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Sometimes, the antidote to anxiety isn’t softness.
It’s steel.
It’s saying: I will not abandon what matters.
I will protect what’s important — and I will prevail.
We often think of comfort as something warm and gentle.
A soft blanket. A kind word.
But there are times — and I’ve known them — when what calms you isn’t soothing.
It’s resolve.
It’s that inner voice that steps forward, plants its feet, and says:
No. Not this.
Yes. This I will protect.
This, I will build.
This, I will not leave behind.
That voice is the Champion archetype inside you.
In psychological terms, an archetype is a kind of inner blueprint — a pattern of feeling, behaviour, and meaning that shows up across people and cultures.
The word comes from the Greek for “prototype” or “template.”
The Champion archetype is the part of us that defends what we care about.
It’s where our loyalty lives. Our fight. Our fierce intelligence.
It rises in us when something matters deeply — and needs protecting.
Or when the path ahead is hard, but the cause is worth it.
You might also hear this archetype called the Warrior, the Hero, the Advocate, or the Defender.
But whatever the name — you’ll know it when it appears.
It’s the part of you that refuses to abandon what matters.
I used to be wary of the Warrior archetype.
It can seem brash, aggressive, all fire and sharp elbows.
But the Champion I’ve come to know — the one that lives in me —
isn’t cruel. She’s fierce because she cares.
She’s not about ego.
She’s about allegiance.
To the part of me that knows what matters.
To the vision I’m holding.
To the people I love.
Do you know why a rose has thorns?
It’s a question I’ve asked many times —
in workshops, with clients, and in moments I’ve needed to remind myself.
Because if a rose were only meek and self-effacing,
it would be overrun by slugs.
So a rose grows both:
Petals and spikes.
Beauty and boundary.
The capacity to open — and the instinct to protect.
I carry that image with me.
Because I need it. Often.
In my relationships, there have been times I had to Champion myself.
Because no one else could.
Times when I had to stop making myself smaller,
or softer,
or more palatable.
Stop handing myself away, piece by piece,
just to keep things peaceful.
I’ve learned that sometimes —
loving yourself well means standing up,
even when your voice shakes.
Even when you’d rather disappear.
In my work, I’ve had to Champion a dream
that doesn’t yet have a roadmap.
Building ByHeart has taken all my tenderness — and all my fire.
There are no guarantees.
Only the knowing: this matters.
This is mine to do.
And so I build it.
Even when I’m tired.
Even when I’m unsure.
Even when no one’s clapping yet.
I build it because something fierce and loyal in me
refuses to leave it behind.
I often call the Champion a kind of fierce love.
To prevail doesn’t always mean to conquer.
It doesn’t mean dominating.
Or proving yourself.
Sometimes, to prevail simply means to remain.
To stay the course.
To say again:
I will not abandon what matters.
I will protect what’s important.
And I will prevail.
You don’t have to wear armour or raise a flag.
Just name it, quietly:
This is what matters. This is what I will not abandon.
That, too, is how we prevail.
You’re welcome to hit reply and share. I always love hearing what moves for you.
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