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Why Healing Yourself is the Gateway to Helping Your Clients Heal

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In an old play based on Greek mythology, there’s a poignant chorus that talks about how physicians should best know how to heal their own illnesses. It goes like this: 

“You have suffered sorrow and humiliation. You have lost your wits and have gone astray; and, like an unskilled doctor, fallen ill. You lose heart and cannot discover by which remedies to cure your own disease.”

In the olden days, society shared a strong notion that those who are capable of helping others to heal must be capable of healing themselves as well. Today, people might be the same. Not many are so inclined to see a skin specialist whose skin suffers terribly, for example. 

And while this ideology might seem a little unforgiving, it persists. 

Doctors and those who specialize in helping others heal are at a high risk of ignoring their own struggles in favor of their work. This can be due to their personalities or the public’s expectation that they’re meant to have everything together as professionals who provide aid for others. 

This also applies to those who help others heal emotionally or spiritually.

And no one knows this better than Robin Rivera.

Channeling One’s Life Experiences to Guide Others to Exponential Healing

Spiritual healer Robin Rivera believes in embracing one’s past hurts and taking the difficult — but important — journey towards healing. She founded Robin Rivera Global to help people heal through holistic and shamanic techniques. 

Today, she also helps fellow spiritual coaches to reach others. 

“It’s all about liberation… I want to liberate as many people as I can to greater and greater states of love and freedom. And this really comes from a place in me that is driven by freedom and liberation,” she said. 

As someone who deals so frequently with the art of helping people heal emotionally and spiritually, one might expect her to be someone who’s always had it together from the start.

But this is far from the reality. 

Robin Rivera didn’t have a peaceful childhood. Her family was well-versed with child abuse for generations. And although Robin recognizes that her parents brought her up as well as they could, she still knew what violence was from a tender age.

“At 5 years old, I had decided that all I had was myself,” she recalled. 

Robin got into the habit of alcohol and substance abuse at the age of eleven. It was not long after when she became suicidal. It got to a point where Child Protective Services had to step in. 

After that, Rivera frequented the system. And it wasn’t smooth sailing from there, either. She underwent more abuse, collected more experiences to add to her traumatic past. Her parents eventually sent her to a boarding school in Mexico, where they hoped she would get the help she needed. But in that school, the students were locked in for over a year. 

Rivera recounted her experience in that school. It was shut down for child abuse shortly after she left. However, she realized that this difficult experience taught her how to survive, how to persist even when the odds were stacked against her.

Robin Rivera’s Rocky Journey in Search of Healing

Rivera eventually survived the ordeals of her childhood. But when she matured as an adult, she still struggled to find her way. 

Her past experiences taught her to survive, sure. But all the support, safety, and guidance she lacked growing up came back to haunt her. She found herself treading precariously over the edge, searching for a way to find her balance. 

“All I had was emotional baggage and trauma that I began to unlock and look at powerfully,” Robin explained about her past. 

Having been kicked out of her home at 17, she needed to support herself. She delved into the world of exotic dancing and more substance and alcohol abuse. She was also employed as an escort. 

The trigger that got her out of that lifestyle came in the form of a terrifying experience. 

Rivera somehow found herself under the grips of a human trafficker. She eventually began to sense that something was off about the way they operated. 

“I didn’t know what was going on,” she said. “But I knew I was very confused and that these were dangerous people.”

She did the only thing she could do: she ran. She was only 23 when she accepted help from her ex-boyfriend. After some time, when she decided to leave him to return to her parents, she found out she was pregnant. 

Love and the Pivotal Role it Plays in Healing

For someone who went through so much at such a young age, Robin’s pregnancy might have seemed like an impossible situation.

But Rivera recognizes her pregnancy as the pivotal turning point in her life. 

As Robin described in an interview: “I wanted to be a good woman for this innocent child, and that gave me the power to do things I thought were nearly impossible.”

She decided that she needed to change her life if she wanted to make a home for her child. She got herself a Bachelor of Arts in Social Welfare from UC Berkeley and went on to obtain a Master’s in consciousness and transformative studies. Rivera also spent her time and energy volunteering with the anti-human trafficking movement.

Rivera’s current specialization in spiritual healing stems from her training with the Chicana Latina Foundation. There, she met a shamanic therapist who made her realize her worth. She was told that she wasn’t broken; instead, she was spiritually gifted.

“Those words shook me to the core, and that was when I got to see with my eyes and feel with my heart what was possible,” Rivera said. “I delved into a lot of research on shamanic and holistic healing. And not long after, I created a business out of it.”

Flawed, or Relatable and Human?

Today, Rivera dedicates her time to aid others who struggle with their own trauma. Her journey down the path of healing has brought her eventual success; Robin Rivera Global now rakes in multiple six figures. 

And while Rivera is a spiritual healer, this lesson possibly applies to everyone whose job it is to uplift, cure, or support others in their physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual infirmities.

“At the core of what I do is I’m trying to create beauty out of my suffering,” Rivera explained. 

And perhaps, that is the best anybody can do. To help others is a noble thing, but we often forget that we cannot do so if we ourselves are burnt out. It’s like pouring water out of an empty kettle: it just won’t work, no matter how hard you try. 

Rivera turned her flaws into something her clients can relate to, something that makes her human. Maybe those who make a career out of the art of healing are called to do the same. 

Michelle has been a part of the journey ever since Bigtime Daily started. As a strong learner and passionate writer, she contributes her editing skills for the news agency. She also jots down intellectual pieces from categories such as science and health.

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Lifestyle

The Future of Youth Horror Gaming: Lonely Rabbit’s Midnight Strikes

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Credit: Lonely Rabbit

Empty hallways echo with footsteps that aren’t yours. The carnival rides spin without passengers. Familiar spaces, the ones etched into childhood memory, twist into something menacing, something that watches. Lonely Rabbit’s Midnight Strikes arrives eight months before its completion, targeting a youth horror genre that is hungry for experiences that feel personal rather than purely fantastical. The indie studio searches for a publisher while building momentum for a game that weaponizes nostalgia, turning high schools and carnivals into theaters of psychological dread. As franchises age and audiences demand fresh scares, this PC title tests whether memory-based terror represents the next chapter in youth horror.​

Maturing Past Jump Scares

Youth horror gaming shed its training wheels. Little Nightmares and Bendy and the Ink Machine proved that younger players crave atmospheric storytelling over cheap shocks, puzzle-solving over gore, and visual distinctiveness over recycled formulas. Bendy’s ink-soaked corridors attracted a massive audience, including children drawn to the characters despite the T-rating, because the experience felt emotionally authentic rather than condescending. Players now expect psychological tension woven through environmental details, stories told through decaying spaces, and cryptic objects scattered across levels.​

The genre’s maturation reflects audiences who grew up solving Portal’s test chambers and exploring Limbo’s monochrome nightmares. Among the Sleep demonstrated the potency of perspective: experiencing horror through a toddler’s eyes made familiar domestic spaces feel uncanny and threatening. Fran Bow plunged players into hand-drawn asylum corridors where perception itself became unreliable, where puzzles demanded engagement with trauma and grief rather than simple pattern recognition. Modern youth horror respects its audience enough to disturb them thoughtfully, creating experiences that linger days after the screen goes dark.​

Corrupted Childhood as New Territory

Midnight Strikes drags players through levels “reminiscent of their childhood memories”: the high school, the carnival, spaces universal enough to feel personal. Lonely Rabbit constructs what they describe as a “menacingly beautiful atmosphere filled with bizarre and terrifying creatures,” pairing monster survival with puzzle challenges that prioritize mood over mechanics. The game adopts a “cinematic and otherworldly feel” while grounding its terror in locations players actually inhabited, making fear feel intimate rather than abstract.​

This memory-based direction distinguishes Midnight Strikes from fantasy settings that dominate youth horror. Deserted carnival rides and empty school corridors carry weight because players recognize them as such. Maybe the locker rows feel too narrow, maybe the Ferris wheel groans with a voice that shouldn’t exist, maybe the cafeteria smells wrong. The game challenges players to “survive their fear of the unknown” while navigating spaces that should feel known, creating cognitive dissonance that amplifies dread. Other developers exploring similar territory, such as Subliminal, which utilizes “nostalgic spaces” and “a rotting feeling that something is not quite right,” suggest that childhood corruption represents an emerging subgenre.​​

Lonely Rabbit’s approach weaponizes personal history. Every player attended school, visited carnivals, and formed memories in spaces designed for safety and joy. Corrupting those spaces turns nostalgia into a threat, asking audiences to confront distorted versions of their own experiences. The monsters inhabiting these environments become more than obstacles; they represent the fear that familiar places might betray us, that memory itself becomes unreliable when shadows move in the wrong direction.​

Smaller Teams, Bigger Risks

Indie studios like Lonely Rabbit maneuver where larger publishers hesitate. Their two-month publisher search and pre-launch community building reflect changing pathways for games that defy established franchise formulas. Building a follower base before release creates market validation, proving that audiences want what you’re making before significant capital is committed. Transparency about development timelines and production milestones generates audience investment, turning potential players into advocates during the publisher search.​

Midnight Strikes represents creative gambles major studios avoid when quarterly earnings loom. Smaller teams experiment with concepts, corrupted childhood spaces, memory-based horror, pand sychological tension prioritized over action mechanics, that might fracture focus groups but resonate with underserved audiences. Lonely Rabbit’s global distribution ambitions demonstrate indie confidence: build something distinctive enough, and geography becomes irrelevant when digital storefronts erase borders.​

The next eight months determine whether Midnight Strikes defines a subgenre or remains an interesting experiment. If players respond to horror that mines personal history, if corrupted nostalgia proves more terrifying than fantasy monsters, other developers will follow this path. Lonely Rabbit’s gamble, that childhood spaces make better horror stages than alien planets or demon dimensions, could redefine what scares young players next. The studio’s publisher search tests whether the industry views memory-based terror as the future of youth horror or a niche curiosity. Either outcome writes the next page in a genre still learning what it can become.

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