentic self to the world with courage and vulnerability. This isn't about perfection or having all the answers; it's about embracing our humanity while connecting to something greater than ourselves. When we stop seeking validation outside ourselves and start honoring the wisdom within, we become not just survivors of our circumstances but creators of our destiny. The ultimate act of self-love is recognizing that we are already whole, already worthy, and already equipped with everything we need to transform our pain into power and our wounds into wisdom.