The Five Truths of an Inner Work Initiate

If you take nothing else from me, take these

But first, story time.

I started taking my inner work seriously when I lost it on a six-year-old.

If you haven’t seen a six-year-old in a while, here you go.

I mean really lost it, yelling at this child over something trivial. He was just being a six-year-old, doing what six-year-olds do. But it felt personal. Too personal.

That was one month into my second year teaching at a no-excuses charter school—a place I'd only chosen because I would get to co-teach with someone more experienced. But an abrupt firing meant I ended up leading my own classroom right from the start.

That first year was hell. I dragged myself through it and hoped year two would be my “fix-it” year, now that I knew the system. How the kids should walk, sit, stand, track you with their eyes. I didn’t believe in most of it, but I wanted to be a “good” teacher. So I buried my doubts and followed the plan.

And it mostly worked. Or at least, I was getting by. Until that day when that kid didn’t do as I said. The rest of the class was lining up to transition, and he just stood there, arms crossed, refusing to move, ignoring my repeated directions. I snapped. And in that moment, it was like I stepped outside myself. I saw who I’d become and I didn’t like it. Getting mad like this at a six-year-old at my big age? Responding with force instead of curiosity? Nah. That couldn’t be me.

I’d been trying so hard to meet the expectation of an urgent, perfect classroom because my students’ behavior was seen as a reflection of me. And in the process, I lost myself.

So I stopped doing what I was told. Ditched the color-coded behavior charts. Let the kids have a say in the structure of our day. Basically, I started treating my students like actual humans with personal autonomy. We even co-created a new set of classroom rules to mark the shift (yes, one was “Ms. Nwakanma will not yell” lol smh).

Had to get it together for them (Faces blurred for privacy, but they’re all grown now!)

Things didn’t change overnight, but they started to feel better. We laughed more. There was trust. And by the end of the year, we had the highest scores in the school. I was even deemed a "master teacher," which still cracks me up because I only got the outcomes leadership cared about after I stopped doing things their way and started doing what felt true to me.

That’s when I understood: inner work leads to outer change. When you go inward to find what matters and live in alignment with what you discover, things on the outside can’t help but shift. That’s why I’ve centered inner work ever since. And a few truths have made themselves clear along the way.

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The Five Truths of an Inner Work Initiate

I like referring to myself as an inner work initiate. An initiate is someone at the beginning of a path. But an initiate is also someone deeply instructed, someone who knows.

That's not just in my head, Merriam-Webster said so

And that feels right for inner work. The deeper I go, the more I see: I will never be done. But the goal was never to be done. The goal is finding my way back to myself, no matter how far I wander.

These truths have revealed themselves to me again and again. I’m sharing them because we often overcomplicate inner work. We think we need fancy retreats or expensive coaching, but often, it’s the simplest truths that help us cut through the noise and start living more authentically. These are mine:

1. You don't gotta do nothing.

2. You are not your thoughts.

3. Your feelings are your guides.

4. You are a microcosm of the world.

5. You can't skip steps.

Let's go a touch deeper on each one, beginning with the first, "You don't gotta do nothing."

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You don’t gotta do nothing.

Most of us are exhausted. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. And why wouldn't we be? We've been taught that our worth is tied to action, that doing is what makes us valuable.

That is a lie. You're valuable simply because you exist.

It took me a while to believe that. At 22, fresh out of an Ivy League school and newly minted as a Teach for America Corps member, proving myself was all I had ever known. I’d always been celebrated for my intelligence and achievements, so naturally, that’s how I approached teaching. I thought I have to be the best, be the smartest, go above and beyond.

So I over-prepared. Stayed up late. Pushed my body to the limit. And for what? My classroom was still chaotic. I was still drowning.

One of the first shifts I made after that moment of awakening was small but powerful: I stopped trying so hard. When I prioritized rest, when I chose presence over perfection, it changed my whole vibe. I had more energy, more capacity, more love for my kids. By doing less, I was able to offer more of what actually mattered.

“You don't gotta do nothing" doesn't mean you never take action. It just means you stop acting out of urgency, fear, or the need to prove. You act because you want to.

I don’t make myself do anything anymore, and life feels a whole lot lighter.

You are not your thoughts.

Doing less helped, but my thoughts still ran the show.

They were constant: This lesson is trash. That student is being disrespectful. I’m failing these kids. I’m not good enough.

And I believed every single one which meant I reacted to all of them. I got defensive. I shut down. I made choices based on stories I’d never stopped to question.

Freedom came when I learned a thought can exist without becoming the whole story. (Shout out to The Untethered Soul!)

I could think this kid is disrespecting me… and also notice the dark circles under his eyes. I could think I’m failing… and still focus on the student who needed me in that moment.

From that place of witnessing, I started to see my thoughts more clearly. Some came from truth. Some came from fear. Some aren’t even mine. They were voices I’d internalized from the world, voices of comparison, competition, and shame.

When I stopped clinging so tightly to every thought, I could choose which ones to believe… and let the rest go.

Your feelings are your guides.

So if you can’t believe every thought, how do you know what’s true?

You listen to your body.

We’re taught to ignore how we feel. To push through frustration, fatigue, and unease because “that’s just what it takes.” We override discomfort in order to appear competent.

But how you feel in your body is the most honest signal you’ve got. You don’t even have to be able to name the emotion. Your body just be knowing.

I told myself, “This is what good teachers do.” But my body knew better. My stomach turned when I made kindergartners walk in silent, perfectly straight lines with their hands glued to their sides. My shoulders clenched when I had to write someone up for wearing the wrong shoes. Those sensations were truer than whatever justification I told myself.

It felt good to co-create classroom rules. It did not feel good to yell. It felt good to laugh at their silliness. It did not feel good to tell them to keep their hands folded on the desk. The more I did what felt good, the more things flowed.

Following what feels good and moving away from what feels terrible is how you begin to build a life that energizes instead of drains you.

You are a microcosm of the world.

Sometimes, it’s hard to feel good—because so many systems around us are broken.

Take no-excuses schooling. The idea that we can close the opportunity gap through strict compliance is wild. How are young people supposed to imagine new possibilities while being policed and controlled? You can’t punish someone into liberation.

And I knew that. I complained. I vented with colleagues. Still, nothing changed.

Not until I closed my classroom door and attempted to create the kind of space I imagined did things start to improve. Slowly, but undeniably.

As adrienne maree brown says, “What we practice at the small scale sets the pattern for the whole system.”

I had the conversations I wished we were having. I treated students the way I believed they deserved to be treated. Not to prove anything. But because I couldn’t keep participating in things that didn’t sit right in my spirit.

There were risks, yes. But I decided if I can’t live my values in a space, maybe that’s not the space for me. Funny enough, I ended up leading district-wide sessions on building a positive classroom culture sharing the same practices I had once been nervous to try.

This doesn’t just apply to classrooms.

The world you want to live in begins with how you show up in your own life.

Want more love in the world? Be more loving at home. Want more truth? Practice receiving honest feedback with grace. Want more justice? Care for the folks most people overlook.

This isn’t about taking personal responsibility for systemic failures. It’s about choosing to embody what you say you believe. An added benefit? You become the proof that another way is possible.

You are powerful. Way more powerful than most systems want you to believe.

Start where you are. Live what feels true. That’s how change begins.

You can't skip steps.

If there’s one truth I wish weren’t true, it’s this one.

I’ve read the books. I’ve listened to the podcasts. The vision is clear. I know my values. I know how I want to live, who I want to be.

But knowing and doing are two different things. Even with all that clarity, even with the best intentions, I still can’t always live it out. Not because I don’t want to. Just because I’m not there yet.

Which is why you have to let yourself be exactly where you are—without judgment.

I rarely talk about my first year of teaching because I’m still embarrassed by how I showed up. Honestly, everything I’ve done in education since then has felt a little like penance. Like maybe if I train teachers well enough, no kid will get the kind of teacher I was that year.

But I’ve had to forgive myself and acknowledge that I did the best I could with what I knew. Then I learned more. Then I did differently.

There’s no bypassing the ugly parts. No pretending you’re more enlightened than you are. You might know you’re worthy. You might be trying your best to live in alignment. And some days? You’ll still mess up.

That doesn’t make you a fraud. It makes you human.

Even if you try to jump ahead, trust and believe, the lesson will come back around. You’ll eventually have to face what you’re meant to face.

So be gentle with yourself. You’re exactly where you need to be, even if it doesn’t feel like it.

This experience is preparing you for what comes next.

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Returning, Again and Again

Hearing my story, it might seem like I figured everything out that second year and never looked back. But that’s not true (there are several folks who can attest😅).

Shoot, I’m still learning how to live into all of this.

I return to these truths precisely because I forget them. But every time I come back, I’m reminded Oh, right. It CAN be that simple.

You don’t gotta do nothing.
You are not your thoughts.
Your feelings are your guides.
You are a microcosm of the world.
You can’t skip steps.

I hope they make things simple for you too. Hold onto whatever truth gave you a little more space, whatever made you exhale.

If you feel like sharing, I’d love to know: Which of these truths is speaking to you right now? What truths have emerged in your own journey?

Sending you blessings for the road ahead. You have everything you need.
💜 Okie