March 23rd is my father’s birthday- he tragically took his life when I was nine.
We’re not always blinded by our light, but by our darkness. For a long time, his loss penetrated the essence of my being, preventing me from seeing the light and a way out of my own suffering.
For the majority of my life I felt responsible, unworthy, and unlovable. Maybe if I had told my father how much he meant to me more often, he wouldn’t have abandoned me and left me alone.
I subconsciously attracted toxic relationships and fell into patterns, such as drinking, drugs, workaholic syndrome (still working on that one) all because I was looking to avoid uncomfortable emotions and feelings. I bought into the illusion a man once sold to me that I could fill the void my father left in my heart and receive the love I longed for in exchange for sex- that only left me more broken than I already was at the time.
I subconsciously continued to attract partners that needed “fixing” so I could go back in time and play out saving and fixing my father. I spent the majority of my life trying to heal my past in my current relationships, plastering a smile on my face but really longing for an escape from this thing called life.
But somewhere deep in my soul, I knew that I was meant for more than suffering- We all are.
It was in my darkest of times that I began to heal and nurture my wounds, allowing them to become beautiful scars, reminding me of my light. Rather than continue to avoid my pain, I danced into it, asking myself the questions needed to serve my growth.
You can release crippling anxiety and fear when circumstances are out of your control.
You can let go of the trauma fueling your unhealthy cycles and limiting beliefs.
I know it’s scary to lean into the depths of your pain but it is the guiding light to your peace, clarity and freedom.
Let me show you the way.
How to accept your fear, anxiety and panic
Anxiety and panic ran my life for a long time, trampling and stampeding on my heart with no remorse. My heart would race uncontrollably as I sobbed on my bed, clenching onto what once was my favorite deep purple quilt with raised flowers. As I gasped for air, I spiraled deeper into feeling confused,
