The Roles We Play: Mirrors for Our Soul's Evolution
We all play certain roles in our lives. Some we’re aware of, and some we aren’t. As a society, we love to put people in boxes: the hero, the villain, the helper, the outsider. One person might be a saint in your story and a villain in someone else’s—and yet, they are the same soul, just walking their path.
Over time, I’ve come to realize that the roles we assign—and those assigned to us—aren’t just reflections of circumstance. They’re invitations. Mirrors. Glimpses into the deeper work of understanding who we truly are beneath the masks, expectations, and fears.
As I’ve taken steps to become my authentic self—a process that feels more like an unfolding than a destination—I’ve often felt the fear of being misunderstood or rejected. What if this version of me isn’t accepted? The one who believes deeply in our innate ability to heal, to connect with our soul and the loving light of the Universe, Creator, God—whatever name speaks to that higher power we all have access to. The woman who knows in her bones that she’s here to be of service, to help others remember who they are and reclaim the wholeness of body, mind, and spirit.
For years, I made decisions from a place of worry and self-doubt. If I say no to dinner, will they think I don’t like them? If I wear this bright, eclectic outfit, will people see how unsure I feel inside? If I speak up and stumble over my words, will they think I’m not smart or qualified?
The list went on and on.
But then I began to look at my healing journey—the books, the podcasts, the teachers, the conversations that cracked me open—and I saw something beautiful. Every situation, every relationship, every uncomfortable moment had a purpose. My soul had signed up for each one, not as punishment, but as a lesson. A chance to do the work of healing. To peel back layers of pain from childhood, past lives, ancestral wounds. To remember myself.
Now, when an old belief or pattern shows up, I try to pause. I ask:
Why does this bother me?
Where does this belief come from?
What purpose has it served?
Do I still need to carry it?
Not every question needs an answer, but the asking itself is an act of self-love. It points me back to the deeper truth: that I am not broken. I am simply remembering.
This work isn’t easy. I’m constantly humbled by how Spirit brings the lessons to light—again and again—through my clients, my relationships, my work, even random strangers. When something is ready to be healed, it echoes everywhere.
And so, when I think back to the roles I’ve played—the people-pleaser, the quiet one, the fixer—and the roles others have played in my life, I see them differently now. Not as fixed identities, but as sacred catalysts. Each role, each person, each story has been part of a divine design. Not to define me—but to refine me. To bring me closer to my soul, my truth, my I AM.
Maybe that’s the real invitation: to stop clinging to the roles and start listening to what they’re trying to show us.