ABOUT ME

I grew up in an adverse family environment, marked by toxic relationships that shaped a reality I didn't choose, but which I experienced as my own. For years, I made decisions from a place of wounding, failing to recognize that my true self was hidden beneath layers of pain, fear, and self-importance. It was through self-caching that I began to question those inherited beliefs, to rewrite my story from a place of consciousness, and to reconnect with who I truly am. This path of transformation not only gave me back my power but also revealed my calling: to help others discover that their lives can be chosen, created, and lived from self-love and inner truth.

Who am I?

MY NAME | MY IDENTITY

Cecilia Carolina Lagorio

My dad liked Cecilia, my mom liked Carolina. Conclusion: My dad wrote me down as Cecilia, but my family called me Carolina. From that moment until now, I always give the same explanation as to why half the people I know call me Cecilia and the other half Carolina. Many people, to simplify things, call me CC.

Beyond the hassle of having to explain myself, it was never an issue for me how others chose to name me.

Today I understand that I always knew who I am.

My path in life.

MY CHILDHOOD | BUILDING BELIEFS AND QUESTIONING AT THE SAME TIME

We all have a sad story to tell. This is mine.

I lived in a house with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, one kitchen, and a living and dining room. All on one floor. I was the black sheep of the family, but in my case, it was a blessing. I grew up in a place where I felt safe, outside the door.

Sounds awful, right? It was. I always knew what was going on in there was wrong. That was the moment I began to recognize my individuality within the family group.

MY FIRST IMAGINARY SUPERHERO | BUILDING LIMITING BELIEF:

"Someone who loves me will rescue me."

He found out 30 years later because the pandemic wanted it that way.

Influenced by the stories I read, I clearly grew up expecting a prince to come and rescue me from my prison. This was an impossible feat at age 10. I made it up. His name was "F." He was the cutest boy in school, and, who knows why, he liked me. He was my boyfriend. "F" had no idea how important it was for me to feel that I was valuable to him (or, moreover, to someone). At age 12, he changed schools. I never saw him again.

It seems I have to escape from this prison alone.

TEENAGE CRISIS

The influence of my family ties on the construction of my beliefs. | Detecting another childhood wound that I seek to heal over time. | The first empirical evidence that empowers others is within me.

My dad left home when I was 13 to live with my mom's brother's wife and my cousins. It seems like my dad left before I did.

I seek refuge in my circle of friends. My school friends all seem happy with perfect families. I don't think they can understand me. For three years, I barely spoke to anyone at school. I bullied everyone, including myself. I developed a group of friends outside of school who seemed more conflicted, so I assumed they could understand me better.

ORIGIN OF A WOUND THAT OVER TIME TRIES TO HEAL WITH WORK PROJECTS

Ma… What are we eating today?

At 14, I got a girlfriend. I introduced myself to the family, so I had access to learning a lot of things, such as: When you ask, "What are we eating today?" Other mothers' answers vary, but they always give a specific dish. When I ask, the answer is, "Make yourself some tea."

So I take charge and go to the refrigerator to find something to cook, only to find a half-cut lemon. We weren't poor; my mom spent money on decorations while hoarding and never, ever cleaning or organizing. Over time, she developed a food management app called "What Are We Eating Today?" so that we could all have access to delicious and healthy food. At first, it worked well, but over time, I couldn't manage it and had to shut it down. The moral of the story: The power that can be applied to resilience doesn't always help generate abundance.

BUILDING THE LIMITING BELIEF:

"I can rescue everyone from their inner hell."

It seems my parents are too busy to notice that my brother Andres (the one who abused me with my mom's consent) has no social ties and that my brother Alejandro beats me up every time he gets frustrated. Never mind, I'll take care of it!

My pilgrimage to psychiatrists begins, so they can diagnose Andres: Untreated psychotic episode.

Nobody cares

Today, Andres is completely socially isolated, unable to care for himself. He lives with my mother in the same house where I grew up.

Ale eventually stopped hitting me and I had something like a bond until I finished high school, I began my operation "Leave my house to live alone"

I made it. I invited Ale to come with me, but not only did he not want to, he never came to visit me.