Welcome — I’m glad you’re here
I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to write — and for whom. Today I realised, finally and very clearly, that I write for people who once believed that sensitivity was a flaw. The ones who learned early that it was safer to be brave — who covered tenderness, softness with competence, independence, self sufficiency and an “I can do it” attitude.
Over the years of self-discovery I realised that pattern began as protection. Somewhere along the way, complex trauma taught me that being exactly who I am wasn’t enough — that love had to be earned by being helpful, strong, or endlessly capable. Vulnerability felt like weakness, and competence became a way of belonging.
But the body remembers what the mind tries to manage. The exhaustion, the tension, the constant alertness brought me to where I am now. It’s not a flow, it’s the body’s way of saying, “I’ve been holding too much for too long.”
I wanted to heal but realised during painful and long journey that healing isn’t about fixing who I am. It’s about learning to feel again — to move through emotions instead of organising my life around them. It’s about finding safety inside my own body, connecting from the heart, and letting relationships feel softer, more mutual.
It’s a journey from fear to flow.
And also I’ve just noticed writing this - flaw and flow are only one letter apart.
Maybe where healing begins: in the smallest shift, when I stoped seeing my sensitivity as a flaw and start realising it’s the very thing that connects me to life.
Over the years of self-discovery I realised that pattern began as protection. Somewhere along the way, complex trauma taught me that being exactly who I am wasn’t enough — that love had to be earned by being helpful, strong, or endlessly capable. Vulnerability felt like weakness, and competence became a way of belonging.
But the body remembers what the mind tries to manage. The exhaustion, the tension, the constant alertness brought me to where I am now. It’s not a flow, it’s the body’s way of saying, “I’ve been holding too much for too long.”
I wanted to heal but realised during painful and long journey that healing isn’t about fixing who I am. It’s about learning to feel again — to move through emotions instead of organising my life around them. It’s about finding safety inside my own body, connecting from the heart, and letting relationships feel softer, more mutual.
It’s a journey from fear to flow.
And also I’ve just noticed writing this - flaw and flow are only one letter apart.
Maybe where healing begins: in the smallest shift, when I stoped seeing my sensitivity as a flaw and start realising it’s the very thing that connects me to life.
November 2025
For a long time, I believed that being able to do many things at once made me strong… and in many ways, it did — multitasking helped me survive, stay useful, and keep everything together. But over time, I started to see another side of it. The constant doing, fixing, and organising began to pull me away from myself. I was tending to everything and everyone — except myself and my own needs.
I see this pattern in many of the people I work with too. What often appears as capability is, in truth, a survival strategy — a way to feel safe, loved, or seen. When that pattern runs for too long, the body begins to speak through fatigue, stress, and anxiety.
When I talk about adrenal fatigue, I also look through the lens of Chinese medicine, where the adrenals rest on top of the kidneys — the organs associated with fear. Stress, hurry, and constant striving often grow from this deep, unacknowledged fear that lives in the body.
I’ve learned — both through my own journey and through supporting others — that healing begins with recognition. Not by pushing through, but by gently meeting what’s here. The moment I stopped telling myself “you shouldn’t be scared” and instead said, “of course you’re scared,” something inside me began to soften.
This is the essence of my work — supporting people as they learn to slow down, listen to their body’s signals, and move toward healing at their own pace. It’s about allowing and acknowledging emotions rather than resisting them. A practice of gentleness as strength, sensitivity as power, and awareness as medicine.
As we move into winter — the season of the kidneys and the water element — nature invites us to rest, replenish, and come home to ourselves. Today really came to me, especially after busy weekend mentoring on BBTRS training “What if this season, instead of doing more, we simply allowed ourselves to be held by stillness?”
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