Another Lesson in the School of Life

Introduction

What I’ve really seen through this recent lesson is how, in the past, whenever I’ve gone through breakdowns, I’ve made it mean I’m too broken to help anybody. I’ve hidden my gifts. I’ve played small again.

But through all the work and training I’ve been doing lately, I’ve faced how stingy that is. My gifts and my story are unique, just like everyone’s. The way I show up is different to anyone else. And yet, for so long, I’ve made myself wrong for that. Afraid of being too much, too intense.

All my life I have been SO afraid of people seeing me as crazy, even though many times I’ve even felt close to driving myself into a psych ward. Being seen as crazy means that I will not be loved and being not loved means that I will die. Yet, I get that I will not die, and the more I get that this life is between me and me (me and God) and that I cannot “get” love “out there,” the more this fear drops away and I become ok with risking not being loved if it means that my story can help even just one other self.

What I got from this recent breakdown is that yes, there is a kind of crazy to my human avatar… and it doesn’t take away from the value that sharing this ego personalities journey. If anything, it’s part of the gift.

Another thing that has held me back from sharing is that I don’t want to feed more into the collective asleep in the dream-ness, nor into “my” asleep-ness. I don’t want to feed more into believing the stories in the illusion.

I want to contribute to all of us waking in the dream. Yet, as I grow and learn, I see that there is a way to do both. To use the illusory story to support all of us in coming home to our true nature.

So this post is “me” choosing to stop hiding. To share openly, and sit in the personality’s discomfort whilst holding the higher perspective that that personality doesn’t actually exist once the stories are released and we are now. And now. And now.

Part 1: The Facebook Post

“Lately I’ve fallen hard back into the density of the human.

The separate self. The personality. The stories.

Anger.
Rage.
FEAR.

My nervous system feels fried.

It’s been touch and go today. Like the fabric of reality could rip open at any moment. Not in the blissful way that dissolves into awareness, but in the terrifying way where I fear I could lose it, unravel completely, disappear into madness.

But I stayed sane, whatever that means in this insane world.

This morning I saw a vision:

Me lying on the sand at the edge of the waves,
The waves like angry tendrils, pulling, pulling,
and me resisting.

Then I let it take me.
I let myself feel it all.
I cried and cried and cried.

The darkness in me.
The darkness in all.

I realised I’d become afraid of the dark. Afraid of death.

But I’m not actually afraid of death. It’s just the old imprinting. The little girl survival instincts still doing their thing. Fight to survive.

Here’s what I am reminding myself:

• Awareness never left. Even the feeling of being trapped is appearing inside the awareness that I am. Nothing’s actually broken.
• Darkness showing itself is grace. The fact that my shadow feels stronger means my light is brighter. This is what it looks like when distortions rise to be transmuted.
• I don’t have to fix the psyche. I can gently turn toward what feels lighter, freer, more inspiring right now. The sky. A song. A movement. Frequency is always a choice.
• The personality isn’t me. It’s just the avatar doing its thing. I am the one who sees it, the space in which it appears.

Even the discomfort itself is awareness.
Even the chaos is awareness.

And maybe you’ve been here too.
Maybe the medicine is in the remembering. Together.”

Part 2: What I shared with the Landmark program participants

“I’ve been mostly in the world of the ordinary for days now, just clinging to little possibilities of ease to get me through.

Sitting with this fear of not knowing how to get myself out of what felt like existential terror.

It’s like none of the Landmark distinctions, or the pointers from other trainings, were getting through.

As I drove at 4am to pick up Phoenix and his friends from the train station, something just dropped in. A thought from “god” or whatever you want to call it: I’ve been feeling no gratitude. Not only that, I’ve been in total resistance to life. So much anger that I triggered what felt like a mild manic episode.

I “healed” what once presented as Bipolar years ago, and I haven’t come close to a manic episode in many years. Back then, I noticed it was always triggered by trauma. But this time I got that there is no external trauma, only my thoughts and fear creating it.

And I realised that I’ve been completely consumed in the world of “me, me, me.” Trying to shape life into how I want it, instead of simply being here to give and be love. Literally driving myself crazy.

I forgot that it’s not about me and that I’m here to be of service.

I’m nurturing my body as it takes a toll due to so much adrenalin/cortisol when I do this, and integrating the lesson, and mainly feeling so relieved to feel peace and love again.

So. I am the possibility of contribution, authenticity and love.”

Part 3: The Raw Blog Draft

“I just saw my last post and it made me want to vomit.
Actually my whole website makes me want to vomit.
Actually, anything that feels curated and polished makes me want to vomit.
Actually, I think I make myself want to vomit.

And just to be clear, I don’t actually want to vomit.
It’s an exaggeration.

And even this writing is going to make me want to vomit one day as it is going to be a beautiful, poetic version of disgusting, messy, human-ness that never feels poetic in the moment. It feels fckd in the moment.

This morning was incredible stuck energy and discomfort. I meditated with my pod in Bentinho’s community to see what wanted to be looked at. Anger and frustration that I couldn’t let spirit in, pricked at my eyes. Even though I know that’s such BS. Spirit so everywhere. But this felt so real.

Afterwards I lay in bed and cried a bit. Ahhh yes, here it is. Finally the welcome relief from my own self-made torture chamber. Ok. Let me be dramatic. I fkn love being dramatic. It helps me see the ridiculousness of the suffering I create for myself.

But no, as soon as I saw my tears as an escape from discomfort, they stopped. Faaark. What am I meant to do? Accept it. Stop trying to fix it. I heard this. But I didn’t want to listen. I just wanted to escape myself and feel God.

This is God, I heard. Then the anger and hatred and rage welled up inside me and I felt like I was fighting god. You’re fighting yourself. You’re always only ever fighting yourself.

You can choose love or you can choose to fight.
I want to feel love.
Well, feel it. It’s always right here.
Annoying little voice.

Then I gave in to it. I surrendered to the rage, the hatred, the anger. I surrendered to the pain and the damage and the impact. I surrendered to the rape and the torture and the murder. I let myself be it all.

I saw it all in myself, I saw it all in the world, I saw it all in everybody and I saw it all in my son. Jeebers, who needs Ayahuasca.

And I cried. I welcomed the mess, I welcomed the insanity, I welcomed all the bits of my psyche I was scared of. Hate, blame, anger, rage, fear lashing out. “Out there” because it was being repressed, unaccepted, rejected “in here.”

And with that I can say: your rage is welcome. I don’t want the perfect, curated version of you or me. I want it all.

The world is not broken. The world does not need fixing. There is fkn nothing wrong. If there is something wrong out there then there is something wrong in here. And if there is something wrong in here, then I cannot love out there.

So I don’t need to delete my coaching offer. I don’t need to delete my vomity perfectly curated website. All the curated, polished bits are welcome too.

Through this journey of coming back onto socials I’ve wrestled with how to show up. Overshare my crazy shiiiiit as I used to? Undershare and be stingy? Still trying to get it perfect. Still afraid of the darkness.

Who cares?

None of it is ultimately true. Nothing that comes out of my mouth as words or typing is true.

The BS is the human experience. The BS is why we’re here. Sometimes judged as pretty, sometimes ugly — but it’s the human experience. And none of it is real.

But trying to not do the thing that gets me excited and alive (typing verbal vomits) feels like my life force stops flowing.

So, so, so, SO much judgement.
And then, I take it SO personally.

Like, oh I don’t wanna post this, what will people think?
Like I’m the only one that thinks these thoughts, like these thoughts are me.

If I am not my thoughts, if I am the one that observes the thoughts then why do I care?

Because I still believe I am a separate, limited human having thoughts.
I still believe that this separate little human knows better than spirit, than higher intelligence.

Hahahaha.”

Closing

The catalyst for all of this has been parenting. My deepest fear has been seeing my younger son suffer, and in that fear I disconnected from simply being the channel that allows God’s love to flow. That disconnection threw me into existential terror. I linked it to outer circumstances, but the real lesson was inside: when I say to life, “purify me of everything that blocks me from remembering I am pure awareness,” life shows me exactly where I’m still attached.

And of course, my attachment to my kids is the biggest one. It’s my weakness, my teacher.

Through this, I was reminded once again that it is just me and me. That when I stop fighting the stories and open to awareness, everything transforms. Suddenly the trees, the leaves, the world around me feels beautiful again. I can simply hold space for my boys as they are, and as they are not. Love them in all of it.

That’s what I see more clearly now: my gift is not in being a perfect parent. My parenting has been messy, inconsistent, imperfect. One moment controlling, the next moment giving too much freedom. But that’s exactly what makes me powerful in supporting others. Because I know what it is to wrestle with fear and self-doubt. I know what it is to think you’re too broken, and to keep showing up anyway.

What I offer isn’t answers or strategies — it’s presence. It’s the willingness to sit with you when you can’t hold yourself. It’s space, love, and the remembering that even in the darkest moments, awareness never left.

And if you feel called to reach out — do. I don’t have a fixed price for this kind of support. My website prices are an indication of how I value my time (and all the money I make goes towards my transformation and mothering my children) AND I already earn well through my bodywork practice, so I’d rather keep this fluid. We can work out what feels right — maybe a contribution, maybe exchange, maybe free. What matters to me is the connection, and that we find a way that honors both of us.

Because in the end, it’s never about the money. It’s about love. It’s about awakening. It’s about walking each other home.