My Story
In early 2020, my life unravelled.
My hair was cut so short I could have shaved it off completely. I didn’t realize it then, but it was a symbolic shedding—a desperate attempt to reflect the inner chaos I could no longer contain. I’d lost myself. My outside finally matched my inside: raw, exposed, and aching for change.
How did I get there?
It wasn’t one thing. It was everything.
A cascade of traumatic events hit me all at once, but really, the storm had been building for years. Inside me lived the unresolved pain of childhood trauma and bullying I endured growing up—wounds I had never fully faced, only now they were playing out in adult-sized situations.
The sudden and traumatic death of my brother-in-law, then the one that floored me, losing my father, aged 68, to the most aggressive brain tumour following a life of people pleasing, suppressing anger and deep fear and negativity. He was the closest person to me. His love was unconditional, a rare anchor in my life. Losing him shattered something deep inside me and had and will always steer the course of my life thereafter.
Additionally, my broken marriage to divorce and what felt like a deep existential crisis.
I was exhausted from living to please everyone else, ignoring my own pain just to keep the peace.
There was much playing out—deep fears of abandonment— a severe and chronic level of narcissistic abuse, constantly having had to navigate the cycle of victimization, manipulation, and emotional cruelty.
My parent’s house was ruthlessly and cruelly burgled in broad daylight, every drawer unturned and every sentiment taken.
Everywhere I turned at that point, there was deep fear and safety all around me.
The world had stopped.
In 2020, COVID lockdowns had just been announced; this life-threatening epidemic at the time kicked my system to its highest. I was living on my own with two children and in a toxic relationship.
Now, knowing what I know, pretty much from birth, my nervous system had learned to clock every threat and fear, and, over time, my system was reading every environment as unsafe. I couldn’t trust, and I couldn’t settle; my impulse was high, and I wanted to find people to focus on, please, and avoid what I was about to face.
But in the last 10 years, the birth of my beautiful daughter unravelled a box of unresolved and deep-seated pain that I had masked and cleverly disconnected from. My daughter was the catalyst of my unravelling until everything came to a head in 2020.
And so here I was.
My body broke. My nervous system couldn’t take it. I no longer felt safe in the world—or in my own skin. I couldn’t be alone. Friends had to stay with me for weeks. I slept on the floor just to feel something solid. I told myself I was fine.
My system had recorded everything—every threat, heartbreak, moment of unsafety. Even though my logical mind was trying to move on, my nervous system had slammed the brakes. I was living in high survival.
Eventually, the symptoms became unbearable. I couldn’t function. I felt hijacked—by my own body. On nights when my subconscious wouldn’t let me sleep, this deep surge of adrenaline would jolt me to ‘stay awake’ whenever I tried. Then, I developed tremors and juddering, which was almost a low level of dystonia and constant internal vibrations. The worst feeling was having little access to my memory, I couldn’t recall long term events, I felt a motorised vibration from deep in my brain running down my neck (I now know this to be my vagus nerve had been compromised).
I was living in a constant state of hyperarousal.
With no access to doctors at that time, I arranged a private consultation with a neurologist. Something was wrong. With a quick assessment online he said “I know what’s wrong with you, you’ve got cervical dystonia.” The only solution is having Botox in my neck and Gabapentin. I was told there was no cure.
My life fell below my eyes. What had happened, how had I got here, I couldn’t understand. I was confused. I had just become a yoga teacher, studied counselling and psychology, and believed in wellness; how could I have this?
I was determined to get to the root of what I had.
I researched and found multiple Facebook groups, but they were depressive as I felt doomed reading the stories of negativity and no hope.
I knew and felt highly intuitive that this was something that could be healed.
So I researched religiously, day and night. I found it: Dystonia is linked to Chronic Stress and Unresolved Trauma. It made sense. So I researched more on the mind-body connection, and there it was: the mind affects the body as much as the body affects the mind.
“So I researched more on the mind-body connection, and there it was: the mind affects the body as much as the body affects the mind.”
As I began, I felt a deep feeling I didn't have cervical dystonia; I was presented with the symptoms; had the neurologist misdiagnosed me? I started to develop other sensations, pins and needles and numbness. This wasn’t what the neurologist had diagnosed; this was something else.
I felt desperate and helpless. The country was still in lockdown, and no one could see me.
I ended up in the hospital; it was the safest place for me at that time. I was terrified that I was dying or developing the same aggressive brain tumour that had taken my father. They ran tests—MRIs, nerve conduction studies—and eventually, I was diagnosed with Functional Neurological Disorder (FND). A condition with real, debilitating symptoms… but no apparent physical cause.
The Truth?
My body screamed what my soul had been whispering for years: “I can’t carry this anymore.”
The neurologist’s words hit me like a thunderclap: “This is an emotional root of fear.”
And that was it. I was left on my own to find a way out of it. No help was offered. I felt let down by the standard healthcare system. They were good at the checks but not the solution.
At that moment, I knew I had to change everything—my relationships, boundaries, and life.
Fortunately, I wasn’t starting from zero. I had already trained as a yoga teacher and had studied psychology. I understood the body. I understood the mind. But now, I had to bring them together. I had to walk the path—not just know about it.
I committed fully. I lived and breathed healing.
I invested everything into my recovery. I worked with gifted trauma therapists. I experienced hypnotherapy, the Rewind Technique, EFT, trauma-informed yoga, neurofeedback brain retraining, and somatic psychotherapy. I devoured the work of Dr. Joe Dispenza, Bruce Lipton, and others who spoke about the science of the mind-body connection.
And it worked. Not overnight, but gradually, powerfully, and deeply. Up and down, in and put, sometimes like one step forward, two steps back.
Two and a half years later, I still have some sensitivity to light and sound, but my system is strong, and I have the capacity to live a full life again. Between 2020 and 2024, exercise was limited; I couldn’t push my body. Now, I am able to regulate and train in a safe, healthy, and consistent way. The best part: I'm running like I used to!
I’ve undergone a massive emotional and neurological transformation. I’ve re-parented my inner child and built capacity. I’ve rewired my nervous system. I’ve softened into safety, where I am so present now for my children, and to help them understand and regulate their nervous systems. I am safely and happily engaged to a wonderful person who has supported and helped me heal. I keep working gently and consistently to grow.
I became a therapist to guide and help others—especially women—who, like me, felt lost, overwhelmed, disconnected from their bodies, and silenced by their experiences. Part of my own healing was regaining a connection to my voice, my truth, and my sense of power.
I’ve always believed in more creative, empowering, and accessible healing methods. Healing shouldn’t feel complicated or out of reach. I’m a therapist, but I identify as a survivor, a guide, a navigator, a nurturer and an empowered. Deciding to walk away from accreditation felt true to who I really am so I can share and give this wisdom and path to women who need it, women who see it, and women who feel it. As an educator, I want to make somatic healing understandable, relatable, and life-changing.
I’ve survived CPTSD, PTSD, anxiety, FND, burnout and major grief. But more than that—I’ve thrived beyond them.
Helping other women find the same safety, clarity, and empowerment that I had to fight so hard for brings me the deepest joy. I know what it’s like not to feel safe, to be stuck, scared, and to not understand what your body is doing. I know what it’s like to be a mother trying to hold it together when everything is falling apart.
Now, everything I’ve learned and healed through is woven into the courses and therapy I offer. I’ve created the kind of support I wish I had at my lowest: clear, compassionate, body-based healing that works.
You’re not broken. Your body is wise. And healing is possible.
If you have the right mindset and hold onto faith, hope, resilience and question, there is more truth than is revealed. Trust and believe.