I’ve loved learning my whole life. School felt like an adventure to me. Books, ideas, history, science, mythology, language — knowledge made the world feel bigger, stranger, and more alive. The pursuit of understanding has become one of the deepest purposes of my life. About a year ago, I turned that curiosity inward. I started studying myself with the same intensity I used to bring to everything else. My patterns. My wounds. My memories. My nervous system. My inner child. The buried pieces of me that had been waiting under the dirt for years. But inner excavation has to be done gently. You don’t take a shovel to something sacred. You remove one layer at a time. You brush the dust from the fossils carefully. You stop when your hands start shaking. You remember that what you’re uncovering is fragile because it mattered. Some parts of you survived by staying buried. Be patient with the ruins. They are trying to tell you your story.