Subconscious Reprogramming: The First Portal to Power
Power doesn’t begin with a breakthrough. It begins with a whisper.
A thought you barely notice.
A flicker just below the surface.
A moment when the lie you’ve been living finally doesn’t land.
Most people miss that moment.
Because it doesn’t announce itself.
It’s subtle. Silent. A glitch in the matrix of your conditioning.
For me, it started in the shower. But it wasn’t the first time I had heard a thought that didn’t belong to me.
I was a student at Berklee College of Music when I collapsed.
Twice.
At first, we thought it was the dehydration.I was diagnosed with chronic dehydration and told I needed minor cervical surgery. My nutritionist, Patricia, had just worked with Mariah Carey—after she collapsed.
My specialist gynecologist only fit me in because my mother’s friend called in a favor. I was 90 pounds. A little bigger than Ariana Grande, maybe. More muscle. But small.
They pumped me with steroids and told me to take them four times a day. And something in me—something ancient—refused.
I started meditating.
I didn’t know what I was doing.
But I did it anyway.
One day, I collapsed in my apartment.
And when I fell, I looked up at one of the Buddha statues I had placed on my altar.
I didn’t grow up with Buddhism. But something about that statue met me where I was.
That was the first time I ever prayed to Buddha. I didn’t know it then, but I was praying not to a god— but to someone who understood suffering.
And now, after training at the USA Shaolin Temple under Shifu Shi Yan Ming— I realize: that’s what brought me there, too. Not strength. Not strategy.
Suffering.
Back then, I did what I always do when I’m in pain—I turned it into power.
I created the first-ever student-run benefit concert series at Berklee called Tava Hope: A scholarship fund for musicians with cancer.
We held four-hour concerts at All Asia Bar in Cambridge. I booked multicultural acts. I bridged genres. Apparently, it was the first time Berklee had ever seen anything like it.
Even then—at 19—I was transmuting pain into purpose. Even then, I was breaking systems without trying to make a scene.
And it should’ve been celebrated.
But it wasn’t.
Because while I was alchemizing—someone else was watching.
Waiting.
Plotting.
That’s the truth about families—blood or chosen. You never really know who is who.
The same person who helped me escape almost being murdered— after the man I was dating had a full mental break and tried to take me down with him—later helped finish the job.
Not physically. But professionally. Spiritually. Financially.
Targeted.
Gaslit.
Bullied.
Exposed.
Systemically shut out from opportunities that I created space for others to have.
Because I had the nerve to shine.
To love.
To heal.
And the worst part?
It started young.
People I trusted.
People who knew what I had survived.
People who used my softness against me.
Sociopathic.
Covert.
Strategic.
So how do I keep going?
I flush the lies out of my subconscious.
Every. Single. Day.
I listen to sound healing.
I practice yoga.
I train in martial arts.
I keep an open-heart, trust in the universe’s intelligence over mind and I choose love.
For love of self.
For love of others.
For love of all.
Not because I want to be a warrior.
Because I have to be.
Every day is work.
To live.
To survive.
To not wear what I’ve been through like a second skin.
And most people would never know.
Because I’ve mastered resilience.
Because I do the work where no one sees it.
The truth is, trauma writes your subconscious.
It plants beliefs like:
“I’m not safe.”
“I’m not enough.”
“I have to earn love.”
“I have to perform to belong.”
And the subconscious doesn’t know the difference between truth and repetition.
It believes what it hears most.
So if you spent years hearing you were dramatic, disposable, or too much—
Your subconscious made that your script.
Mine did too.
I lived a life where chaos was familiar.
Where survival felt normal.
Where stillness felt dangerous.
Until I decided to rewrite the script.
I started small.
Dry erase markers on the mirror.
Affirmations playing while I slept.
Mantras whispered into my morning coffee.
And at first, my body rejected it.
The subconscious hates being challenged. It clings to the old identity—even if that identity is killing you.
But I kept going.
Every time I wanted to self-abandon, I stayed. Every time the voice said, “You’re too much,” I whispered back, “I’m exactly enough.”
That was the real portal.
Not the ritual.
Not the retreat.
The reprogramming.
According to neuroscientific research, the subconscious mind drives over 90% of our thoughts and behaviors. Rewiring it requires repetition, emotion, and somatic engagement.
Tools like EMDR, hypnosis, sound healing, and affirmational breathwork activate neuroplasticity— the brain’s ability to dissolve old pathways and create new ones.
This is why yoga didn’t just save me physically. It softened the script I didn’t know was still running underneath.
When I breathed differently, I thought differently. When I moved with intention, I gave myself permission.
The first time I told myself, “You are allowed to rest”—And believed it—was during savasana.
Reprogramming isn’t about perfection.
It’s about persistence. It’s about choosing a new voice over and over again—until the old one dissolves.
Power doesn’t come from the shout. It comes from the whisper.
And the first choice? Is to question the script.
If you want to reclaim your life—
Start with your language.
The words you speak over yourself.
The tone you use in silence.
The story you tell when no one’s listening.
Because the subconscious is always listening.
And what you repeat… you become.
So here’s the new truth I tell myself every day:
You are safe.
You are worthy.
You are powerful.
You are free.
This is the first portal.
The first initiation.
Not just into healing—
But into becoming who I was before the world tried to program me otherwise.
And who I’ll be after I burn it all down.
Again. And again.
Until it sticks.
Until I stick.
