I Help Myself

I help myself.

Not because I wanted to, but because I had no other choice.

I was searching for answers in places that never held them, reaching for hands that couldn’t understand me. So I turned inward. I unraveled myself.

I found the pieces I thought were missing and realized they had always been mine to begin with.

But here’s the paradox:

I cannot help someone who does not want help.

I can only offer a door.

Whether they choose to walk through it is their own magic, their own remembering.

For a long time, I asked why.

Why do some people refuse to change, even when they’re drowning?

Why was I always drawn to those who didn’t want to save themselves?

Was it my job to pry open their hearts?

Or was my job simply to hold the light and let them decide?

The truth is, my work has never been about fixing people.

It has always been about opening space—for the ones who feel alone in their darkness, who wonder if their thoughts make them broken, who are desperate for someone to say, “You are not a bad person. You are human. You are whole.”

My magic is not spells or illusions.

It is remembrance.

It is permission.

It is activation.

I help people discover their own gifts, their own pathways, their own versions of magic. I help them see how their wounds and experiences are not cages, but clues—stories that reveal who they are and what they came here to create.

And I am a creator, too.

I have birthed children.

I have built a channel, a community, a self.

And still, the question burns: What am I here to create next?

The answer whispers:

Magic. Hope. A new way of living. A world where freedom isn’t a slogan but a reality we co-create.

A life that is different not because the world changes overnight, but because we do.

Because we finally remember that we are the makers of reality, not its prisoners.

This is my process:

I help myself.

I hold space.

I light the match.

And in that flame,

others remember their own fire.

Melanie Federline 9/10/2025