Where My Why Took Me – From Protection to Permission (Part 1)

When we lost our home, I was too young to understand contracts, risks, or business deals gone wrong…I was only six.

Adult decisions, leverage or liability did not make sense to me. But I understood tension, whispers and boxes that never seemed to stay unpacked.

We moved. And moved again and again. Honestly, I stopped counting after the ninth time.

For years, I blamed my father. Not because I truly knew what had happened, but because children look for simpler explanations to complicated pain.

I was closer to my mom and could feel her anxiety, fear, and sense of powerlessness. Even without words, it was obvious she didn’t feel secure.

And somewhere in the middle of all that instability, I made a quiet promise to myself. One day, I would buy her a house.

A place she could live in for the rest of her life. A home where no one could tell her to leave. Where boxes would stay empty because they weren’t needed anymore.

Because I was a child, that promise took years to fulfill.

That period of uncertainty became the seed of my “why” later in life.

It shaped how I worked, the hours I kept, and the intensity people mistook for ambition.

What they didn’t see was that my drive wasn’t born from ego. It was born from protection.

That promise came with a price I didn’t fully understand at the time.

When your “why” is born from instability, work stops feeling optional and becomes a shield. A way to outrun fear. I didn’t just want success. I wanted security.

So I worked, and worked. And then some.

Long hours felt normal. Saying yes to everything felt necessary. Resting felt like something you earn only after you’ve guaranteed safety for everyone around you.

From the outside, it probably looked like discipline, hustle and focus…

However, underneath all of that, there was a six-year-old child who never wanted to see boxes stacked in his living room ever again.

That mindset served me well. It got me out of bed early. It opened doors. It took me from Brazil to Boston to Florida. It created the sense of protection I needed.

But there was another side to it.

When your “why” is rooted in survival, it can quietly turn into pressure.

It makes you measure your worth by how much you produce. You start carrying responsibilities nobody asked you to carry.

And you keep moving, not because you want to, but because slowing down feels dangerous and weak.

Maybe that’s the part we don’t talk about enough. Passion and pressure sometimes wear the same costume.

Somewhere along the way, though, I began to notice a shift. Not a dramatic breakthrough moment. It was quieter than that.

To be continued…

P.S. – If you enjoy my writing, I invite you to take a peek behind the scenes of my upcoming book, Nobody Told Me That — you can download the sample chapter here.