I remember those moments that felt like days.

Overwhelmed with the heaviness of grief my mind spun in endless loops, thoughts I couldn’t quiet, emotions I couldn’t name.

 

People around me meant well, but their advice landed like pressure:
“You should be healing by now...

you should think more positively...

you should be doing this...”

At my lowest, I felt shattered.

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Traditional methods weren’t working. I couldn’t explain the storm I was in.
The waves of loss kept coming, and I didn’t know how to stay afloat.

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I craved support, quiet, gentle and attuned.
I was cocooned in grief, wrapped in silence, longing for a safe place to land.

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And then, I found someone who could hold me until I could hold myself again.

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Their presence didn’t fix me, it simply gave me space.
And in that space, I started to find pieces of myself.

I realised I was allowed to seek support.
I didn’t have to do it alone.​​​​

 

Though I didn’t realize it at the time, a new version of me was forming - slowly, quietly, faithfully returning to life.

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The craving for solitude became sacred.
It gave me space to hear my heart again and in time, the noise of grief softened.

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I stopped searching outside myself and turned inward.
That’s where I found my clarity.

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Healing became a daily rhythm not a chore, but medicine.
Warm, nourishing, steady.

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And when I finally stopped trying to control every part of the process, I discovered my strength.

I reclaimed my power, not just returning to who I was,
but becoming more whole, more rooted, more alive.

 

My journey is still unfolding.  My research and study ever evolving.  Now, I’m here to hold space for you as you move through your transition and begin to find your way back to yourself, just as I once did.