How It Began

As I progressed further into adulthood and work, I continued pushing through, investing in my development, organising successful community events and building a professional career. Despite the fear and overwhelm I was carrying internally, I still managed to get things done.

But I was also rebellious and avoidant, which wasn’t a good mix. I disliked any form of control, yet often found myself feeling controlled, then rebelling against it.

What people couldn’t see was how much energy it took just to maintain it all. Simply showing up for life. Which is why, whenever the pressure became overwhelming, I became the ‘queen of running away and avoiding’.

Traditional structures and ways of living that seemed normal to everyone else often felt difficult for me to sustain, and I didn’t understand why. I genuinely believed there was something wrong with me because I seemed to need more rest, more recovery, more space and more time alone than other people. I didn’t seem to have the same capacity as everyone else, who could simply keep going.

Sadly, the only thing that seemed to give me energy was alcohol. For many years, it was my “best friend”.

With alcohol and a party lifestyle leading many of my decisions, I spent a lot of money trying to maintain an image and lifestyle I couldn’t really afford.  Eventually it turned into debt and chasing appearances.

In time, it caught up with me. After years of living the opposite of how I should have, I went through periods of intense fatigue where my day would start off fine, then suddenly crash. I’d be exhausted, aching and unable to do anything except lie down. Every medical test told me I was physically healthy, yet my body kept responding as though something was wrong.

What I eventually realised was that my body had held onto fatigue as a form of protection. I kept slipping into a kind of shutdown mode where withdrawing and conserving energy felt safer than fully engaging with life. Underneath it all, fear was still in control.

I was exhausted by years of feeling badly about myself, and my inconsistent energy was also allowing me to hide rather than fully show up. I now understand that I wasn’t lazy or incapable - I simply didn’t understand my own needs, limits or how my mind and body responded to stress. I hadn’t yet built the inner capacity needed to sustain the outer demands of life.

That’s why so many mothers and women feel drained. When you become the dependable regulator for everyone else, you’re constantly anticipating needs, preventing discomfort, filling gaps and making yourself available. Everything asks something from you, but nothing really pours back into you. Eventually, that constant extraction wears you down.

When I became a mum, I thought I was strong because I could say, “I can count on one hand the number of daytime naps I’ve had.” I thought it meant I was coping well, but really it just showed how often I put my own needs last.

I was burning myself out trying to hold everything together - making sure the fridge, freezer, cupboards and toiletries were always stocked, the housework done, the washing, ironing and cooking handled. I wouldn’t let anything slip. Underneath it all was fear - fear of not having enough and fear of not being safe.

I was carrying both the masculine and feminine roles at once, constantly scanning, planning, guarding and staying alert. I didn’t know how to truly relax and let my guard down. I think you get the picture.

In the background, there was another pattern leading my life - a constant inner expectation of feeling like I was “in trouble”, or about to be in trouble. Because of that underlying fear, I often found myself in situations where that became a repeated reality - whether in friendships, jobs or relationships. My nervous system stayed braced for being “the bad one”, the one in the wrong, the one to blame.

I often recreated situations where the same cycle would repeat because it felt familiar. I would shut down, run away, avoid things, fail to show up and struggle to take accountability. But I also found myself in situations where I was easily blamed or made to look guilty, because somewhere along the way I’d unconsciously learned to accept blame as normal.

Over time, that became part of my identity and my self-esteem took a hit from accusations and misunderstandings, especially knowing people didn’t see the bigger picture. Instead of defending myself, I let those assumptions stick. I didn’t fight back. Eventually, that shows up in your body and in the way you carry yourself.

The problem with trauma and dysregulation is that they can make your body feel fragmented, as though nothing is fully integrated or working together. Your jaw, neck and hips hold tension, your body stays guarded, and you move through life feeling disconnected rather than whole. Over time, that creates pain, tightness and exhaustion.

In time, I realised how deeply this outdated pattern had been shaping my life. It was a persecution wound - like I had a target on my back - but it didn’t have to define me any more. I no longer had to carry it, believe it or build my identity around it. Even if someone was upset with me, I could allow that without making it mean something about my worth or carrying it in my body. Instead, my responsibility became focusing on what I could control: seeing the bigger picture, recognising human limitations and blind spots, and practising patience, compassion, forgiveness and integrity.

Because when we carry old labels, wounds, projections and accusations from the past - even inherited ones - they eventually become heavy baggage. And I was tired of carrying it all.

In my quest for transformation, I searched for answers everywhere, exploring self-development, healing practices and spiritual paths that promised peace and identity. I was like a kid in a sweet shop, chasing every healing modality, believing it was up to me to heal myself.

Yet despite all the searching and effort, I never felt truly grounded or settled within myself. Instead, much of it took me further off course, and I attracted situations that re-traumatised me.

It kept me stuck on a hamster wheel because I was going the wrong way. Again.

Deep down, I knew something more fundamental needed to change. I needed to find the “truth”, once and for all.

I could see that I had been conforming to patterns of the world that I was never truly designed for. Somewhere along the way, I absorbed the belief that I had to be like everyone else or I would somehow be a failure. But that was never the truth.

I came to realise that when it comes to life, emotions, experiences and even endings, I process things more slowly. I need more space, more pauses and more time to digest. What I needed was gentle, simple, uncomplicated, natural and organic - not full-on, unnatural, 'out there', all 'bells and whistles' and flambuoyant, which is not what I was made for.

The reality was, trying to force myself to function in ways that didn’t align with my nature had become unsustainable. I could no longer keep placing myself in environments, relationships and lifestyles that pulled me away from my natural harmony instead of supporting it.

The turning point came in my late 40s when I found exactly what I had been looking for all along - and what I needed - and that was God.

Not a religious God. Not a distant or rule-driven God. I discovered Him as loving, patient, kind, gentle and forgiving. My Creator. Our Creator. And He wanted a real relationship with me. A supernatural one. And that’s exactly what I found.

I believe that when people call out to God, many voices and beliefs may respond, but only the one living God truly heals, restores and transforms. So many paths still leave people using efforts, performing and trying to earn peace through their own strength, whereas God’s love is offered freely. And he gives us His strength.

As my faith grew, I stopped drinking and let go of many of the distractions I had relied on. I no longer wanted to identify with who I had been, or who I believed myself to be. But that’s also when everything I had been suppressing rose to the surface. For the first time, I could clearly see the patterns, beliefs and expectations that had been clouding my mind, confidence, energy and health.

For a while, the mental noise actually became louder. With nobody around, I started hearing my thoughts more clearly and realised how much my thinking had been shaped by fear, past experiences and unhealthy relationships. I had lived with it for so long that it had started to feel permanent.

I hadn’t even realised I’d been living with intrusive thoughts for most of my life. I thought intrusive thoughts were random voices appearing out of nowhere. I didn’t understand that sometimes it’s your own mind turning against you - frightening you, rushing you, criticising you and putting you down

And now it was just me and God. He was leading me, healing me and rebuilding me, but I didn’t recognise the season I was in. I had expected to feel better, not worse.

What I understand now is that when a pattern is dying, it often becomes louder before it disappears. It’s the final tantrum.

I was still trying to use my own strength to heal and transform myself, but that cycle never lasted. Hot and cold. Up and down. Round and round. The reality was, I needed a healer and an anchor. And that wasn’t me. And it wasn't someone else. It was something only God could do.

I was also unlearning deeply ingrained family patterns that had been passed down through generations, including a kind of generational loneliness that surfaced once the other patterns and distractions fell away. That opened my heart in a way that allowed grief and love to coexist; a grief I didn't even know was buried that deep. But it wanted to be seen, heard and felt - it had a story to tell.

Changing wasn’t easy, but it was necessary, because the inherited patterns were ending with me. 

Through my newfound faith and the experiences that came with it, I began to understand myself differently. I could no longer be defined by the person I had been, or by the shame and fear I had internalised. The old version of me no longer needed to lead my life. I was becoming someone new - spiritually renewed and inwardly transformed.

This was my invitation to rise and shine, not shrink back and hide.

As my eyes opened to a new reality, I knew it was time to stop hiding behind walls of fear and let go of the constant self-monitoring. It was finally time to simply be me. Throughout the process, I kept reminding myself to be patient with the process of 'disarming'. My faith was retraining my brain and body to recognise peace, and that takes time.

After I let go of alcohol, I replaced it with caffeine, then sugar, then food. Whilst I didn’t put on weight, I was still operating from an addictive mindset, even if the “drug of choice” looked healthier on the surface.

That’s why it takes gentleness and self-compassion, because the “glitch” was never my true self - it was the armour I learned to wear for protection, but never learned how to take off. All along, I had been leaning on substitutes - lifestyles, relationships, addictions, distractions and coping mechanisms - when the only thing my soul truly needed was God.

It took me 49 years to fully learn that.

I’m not afraid to admit that without the things that once gave me stimulation and escape, I felt flat, numb and emotionless for a while. I questioned whether it was hormones but in reality my brain was recalibrating to a new normal - my natural state.

Was it easy? No. But it was necessary.

And so, it became time to truly live again - not as who I thought I had to be, or who others expected me to be, but as who I was always created to become.

The Bible says in Romans, “Be transformed by the renewing of your mind,” and over time those words became more than scripture to me - they became my lived experience. My mind began to reorganise itself and, for the first time, I could see clearly.

The final step in the process led me deep into the body - especially fascia and connective tissue work - because I came to understand that emotions, memories and survival patterns are held not only in the mind, but in the body too. As I learned how to release what had been stored inside me for so long, I began letting go of the tension, emotional armour and survival patterns I had carried for years.

It became a process of dismantling the walls and defences I had built over a lifetime, while strengthening my body and nervous system enough to hold me safely. Difficult at times, yes - but profoundly worth it. I was being given a new foundation.

Here, I learned to guard my heart with love instead of fear. I learned to be welcoming instead of wary. I was finally able to let my guard down, creating space for the softer version of myself - kind, open and no longer unprotected.

And at last, I felt at home within myself.

The way I was always meant to be.

Free. Grounded. Open. Easy-going. Happy. Amen!